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harksness · 3 years ago

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Distant Desires

Day 1 in my 2021 Kinktober event! Check out my Kinktober Masterlist if you want to see what else I have planned! :D

A/N: aaaaa here it is! It’s longer than I intended and it to be but I am obsessed with this woman so inevitably I got carried away. I didn’t expect to take this long on it but damn here we are, my Kinktober might become a Kinkvember but oh well, I intend on publishing everything I want to write! My life is just absolutely crazy. All the time. I never catch a break.

Note: Tumblr fucked with my formatting. I tried to fix it but if some spots are off thats why.

Warnings: Porn with (some) plot, Agatha is readers boss, age gap, mommy kink, corruption kink, praise, a lil edging and a lil bit of degradation. Religious themes, a dash of homophobia for the plot. Might’ve missed some other stuff.

Word Count: 5k. I hope the length makes up for how long I took on it akjsaf

You always felt a disconnect from your family and friends. It wasn’t until one night at a middle school sleepover when you realized just why you felt like you didn’t fit in with them.

One by one all of your friends shared which boy they crushed on with shy giggles and a dreamy tone to their voices. Anxiety weighed you down on you like a ton of bricks with each one of their admissions, and you came to the stumbling realization that you actually had a crush on your best friend sitting next to you, not a boy like everyone expected you to.

When it was your turn you tried desperately to dodge their questions, but eventually they backed you into a corner and you falsely admitted to liking a random boy in your class, deciding to safely hide in a lie than risk the backlash from the truth.

With your father being the pastor at your local church and your mother teaching Sunday school, you’ve heard all of their preaching’s and religious beliefs. But their distaste for the homosexual sinners always echoed in your mind whenever your thoughts would wander to your desires and crushes. If you were to ever to admit who you truly are there would literally be hell to pay.

In your late years of high school, the captain of the football team asked you out. Repetitively. You’d politely say no with a smile every time, your friends confused and baffled as to how you could turn down “the hottest guy in school.” (Their words, not yours.) And eventually he asked you to prom. It was extravagant and romantic, and you reluctantly said yes in front of a cheering crowd at a football game.

The two of you have been dating for a few years. He complains about how you don't want to have sex, but you luckily can hide under the guise that you’re saving yourself for marriage. You feel guilty for stringing him along, you really do, but it’s either pretend to be straight or be ostracized by your family. It was an easy decision.

That’s what your life had become. Nothing but lying and pretending to be someone you’re not, until Agatha Harkness came along.

You don’t get many new neighbors in your small, tight knit town, so when a bookstore opened up next to the bakery on main street you were quick to check it out. You were her first customer, and the two of you started talking and became friends almost immediately.

You’d stop at her store every week and would easily get lost in conversation for hours if you weren’t interrupted. The both of you would talk about everything from book recommendations to songs on the radio, to your personal lives and frustrations. You particularly liked to hear about her trips around the world, and she was always eager to listen to whatever was on your mind.

You developed a bit of a crush on Ms. Harkness. Your gaze would linger on her longer than you intended, your mind wandering to every little romantic and intimate thing you wish you could do with the woman. There was something about Agatha that just made you feel drawn to her.

Eventually, you started working for Ms. Harkness. You were starting college and desperately needed money so she offered you a part time job at her little bookstore. You quickly fell in love with it, being able to look at all the new titles in the store, recommend books to customers, and Agatha even let you snatch up new releases you were excited to read before they even hit the shelves.

Working with Agatha became your only solace in life. In her little bookstore, being around her, it's the only time you ever felt like you could be authentic. You could take off your mask and let your true colors show without fear.

You found yourself staying as late as you could at work, searching for any excuse to bask in the comfort of her presence and the walls of books for as long as possible. You never wanted to leave your own personal little safe space. Tonight your excuse was that you absolutely needed to help her count the register.

Agatha shouted your name, trying to get your attention. You felt yourself flush when you realized your gaze had lingered on her longer than you would have liked, having zoned out a bit.

“Y-yes, Ms. Harkness?”

The woman rested her chin in the palm of her hand, leaning against her big, oak desk. Her natural beauty never ceases to stun you.

“I asked how your boyfriend is doing?”

She cocked an eyebrow curiously at you as she waited for your answer. You laughed nervously, internally kicking yourself as you smoothed out the fabric of your skirt across your thighs.

“He’s.. Fine.. I guess.”

You shrugged it off and Ms. Harkness grabbed this opportunity while it was laid out perfectly before her.

“Fine? You don’t seem too enthusiastic about him.”

You smile nervously at her words and simply shrug.

“I.. I don’t know..”

You stuttered, scared to admit anything about your romantic life. You’d hate for her to catch onto your little crush. That would be absolutely mortifying, and not to mention if it got out that the pastor's daughter is queer? Your family would never live down the shame.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Your eyes flitted up to her features and she looked concerned. You felt yourself stumbling over your words, all of the air escaping your lungs when she rested a comforting hand on your knee, on the exposed skin right in between the end of your skirt and your thigh high socks. Your eyes locked on where her skin was connected with yours, her long, pale fingers looking all too tempting..

“You can talk to me about anything. You know that, right dear?”

Your eyes snap back up to meet hers and once again you find yourself fumbling over your words. There’s a brief pause as you search for what you want to say, and the older woman watches you with patient eyes.

“Yeah, I do… I just- I don’t know how I feel about him… Whenever he tries to kiss me or be affectionate, I get grossed out and.. I- I dunno...”

You stutter out, your gaze flickering between where her hand is still resting on your thigh and those breathtaking eyes of hers. Your mind is running a million miles a minute.

“Oh?”

Ms. Harkness prompts you to continue, your heart thrumming against your chest at the fact that her hand was still on your thigh and showed no sign of moving. On the contrary, she began rubbing her thumb softly against your skin. You swallowed hard, anxiety and excitement bubbling up in your chest and coursing through your veins.

“I might know why..”

She murmurs, leaning in towards you. Your breath catches in your throat, your lips parting and eyes widening in surprise. You must be dreaming.

“Why?”

You ask, your voice soft and shaky.

“You really think I haven’t noticed how you look at me? It’s hard not to.”

Embarrassment crashes into you like a truck. You feel yourself grow hot as panic begins to set in, you try to laugh it off and make up an excuse when she squeezes your thigh softly, moving her hand upward as a few of her fingers disappear under your skirt.

All of the excuses you were about to make die in your throat. Your running mind comes to a screeching halt, you hold your breath. This can’t be real. You look up to meet her gaze, to be reassured that this is simply a fantasy, but when she raises a hand and affectionately cups your cheek, her touch is all too real. Your eyes widen in surprise as she runs her thumb over the soft skin, her features relaxed as she studies you.

“You’re such a pretty little thing…It’s such a shame that your boyfriend can’t take care of you.”

Her wheeled desk chair is suddenly closer than you remember it being, a small gap between her chair and yours. You snap your eyes back up to meet her gaze once again. Ms. Harkness has leaned in so close to you that you can feel her breath fan across your cheeks when she speaks.

“I can take care of you if you like.”

She murmurs, her lips barely moving. A smirk creeps onto her features, her eyes glazed over with desire. She knows that you won’t turn her down.

This feels like a fantasy you save for the late hours of the night, when you’re alone in your room with your thoughts. A distant desire, a dream you thought would never see the light of day. Yet here Agatha is, offering to turn it into a reality.

You nod your head enthusiastically.

“I need to hear you say it, baby..”

She tempts you with her sultry voice and sweet words, your stomach is doing flips. She’s leaning in closer, her eyes lingering on your lips. You swallow hard before responding,

“Yes.. Please take care of me.”

Ms. Harkness pauses after you speak and for a split moment you’re afraid you did something wrong. But your worries disintegrate when a pleased smirk crosses her lips, and her hand that’s resting on your cheek slips behind your head and tangles itself in your hair.

“Good girl.”

You had been preached to a lot about heaven and the eternal glory that came with it, but the moment she pressed her lips against yours and slid her tongue into your mouth is when you started to understand what heaven must truly be like.

She moves her lips against yours, the kiss soft and sweet. Your heart feels as if it’s in your throat, the nerves and excitement you’re feeling equally as dizzying as the intoxicating feeling of her mouth melding with yours.

Her teeth catch your lip in a slow drag as she pulls back. The two of you try to catch up with your breath, both of your faces flushed as you eyed each other.

She pauses for a moment before standing, gently nudging her desk chair backwards and out of the way as she rises. The woman takes your face in her hands and her heart aches at the sight of you looking up at her with your sweet, doe eyes - she craves to lay you down on her desk and pull you apart, piece by piece until you’re putty in her hands.

“Are you sure you want to do this, sweetheart? You can get up and leave right now and I won’t hold it against you.”

She asks again, and your heart melts at her consideration. You nod eagerly.

“Yes… I want you..”

You reply more confidently than you thought you would, and Ms. Harkness lets her hands drop from your cheeks with a wicked smile. You feel a pang of disappointment at the loss of contact.

“Such a good girl… Come and sit on my desk, baby.”

Ms. Harkness moves away from you and you’re eager to follow, going to sit up on her big wooden desk. She doesn’t seem to care about the work she had abandoned as she helps you sit up and settle on the hard oak. You keep your knees pressed together, your skirt keeping you modest before her. But you have a feeling that won’t be for long.

She raises an eyebrow and smirks. You lean back onto your hands, bracing yourself against the wood. It’s a bit cold under your palms and the warm skin of your thighs.

Ms. Harkness drops her hands, both of them landing on your knees as she begins to gently nudge them apart. You’re shaking a bit because of your nerves as you part your legs for her, eager to please.

She takes a step forward, standing between your legs as she hooks her hands behind your knees and pulls you forward, flush against her. You let out a surprised noise and she laughs, flustering you even more. Your palms are sweaty against the wood of the desk.

“Such a nervous little thing.. Here, Mommy will take good care of you..”

Her words send blood rushing to your cheeks and heat pooling in your gut, her half lidded eyes clouded with desire. She hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze as she brings her lips against yours in a soft, sweet kiss. You eagerly return it, hooking your arms around her neck as you begin to comb your fingers through her soft brown locks.

She begins peppering kisses across your jaw as she folds herself over you, guiding you to lean back on your elbows against the desk. Her warm, soft body is pressed up against yours and you know you’ll never get sick of this feeling. You crave more of it- more of her.

“You’ve never done anything like this before, have you, dear?”

Agatha asks in a low whisper against your ear. She knows that she’s the first one to kiss and touch you so intimately, but she wants to hear you say it. Your hypnotizing voice, as sweet as honey, confirms that you’re all hers to ruin.

“N-no, I haven’t..”

She laughs, low and sultry and you feel your knees go weak at the noise. Ms. Harkness begins licking and kissing under your jaw and your upper neck, soft, breathy noises begin falling past your lips that just seem to spur the woman on.

“Such an innocent little thing..”

The woman whispers against your skin and it sends a chill down your spine.

She eagerly pulls on the bottom of your shirt. You swallow hard before leaning forward and raising your hands, allowing her to pull the fabric off of you in one fluid motion before returning to your previous position, leaning back against the desk on your palms. Agatha leans back herself, her eyes hungrily admiring your newly revealed skin.

Ms. Harkness sighs as she leans over you once again, one of her hands supporting herself on the desk beside you as she uses the other to softly push on your shoulder so that you’re laying with your back flat against the desk. Your mostly bare back meets the cool wood below you. She softly rolls her hips against yours, her striking blue eyes absorbing the pleased face you make at the little bit of friction.

You grow shy under her intense gaze, wanting to cover your chest. No one has ever seen so much of you before. Your hands are occupied holding yourself up, though, so luckily you have no choice but to choke down that urge.

Her hand softly squeezes your throat before trailing downwards, tracing over your bra. You feel flushed and flustered, but she certainly knows how to distract you from your shyness as she lays on top of you, slipping her arms under your back as she begins rolling her hips into yours once again, grinding deliciously against your center.

You gasp softly in her ear as her mouth attaches to your collarbone, nipping and licking as she expertly unhooks your bra.

She leans back and takes the bra with her, dropping it on the floor next to the desk. The cool air hits your chest and immediately your skin pebbles. You go to cover yourself up, you feel extremely exposed and vulnerable under her gaze, but she grabs your hands and pins them next to your head. She tsks at you, a scolding tone lacing her voice.

“Don’t hide yourself, sweetheart.. I want to see that pretty body of yours all laid out for me..”

Ms. Harkness trails off as her eyes drift down your body, eagerly biting her lip when her eyes land on your newly exposed breasts. You swallow hard, your throat drying with anticipation.

“Y-yes, Ms. Harkness, I’m sorry.”

You sound so pathetic when you mumble out those words.

“I’ll be nice and give you one more chance to get my name right.. Mommy is the only thing you’re allowed to call me right now. Understand?”

Her stern, demanding tone makes heat pool in your gut. You nod your head eagerly.

“Yes, Mommy.”

You speak softly, but loud enough so that she can hear clearly, eager to please.

“Good girl.”

Agatha leans down and presses her mouth to yours once again in a needy kiss. She lets go of your wrists, her hands grabbing your hips and trailing upwards. The skin of her hands is so cold it makes you feel as if your skin is on fire as they leave a chilly trail up your stomach, ribs, and eventually they eclipse your breasts.

