#(this might be a little too risque for the fic itself. but in my heart i know this happens)

[ckret2]

it pains me that it'll take a million chapters for Bill & Ford to reconcile because i can't wait to write 💖 Cute Couple Things 💖 like,

matching couple outfits that Ford didn't know they were doing until he wore his fun new nerdy sweater and Bill ran off to change shirts

(found a doodle i did months ago inspired by a post by @billford-dump)

[darkmindsotome]

Risque Rouge pt17

Tagging: @umbralaperture​ @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly. 

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Chapter 17

Acrid smoke clinging to her, wrapping itself around as if she were to be bound in a blanket of toxic fumes. The air was burning, particles of embers and ash floating like feathers all around her. Her hand was being held by someone she couldn’t make out through the thick smoke. They were holding her so tightly her fingers were going numb but she didn’t cry out against them as they encouraged her to keep moving, dragging her in their wake.

Her heart was pounding in the darkness, every movement of her body felt torturous. She could feel the ground under her feet even though she couldn’t see it. Bodiless screams in the dark rose up around her in a terrible crescendo no musician could ever emulate. The feeling of pain and torment that was not her own filled her up to bursting. Why was this happening?

There was a muffled moment where the smoke seemed to become a wall, the sounds around her drowning out what was being said to her. She felt like she was about to lose the last thread of hope she had and was overcome. The fear she had been able to hold back till now dug itself in deep, latching on to her with icy claws. As the hand holding hers slipped through her fingers like sand. Then there was an almighty force shoving her away, casting her alone into the smoke and darkness.

Evie opened her eyes to find herself in a tangle of bedding on the floor of her bedroom. Her breathing was ragged and every part of her body was screaming in confusion and pain. She brought her hand to her head, the sensation of moisture finding her fingers. As she pulled her hand back, she saw the sweat of her brow glistening like powdered diamonds in the moonlight.

“It was only another nightmare.” She muttered to herself with a broken laugh. Her body had still not calmed down and she dragged her knees up to her chest leaning back against the bed frame. “Just a bad dream…”

Her mind raced as she tried to convince herself it was all just in her mind. It naturally began to focus on the fatale conversation from town and the pained look of Comte as she rejected him. Her body had stopped trembling, the sweat on her skin had all but dried up. Still, that conversation played on a loop and the more she thought about it the more it seemed to resonate in her. Each time she came to the same phrase there was a dull spark in her mind. Pure blood.

---

The air from the balcony was particularly crisp tonight. If it were more than a slight breeze it could have cut right to the bone and yet there was at least one man standing there oblivious to it all. His mind hadn’t just naturally drifted to the young woman in his house in truth it had been stuck on her from the moment they returned.

He had hoped she would reappear but she had cloistered herself in her room and had not even opened her door for Sebastian when he took her meals. That part was concerning for more reasons than he dared think about. His hands unconsciously tightened their grip on the stone balustrade as he looked out over the landscape tinted in the moonlight.

It was always a relaxing sight and he came here often, but tonight the view didn’t register. He simply stared, unfocused on a fixed point in the distance. Neither his gaze nor his heart moved as the breeze made his hair and coat flutter on the wind. They were the only signs of life when he himself felt closer to a statue carved out of time than a living creature.

“I thought you would be out here.” A friendly voice greeted him. The soft click of the door leading back into the mansion being closed gave the subliminal warning of escape being futile.

“Not now Leo.” Comte sighed. He could have faked a smile, placed any one of his masks on his face and put on a show. All of them would have worked a charm, except on his oldest friend. Comte was actually a little surprised it took Leo this long to track him down.

“Oh, you would prefer I smoked inside? You’ve changed your tune.” Leo appeared chuckling at his side, slipping one of his beloved cigarillos from its tin.

“I would prefer you didn’t smoke at all, it clings to the furnishings.” Comte groused his usual complaint that was destined to be ignored.

He watched Leo as he patted down his jacket searching for his lighter. Comte rolled his eyes in resignation and pulled out some matches from his own jacket, striking one to offer his friend alight. Leo grinned with his cigarillo perched in his lips, leaning forward into the flame guarded in Comte’s hands.

“Which is why I’m out here. Just me having a quiet smoke.” Leo spoke through a half-closed mouth, taking a long drag.