She begins kneading the squishy mounds experimentally, slipping her tongue into your mouth as she does so. You moan softly as her movements grow slightly rougher, and she begins to roll her thumbs over your chilled nipples.

Ms. Harkness lips leave yours and she begins kissing a wet trail across your jaw, down your neck and chest, making her way to your breasts. She moves to your right breast first, peppering kisses all around it before she starts to lick and suck harsh marks into your soft flesh. A gasp escapes your lips when she latches her mouth onto your nipple and sucks, circling her tongue around the bud. You tangle your fingers in her hair.

She smirks happily at the fresh marks on your skin before latching her mouth onto your neglected breast, sucking and licking at the untouched skin. You let out a breathy moan, all of the rough stimulation becoming too good.

You hook your legs around her waist and begin unashamedly grinding onto her, needing more friction from the woman above you. Your mind is becoming hazy with desperation, and you can feel yourself growing impatient as her movements become more rough, your breasts more sensitive. Before you know it you’re mewling and keening into her ear pathetically, desperately grinding up onto her, your legs locked around her waist in a death grip and your hands pulling at her hair to ground yourself as your mind clouds with pleasure.

The older woman leans back from your chest, flicking her hair behind her shoulder. You whine, reaching your arms out to her, immediately missing the contact. She chuckles softly at your desperation.

“So pretty...”

The older woman speaks softly as she trails one of her lithe fingers down your body. It starts at your throat, the cold digit leaving goosebumps in its wake as it makes a path down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and ventures lower and lower..

You’re practically panting with anticipation, drinking in her disheveled and desire filled appearance. Her half lidded eyes meet yours again with a smirk as she traces the marks forming on your chest.

Ms. Harkness starts trailing her hands up your thighs and under your skirt. Your heart is thrumming as she hooks her fingers into your underwear, and immediately you raise your hips from the desk so that she can pull your panties off.

You flush in embarrassment when you realize just how wet you are, and at the fact that you’re practically naked in front of your boss that you’ve been crushing on for months now.

With a wink she stuffs your underwear in her pocket, and if you’re surprised you haven’t passed out from the amount of blood rushing to your cheeks. She takes a fistful of your skirt and pushes it up, nudging your legs apart with her free hand.

You’re practically hyperventilating, and Agatha must notice this because she pauses to knead your thigh gently, giving you a kind smile.

“Relax,”

She coos.

“You’re doing so good for me. Just lay back and let Mommy take care of you, okay?”

You nod your head and calm your breathing.

“Good girl.”

She says softly before dropping to her knees in front of you. You do your best to relax and listen to her, but it’s hard when your heart is racing and you can barely keep up with all the thoughts running through your head.

You can’t take your eyes off of her. She looks so good with her face encompassed by your thighs, you want to burn this image into your memory.

Agatha leans forward and drags her tongue through your folds. Your eyelids flutter shut and you let out a soft moan, you’re already addicted to the feeling and you’ve barely even gotten a taste. The older woman smirks against you, the strokes of her tongue becoming more firm as she continues the movements.

You sigh as she laves her tongue from your entrance to your clit, drawing little patterns over it before slowing dragging her tongue downwards and toying with your entrance. She repeats the action a few times, slow and teasing. You tangle your fingers in the roots of her hair, a sharp moan tearing through your throat when she pushes her tongue inside of you.

She slowly drags it in and out of your entrance a few times before trailing her tongue back up to your clit, softly pulling the bud between her lips and sucking.

You curse softly, eagerly grinding your hips down onto her face. She’s smirking against you, proud of the mess she’s turning you into. She doubles down on her ministrations, rocking her tongue back into you in time with the roll of your hips, raising her hand and softly tracing her thumb over your clit.

“M-mommy, please..”

You whine, your fingers tightening in her hair. She hums into your went cunt, your leg arching involuntarily as a gasp of pleasure tears through you.

She keeps ghosting her thumb over your clit, slowly thrusting her tongue in and out of you in time with each sloppy roll of your hips. You’re getting desperate as you feel your pleasure mounting higher and higher, chasing it with each needy rut against her face. Agatha raises her free hand and holds your hip tightly, guiding your movements against her mouth.

Again, you whine loudly. You feel it coming up on you, your orgasm is so close you can almost taste it. Her tongue feels so good inside of you, how it deliciously rubs against your walls with every precise thrust, how her thumb ghosts over your clit, just barely giving you friction. She’s purposely keeping you hanging right on the edge of bliss. You’re right on the precipice, almost there, your body is buzzing in anticipation.

You groan in frustration when she pulls back, a devious smirk on her lips.

A wave of embarrassment washes over you when you see the lower half of her face drenched in your arousal. Agatha makes a show of licking you from her lips, her tongue slowly tracing over her soft pink lips before wiping off her chin and around her mouth with the back of her hand. You swallow hard.

She pulls her hair over her left shoulder as she stands, the wild brown locks a mess from being pulled at, frayed and sticking out at odd angles. God, is she a sight to see, her hair a tangled mess, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide as she leans over you.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you watch the woman above you like a hawk. She eyes you like you’re the most delicious thing she’s ever seen before she presses her mouth against yours, the kiss rough and demanding. Your teeth clash, and you’re positive your mouth will bruise from the force of her rough affection.

You moan into the kiss when her hand cups your pussy, dripping in your arousal and her saliva. Agatha pulls back, only slightly, and rests her forehead against yours.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen..”

She breathes against your lips, grinding her hand up into you. You moan again, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Look at me, baby..”

Agatha demands and you pry your eyelids open, meeting her gaze.

“Good girl..”

She coos just as she eases her middle finger into your soaking, tight entrance. You moan loudly at the intrusion as she slowly sinks into you until she’s buried to her last knuckle. You whine softly, throwing your head back against the desk. She laughs breathily as she leans down and begins kissing your collarbone once again.

“You’re so noisy..”

Agatha remarks in a teasing voice as she begins dragging her finger out of you, only to swiftly thrust it back in. Your mouth is hung open in a silent moan, almost unable to process how she manages to make you feel as if sparks are flying from every drag of her skin against yours.

The older woman starts nipping and sucking at the marks she painted on your chest earlier, darkening them. Your skin is so sensitive from her earlier abuse, your pussy feeling just as sensitive and it’s almost too much to handle. You’re keening and moaning into her ear, one of your hands wildly carding through her hair to try and ground yourself in reality.

She’s licking across your chest when she carefully pushes her index finger into you, joining her middle finger. Your throat feels hoarse from how much you’ve been moaning.

“Fuck, you’re so tight..”

Agatha hisses against your skin as she begins rolling her hand up into you. You’re seeing stars, her fingers can reach places inside of you that you could only dream of, your own small hands are nothing in comparison to her long, lithe ones that work you so perfectly.

She’s winding you up again, pulling you tighter and tighter but keeping you on the precipice of pleasure. You whine into her ear, desperately tugging at her hair as she peppers your neck in kisses.

“Please, Mommy, please-”

You’re babbling desperately, rolling your hips sloppily in time with her thrusts. Agatha chuckles darkly against your neck.

“So needy… I want to hear you beg a little more before I let you cum.. You just sound so pretty, baby..”

She coos against your skin, and you groan out desperately.

You move your hand from her head to her shoulder, nails biting into her soft, pale skin. She leans back and admires you below her.

Her thrusts slow just a tiny bit and you whine out in frustration, throwing your head back against the desk. She’s doing this on purpose - giving you just enough pleasure to keep you right on the edge and frustrated. It’s maddening, you feel like you’re going to explode. You feel a few tears spill from the corners of your eyes.

“P-please, Mommy.. Wanna cum so bad.. You’re making me feel so good..”

You moan out, rolling your hips down onto her fingers. She doesn’t stop you, she merely smirks down at your frantic actions. She raises her free hand and wipes away the tears that had escaped your eyes, cupping your cheek. It’s so affectionate and sweet, and you nuzzle into her hand, kissing her wrist. Your movements are uncoordinated and messy, your mind scrambled in desperation.

“Such a sweet girl.. I love seeing you become such a pathetic little mess for me.. So pretty..”

She sighs out, a wide, pleased smile on her features as she starts thrusting her hand up into you harder. You let out a surprised moan, broken thank you’s falling from your lips as sparks of pleasure begin flying through you at a more intense rate.

“Tell me.. Who does this pretty little cunt belong to, sweetheart?”

She coos, running her thumb sweetly over your cheek as her rough thrusts cause wet noises to sound throughout the dim office. If you could think clearly you’d be embarrassed, but your mind is focused on only one thing. You choke on your moans before responding.

“You, Mommy, M’ all yours..”

You desperately respond, your vision becoming fuzzy as the coil in your stomach pulls impossibly tight. The sound of her fucking her hand up into you gets louder, and you just know her hand is absolutely drenched in your arousal.

“Good girl.”

All you see is her features and the dim background behind her bleed together as her thumb begins swiping over your clit in quick, frantic passes.

Your vision goes blank as the coil in your abdomen snaps, your body tensing impossibly tight as pleasure courses through you in thick waves. You let out a long, broken moan as she fucks you through your pleasure, your legs and your hands holding onto her for dear life as she drags out your high for as long as she can.

“You did such a good job, sweetheart..”

You’re desperately heaving for air when your body finally slumps, your limbs falling loosely to the desk below you as if you’re a ragdoll. You feel as if your body is electric in the aftermath of your orgasm.

Agatha's fingers are still buried inside of you, shallow, soft thrusts making black spots eat at the edge of your vision. You whine, throwing your head back against the desk. Her continuous movements are becoming overwhelming, you've grown so sensitive and it's all too much.

"Mommy, please.."

Your voice is wobbly as you weakly claw at her forearm. She smirks down at you.

"I thought you wanted this, baby.."

She taunts you and you whine desperately again, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

"Too much.."

You breathe out the words, your chest heaving. The older woman finally pulls her fingers from your heat, and you groan at the loss of contact, missing how her fingers filled you up so perfectly but grateful that she's giving you a chance to rest.

"Thank you.."

You sigh, wrapping your shaky arms around her shoulders as she leans over you. She smiles down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Of course.. I don't want to overwhelm you during your first time. Don't get used to this kindness, though."

Agatha warns you, her words muffled against your skin. You nod your head in understanding, your eyelids sliding shut as you continue to catch your breath.

Agatha praises you as she comfortingly runs her hands over your body. You hum happily, peeling your eyes open to meet hers. A content smile crosses your lips.

Agatha leans back, only slightly. Her wild brown locks hang over one of her shoulders, her blue eyes absolutely mesmerizing as she cups your cheek. She softly runs her fingers over the flesh before her thumb moves to toy with your bottom lip.

“Thank you, Mommy.”

You're surprised by the confidence in your tone, especially while she's studying you with thoughtful eyes and an intense gaze. She runs her thumb back and forth on your bottom lip, staring eagerly.

“Now.. I’m dying to see how your pretty little face looks between my thighs.”

#Kinktober #Kinktober 2021 #Agatha Harkness x Reader #Agatha Harkness/Reader #Agatha Harkness x Y/N #Agatha Harkness/Y/N #Smut #Chemvel #chemvel kinktober

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gimme-my-mammoney · 3 years ago

Note

How do the brothers react to an MC revealing that she is, in fact, a lesbian

I LOVE this request. I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it 🖤.

I added in a few more characters just because I had ideas, I hope that’s okay?

Also, as someone who is part of the LGBTQIA+ community I want to specify that my blog is a safe space and any form of intolerance will not be accepted. I’ll feed you to Cerberus.

TW - Homophobic terms.

I’ve TW the word Queer because while I like to reclaim it and a lot of other LGBT+ people do, I know and understand it can be triggering for some people. Know that I’ve used it as a queer person and in respectful ways. While I mention bigotry and homophobia I’ve not given examples. I hope this is okay with everyone 🖤

Lucifer -

Somehow knew. Nobodies sure how. He just knows things. He knows everything.

Told you only to tell his brothers when you’re ready to assures you that nobody will ever say anything harsh to you while he’s around.

The one time a demon at RAD did make a joke about your sexuality he appeared behind them from nowhere. All they found was his ripped up uniform.

Genuinely baffled the human world isn’t more accepting. Surely love is love?

Practically your Dad when it comes to dating. He wants to meet them and make sure they meet his standards for how you should be treated.

Mammon

Mammon knows a whole coven of lesbian witches and they all scare him. He assures you this is because of his debts and not because they’re lesbians. Lesbians aren’t so scary.

Stood in silence for a bit when you told him then laughed. He knew there was a reason you didn’t find the GREAT Mammon totally alluring.

Takes pride a little too far. He’s trying to be the ultimate ally and you don’t have the heart to tell him it might be a bit too much to have the lesbian flag hung in every room.

Wears a “my best friend likes girls, so what?” Tee shirt to RAD and insists it’s discrimination when he’s asked to take it off. You have to explain that it’s just a uniform violation.

Ready to square up to human governments that won’t legalise same sex marriage.

Tries to set you up with every lesbian he meets but also doesn’t think any of them are good enough.

Leviathan -

Probably the most aware of the LGBT+ community because he’s terminally online.

Shrugged it off when you told him. Most of his gamer pals are queer people/demons.