Leo wedged one hand in his pocket and leaned back against the supporting pillar to the side of the balcony, blowing smoke rings into the night air. The silence that flowed between them wasn’t uncomfortable but it was obvious that there was more to this meeting than simple coincidence.

“Say it.” Comte muttered a barely audible command.

“What?” Leo asked innocently adjusting his jacket on his shoulders.

In all the centuries they had known each other it seemed there were some things that never changed. It didn’t matter what time of day it was Leo always seemed to look like he was shot out of a canon. Comte admired his friend’s ability to shrug off social conventions and judgemental gazes. If he could have done similar, he wondered what kind of a man he would be today?

A familiar emptiness settled at the back of Comte’s memory, a bottomless solitary sensation that was as endless as his own immortality. Leo had once said he left the world they were born into because he wanted to find something greater, to nurture it and help people smile.

There were other reasons for his departure from the main royal court but his core ideal remained the same. It was a simple wish and dazzling prospect for one born as Comte had been to the endless night. Perhaps it was in understanding the inventor’s passion and kind heart that Comte had wished to harbour him for all this time. Allowing someone else's light to flourish where he felt his never could.

“I’m a fool. You know that’s what you want to say.” Comte mirrored his friend allowing his shoulders to fall back on the opposite pillar, their bodies becoming the frame for the view beyond them.

“No need Mio Amico, you are doing a fine job of that yourself.” Leo’s words stung with truth more than they did because he was being critical.

There was sympathy laying there under the thin veil of friendly banter. Comte knew he had caused Leo to become concerned and it seemed to add to the weight on his own shoulders. The events of the day remained indelible no matter how much he tried to stop thinking about them they were always there.

“I hurt her Leo. I forgot my own plan for trying to explain an impossible situation and I hurt her.” Comte’s voice didn’t seem to hold any of the resolve or certainty it usually did. His voice was stripped back to the man he was a long time ago, before the fame, the names and titles.  

“I dare say you did.” Leo nodded. He had felt it, the turbulent wash of emotions crashing within him that were not his own, and realised something was wrong. He could sense clearly the two combining forces as they sparked and flashed against each other. It was a painfully beautiful resonating feeling that held both ends of the spectrum of love firmly in its grip. “La signorina has not shown herself since your return. I sense it as much as you do but I think I noticed something different.”

“Different?” Comte looked at Leo’s face studying him wondering what he could have picked up that would prove to be any different to the reality he felt. He didn’t wish to be told something so trite as words of reassurance when that would only give false hope and pay lip service to an ego that deserved to take this particular hit.

“I don’t think it’s hurt that she feels. She is frightened, it’s a torment that isn’t easy to explain but it is there all the same.” Leo blew out another cloud of smoke watching it as if he were looking into a crystal ball.

The smoke swirled between them and Comte wondered if Leo was looking at the image his own mind conjured. Her smiling face turned to tears, he felt his heart lurch uncomfortably in his chest.

“I know she is frightened. I had planned to handle this differently and hope that she would be… ach!”  Comte groaned in frustration and lightly bumped the back of his own head off the stone pillar.

The sensations he had tried to block from before were running rampant through his system freely like a forest fire. Emotions that weren’t his blended with his own but he was unable to find that needle in a haystack his friend was so ardently pointing out existed.

Leo couldn’t bring himself to smile for a few minutes, finding his theory that his friend had missed that which might have relieved some of his burdens confirmed. Comte had not seen her actions as something other than a rejection of him, punishment for him. Comte was too close to the situation or perhaps to shaded in denial to see the light in the darkness.

“No amount of planning can prepare someone for something they don’t wish to know. Even if they had begun to suspect something themselves, to have their fears confirmed is never where it all ends. You cannot change the past, my friend. You do still have a say in how the future plays out though.” Leo smiled that all-knowing smile that repeatedly stirred a desire to slap him from time to time. 

There was more than one occasion between them where Leo also felt the same level of frustration towards Comte during one of their tête-à-têtes. Oh, how the tables turn. Long-life tended to provide a lot of experiences that meant conversations like this felt a little like being placed in a swirling vortex. You could easily lose sight of your position only to have the other point out how close you are to chasing your own tail over something that should basically have a simple solution.