Obsessed with gay twitter and it’s many many memes. Shows them to you as often as he can.

Usually quiet at school but when someone says something homophobic he flips. You’ve never seen him so angry.

Wants to go a pride March with you. You nearly collapsed when you found out he actually wants to leave the house.

Third wheels all your dates but has no awareness he’s doing it.

Satan -

Just nods when you tell him and resumes reading.

Recommends books featuring wlw partnerships and explains the significance of gay people in literary history. You switch off accidentally.

Literally nothing changes with him. You’re you and that’s all that matters. He’s a support in silence kind of demon.

Won’t cause a scene when someone says something cruel. He just destroys them on the spot and moves on. They don’t deserve to exist.

Writes a strongly worded letter to the UN asking them to rethink the rights of queer people - OR ELSE.

Takes you to a queer bookstore where you “happen” to meet a lesbian demon who likes the same books as you. He manages to slip out before you’ve noticed. What a coincidence.

Asmodeus -

Thrilled when he finds out. Literally could not be happier for you.

His sexuality is as fluid as fluid can be. He doesn’t like labels but is overjoyed you’ve found one that suits you.

Has LOADS of queer friends and invites you out with them all the time.

Nobody at RAD dares say anything because you have a pack of queer demons surrounding you. Asmo is the leader and he will send his minions to do the dirty work.

Pride month is his favourite time to visit the human world because everyone is so… available. Ahem.

Constantly trying to get you laid.

Beelzebub -

Shares his cookie when you tell him. He’s thankful you wanted to share this with him.

Love is love with Beel. Simple as.

Takes his big brother role very seriously with you. Loves you more than you ever thought possible.

Ate a demon for saying something homophobic and he’s not afraid to do it again.

Attends pride with you and is VERY popular with gay men. Who doesn’t love a tall, muscular, sweetheart?

Just wants you to be happy and will love whoever you love.

Belphegor -

Okay? And? Why have you woke him to tell him this?

Literally not a big deal to him. He couldn’t care less who you like.

Occasionally asks questions about what your life has been like as an out lesbian. Is very happy to learn that you’re happier since you came out.

Death glares anyone who gives him bad vibes around you.

Pride seems like a lot of work but he supposes he’ll go with you. As long as he can nap somewhere.

Suggests nap dates for every date you go on.

Diavolo -

Equality is VERY important in the Devildom. He assures you that there is zero tolerance for bigotry.

Suggests a coming out party despite the fact you’ve been out for years.

Ally ship to the MAX. Wants you to be comfortable being yourself.

Expulsion for anyone who isn’t accepting. There’s dungeons under the palace for a reason.

Better leadership that most of the human world.

Organises a Devildom pride parade. Absolutely loves it.

Knows a few eligible lesbian ladies in the royal court. Will hook you up.

Simeon -

Wants you to know that you’re loved by all the angels no matter who you love and who you are.

Wrote queer characters in TSL.

Used magic to make a rainbow over the house of lamentation.

Tries to educate anyone who isn’t accepting. There’s no room for more hate in the world.

Is heartbroken people use angels and religion to justify hate. That’s not what it’s about at all.

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atsukashii · 3 years ago

Note

Hi is it ok if I request y/n x kuroo & she/her & ☀️ & pink please?

smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover gon' pop like trouble breaking into your heart like that

✘ hey google: how do you tell if a guy is flirting with you?

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: aged up characters, bookshop au

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

“I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks.”

Closing your work locker, you raise an eyebrow at the familiar six foot, raven haired guy, who smirks down at you as if he just won first prize. In cringe worthy pick up lines? Yeah he can take that medal.

“Are you calling me a snack?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“Will you go out with me if I say yes?” Kuroo asks again, wagging his eyebrows at you teasingly, and you immediately know he’s messing with you.

“Not a chance.” Offering him a scathing glare, you spin on your heels and slip out the front door of the shop. When you’d first gotten the job at the small bookshop near your house, you'd have been ecstatic. Although you’d been less ecstatic about your new colleague who you’d never met before in your life, but had been slipping you cheesy and corny pick up lines every day for months.

You didn’t even know that there were that many ways to flirt with someone, but alas, Kuroo proved you wrong every shift. At first, you’d been a flustered bumbling mess trying to come up with a response, but as you caught on to how his hazel eyes glinted with untamed mischief, you’d decided that Kuroo wasn’t your favourite person.

That wasn’t to say that you by any means hated the guy, there was no way you could when he was literally one of the nicest people you’d ever come across in your life. He held doors open for you, and would volunteer to carry the new boxes of stock out back because they were heavy - although you had an inkling that was partly to show off. In the end, Kuroo is sweet, kind, and hilarious. But he thinks that hitting on you every day, and asking you out as a joke is also hilarious.

And it’s hilariously pissing you off.

Because somewhere down along the way, between the angel references and calling you a ‘cute-cumber’ you’d found yourself smiling at the lines. You found yourself anticipating getting to work shifts with him, just to see him and for the chance to witness the familiar rogue smile and the pure giddiness that emits from his very being.

But to him, it was a joke. And that left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Adjusting your bag once more, you try to slide the store door closed behind you to keep the aircon inside - a stark contrast to the summer heat bearing down on you. Before it can close completely, a hand rolls the glass door to a stop and you find yourself once again looking up into hazel eyes.

“Not finished?” You snipe back, having reached your quota of fake flirting for the day. Kuroo doesn’t flinch at your tone, or maybe he just chooses not to notice judging by the smile that graces his face. Maybe, just maybe you could eventually get over him. It’s not going to go anywhere, if it was going to, he wouldn’t have waited literal months to make a move. So maybe, you can let him go.

“Oh I have plenty more for you princess, but I just thought you might want this first.” In his hand is a copy of the book you’d been reading behind the counter of your shifts. Blinking twice, you realise it’s got similar dog eared pages and a crinkled spine from continuous use - that's your book. Instinctively you peer into your bag on your shoulder, and alas, it's empty. With an empty mind, you take the item from Kuroo’s outstretched hand, and offer him a quick thanks as you try to swallow the emotion in your throat.

“You’re most welcome. Walk home safe, I'll see you tomorrow princess.” Kuroo responds with a rogue wink that has you flushing from head to toe. His knowing grin proves that was the response he was looking for, so you quickly shove the book in your back and practically run from your work - swearing that you can feel his gaze on you the whole way home.

Yeah, there’s no chance you’re going to get over him.

This is cemented on your next night shift. You stand behind the counter, your eyes glancing up from the book you’re reading to the group of teenage girls giggling amongst the young adult isle. Really, it should be an actual law for people to be as quiet in bookstores as they are in libraries.

The door opens once more, and you begin to groan internally at the thought of even more rowdy teenagers coming in, but instead Kuroo slinks through the door in all his six foot two glory. Dressed in his work shirt, some black jeans and his usual sneakers, he looks good and the bastard knows it from the raised eyebrows he shoots you when he catches you looking. You don’t reply, but instead turn back to your book, ignoring him and the gaggling teenagers who suddenly shut up as he walks past them to go to the back room. You can’t blame them as their eyes stay glued to his every movement. Kuroo walks like he was meant to carry the world on his shoulders, but instead spins it like a basketball on one finger. As if the most difficult things for him are effortless. Like a god amongst men. Okay, let's not go that far. If he ever heard that, his ego would asphyxiate everyone from here to the south pole.

“Do you like my shirt?” Kuroo’s question has you turning around before you can stop yourself, but you’re all levels of confused as he holds the hem of his shirt in pinched fingers away from his body. His shirt? It’s his work shirt…

“Uh it’s your work shirt…” You manage to mumble out, brows still furrowed, completely baffled.

“Yeah but its made of a different material.” He points out, moving closer to you, only looking up from his shirt and to you when he’s standing only a few feet away. “Boyfriend material.” His grin is actually blinding, so you’re not sure if you’re squinting from that, or from the way you scrunch up your nose in distaste at his line.

“I hate you.” You grumble, turning away and looking down at your book once more, letting your hair fall over your cheeks to hide the flush splashed brightly across them.

“Hate me? Why must you hurt me so princess?” Kuroo jokes, and you find yourself getting more and more disappointed as he grows quiet and begins to start on his own work for the shift. It’s not until you both notice the gaggling girls practically drooling on the floor at him that you decide you need to take your break.

Closing your book loud enough to startle the group of girls and the guy flicking aimlessly through a volleyball magazine at your side. “I’m going for my ten.” You offer in explanation as you try to move out back. You don’t get to even make it past the counter before there's a warm hand wrapping around your own. Kuroo’s hand completely engulfs yours in the best ways and you can’t help but gape at it as it pulls your walk to a stop.

“Are you alright?” He asks, drawing your eyes reluctantly from your entwined hands to his face, and once you spot genuine concern there, you hesitate with your response. How do you say that no, you’re not okay because would you be if the person that you liked jokingly asked you out on a daily basis for months on repeat? But never meant it?

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Kuroo doesn’t let go just yet, but instead scratches the back of his neck with his other hand nervously.

“You know, if I'm honestly bothering you, please tell me. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable y/n,” He offers, shame and hurt flashing brightly in his eyes - and it shocks you stupid for a few seconds. It takes you an added moment that he’s talking about his teasing. Wait, he thinks he’s bothering me? Is he?

“Kuroo, if it was bothering me I would have told you alright?” You say softly, your gaze drifting back to your hand. “I mean sure sometimes it can be a bit much but that's mainly because I'm an idiot.” Not expecting those words, Kuroo’s nerves bleed into a confused frown that has you wanting to reach up and thumb away the line between his pinched brows.

“An idiot? Princess, if what I'm saying is bothering you-”

“It’s not what you’re saying that’s bothering me, it’s the joking.” The second the words leave your mouth, you wish you could reach out, grab them, and shove them back down your throat, because the way Kuroo drops your hand as if it burnt him hurts more than you thought it would.

“Joking?” His tone is utterly perplexed, and this time, you’re the one looking back at him with confusion. A loud laugh barks from his chest and you immediately feel embarrassed for absolutely nothing. Kuroo is laughing so hard and obnoxiously that tears actually crest the corner of his eyes, and at this rate you’re ready to just walk out the door if it means you don’t have to deal with this embarrassment for another second.

“You mean to tell me, that all this time you thought I was joking?” Kuroo gets out between laughs, and you feel your stomach drop at his words. What does he mean did you think he was joking? Was he not?

Your silence is answer enough because he runs a hand through his thick dark hair and leans back on the counter behind him.

“Jesus Christ Y/n!”

“You would laugh at me after you said them!” You defend, pointing an accusing finger in his way. How could you not think he was joking when he’d laugh at you, his whole being the very embodiment of mischief when he would say his lines.

“Because your face would go red and you’d tell me I was an idiot under your breath, because it was cute!” Kuroo rebuts right back, trying once more not to laugh, and you can’t help but groan. You cannot believe that this entire time, he was actually trying to ask you out on a date. Well, you can’t fault his perseverance and tenacity.

“Kuroo,” you grumble, bridging your fingers and pressing them to your forehead in thought, just trying to calm your raging heart at the fact that this is happening.

“Y/n,” he grins right back, and you can feel him closing in on your position before you can even see him. But once you open your eyes again, letting your hands fall from your face, Kuroo’s stunning features are right up close and more beautiful than you’d thought.

“Does this mean that you’ll go out with me when I ask this time?” You really do try for your pride's sake to not flush at his words, but heat still crawls up your neck and Kuroo’s growing smile tells you that your mental attempt to stop it isn’t working.

“Yes, I will.” You say, letting the smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

“Good, I'll remember that for my new line tomorrow.”

✘ A/N: more fluffy kurro for ya day, y'all i am l i v i n g for this man rn

#special event 🧚‍♀️✨#lols writes #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurō #haikyuu kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x reader #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo imagine

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

Text

What About the Smaller Picture (2)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (2) Your first day in Arcadia, it sure is something. (1) - (3)

Warnings: swearing, proofing is for nerds

Word Count: 2211

a/n: i hope to be able to make you feel the awkwardness radiating off of every part of this series

Hisirdoux’s special welcome tour didn’t exactly do its job of making you feel welcome. You supposed that was more of a problem with you than the town. It definitely wasn’t of any fault of Hisirdoux’s. If anything, he was being a little too warm. It almost felt fake.

People appeared to like Hisirdoux. All across town, he would greet friends, introduce you to them. Kinda like he was showing you off. You did not know what for. He barely knew you, yet he talked about you like you were an old friend returned to him. Like he was proud of you or something. You supposed he was establishing a cover story. And you weren’t sure why. Why not just say you were new in town? What tracks was he trying to cover here.

You stopped paying too much attention to what Hisirdoux was telling others about you. He was telling them that he cared for you. That he missed you. It was a lie, sure. But just hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth were making you melt. It had been so long that it was hard for you to recall the last time a person said such nice things about you. That was sad. You supposed the blush on your face did good to add to the story he was telling. Made it more believable. You felt really pathetic that this guy you barely knew lying through his teeth about you was actually making you blush as if it was real. As if anyone really thought those nice things he said about you in real life. Man that’s really sad. Moving on.