In this case, as least the reason why Comte was so reluctant to argue was that he felt Leo held an unmistakable truth in what he surmised. Comte knew all too well the passage of time did not flow backwards, no matter how much you wished for a second chance. It was a long winding road with no clear trajectory and strewn with obstacles that were both obvious and well hidden.

You had choices at every bump in the road. Each one offering up a different direction for you to follow. Give up or keep moving? Neither provided a guarantee of a better future but his choice was clear enough, he was not ready to simply give up.

Leo crushed his cigarillo under his boot as he pushed his body off the stone and began walking back towards the mansion. His hand fell on the handle of the French doors before Comte called out to him.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I told you I was only out here to have a smoke.” Leo shrugged, entering the mansion and disappearing into the empty warmth of it.

Comte remained on the balcony his eyes returning to the landscape but this time he was able to see the life in it.

---

Evie groaned at the sound of knocking on her door. At some point, she had drifted back off to sleep and slumped on her side still tangled in the bedding that was on the floor.

She was well aware she had failed to open it the previous day and was thankful for Sebastian’s consideration that he didn’t press the topic of trying to gain access. He had simply left the tray he had brought outside her door and returned later to remove it. She felt guilty for the bother it caused him to do so but she was neither in the mood to eat or see anyone.

The knocking on the door occurred again this time with a muffled conversation attached.

“Look she clearly isn’t awake yet let’s just go already.” The disgruntled impatient voice was one she had only heard briefly before but she could hardly forget the abrupt Theo.

“Sebas said she didn’t eat yesterday and I’m worried about her.” The softer and much warmer voice of Vincent was like a soothing balm even through the wooden obstacle of the door.

Evie sleepily unravelled herself from the knot of bedding and moved to stand, regretting it almost immediately as her head swam. Her broken sleep had created a sluggishness in her that was hard to shift. She leaned against one of the posts on her bed as the conversations beyond her door continued.

“Look there is no point in worrying over that little mutt. She is Comte’s problem, not yours Brother.” Theo was sounding impatient and as much as she hated to feel like she was eavesdropping on a private conversation Evie disliked the fact that Theo was referring to her as a dog just as much.

“Schei uit, Theo. You should try to be nicer to girls.” Vincent sounded stern even though he didn’t raise his voice. She thought this must be a common conversation between the brothers. She remembered Vincent apologising for his brother’s attitude before and shook her head smiling.

“I still don’t see why…”

“I like her.” Vincent cut off Theo with words that caused a very audible gasp from the abrupt younger sibling.

“You--? Broer… what?”

“She’s nice and kind and I like her just as I like everyone else here. I’d like us all to be friends, there can’t be anything worse than feeling all alone.” Vincent’s reply was so earnest it was like a ray of sunshine. She was a little thankful that no one was around to witness how rosy her face had become.

“Brother… fine.” Theo seemed to locate his composure before the knocking sound returned. This one much louder than the last. “Hey, Hondje! You better open up or I’m just gonna open it myself.”

---

[spnfanficpond]

June Angel Fish Awards

Every month all of you fantastic writers work your asses off to post some truly incredible stories. Our Angel Fish Awards are the way for all of us, as a community of writers and readers, to lift each other up and give praise to those who have captured our attention and deserve a few kind words.

The monthly Angel Fish Awards are peer-nominated, meaning ANYONE IN THE POND CAN NOMINATE ANY POND MEMBER’S FIC. While the Pond was founded to support the Guppies, everyone in this community deserves to be showered with love and feedback, and we hope that by opening this up as a Pond wide system, we’ll be able to share the love as far as it can go.

NOTE: WE’VE BEEN HAVING OCCASIONAL PROBLEMS WITH ASKS GOING MISSING. Please use the Submit button when submitting your nominations and make sure you’re signed into Tumblr or your URL won’t show. (If the form asks for your name and email address, then you’re not signed in.) If you like, you can also send a message to Michelle or Mana to check and make sure we got your submission.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, HERE ARE JUNE’S ANGEL FISH AWARDS!

Nominated by @wingedcatninja and @mrswhozeewhatsis and @manawhaat

The Song Remains the Same (oneshot) by @sammit-janet 

@wingedcatninja said -  This fic by @sammit-janet is the best case fic I have ever read. It has everything: drama, angst, a witch curse, perfect characterization. Reading it was like being inside an episode of Supernatural. And, without spoiling anything, the ending broke my heart. To quote my own comment when I reblogged it:

“I don’t even know where to start. The story is fantastic. The prose is beautiful. The characterization is on point. The angst is delightfully painful. It’s just overall amazing. Thank you for sharing this awesome piece of art.”

@mrswhozeewhatsis said -  The painful ingenuity of the spell in this case fic is genius. Pure freaking genius! Painful as hell, but genius. Characterization is wonderful, as always, and my heart is a little more broken, but I’m used to that with Sammit!! Brava!!!! *throws roses at you*

@manawhaat said-  WOW! That was fucking awesome! We see witch spells so often and (maybe it’s bc of the genre I’m reading but) they’re always like lust spells of some sort, so it was super refreshing to see this kind of spell. This whole thing was just really well done, super interesting, perfectly in character and the realm of spn. And that last little bit. UGH! SO PERFECT! So Dean! So spot on! So fitting and heartbreaking and such a perfect little add on. I swear, this whole thing legit felt like I watched an episode of the show. This case fic is a perfect example of how I want every fic to read. I want the drama, the suspense, the emotion, the subtleties, the Winchesters as they truly are, this kind of gentle care for detail and attention to creating a realistic feel. I can’t say it enough- this is fucking FANTASTIC!

Nominated by @wingedcatninja

Never Wanna Say Goodbye (oneshot) by @deanwinchesterswitch

This is deliciously painful angst that leaves you with tears in your eyes and a smile on your lips.

Nominated by @risingphoenix761

Salty Stockings (oneshot) by @slytherkins

Cute, hilarious, and just the right amount of crack. Also risque and suggestive. Did I mention this is hilarious? So much good stuff in a short fic, and imagine if anyone suggested Dean take this with him on a hunt!

Nominated by @manawhaat

True or False (oneshot) by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters

The way this starts instantly pulls you in. There’s so much pent up shit rattling through Dean and the way it’s reciprocated through Y/n is an amazing build. There’s so much emotion and vulnerability to this entire thing, and it’s done in a way that’s completely believable and realistic for Dean. Fuck. It’s smart and really just opens them both up in such a refreshing way that speaks of Dean’s bravery, even in the face of being raw and exposed to someone else. And the way the tables turn. *screeches and flaps on the floor* Be still my fucking heart! I fucking adore this and the way you approached this fic and premise. There are so many ways it could have gone wrong or lost its power and impact, but you fucking nailed it!

Covet (series) by @waywardjoy

Fucking Christ, this series stressed me the fuck out, but in the best way possible. The cliffhangers, the dark grittiness. The insanity! Fuck, I absolutely love it when stories are written in a way that completely immerse me in it. It’s dark, like, really dark. Fuck. It just hurts. 

The Beginning of The End (oneshot) by @deanwinchesterswitch

OW! There is a secret desperation in this that is absolutely brutal and tears your heart in two. The way Dean is written is eye-opening and really just drags you down into a depth of pain and grief that only a Winchester can feel. I feel like I should say something about the sex being hot, but I can’t. Because to me it’s just so rough, borderline too rough, and so emotional. Which might sound weird, but in this situation and with the way everything is presented that scene is honest as fuck, very believable, and powerful. At some point things become more about the emotional release than they do being sexy, and this is a gorgeous example of that kind of repressed emotion roaring to life in ‘bottle it up forever’ Dean Winchester. This fic hurts so good all the way through and in different ways. That in itself is a feat, so have so many layers in one story. It’s anger and hurt and guilt and worry and all of it is wrapped so delicately together in this fucking stunning piece of art. 

Born This Way (oneshot) by @evansrogerskitten

HAPPY PRIDE MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!! This fuckin’ fic! Wow. This is the definition of the spn family. There’s so much love and support wrapped up in this story, in this fucking dream. I rarely get like, actually emotional reading fics (because I’m a heartless bitch) but this has me sitting here clutching my chest with my eyes closed just full body squeeing and smiling and my gut is clenching with all the emotion. There is something to be said of the spn family being allies. This song, this setting, this family, and the moment you’ve created here is so important and such a special thing! AND, as if the fic itself wasn’t enough to make me burst into happy tears, the tweets at the bottom sure the fuck were! Honestly, everything about this is so spot on and believable and just fucking pure and good.