The town itself looked a little rough. Like it had seen better days. It was apparently a hub of magic, so it probably had. A lot of the damage you saw looked very recent though. That made sense. The whole reason you wound up here was because you befriended a girl traveling with a pack of trolls migrating from this very town. When asked why they were migrating, Claire, the girl, had told you that their home had been destroyed in a recent battle. “The Eternal Night” they called the battle. You, of course, knew about such eternal night. You had heard of the prophecy, you just didn’t expect it to happen in your lifetime. And you may had freaked out just a tad when it came along earlier that month, the unexpected solar eclipse confusing you and your studies before you figured out what was happening. However, you had assumed the battle took place underground, you know, cause trolls. The town you explored with Hisirdoux told a different story. At one point you saw a troll walking by, under an umbrella, following a red-headed human woman with a baby in her arms. And the locals didn’t seem to care. No one batted an eye. Strange town.

What really baffled you though was what happened later in the day, back at the bookstore, when you cast a simple spell. Nothing too flashy, just a little levitation on a book Hisirdoux had sent you to find up on a high shelf you couldn’t reach. When he saw you, Doux made a really panicked gasping sound. He threw himself in front of you, shielding you from the people who were not even there, startling you, and throwing off your focus. The book landed on both of you with a thunk.

“You can’t do that,” his voice was hushed despite you two being the only ones in the shop at the moment, “It’s business hours. The mortals don’t know about wizards and they shouldn’t see magic,” he stressed.

“But- uh,, They look just fine with the trolls?” Confusion was written across your face.

“That’s different. It’s different. Look, the situation is weird, okay,” He made a little X with his hands. “But I can’t have you casting spells around the shop. Or in public, period. The mortals can’t see anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay. My bad. I won’t do it again- Promise.” Your face was hot with embarrassment. This was your fault for assuming. Fuck, he probably thinks you’re a wild card now or something. Not a good start to your professional life here. Or your relationship with this Adonis who’s reprimanding you.

“While there are some other wizards around town that I’ll introduce you to tonight, to stay safe, generally just keep the magic for when we’re alone and out of sight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Okay”

He grinned. Suddenly, he leaned in, catching you off guard. “It can be a special thing,” His voice was even softer as he was so close to you, “just between the two of us.”

Oh. So he meant when just You and Him were alone and out of sight. Ooookaaaayyyy. He winked to you as he separated himself from your side, and went off to the back of the store to continue unpacking a shipment he had just got in. He left you there, clutching that damn book to your chest, face now hotter than before, if that was even possible at all. Oh no.

Fuck, it was fucking day one. Day one! Day fucking one and you were developing a crush. NOPE. This was not something you were going to do. Uh-uh. Nein. There was no fucking time for this. Well, you didn’t really know how much time you had with Merlin and his addiction to being perceived as mysterious or whatever the hell was wrong with that asshole you worked for now, but the point is you did not have time for this! Hisirdoux was too much. Merlin really should have had the decency to warn you that he was hot. This wasn’t fair. Not only was Doux beautiful, but he was a touchy person. You weren’t going to stand a chance.

The thing is you had been sooo worried about how you and Hisirdoux were going to get along, you even brought up the concern to Merlin. To be honest, you had thought the old wizard to just be annoyed at your worrying, and that’s why he reassured you it’d all be fine. That you and Hisirdoux would get along swimmingly or whatever just get out of my hair kid. You were so afraid Hisirdoux would have to warm up to you like a cat being introduced to a new kitten. Afraid that he’d resent you since you were technically Merlin’s apprentice too now in a sense. And he was used to being number one, no one else to compete with for Merlin’s sparse pride since Morgana went astray. Merlin assured you Hisirdoux was very friendly. But like, would it kill the geezer to give you a warning that he’d be too friendly.

While you were having your little crisis, Douxie was humming along to the song in his head, stacking up the new books onto a display, trying his absolute dilly darndest not to think about what just happened. What he did. That wasn’t weird, right? Oh fuzzbuckets, he did something weird. He was just so used to playing up the flirty persona he’d developed he hadn’t even stopped to think about if he’d be making you uncomfortable. And he really wanted you to be comfortable. Plus, he felt pretty guilty he had to stop your tour around town to go accept a shipment he forgot. Strangely, he was really concerned about the impression he was giving you. Caring about what another person thought of him was not very in character for him. Not counting Merlin, of course. He was going to have to make this up to you. He really needed you to think he was cool. For professional reasons, of course. Definitely.

~ ~ ~

“SO! I recommend the steak because it’s the least disgusting thing on the menu.”

You gaped at the wizard sitting across from you in this sticky booth, peeping your head over the kitschy French-themed menu you held. He had no menu. In fact he refused to even touch it. Great. What did he know.

“I- What do mean ‘least disgusting’, Casperan.” You were almost afraid to ask.

“I mean that kitchen is filthy and the steak is your best bet for something edible.”

“Why. Why would you bring me here if the food is terrible.”

You were always weary of greasy chain restaurants, but you had expected this one to be at least a little decent, since it was a smaller Cali chain and Hisirdoux had fucking brought you to it your first day in the town. Surely he was kidding.

“I just wanted to show you where I worked nights. So you’d be able to find me easier if there’s any trouble. Besides, you can’t say you’ve been to California if you haven’t had Mr. Benoit’s. It’s like In-N-Out burger. Remind me to take you to an In-N-Out burger later this week.”

You blinked. “Oh – uh, okay.”

Hisirdoux continued, “I can’t have my phone turned on during my shifts so you’ll have to come get me directly if it’s a big enough problem. Make up an emergency. Are you good at improve?”

You looked around the restaurant, getting a feel for its layout, taking notice of where the kitchen and back doors were located, making mental notes of all exits. “Ah, well, I’m good at lying, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good enough.”

The waiter came to take your orders. Hisirdoux shared an inside joke with him. It should have been awkward, them laughing away at something you didn’t understand why you sat there quietly, but you were a little too fixated on how pretty Hisirdoux looked when he laughed. It was mesmerizing. The waiter took your order. You got the steak.

~ ~ ~

It was very important for you to establish connections in Arcadia’s wizard underground. Or at least that’s what Hisirdoux thought. You weren’t particularly a social butterfly. It’s not that you didn’t like having a large group of friends or anything, you just never really had a reason to have one. And Doux was hell bent on introducing you to every person in this town in one day apparently. You had met twenty-three wizards in counting over the last hour being shepherded through this off-brand apple store. You had so far learned no names. How did he expect you to remember these peoples names. Scratch that. You knew one name. Zoe. Just because she was very annoyed at your and Hisirdoux’s presence in her workplace, and was very vocal about it. That being said, she didn’t make any real effort to get you to leave. You wished she would though. You were getting overwhelmed. Today had been incredibly stressful, with a lot of information to take in, and with only a brief rest when Doux was handling things at the bookstore. You wanted to go home. Geez, home. You realized that Hisirdoux had yet to show you home. Where was home.

You tugged on his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, I’m- uh – tired? Really tired. Can - can we go home?”

“OH. Yes! Home. Right away. Yes.”

Douxie possibly maybe had been avoiding home all day. It just, it wasn’t much. He had no idea how you were going to react. His space was small already without adding another person to it. Of course, it wasn’t any smaller than any of the one-room cottages that entire families used to share, but it was tiny for modern standards. Okay to be frank it was a back room. Not technically even an actual apartment. But it was his home. And now it was your home too.

Okay, so Hisirdoux lived in his bookstore. What was probably supposed to be a break room was his entire living space. It was… cozy. You set the backpack that carried everything you owned down on the floor and headed for the lumpy plaid sofa. It was nice and old, like a sofa should be. The plaid pattern covered any stains that might have been there. Hisirdoux sat down next to you, starting to fiddle with his hands. You looked around, took it all in. The was a kitchenette off to one side, a bed to the other side. The sofa was in the sort of middle ground. Notably, there was no table, barely any counter space, and various teacups on the coffee table, so it was a safe bet that he just ordered take out every night and ate it on the sofa. The twin bed was on the ground, and the quilts that covered it had visible holes. It struck you that this bed was the only one in the room. The one room.

“So I’ll take the sofa, until we get you a bed. I’ll, uh, figure something out with the space. We can put up curtains or something.” It was if he had read your mind.

You nodded, unsure of anything to add. This was,,,, going to be fun. A challenge. A test to see how long you can act normal while living in extremely close quarters with a funny medieval supermodel. Merlin help you. Something moved in the corner of your eye. You gasped.

“Kitty!”

“Oh, that’s Archie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Talking kitty. How bout that.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x y/n #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #Douxie Casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #my writing #watsp

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littlebookreader · 3 years ago

Text

The Visitor - Part 2/2

For @halkylenerdybitch456. This is a brilliant idea, I dunno why more people aren’t using it. (This turned out a lot longer than anticipated, so this is now a two parter.)

Summary(for part 2): Aziraphale entertains an unexpected visitor, and avoids seling him his books (just about).

Fandoms: Good Omens(All Media Types), Percy Jackson and The Olympians(All Media Types), Heroes of Olympus(Book Series)

TW: Implied deception and gaslighting, implied unreality.

Okay, here we go. (Sorry in advance.)

Aziraphale didn’t care that he’d been startled. He didn’t even care that in all the chaos, his cocoa had been spilled, thoroughly ruining his waistcoat. He didn’t even care that the boy seemed just as confused as he was, if not more so.

What did disturb him however, was the aura that he gave off. He hadn’t seen one like it in a long time, and after all his previous experiences, even seeing it almost two millennia later, felt like it was too soon.

He composed himself, and asked, “I’m sorry, where-where are you from?”

The boy blinked, somewhat snapping out of it, and gestured vaguely to a list that he gripped tightly in his fist.

“Book.”

Aziraphale frowned, then motioned for the boy to hand it over. He pulled out his glasses and examined the list, then realising that most of its contents were atleast a hundred years old, asked the boy, “Why would this be in your possession? These are very old, and no college I know, even knows of the existence of them!”

The visitor simply said, “Mine does, and I’m looking for them for the DSTOMPS-”

Aziraphale had heard of every examination under the sun, every standardised test, even given some of them for the fun of it, but the DSTOMP....that didn’t quite seem to ring a bell.

“I do beg your pardon?”

“The Demigod Standardised Test of Mad Powers? Well, the map clearly recommended your place, so here I am. To buy some books, and study them, clear this test and go to New Rome University. ”

New Rome University. Of course.

“Tiberius!” He yelled.

The boy blinked again. “Wait, you know Tiberius?”

“An old acquaintance, much more trouble than he was worth, really.”

“Tiberius? Trouble? Oh boy, just wait till everyone hears about this!”

Aziraphale laughed. It had been some time since he’d last been to New Rome(though then it was in Plymouth, and far less desirable than it seemed presently) and the memories of Tiberius’ reign of compulsiveness and terror at the gates, while demigods(he’d assumed this from the boy’s aura), much like the one before him, brought back a strange sense of nostalgia for a time he’d otherwise longed to forget.

The boy extended his hand. “Anyway, I’m Percy, nice to meet you.”

Aziraphale smiled in turn, and shook it warmly. “Aziraphale.”

“Say, when you said these books were over a hundred years old....you didn’t really mean that, did you?”

“I did, most of New Rome’s volumes carried over from the Plymouth chapter.”

Percy frowned. “Plymouth? I thought New Rome was in California?”

“If you’ll remember, it shifts with the centres of civilization, with every rising age. Frankly, given my experiences with the lot, I’m surprised I’m even ON your booklist.”

Percy shrugged, pausing to think about it. “I dunno, really, my girlfriend gave it to me, though I don’t think she knew about the map to your store.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Tiberius knows that I despise selling my books, of course he would send you here. Oh well, I do know of a lovely substitute shop that you can visit for the volumes.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bookstore owner? Like, don’t you SELL books?”

“Merely an excuse to collect them. I couldn’t quite rent out a shop in SoHo without actually selling anything, so I keep a couple of modern volumes as well, just to keep up the front.”

Aziraphale was surprised by how easily that statement came to him. He hadn’t confided in the truth about the bookshop to anyone, except Crowley, so naturally, telling someone else about this embarrassed him slightly.

The demigod had an easy manner, but he wasn’t about to mistake that for confidentiality.

“You....you will not speak of this to anyone, right?”

“Course man, you have my word.”

“Thank God. Thank...thank you.”

“So, now I know you’re not quite human....what exactly are you?”

“I’m an angel.”

“An angel? I thought those weren’t real?”

“A few years ago, I know you wouldn’t have thought Greek Gods and Monsters to be real.”

“True,” he nodded. Then: “How did you know I was Greek, and not Roman? I mean, I did come here from New Rome, after all.”

“Your hair is a little too unruly for the ranks of the Fifth Legion. Tiberius simply wouldn’t have allowed it. It may have been a long time since I visited New Rome last, but I do remember some things.”

Percy laughed. “What is life in New Rome worth, if we don’t disturb Tiberius and his never-ending rules atleast a hundred times?”

“He did dress-code me for my bowties, when I first arrived at Plymouth.” Aziraphale chuckled at the memory of the angry bust, waggling a missing hand and him apologising profusely for ‘not maintaining the decorum of the city (our) founders worked so hard to establish!’.

Percy looked genuinely baffled. “You? What would- why?” He spluttered.