Castiel Imagine (drabble) by @webcricket

Holy hell, that Cas fic was not only incredibly fucking sensual and well done but it was just so full of amazing language. Fantastic! I feel like a lot of writers who try to beef up their language tend to use words that feel out of place, but your consistency and the way you weave them together made me slow down to savor every line and that was such a beautiful thing.

Nominated by @sorenmarie87

Life for Rent (series) by @winchest09

The series has just started but I can’t wait to see where it goes.  I love a good mobster!au and the set up so far has me wondering what’s going to happen next. 

What Research? (oneshot) by @becs-bunker 

What do I say about this other than I loved it?  I mean Sam has been busy and the reader just wants some attention from him. Of course, they accomplish what they set out to do and it’s worth the read.  

Born This Way by @evansrogerskitten 

This was a fantastic fic. The reader has the casts approval and support, and the way they came out was fantastic. I almost cried, no lie. Ash’s fics are always fantastic but this hit me in an unsuspected way. 

Once Upon A Dream (oneshot) by @welldonebeca

I haven’t honestly seen that many Human!Gabe fics let alone Alpha!Gabe at that.  The story is so sweet.

Fallen Productions (series) by @welldonebeca  

I always admire authors who can write A/B/O but this mini series works its way through the original Team Free Will in a different way.  

He Is (series) by @coffee-obsessed-writer

This whole series is super sweet. Each chapter shows just what Dean means to you, and Jen nails it in each of them.

Make You Feel My Love (series) by @sofreddie 

This was such a sweet A/B/O series.  I love that Dean and the reader took their time, I mean Dean eased her through her earlier heats but I think it was sweet that it was just smut off the bat.  

Nominated by @iflostreturntosteverogers

Almond Milk Lies (series) by @fictionalabyss  

Mel is a fantastic writer 💕

Nominated by @shy-violet-soul 

The Girl Next Door (series) by @luci-in-trenchcoats 

An engaging AU, this writer keeps you hooked with well-paced timing & plot. Portrayal of characters is consistent with the show, which other fics struggle with when not in the SPN world. The story line is believable and genuine, and I enjoy the banter between the 2 main pairing-folks. Bravo!

Sunsets by @crispychrissy 

Damn. This work is so beautifully painful, or painfully beautiful, it’s hard to find words. I don’t want to comment on a favorite part to avoid giving away the plot. But this writer has captured a lesser-written character powerfully and consistently, and hooks you in with strong imagery and pacing. Hold on to your heartstrings for this one. 

Thank you all for the awesome work and great feedback!

As with the BFAs, these are not actual awards! This system is set up so everyone in the pond has a chance to share the love and promote a fic/author that has grabbed your attention. The more people that participate, and the more everyone remembers to submit their own fics after posting, the better this will be :D

THANK YOU ALL AGAIN, KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK, AND AS ALWAYS, HAPPY WRITING!

[thestraggletag]

Sleeping Arrangements, a Rumbelle Fic

Rating: PG

Summary: Royce Gold finds himself suffering from sleep-deprivation following the departure of his son to college. Finding that his fear of abandonment is keeping him from a restful night of sleep he seeks out a fellow insomniac to share a bed with. Nothing romantic or complicated, merely a mutually-beneficial arrangement.

Strictly platonic, or so he tells himself. Over and over.

Based on this prompt because none of you meanies wrote it for me.

After Zelena Greene he'd given up on the whole idea, or so he'd thought. Insomnia might be deeply unpleasant, but it didn't come close to crazy redheads with abandonment issues and elbows like arrowheads. He had considered briefly going back to Hopper's office and making a weekly appointment, like the good doctor had suggested. Though timid he was competent enough... he'd certainly hit the nail on the head when it came to diagnosing the origin of his sleeplessness. Even though he prided himself on being observant it had completely escaped him that his restless nights had started roughly around the time Neal had gone off to college. And he certainly hadn't realised that he'd never lived alone. He'd gone from his papa's unloving arms to the warm home of his ants and from there to a dingy one-bedroom flat with Milah and later a spacious, sprawling Queen Anne, which he'd shared with his son when Milah up and left them. Left them like his father had, or his mother before him. Left him like Cora did afterwards, after a brief affair that did everything to advance her own agenda and little to make him feel wanted and loved.