“Crowley and I-”

“Who’s Crowley?”

“He’s the angel I was expecting when you first arrived here, actually.”

“Oh, so...your boyfriend then?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Aziraphale assured him.

“Oh, well, all right. A special friend, then.”

“We have a pact,” Aziraphale continued. “To help each other perform our daily tasks, thwart the other when it is asked of us.”

“Sounds cool. So, what happens if you have to do this miracle thing and he has to tempt someone.”

“Pray to The Lord above that we don’t ever have the misfortune of dealing with that.”

Percy raised a finger. “If you pray for that, then won’t....upper management find out?”

��In this case, it is a figure of speech.”

He nodded again. “Right, right.”

Aziraphale had many questions as well, but even he knew they couldn’t talk about it all forever. He sighed, walked over to his desk and scribbled out the details of the bookshop he’d mentioned previously.

“Here you go, they have all the volumes, updated for all modern readers.”

“It was nice talking to you dude.”

He smiled. “You too, Percival.” As he said it, however, something didn’t quite feel right.

Percy didn’t appear fazed by this. “Well, I’m off, so, uh, how exactly do I go back to New Rome?”

“I have a doorway leading out from the cooking section, you shall know it when you see it.”

“Oh, and hey?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks again. I mean, sure you didn’t actually sell me any books or anything, but thanks.”

“Happy to help.”

With that, Percy walked off towards the cooking section, shortly after which the telltale whoosh of a portal not used since long, rang out behind him, leaving the angel all alone in his bookshop once again.

Well, for the five seconds anyway.

As he began to walk back to his chair again, the bell rang again.

“Sorry I’m late, angel, but do you remember that place in Plymouth, with the angry bust? Yeah, funny story. I just bumped into a boy who claimed to be from there.”

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #not exactly a request #but here you go

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Monster Match #26: Duamutef (Lemon)

The Traveler's Masterlist

For @one-halloween: “My pronouns are she/her and my orientation is pan. I'm small (like 4'9") with waist length brown hair that's bleached in an ombre style. I dress in a kind of retro style (so like 80s acid washed jeans and crop tops). Uhh I love reading, writing and gaming as well as hiking and working on a car or something like that. I'm often quiet but around people I like I can be the jokester of the group.

Cliché but I like partners who are taller than me, and those I can joke around with. Someone who is also loyal and honest as well as loving and will take interest in hobbies. The things I dislike are dishonesty and secrets. As well as someone who takes life way too seriously and won't crack a joke here or there. Also someone who doesn't take interest in what others do. I was thinking if you could make it NSFW that would be great.”

You’ve been matched with Duamutef!

Duamutef is one of the four sons of Horus and one of the protection gods of the four canopic burial jars, specifically the jar which contains the stomach. In war, the most frequent cause of death was from injuries in the torso and stomach, and Duamutef protects this organ, both in life and in death.

Duamutef was originally represented as a man wrapped in mummy bandages; however, from the New Kingdom onwards, he is shown with the head of a jackal and is an example of cynocephaly which, in Greek mythology, is a creature with a human body and a canid head, specifically a jackal.

What gives a god their power was the belief of their followers; however, many of the ancient religions had either died completely or were far less worshiped during modern times, affording the gods of those pantheons less power. While some gods lamented this decline in their abilities, others found it freeing, and delighted in the opportunity of roaming the earth as they wished. One such deity was Duamutef.

As a lesser god, even people who followed the revival religion Khemetism didn’t tend to worship him as much as Anubis or Ma’at or his father Horus, so he decided to come to earth and travel the world, learning about an era with which he was unfamiliar.

Of course, you didn’t know all that when you met him. He introduced himself as Tua, an exchange student from Egypt. He was a mysterious figure and his age indecipherable to you. Sometimes he seemed young and boyish, easily a full foot taller than you, always smiling and laughing. However, there was this ageless look in his eye that told the story of a very old soul. He was tall and dark, just like in fairy tales, and already very popular on campus.

It surprised you when he took notice of you. You were a quiet girl, unassuming and not the type to draw attention, so his sudden interest in you was a little startling.

“Excuse me,” He said one day, coming up to you suddenly. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“That’s probably because we’ve never spoken before,” You said. “And I don’t think you know any of my friends.”

“An oversight. My apologies,” He said, smiling. “I make it my aim to know everyone in every place I go.”

You looked at him in alarm. “There are hundreds of people attending this college.”

“I am aware,” He said, still smiling. He had those deep, dark type of bottomless black eyes one could get lost in. “I’ve managed to at least introduce myself to most of the people, but it seems I have missed you. Forgive me.”

“Honestly, it’s not a big deal,” You said. “I’m nobody, really.”

“That’s not true,” He said. “Everybody is somebody to someone, and I’d like to be a friend to you. My name is Tua. May I ask yours?” He offered his hand to shake and you shook it, telling him your name. “Will you walk with me? The cafeteria is offering something called a corndog I’m eager to try.”

You laughed. “Don’t get too excited about that. It’s not exactly a culinary masterpiece.”

“But it’ll be new. I like new. I spent a very long time in one place, and now that I’m out in the world, I want to experience as much as I can.”

“Were you homeschooled as a kid or something?” You asked.

He laughed again. “Or something. My family had a lot of responsibilities many years ago, you could say. After working my whole life in the service of others, I think I’ve earned a vacation.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” You said. “It can be tough when your parents expect a lot from you.”

“That’s the truth,” He replied. “So, corndog? I’ll treat you.” He extended his hand toward the cafeteria.

You echoed his laughter. “I don’t know if I’d call it a treat, but sure. That sounds nice.”

From then on, Tua spent a lot of time with you. He seemed to go out of his way to seek you out. He said he enjoyed listening to you talk about things, saying that your perspective was entertaining. You didn’t mind his presence. He was earnest and funny and he always wanted to hear your opinion on things. He’d often come to the bookstore where you worked to get your recommendation for new books to read. He seemed confused by a lot of western culture’s practices and often asked you for advice or to explain things to him. His open curiosity and wonder with the world around him was very endearing.

You weren’t sure why he chose you to help him navigate life in the western world. Surely there were better candidates in the large pool of people who followed him around. He had a legion of fans who hung on his every word and shadowed him like love-struck puppies, but he dodged them consistently to spend time with you. There were more attractive people of several genders that he could have had his pick of, but he decided on you, and you were slightly baffled by it.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked you one day while you were ringing up his new purchases. He must have a significant library by this point. “There’s something called a farmer’s market I’d like to go see.”

“I can’t go tomorrow,” You said. “My friend’s car is acting up and he wants me to take a look at it. From what he’s telling me, it sounds like his alternator is shot, and if that’s the case, that’s a full day’s work.”

“You can fix cars?” He asked. If he had animal ears, you’d swear they had perked up when he said that. “How interesting. I don’t know anything about cars. Can I observe?”

You shrugged. “If you want to. Make sure to wear stuff you don’t mind getting dirty. It is very hard to get motor oil out of clothes, trust me.”

“Of course,” He said.

“Here,” You said, taking out a pen and running out a length of receipt paper to write on. “Here’s my address. He’ll be dropping it off around 9 A.M. and picking it back up after his shift at work.”

“Excellent. I won’t be late.”

“If you say so,” You said, handing him his purchases. “Here you go. That D&D book is a classic. I think you’ll really like it.”

“Much appreciated,” He said with a smile, nodding politely as he left.

He arrived the next morning carrying a sack of donuts and coffee. You were glad he already knew what kind of coffee you liked, because he drank his very strong and you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. You had to do a double take when he took off his jacket and revealed a v-neck black shirt and tight black jeans. Normally he wore a pair of slacks and a button-up, so this look was quite a change and you were having trouble not staring. He was skinny, but he had a lot more muscle definition than you would have suspected.

“I hope I’m not late,” He said. “There was an accident on the way here. No one seemed to be hurt, but there was quite a backup on the highway.”

“No, you’re fine,” You said. “My friend hasn’t even shown up yet. Let’s eat before he gets here. Eating with grease on your hands is a bad idea.”

Your friend pulled up as you were inhaling a bear claw. You introduced him to Tua, they exchanged brief pleasantries, and your friend took off for the bus stop down the road.

“He seemed nice,” Tua said.

“He’s gay and single, if you want his number,” You laughed as you popped the hood of his Honda Accord.

Tua laughed as well. “I appreciate the offer, but he’s not my cup of tea. Or coffee, if you will.” He took a big gulp, and you shuddered.

“I can’t believe you take that black. It’s got to be so bitter.”

“We didn’t have sugar where I grew up, so I’m used to it.”

Your head rocked back. “Where did you live that you didn’t have sugar.”

“Near Cairo,” He replied. “It was called something different when I was born, though.”

You made a face. “Cairo was founded in 969 AD. You’re not that old.”

He smirked. “How old do I look?”

You stared at him, trying to gauge his age, but blanked. “Let’s just get to work.”

The alternator was indeed going out, and while changing it out wasn’t rocket science, it was labor intensive work for someone as small as you were. You were actually glad to have an extra set of hands to help. In addition to the alternator, you also found a crack in one of the hoses that was also going to have to be replaced, as it was leaking coolant.

Both of you were elbow deep in grease by the time you decided to take a break for lunch. You went to order a pizza as he went in to wash his… self. He somehow managed to get grease all over his face. You had a sneaking suspicion he just liked getting dirty.

After putting in your order, you went back outside to clean up the area around the car and put away the tools you didn’t need anymore in their rightful place in the toolbox when you happened to look up to the bathroom window. You had to squint and blink, because something was… off.

Tua had taken his shirt off to clean up, but something was odd about his head. It was larger, darker, and blurry almost. It almost looked like an animal’s head. Maybe it was just how the frosted glass reflected the color of his hair, but it didn’t look… normal. Something on the top of his head resembling ears flicked back and forth. Something that looked like a snout opened and shut, as if inspecting its teeth. The head shook like a dog slinging water from its fur. You blinked, and he had put his shirt back on and his head looked completely normal again.

Were you going insane?

Tua came back out of the house, the water from washing his face and neck glistening on his skin. You didn’t realize how bug-eyed you were until he tilted his head in concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

You shook your head to clear it. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I thought I saw… nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Pizza’s on it’s way.”

“What did you see?” He asked neutrally.

“It doesn’t matter,” You said. “It was probably a trick of the light.”

“What if it wasn’t?” He asked in the same neutral tone, watching your face. “Hypothetically.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

He sighed, shook his head, and his usual smile was back in place. “No matter. What kind of pizza did you get?”

You let the matter drop, but it nagged in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

That night, your dreams were unusual. You dreamt of a dry place, of women in soft, sheer gowns and men in short skirted garments. Shaved heads and wigs.

In one of the dreams, a woman led you to a huge, grand hall made of stone. There, sitting on a throne of ebony inlaid with gold and jewels, was a man. He had a falcon’s head on a fit human’s body. He held a staff in his hand, and on his head perched a red and white pschent, the crown of Pharaohs. Behind him were four gigantic statutes of other men and women. He sat at their feet, surrounded by attendants.

The woman gestured for you to walk forward, and the man on the throne waved a hand. All of the attendants left him, leaving you standing there alone with him.

“My son has shown you interest,” The man said, his voice booming throughout the chamber, though his mouth never moved. “That is unusual. He and his wife have divorced millennia ago, and he has not taken interest in anyone for many, many years.”

“Your son?” You repeated. “Who is your son?”

“Know you not who I am?” He asked, standing and laying his staff against the armrest. “The god of the sky above and kingdom below. The wisest of my siblings, the most benevolent. Am I a stranger to you?”

“I’m sorry,” You said hesitantly. “I’m not really religious.”

He sighed. “I suppose that’s to be expected. The power of our pantheon has declined dramatically. I must be grateful that the revival in modern times has allowed us to rise from our sleep and reclaim any sort of rule.” He stood to his full height, which had to be at least seven foot. “I am Horus. You are a friend to my son, Duamutef, blessed with the head of a jackal, the animal of death, guidance, and protection.”

“The head of a jackal?” You asked. “Like a dog? So I wasn’t hallucinating? Tua really has the head of a dog?”

“In so many terms, yes. Tua, as you know him, asked for my permission to travel the world, and I granted it to him, hoping he would stop pining and bring his knowledge of the new world back to his peers.”

“How long is he allowed to explore?”

“Not that long,” Horus said. “A few centuries.”

You gaped at him. “You realize that since the industrial age, humanity and its technology is advancing very quickly. The world isn’t the same as it was ten years ago, and it will be different in another ten years.”

“Oh,” Horus said, seemingly baffled. “That’s alarming. In the ancient kingdom, it was as if time stood still. Once we gave humans the knowledge they needed to live and create, things carried on as it always did for over three millennia.”

“Things are different now,” You said, perhaps too boldly considering you were speaking to a god.

“It would seem so,” He replied thoughtfully. “Duamutef is eager to learn, however. As long as he sends back a report, I suppose he can stay in the mortal plane as long as he wishes.”

“I’m sure that would make him happy,” You said.

“I think you would, too,” Horus said, looking down at you. A falcon can’t smile, but you felt kind approval radiating from Horus’s body.

“I would?” You said. “I’m his friend, just a girl he follows around because I explain things to him. I’m not special. Besides, I don’t even think he likes me that way.”

“Aren’t you?” Horus asked patiently. “Doesn’t he?”

You flushed. You hadn’t really considered it. He seemed way out of your league. “Well… even if he did, how can I be worthy of a god?”

“You are worthy. You do not need me to tell you so, nor do you need him to. But he has chosen you, and I am pleased that he is happy and moving on. He has been alone for a very long time.”

“This is a lot to process, you know that?”

“Indeed,” Horus agreed. He turned and went back to the throne, sitting in it. “Take some time to think it over, but do not make him wait long. My son’s happiness is important to me.” He raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

You woke covered in sweat and gasping. That… that couldn’t have been real, could it? Thank god… or gods… that tomorrow was Sunday. You needed a full day to just… deal.

Monday, you returned to school, both confused and… a little excited. There was something innately fascinating knowing an actual god was walking around campus, acting like a human. While you weren’t a fan of the fact that he was hiding it from you, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Just this once.

You saw him in the courtyard surrounded by his usual fans. His magnetism suddenly made a lot more sense. You wondered why you were so resistant to it.

“Tua!” You called. He looked up, caught your eye and smiled, walking over. His gaggle of… worshipers?… followed behind him.

“I need to talk to you privately,” You told him in a terse undertone.

“That sounds serious,” He said, still smiling, though he looked concerned. “What about?”

“Your father came to visit me,” You replied.

The smile slipped and the color drained from his face. “Uh…” He said to his group, trying to laugh lightly. “Sorry, friends. Family business.”

They groaned in disappointment but thankfully dispersed. He took you by the hand and led you to the side of the Sciences building.

“What did he say to you? Was he angry?”

“No,” You said. “He told me he was pleased.”

Tua sighed in relief. “I’m glad. I was worried he was annoyed with my decisions. He said he wouldn’t interfere, but I’ve been concerned because I hadn’t heard from him.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, folding your arms.

“What, that I’m a lesser god of an ancient religion that had almost died out, until the recent revival?” He said shrewdly. “Would you have believed me.”

“Your real head might have convinced me,” You replied. “The jackal?”

“Ah, yes,” He said. “I figured you had seen it the other day, but you didn’t press the issue, so I hoped you’d think it was a figment of your imagination.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know?” You asked.

“I did,” He said. “But I wanted to tell you myself, when the time was right.”

“When would the right time have been?”

He shrugged and looked at the ground. “I don’t know, I guess. I almost did, the other day, but I was nervous.”

“Your father told me something else,” You said carefully. “That you had been alone a long time. That your wife divorced you and that you had been pining for a long time. He also said…” You cleared your throat and swallowed. “That you had chosen me.”

He looked at you through his lashes, looking apprehensive. “Can… can we discuss this later? Somewhere private?”

“Come to my house after school. We’ll talk, okay?”

He nodded, looking self-conscious, turned, and jogged away, dodging his fan club and ducking into the Arts building.

Later that night, you paced in your living room, waiting for him to arrive. When you heard his car pull up, it took every ounce of willpower to not dash outside.

When he knocked, you opened the door to find him holding flowers and a gift bag.

Oh god.

“I figured if the cat was out of the bag, I might as well try,” He said. “Here.” He handed you the flowers, which were your favorites, and the bag. Inside was a book.

“Someone wrote a book about me,” He said. “Well, about me and my brothers. It was written while we were sleeping, so there’s a little missing, but I’m happy to fill in the blanks.”

“I don’t like that you hid this from me,” You said as you moved aside to let him in.

“I’m sorry,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hide it. Most people don’t look that closely. You’re the first person to see my true self.”

“That’s not entirely true,” You said. “I only saw an outline, a shadow.” You folded your arms. “So show me the real you. I want to take a good look.”

He took a deep, calming breath, and his body shimmered. His head elongated, black fur sprouted from his neck up, trailing down his spine and the middle of his chest. His normal modern clothes disappeared and the traditional gathered skirt of ancient Egypt appeared around his waist, ending at the knee. His eyes were silver and had markings around them. He wore no crown, but there were markings where a crown might have once sat.

“Is this what you saw?” He asked. Like his father, his mouth did not move when he spoke. Instead, his voice came from all around you.

“Something like it, yes,” You confirmed.

“Are you frightened?” He asked hesitantly.

“No,” You replied. “I’ve had time to come to terms with it. I think I’d be more freaked out if you had sprung it on me out of nowhere, maybe.”

“See? What else was I to do but keep it to myself?” He said in exasperation.

“I guess I see your point,” You admitted. “But no more secrets, okay? There’s nothing I hate more than people keeping secrets from me.”

“If that’s so, then… there’s one more thing I must confess,” He said slowly.

“I think I know what it is,” You said, bracing yourself. “But I’d like to hear you say it.”

He cleared his throat and stood tall. “I have become… enamored with you. I don’t know when it started, but it came to me quickly. Perhaps it was because you didn’t fall into worship of me, as others have done. As gods, it is humankind’s natural inclination to bend the knee to us, but you did not. Perhaps it was your patience with me and my multitude of questions. Perhaps it was the extent of your knowledge. Perhaps it was all of those things. But I care for you. I do not expect you to return my feelings, but I would wish to remain close to you, in whatever form you desire. Friend, companion, lover. It is your decision.”

You laughed a little. “That’s a hell of a declaration. I mean, you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He looked startled. “Is that something you wish?”

“I don’t know.” You moved closer, considering him. “Are you any good at it?”

He took your hands. “Well… it has been some time. I may be out of practice.”

“Give it your best shot,” You challenged.

His lips curled into a smile, and he pulled you into an embrace. Tall as he was, he had to bend to reach your lips. His kiss was light, but experienced, and he lingered for many minutes. When he pulled away, you were seeing stars.

“How was my technique?” He asked playfully.

You shook your head to stop it from spinning. “More than adequate,” You chuckled. “You’re not quite as rusty as you claim.”

“Ah, that’s good to hear,” He said, and kissed you again.

You weren’t sure how the two of you made it into your bedroom, but suddenly there you were, the bed right next to you. You began shedding clothes and pulled at the belt that gathered the skirt at his waist. It fell into a pile at his feet, and he stepped out of it, lifting you into the air and setting you gently down onto the bed.

You began to shake a little. You hadn’t had a serious partner before and while this wasn’t your first time, the sex you’d had before hadn’t been as… significant as this was turning out to be. Were you going to fast? You’d known him for months but it was only in the last few days that you’d known he was carrying a torch for you. It had been a lot to process, and still was. Were you rushing into it?

He seemed to feel you tense. “Are you alright?”

“I…” You struggled to find the right words and not sound insulting. “I feel like we’re moving to quickly? I’m not even sure how I feel, and we’re already in bed with each other. I just… feel…”

“Rushed?” He said. “It’s alright, I understand. This was a lot to lay on you at once. We can stop.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if I want to stop. I don’t know if I want to keep going. I don’t even know for sure how I feel about you, or the situation. I feel really overwhelmed.”

“It’s alright,” He said. “Why don’t we just lay here for a while and be still and give you some time to find your bearings. I can leave you to think for a while, if you’d like.”

“No. No, stay,” You said. “Just turn off the light and let’s be quiet for a little while. I just want to think.”

“Of course,” He said, reaching for the lamp switch. The two of you were bathed in darkness. He lay next to you, and you allowed him to put his arm around you. You put your head on his chest and listened to his slow heartbeat. It was strangely reassuring: you almost expected him to not have a heartbeat at all.

At some point you must have fallen asleep. He still lay with you, his body illuminated in the moonlight, slightly propped up on the pillows, watching you sleep. He smiled when he saw you rouse.

“Good evening,” He said quietly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off,” You said.

“It’s no problem. I actually rather enjoyed it. You’re very cute when you’re asleep.”

“Don’t be silly,” You said, smacking his chest.

“I’m not!” He chuckled. “You make very adorable noises.”

“Hush, you!” You said, tickling his side.

“Hey, hey!” He exclaimed, squirming away. “Don’t do that!”

“Oh, is the big, bad god ticklish?” You asked playfully, dodging his arms and going in for more tickles. “Is he? Is he ticklish?”

“No!” He cried, trying to wiggle out of your grasp, whimpering like a puppy. “I shall retaliate if you don’t cease!”

“Oh yeah?” You taunted. “Whatcha gonna do about it, big man? Sniff me to death?”

“I may just!” He said, putting his muzzle in your ear and sniffling.

“Ah!” You squealed. “It’s so cold!”

“You like that?!” He said, tickling you back and pressing his nose to your neck. “Have some more, then!” He licked at your neck and shoulders. He grabbed your hands and held them above your head as you wiggled underneath him.

At some point, the mood shifted. The weight of his naked body on top of your naked body was exhilarating and made your heart race. His licks slowed and went from playful to deliberate and were interspersed with open mouthed kisses. He let go of your hands and touched your body. You instinctively pulled your knees up and wrapped them around his waist, holding him close by the back of his head and petting down the fur of his spine.

“Is this alright?” He asked heavily, breathing hard.

“Yes,” You whispered in reply. “Yes.”

Some more minutes of touching and kissing and licking later, he reached between the two of you and rubbed his knuckles on your clit, making you moan against his lips. He rubbed himself and you at the same time, then pushed the tip against your entrance, gently pushing himself inside of you. Your head fell back onto the pillow, your mouth wide open, your brows furrowing. He was thick and long, but no so that it was painful. You whimpered as he inched all the way inside and pulled out slowly, thrusting inward and pulling outward.

Slowly, but with gaining speed, your bodies moved together. Wordlessly, he flipped you so that you were on your stomach and pulled you toward him, reentering you and thrusting vigorously, while you gripped the sheets desperately, crying out in pleasure. You bit the pillow and shut your eyes as you felt the ecstasy well up in you, your inside walls clenching and contracting. He huffed and grunted above you, gripping your hips as your bodies smacked together over and over.

You could feel beads of his sweat dripping onto your back as he sped up again, groaned loudly, and spilled himself into you, gushing out with each jerk of his hips against your body. When he was spent, he withdrew and fell sideways as to not crush you. You lay on your stomach for a few moments, allowing yourself to catch your breath and cool down, before turning over and sliding into his arms. You’d change the sheets tomorrow.

“I hope this means you accept me,” He said sleepily.

“I always accepted you,” You said. “I just wasn’t sure what I wanted my role to be in all this. I’m still not sure. I think starting with a date might be nice.”

“Of course,” He said. “Anything you want. I am your humble servant, at your beck and call.”

“You’re not my servant,” You said firmly. “And I’m not yours. We’re partners or we’re nothing at all.”

“I understand,” He said, turning on his side. “So, my partner, where would you like to go for this date?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “This’ll be your first date on the mortal plane, won’t it? Do what you love to do: research it.”

He laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

To get your own Monster Match, buy me a Kofi!

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal.

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Monster Match #Ancient Egypt #Egyptian God #Duamutef #Four Sons of Horus #one-halloween

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years ago

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Self Promo Sunday

I have honestly really enjoyed going back to my older fics and making picsets for them to post here on tumblr. This one is a cute little one shot that came to me because I did a brief stint in direct sales and was HORRIBLE at it! (I sold - or tried to sell - scrapbooking supplies). I know Killian is good at charming his way out of trouble and using his charm to steal things, but I imagined that being a salesman wouldn’t be as easy for him. You see, I was horrible at sales because I don’t like talking people into buying something when they clearly don’t want to. Killian Jones is very passionate about choice and free will, so I imagined the following story!

Words: 2k and some change

Rating: G for silly, sweet fluff

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Emma Swan really hopes Killian Jones has a second job. Because she’s never seen a worse salesman. The first time he comes into the diner, the last thing she would have pegged him as is a salesman. All mussed hair and black leather with piercings and a tattoo. The heavy black vinyl bag leaning against the booth next to him that says Buy the Book: Direct Sales is out of place.

He’s so bad at it that it takes him forever that first day to give her his sales pitch. Until his second cup of coffee, to be exact. That’s when he hems and haws as he gives her his business card. She stares at it, wondering how she can politely decline as he scratches behind his ear and slides a glossy catalogue across the table. She normally wouldn’t have any qualms at turning down either a sales pitch or a pick up line with a gruff not interested, but he’s so adorably nervous. He starts pulling sample inventory out of his bag, and that’s when she’s in trouble because Henry sniffs out the books like a bloodhound. Her son hops from his stool at the counter where he’s been doing his homework, and eagerly starts looking through the books.

“Look at this one, mom!” Henry exclaims, holding up a pirate sticker and activity book. “It’s not for babies. It’s got cool facts about the history of real pirates.”

Yes. Emma Swan’s son is not your typical ten year old. He’s both a bookworm and a history nut. And she loves him for it. Which is why she buys it. Not because salesman Killian Jones has killer blue eyes.

She pulls a twenty from her apron pocket, hands it to him (because there’s no way she’s giving a guy she just met her credit card information), and tries not to swoon when he smiles. It’s killer, too. She’s his first customer, he tells her, and she can’t help smiling back. He frowns, though, when he realizes he doesn’t have change for a twenty, and then Emma rolls her eyes because, really? It’s just a nickel. He smiles again at that and, well, crap. That smile!