So it was natural, Hopper said, to feel Neal's absence as his son abandoning him, even though on a rational, conscious level he knew it not to be true. And though at first Royce had refuted the idea- how dare Hopper blame his son- after a while he recalled suffering from insomnia as a child, right after his father had dumped him on his aunts's modest house in the middle of the night, while he'd still been asleep. The notion that it would happen again, that he'd close his eyes and be left alone again, terrified him. He'd been convinced that if he slept his aunts would be gone when he woke up so he didn't. Eventually they'd realised and to reassure him they took turns sleeping with him on his bed till he'd left the fear of abandonment behind. Or so he'd thought.

Hopper had been ecstatic after such a break through and, at first, so had Gold. Until the psychiatrist mentioned weekly appointments, a "long and arduous journey" and some nonsense about confronting his demons. Royce had no intention of opening the Pandora Box he'd carefully constructed inside his mind, not by a long shot. Reviving his childhood trauma appealed to him as much as taking a bath in acid. He'd attempted to have Hopper prescribe sleeping pills instead. Anything over the counter was a waste of time, as he'd found out the hard way, but surely hard drugs would do the trick. The good doctor, however, would not comply. Not even after a thin-veiled threat to raise his rent had made him cough up the necessary prescription.

With no other recourse he'd done some research on the Internet. After wading through a mountain of unhelpful-and in some instances incredibly unpleasant- information he'd found a forum for people suffering from insomnia because, like himself, they weren't used to sleeping alone. There he'd found a thread about an app called Bedbuds- he cringed at the rather unpleasant play on words- which worked as a dating app but instead of romantic partners it paired up sleeping partners, as in, people who wanted to literally sleep together. It seemed to be very popular with people with anxiety, people who'd moved far away from home, introverts and the like and to many people with insomnia, apparently, it worked like a charm. Reluctantly he set up a profile for himself, answering questions as innocuous as his height and weight and some others much more intrusive. In the end there had been very few people the app had found living near his area and, after much debate, he'd finally decided to take the plunge and match himself with "Greenie", a woman in her thirties living in a nearby town forty-five minutes away.

It had been an unmitigated disaster. Zelena Green was a nightmare. Chatty and brash, with a strident, nails-on-chalkboard laugh and no respect for personal space. She wore make-up to sleep, even though she made a show of pretending to wash it off in the bathroom every night, an array of dominatrix-style nighties in horrible shades of green and had elbows that could cut glass. She was all hard planes and painful angles, unpleasant to cuddle with or even lay next to- she drenched herself in perfume too, the kind that made his nose itch- and after a week he called it quits. Zelena didn't take it well, at all, and so he'd changed his phone number and had carefully threatened her to leave him alone. He'd sent Dove to do that. The man looked like the worst kind of thug, the sort that lugged dead bodies in the dead of the night without batting an eye. In reality he was depressingly soft-hearted and sensible, utterly incapable of hurting a fly. Thankfully no one would know by looking at him.

After that unpleasant experience he'd dismissed the idea altogether and had gone to a psychiatrist in Boston more than willing to prescribe him something for his problem. And though he slept, he didn't rest. He felt sluggish in the mornings, irritable and dazed. The medication gave left him nauseous most of the morning, reducing his breakfast to a simple cup of tea and some dry toast. He lasted a month like that before he flushed the pills down the drain. At Dove's behest he tried homeopathic medicine but, though a much more pleasant medicine, it had little to no effect.

It was when he found himself considering going back to Hopper's office and passive-aggressively taking his suggestion that he remembered Bedbuds. Though Zelena had been an unmitigated disaster Royce acknowledged that the idea itself appealed to him the most out of everything he'd tried. He'd hated most of what came with being married to Milah but it had been wonderful to cuddle up to her at night, to lose himself in the embrace of another. Besides there was little he wouldn't do to keep himself from sitting in front of the ever-jumpy Hopper and spilling his guts about his uncaring parents and his failed love-life.

There was a new profile in his area. Someone in Storybrooke in fact. A young woman in her early thirties, a bit shorter than him who preferred the opposite side of the bed, loved to read and watch period dramas and like soft, plush beds. A spinster in the making, it sounded, but it didn't much matter. Not willing to waste time or talk himself out of it he arranged for a public meeting at the local park, taking the precaution to ask Dove to linger nearby in case there was any need. Dove loved feeding the ducks anyway.