She rolls her eyes later when she sees the ten he left for a tip along with a note telling her she’s “bloody amazing.” The fool went and gave the majority of his profit right back to her. Yeah, he really sucks at this.

*********************************************************

The second time he comes into the diner, he wisely comes in the afternoon again, ensuring Henry is there doing his homework. But this time, he tries (and fails) to chat up fellow customers to get a few sales. They seem skeptical of a salesman who looks more like a biker/rock star than someone who peddles used cars. Emma almost laughs when the only single woman in the diner’s face instantly falls when Killian Jones produces his business card and a catalogue. Seems his blue eyes and his smile are powerless against a woman scorned. She huffs as she tosses her tip on the table and exits the diner post haste, leaving a clearly baffled Killian behind.

When Emma approaches his table, he smiles half-heartedly and she feels sorry for him. Once again, he doesn’t try to sell her anything until she fills his coffee mug a second time. That’s when he pulls out a book he thinks Henry might like, all about knights and castles of the Middle Ages. Henry eagerly peruses it, and Emma is a sucker once again. She buys it because Henry loves history so much he’s the only ten year old Emma has ever heard of who was pumped about a weekend trip to Gettysburg. It’s not because of the way Killian Jones swipes his tongue over his lower lip when he’s nervous.

*****************************************************

The next time Killian comes into the diner, Christmas music is playing and a garland of evergreen hangs in loops over the counter. It’s mid-morning, so Henry’s at school. After his second cup of coffee, Killian admits he came when he knew Henry would be at school because he was hoping . . . and then he’s hemming and hawing again, rubbing at his neck and scratching behind his ear. Emma thinks for a split second that he’s trying to ask her out until he pulls his company’s Christmas catalogue out of his bag. She tries to ignore her disappointment when he asks if she’s finished her Christmas shopping yet.

She ends up buying a “Daily Inspirations for Teachers” desk calendar for Mary Margaret and Nicholas Spark’s newest bestseller for David (a guilty pleasure she loves to tease him about). For Granny she gets a book of knitting patterns. Killian pulls out a book he thinks Henry would like: a leather bound book of fairy tales with the title Once Upon a Time embossed in elegant script across the front. Emma knows Henry would love it, but gasps at the price. A forty dollar book is way over her budget, and like the horrible salesman he is, Killian doesn’t push it. She orders two graphic novels for Henry instead, and when she places the order she slides her credit card across the table.

Killian tells her it’s his biggest order to date and smiles so wide Emma is able to confirm her suspicions. There are dimples underneath that scruff. She begins to second guess her assertion that he’s a bad salesman. Because she’s pretty sure he could sell beachfront property in Kansas with those dimples.

*************************************************

In January, Emma is alarmed when a dejected Killian Jones enters the diner and slumps in his usual booth, his head in his hands. Emma decides to stop the charade when she approaches his table.

“You don’t have to wait till your second cup of coffee.”

Killian lifts his face to hers and quirks an eyebrow in confusion, “I’m sorry, love?”

“You know,” Emma says, gesturing with her order pad, “selling me books. What do you have for Henry this time?”

Killian sighs and leans back in the booth, “Alas, Swan, I am no longer in the business. I’m pretty much the worst salesman in the world.”

Emma hates that she chuckles, but she can’t help it, “Yeah, you pretty much sucked.” Killian, thankfully, laughs as well. “I’m glad I was your best customer, then. While it lasted.”

Killian winces, “Actually, love, you were my only customer.”

Emma’s jaw drops at that and her sympathy grows exponentially. She never bought that much, really. She glances around for Granny as she slides into the booth across from him. Although, based on Granny’s reaction to the knitting book (Why don’t you kiss the man already instead of buying all his books?), she doesn’t think she’ll mind.

“Are you okay? I mean, you don’t seem like you’re starving and destitute, so I’m assuming you have another job.”

“Several, actually,” Killian says, drumming his fingers on the table. “My brother and I do seasonal work on the Cape with a boat charter we own.”

“Cape Cod?”

“Aye. The Cape is beautiful in the spring and summer, but in the winter it’s downright depressing. So I like to come here to Boston once we winter the boat. The hustle and bustle is a nice change of pace, and I love city life during the holidays. Plus, like your boy, I’m a bit of a history buff. I work seasonally at the bookstore down the street.”

“So why the direct sales?”

Killian sighs, “A foolish notion. The bookstore only hires me through the end of December. I thought with this second job I could stay in the city until spring,” he shrugs. “Turns out convincing a customer in a bookstore to buy J.M. Barrie’s original Peter Pan instead of the abridged illustrated version is a mite different from selling books all on your lonesome.”

Emma’s heart drops at the implication of what he’s saying. “So what will you do now?”

“Slink back to the Cape with my tail between my legs and help my sister in law at the ice cream shop, as usual.”

So he’s leaving Boston. He’s leaving, and Emma is surprised at how much it disappoints her. “An ice cream place on the cape can make it through the winter?” She almost face palms. Can she sound any more desperate to convince him to stay?

Killian doesn’t seem to pick up on any subtext, thank goodness. “Elsa inherited the place from her aunt. She and her sister helped out there since they were kids. They know how to make it through the lean months. Dull as tombs, though. Yet, as they say, spring will come again!”

Emma tries to smile, but she knows it’s half-hearted. Killian reaches into his bag and pulls out the leather bound book of fairy tales she couldn’t afford at Christmas. Emma arches an eyebrow, “Still trying to make a sale?”

“Oh no, Swan, this is a gift. To thank you.”

“Killian, I can’t accept that. You need to sell off your inventory, or you’ll lose everything you invested.”

Killian chuckles sardonically at that, “Too late for that, Swan. Besides, you’re the only one who ever bought anything, and you know it wasn’t for the books. You felt sorry for me.”

Emma’s face flushes, and she wishes she could tell him that wasn’t it. She’s always despised pity and vowed she’d never doll it out. But how can she explain that while still guarding her heart? Instead, she accepts the leather book and hugs it to her chest, mumbling a soft “thank you.” Killian smiles in return and exits the diner without ever ordering a thing. And she hates the finality of his departure and the possibility that there could have been a them, but now she’ll never know.

She looks down at the book in her hands and notices a little rectangle of cardstock poking out of its pages. She pulls it out, expecting it to be Killian’s Buy the Book business card. Instead, it says Jewel of the Realm Charters with the names Liam and Killian Jones and a phone number. Emma’s heart flips in her chest when she sees that Killian has jotted a note on the back.

I owe you and Henry a free day of sailing. – Killian

The fool still knows nothing about making a profit.

********************************************************

In February, Emma Swan walks into Any Given Sundae along the shores of Cape Cod. She convinced herself there was nothing stalker-ish about her showing up here, but now that the bell is jingling above the door and the blonde woman behind the counter is smiling at her, she’s having second thoughts. Killian had mentioned his sister-in-law’s name, so it’s not like she had to be a private detective or anything to find the place. Still, who drives all the way from Boston to Cape Cod just to visit an ice cream shop? In February?

“May I help you?” asks the blonde, and Emma fiddles with the end of her scarf. She was kind of hoping Killian would just be there when she walked through the door.

“Um . . . I . . .” and she almost laughs thinking of the way Killian would hem and haw when selling her books. She glances around the store. It’s one of those tiny places that beach goers walk in and out of on hot summer days. There are no tables or chairs anywhere in the place. But in the corner a display table has been set up. A display table of books. Emma walks towards it. “You sell books?”

“Oh,” says the blonde – Elsa, she assumes – with a dismissive wave of her hand, “that’s a failed business venture of my brother-in-law’s. Please buy one. I need to get those out of here before tourist season.”

Emma reaches out and runs her fingers along the edges of the books.

“Swan?”

Emma turns to see Killian standing behind the counter with a large tub of ice cream in each arm. He deposits them quickly into their slots behind the glass then comes around to face her. They stand there staring at each other for a few moments, grinning like a couple of idiots.

“Wh-what are you doing here, Swan?” he stutters, and she swears he sounds more nervous than he did when he was trying to sell books.

“Guess it��s too early for that day of sailing, huh?” she teases with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” he teases back, “there’s a foot of snow on the ground, Swan.”

Emma bites her lip and fiddles with her scarf again, “Actually, I came to tell you thank you. For Henry’s book. He loves it.”

Killian raises his eyebrows, “You drove all the way out to Cape Cod to tell me that?”

There’s a twinkle in his eyes that makes Emma blush, and they just stare at each other again like goofballs. She sees Elsa laugh and shake her head out of the corner of her eye, and she thinks that she couldn’t possibly embarrass herself any more than she already has. So with a roll of her eyes and a screw this, she grabs him by the shirt collar and kisses the living daylights out of him.

He dives back in for more when she finally pulls away, and when Elsa tells them, “Easy there, tigers, you’re gonna melt all the ice cream,” they laugh against each others’ lips.

************************************************************

Two months later, Henry brings his book along when Killian takes them sailing. He reads parts of it out loud to them when Killian lays anchor, and Emma finds that it’s modern versions of classic fairy tales. Snow White is a bandit with a bow and arrows, Red Riding Hood is a werewolf, and Captain Hook is a hero who falls in love with a princess. And Emma thinks that she really likes this story. A pirate and a princess.

But she likes theirs better.

A salesman and a waitress.

Make that a horrible salesman and a waitress.

#cs ff #self promo sunday #cs modern au #fluff #killian as a salesman #a horrible salesman #emma as a waitress #emma and henry

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dopescotlandwarrior · 5 years ago

Text

The Dancer-Chapter Nine

A special thanks to @statell for all your help and wisdom

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine

Claire’s dance was torturous and punishing as she released her sadness, fear, and loss to the music. Her aerials were dangerously high as she was seeking the quiet solitude of… Madu pulled her to a chair and held onto her while she fell apart again. He was terrified by what he saw her do and wondered if she intended to smack her head on the wood floor. He didn’t care if she wanted space and alone time. He would hear her scream at him, but he would not leave her.

John saw Jamie from across the store and jogged to him until he saw the rage on his face. So she had done it, and this was the result. He felt suddenly afraid for Claire.

Jamie followed him up the stairs to the office and stood in front of John like a menacing mountain.

“Tell me what ye know of it then. Leave nothin out. Why did she tell ye who she was?”

“She didn’t, in fact, she nearly had a meltdown when I told her I knew. I recognized her the night we had dinner at Omar’s and waited a couple weeks to try to understand what was going on. I asked her about it coming back from Lallybroch last Easter.”

John did not like the energy coming off Jamie and felt no desire to sympathize or placate him. Clearly, it had not gone well for Claire and his heart hurt for her, but Jamie, he could care less about at the moment. Whatever long term pain he endured would be his own doing.

“Did ye lie to me on her behalf?”

“No.”

“Did ye know she was moving in with me in Glasgow?”

“No.”

“How did ye have such a close relationship with her?”

“I didn’t Jamie. She was the kindest soul I had ever met but we didn’t confide in each other, never spent time socializing, except for Easter with you. She was very private and refused to speak about her relationship with you or her secret life. I tried a couple of times and she just didn’t answer.”

Jamie’s anger was collapsing, and he looked around like he didn’t know where he was, his whole body seemed to deflate.

“We had one conversation, on the ride home at Easter. She told me what she did to you, but I had to pull it out of her. She couldn’t cope with her own brutality and pushed it out of her mind.”

Jamie's face suddenly went back to rage as he prepared himself for another truth about this lying girl.

“She had done things to you when she still hated you for running her out of business. You and I both know there are ways of dealing with that situation that would have been much kinder. You opted for a different solution, get rid of the ugly bookstore by the fastest means possible. Yes, she hated you for it and she disgraced you by dancing in front of you and turning her back on you to bow to the rest of the audience, thereby shunning you. She said you tricked her into a coffee, and she didn’t hate you anymore, but the deed was done. She had laid the hurt on you so to speak and now didn’t know how to undo it.”

John watched Jamie’s face go from murderous to contemplative to baffled. He looked at John like he had not a clue this was going on.

“I told her you wouldn’t know that type of retribution even if someone pointed it out at the time. But to her, it was unforgivable and she was already in love with you.”

John spoke softly hoping his words would pierce his heart like a sharp sword. People like Jamie were used to playing the almighty with the lives he disrupted in the capacity of his job. A heartless existence that he fell back on when she was pouring her heart and soul out to him apparently.

“Tell me, when she told you what she had done were you thinking of her life, her heart, her reasons, or did you focus on your own?”

Jamie’s eyes bounced around the room like he was a caged tiger. John’s questions were upsetting him, and he could not face the answers he knew to be true. He felt worse and more confused than when he pulled into the bookstore, at the time believing he would hear more poison about her character. His head was spinning, and he launched from the couch where Claire had laid last winter when she passed out in his store. He left quickly, running down the stairs and out of the store. He sucked air into his lungs and felt tears coming. Tears he denied the night before when she was crumbling in front of him. What had he done to the woman he loved? He became the heartless businessman, a thick skin so natural after nine years of hurting people. As her truth, and tears came pouring out, he slipped into the man without a heart and abandoned her.