He'd expected a mousy brunette with a skirt past her knees and a demure cardigan. Belle French was indeed a brunette, though her hair was glossy and had a red tint to it when the light hit it at just the right angle, and when he met her she was indeed wearing a skirt and a cardigan. But the skirt, a lovely tweet flare number very expensive-looking, was just shy of indecent and the open tweed blazer she'd paired it up with was offset by a sheer floral blouse, making her look both prim and risque. And she was lovely, from an entirely objective point of view. Her body had pleasing, gentle curves, and her features were delicate, almost elfin. None of it mattered, though he imagined it was better that he not find his potential bed mate too scary to look at.

Remembering his past experience with Zelena he gave short, perfunctory answers to Miss French's questions and made it clear that all he was interested at the moment was a one-time trial run. Thankfully she seemed to consider it a great idea and so they made arrangements for Thursday night. He let Dove know, just in case, and made sure to have the linens changed and a fresh set of pyjamas ready. Miss French was refreshingly punctual and indulged in a bit of small talk and a glass of wine before suggesting they retire for the night. He gave her free use of a guest bathroom and was pleased to notice when she met him in his room that she had scrubbed her face free of make-up- though with a complexion like hers no woman would mind going bare-faced- and had donned an old college t-shirt- Columbia, he was dully impressed- and some comfortable shorts.

It was stiff at first, sharing a bed with her, a virtual stranger. Zelena had all but pounced on him the moment she delved under the sheets but Miss French kept to her side of the bed, looking at him in an open, welcoming way. As if she'd sensed his misgivings and his naturally prickly exterior and was waiting him out, allowing him to set the pace. He thought at first to simply stay on his side but he didn't particularly feel the reassurance he was supposed to be feeling. In the end he scooted closer to the middle and slowly, so slowly, he snaked an arm around her waist. Miss French- Belle- smiled and turned around, scooting back till her back was pressing against his front. And it was... wonderful. She was soft in all the right places, sweet-smelling and warm, so warm. His arm tightened around her, his legs seeking to tangle with hers, to bask in the abundance of human contact. She was lose and pliant in his arms, no hint of tension or revulsion, not an ounce of rejection to be felt. She wiggled slightly and when she was finally fitted perfectly in his arms made a low, humming sound of satisfaction that he echoed, moving his head to be able to bury his nose in her hair. Gradually he found himself matching his breathing to hers, feeling his entire body slowly relax as his mind cleared and his eyes closed of their own accord.

He woke up to the sound of Love of my Life coming from Belle's cellphone. Unwillingly he cracked his eyes open, taking stock of his limbs. Sometime during the night they'd shifted positions, with Belle moving to lie on her back, her body curved slightly towards Royce. His head was resting gently on her chest, one hand flung over her waist to keep her there. Both her arms were cradling him close, the perfect sort of morning cuddle to start the day. Belle was as good a pillow as she was a teddy bear and, since she made no motion to push him away, he allowed himself to linger a few minutes on top of her, enjoying the way she absent-minded combed the ends of his long hair.

With great reluctance he disentangled himself from her, his loose limbs barely cooperating as he made his way to the bathroom. His overworked body was demanding more sleep, nowhere near caught up, but he had a busy day ahead of him and so did Belle, he imagined. By the time he was fully dressed so was she, donning jogging pants and an old Ziggy Stardust t-shirt. A woman wearing yesterday's clothes and walking home early in the morning was bound to make people suspicious, but a woman on her way home from a morning run in the woods was perfectly respectable.

"This was lovely, Mr Gold. Best sleep I've had in months."

He envied her casual, easy attitude. Even though they'd spent a lovely night together in bed he found himself awkward and shy outside it.

"Yes, indeed. Have a good day, Miss French."

He smile dimmed a bit, her eyes loosing a bit of their lovely shine, but she said her good-byes politely and stepped out into the backyard, peaking from the fence door to make sure no one was about. He stayed inside the house, struggling to make himself talk, to take action.

"And perhaps we can do this again on Sunday?"

She turned around, her lips curling into a relieved, radiant smile.

"I'd like that very much. See you Sunday, Mr Gold."

She darted out, trotting in the direction of the forest trail before he could tell her to call him Royce.