Jamie walked the streets of Edinburgh like a lost soul, finally his right mind was correctly attached to his heart. He replayed a mind video of Claire sparkling around his house, jumping on him when he came home, cooking all afternoon for his pleasure, becoming a goddess when he held her. When the real Claire finally came back to his judgment he started to hurt, really hurt, deep in his soul until he could hardly put one foot in front of the other.

Madu escorted Claire to the dressing room, looking away when she shot arrows out of her eyes at him. She felt the sting of tears when the normal smells of the restaurant brought her memory back. She sat on the couch and made a heroic effort to push back on the tears. She heard a voice. The voice of her best friend sounding sad and sorry. Claire looked up at Geillis standing in the corner, with her own tears shining in her eyes. Claire ran to her and the women cried together, Madu cried on the couch.

Geillis was the salve to Claire’s heartache and broken spirit. She coo’ed her sympathy and dabbed her eyes with a tissue, telling Claire she had a full and glorious life to look forward to. Geillis loved Claire like a sister and had feared this outcome from her confession to Jamie. It is why she stayed away so long, she couldn’t stand knowing what would happen to her friend. Now she had to help hold her together until she could start to heal and let Jamie’s memory fade.

On the other side of town, a car full of girls celebrating a bachelorette party came gunning for the restaurant. The girls were already high from whisky shots and a shared joint. They laughed hysterically and passed an advertisement for the world’s best belly dancer coming back from her time off. The girls did their best impression of a belly dancer and the car rocked with laughter. They were heading for the restaurant and a party sure to become legend.

Geillis helped Claire into her costume and gushed over how pretty she looked while Claire concentrated on pushing her tears back. Geillis sat with her on the couch and held onto her while Madu left for a bit. He took long strides through the streets, head down, hands stuffed into pockets. He felt like the world was ending because his world existed in the eyes of his dancer. He passed a big man on a sidewalk, head down, looking like he lost his best friend. That snapped Madu back to reality and he crossed the street to get back to Claire.

The pile of girls burst into the restaurant and Omar came running, recognizing the large number of girls who were here to spend money on a memorable night. One of the girls had become snarly and pissed off, telling the others how her brother had been hustled by the belly dancer here. The more she talked about it the madder she got. When the group was seated, Jenny got up and made her way to the door near the stage. She figured it was the dressing room and the bitch would be inside, counting her ill-gotten gains no doubt.

There was no knock, no warning of impending doom. When Jenny crashed through the door Claire looked up and nearly fainted.

“Claire? What the fuck is goin on, why are ye dressed like that? Why are ye cryin darlin?” Jenny looked around the room, looking for the belly dancer. There was no one else there, just Claire and some redhead. The truth started kicking her brain with a force that nearly laid her out. Eyes narrowed and she pointed at Claire as the memory of her broken brother filled her head. She lost it and closed the gap between her and the Jezebel in veils.

“It was you, ye dirty fuckin, lyin whore!”

Claire stood and tried to reason with Jenny until ruthless hands came out of nowhere and launched Claire into a makeup station. The force was so severe two of Claire’s ribs cracked in half, dangerously close to her lung. Geillis tried to pull Jenny away from her and was screaming at the top of her lungs as Jenny approached for another beat down.

Claire looked up into the eyes of her friend as closed fists were thrown at her face sending her to the floor. Every object within arm's length was bashed into the dancer’s head followed by severe kicks to the sides of her body driving the rib into her lung. Jenny stood up looking for something heavy and picked up a side table holding it over her head to bring down on Claire.

She was already unconscious. She did not feel the intensity of the blow that hit her face and brutally crushed her nose and eye orbitals. One lung was collapsed, and blood poured from every break in her perfect skin. Jenny stood to find another object and was pulled to the ground by her hair. A heavy knee pressed into her neck as Madu battled with the need to end her life. He could hear sirens coming and police were jerking him to his feet. The room was in chaos and the paramedics shoved everyone out as they worked to save Claire’s life. She was little more than a bloody pulp on the ground.

Outside, Jamie drove by the restaurant on his way out of town. In his exhaustion and depression, he didn’t look at the restaurant that had taken so much from him. He barreled toward Glasgow as Claire’s life slipped away.

The paramedics had to shock Claire three times before restoring sinus rhythm to her heart. They ran the gurney to their vehicle pushing a line into her arm, the phone to the hospital pressed against a head as doors crashed closed and the siren wailed. The ER team did their best to pull her back to the living as blood, urine, and other tests were run to the lab.

Madu and Geillis sat in the ER waiting room looking shell shocked. White faces and vacant eyes were stuck on the floor and tears fell freely every now and then as they remembered the beating and the blood. The police had questioned them at length once they were separated. They tried the usual tricks to scramble their minds as they rapidly barked questions, finally concluding they were both reporting the attempted murder of a dancer. Jenny was arrested but her buzz had worn off and her girlfriends had left without her. She wailed like a stuck pig demanding they call her brother and screaming it was self-defense.

Claire was wheeled into surgery an hour later to remove her ruptured spleen and when Geillis looked at her friend, she was unrecognizable. Several hours later the doctor approached Madu pulling off his mask and asked him for a word. The two men stood in the corner, heads bent, and Madu cried and shook his head no. Geillis thought her heart would stop as she watched him. She stood and waited for him to come back and deliver the news, whatever it was. Madu walked back to Geillis wiping his tears with his sleeve and taking a deep breath. He held Geillis’s hands and exhaled.

“We may lose beautiful dancer.” Madu broke down and Geillis held onto him fiercely telling him she would survive, she won’t die.

At three o’clock in the morning, an officer approached and sat next to Geillis. He spoke while looking at his notepad and asked Geillis several questions. He stated there were several death threats received at the restaurant after Claire was taken away. The owner signed his permission for the police to use their technology to identify the phone numbers that were hidden by the caller.

“Do ye know someone with the last name of Dunsany?”

“Yes.”

“What about Hawkins?”

“Yes.”

“Ye need to come to the station for a statement. It’s important to yer friend.”

Geillis asked Madu to stay with Claire and she has led away to a squad car.

Jenny screamed like a banshee from her cell all night long. She was promised a phone call when she stopped screaming but it didn’t stop her, and the phone call was withheld until well into the next day. The hospital staff asked Madu for the names of her family members and learned there were none. The administrator pumped him with questions to jog his memory of a brother or distant cousin to which Madu shook his head. Several hours later Madu was allowed to see her for five minutes. He almost fainted at the sight of her face swollen beyond recognition, but he dropped to his knees and whispered something in her ear, and this continued until he was escorted away.

The hospital staff hoped Madu would bring her out of the coma so she could start fighting for her life. They watched her closely after Madu’s visit and like the miracle they hoped for, her eyes opened several hours later.

Next Geillis could see her for five minutes and the two women cried and gripped each other until the nurses pulled Geillis away. Claire was inconsolable and was finally sedated.

A nurse spoke to Madu and Geillis asking them to go home and get some rest so they could be of help to her when she was stronger. They finally agreed and left the hospital with hollow eyes laced with fear.

Jamie slept fitfully in Glasgow. He had walked for hours finally returning to his truck long after the bookstore had closed. Knowing Claire was doing the dance of seduction at that very moment made his knees week and his heart pound. He had to get away from this city and his crumbling heart.

He saw her clothes and belongings all over his house and dropped into his bed once it was pitch dark and nothing left to see. Sometime during the night, he dreamed he was making love to the Sassenach, her face smiling up at him as she shattered. His eyes opened and he looked for her until he remembered, and his world fell apart anew.

The following day Jamie’s phone vibrated in his pocket during a meeting with the architect and a contractor who were at each other's throats. He ignored the call to play referee wishing they would both just disappear.

An hour later Jamie was hanging off a very high ladder feeling his phone vibrate as he inspected wiring laced through the metal slats that reinforced the walls on the second floor. He felt the phone vibrate and ignored it.

At eight o’clock that evening he was hunched over his blueprints after hours of unsuccessful focus, but he felt better here, protected from the reality of his life. He didn’t want to return to his home and see her clothes, or her handwritten notes making his heart hurt with her memory. His thoughts turned to John’s weird behavior at the bookstore the day before. He acted like Jamie was the enemy and brute that had hurt her deeply when he was the victim in this mess.

He reached for his vibrating phone and took his last breath in the sane world he had controlled his entire life.

She was screaming into the phone with what little voice she had left. Something went wrong at a party and one of the girls tried to kill her. She needed Jamie to come to Edinburgh and sort this out, get her out of jail. She was crying hysterically and Jamie ran out of his office to save his sister. He pushed his speed well beyond the legal limit and was in Edinburgh in forty minutes. He tried to post Jenny’s bail but was told she was held over to see the judge.

He asked to talk to someone in charge about his sister’s arrest. She had played the victim card on the phone and he was shaking mad they were keeping her. One of the responding officers pulled Jamie into a private room and calmly explained what she was arrested for. Jamie just stared at the officer like he didn’t believe him. The officer exhaled a long breath and pulled several Polaroids from a file pushing them toward Jamie.

Jamie looked at Claire’s face and body, beaten and bloody. His adam’s apple bounced in his throat as he tried to swallow, feeling the fear almost strangle him. He launched from his seat with the officer calling behind him, but he never heard a word he said.

The officer had seen enough to know this was a crime of passion. The girl would be charged with manslaughter and probably spend the next ten years in prison. Before he reported this to the chief, he called the hospital to warn them Jamie was coming.

Jamie jumped out of his truck at the entrance to the ER, motor running, door hanging open. When he crashed into the hospital looking wild-eyed asking for Claire two armed security guards flanked him and peacefully let the nurse tell him she was alive so far and he could not see her. Jamie went crazy and tried to claw his way to the patient rooms. He felt painful electricity hit his neck and his body collapsed long enough to be handcuffed and roughly set into a squad car.

On the other side of the world, a man’s voice greeted the caller in Arabic. His eyes went wide with alarm and he clutched the phone with both hands.

“Madu?”

The sobbing voice of his long-lost son hit his ears like a weeping sledgehammer as he consoled his beloved son and promised to fix whatever had befallen him. He waited for his son to gain control and speak to him about what was happening. The servants in the wealthy household alerted Madu’s mother something was terribly wrong, and she came running to her husband, wide-eyed and worried. “Madu, we are here loved son, we will help, tell me what has happened.”

His father could hear the sweet voice of his sister’s daughter, Kamilah, also lost to America for many years, He almost cried knowing he would tell his sister tonight that her daughter was alive, and she was with Madu.

Thirty minutes later his father hung up the phone and waited thirty seconds before barking orders to his staff to prepare for an emergency transport that would bring the children of the family home. He held his sobbing wife and told his assistant to order medical transport from America and report hourly. The staff jumped into action while Madu’s father led his wife to their bedroom where he would soothe her worry.

Madu collapsed after his father clicked off. He listened to the rushed questions from his cousin before turning his head to look at her, “you are coming too”, he said to her shocked face. Kamilah loved Claire, from the first day she stumbled into her studio asking for refuge from a group of bullies. She would do anything for her star performer and friend, except face her father.

The days passed, Jamie was tased and arrested again at the hospital, each time he was kept as long as the law allowed, three days in a cell pacing like a wild animal. Praying all night she would live to forgive him. When he walked into the hospital the third time, he was calm and fighting his impulse to crash into every door until he found her. His little Sassenach.

Jamie blinked at the nurse and asked again. Again he was told that Claire was gone. She had been taken out of the country for protection. That very nurse had flown with Claire to the airport by medical helicopter and watched over her until relieved by the doctor staffing the medical transport. The nurse squeezed her hand and wished her luck.

“She is gone Mister Fraser, never to return and afraid for her life. If you had something to do with Claire’s attack it will come out in court. God save ye then.”

Jamie looked at the fat nurse and wanted to shake her and tell her he could never hurt the Sassenach. But he had hurt her, twice he had wielded his power against her. She had reached out to him, sobbing and crumbling, and he walked away from her.

They should have been allowed the time to heal the wounds and come back together but his sister had seen to that. He drove back to Glasgow in a trance. The only thing he knew for sure is he would not be working on Jenny’s behalf. Let her rot in prison with no hope of a reunion with him.

The days turned to months and then to years. Claire haunted him, year after year. She spoke to him in his dreams and drifted through his mind during the days. He was never so sure, it was she who attached her soul to him. His soulmate, gone forever.

When Claire finally woke up from her medical coma the first person she saw was Madu. His presence calmed her, but her surroundings were screaming sirens in her head. She reached for him, “Madu”. Their eyes connected and he spoke about how he was able to get her out of Edinburgh. There were threats against her life, and he had taken her to safety.

“Where are we?”

“Egypt.”

Claire felt the ground come up to smack her in the face as she fainted against her pillows. Madu called to the in-house medical staff as Claire spun into the darkness that calmed her. She found loving hands there, to hold her close, a voice that promised love and protection. Eyes that beheld her like a treasure. She fell into Jamie’s arms and remained there for many days while the doctor tried to revive her.

Claire’s challenge was finding enough in her life without Jamie, to stay alive for. She couldn’t find anything that would make her tortured life worth living so she gave up, refused to wake or eat, making the doctor concerned for her life.

The first time she was pulled to consciousness, Madu sat on her bed and took her hands.

“By some miracle, your gift survives Claire. You must fight for that life, he or she is depending on you to fight.”

Claire stared dumbly at Madu trying to understand what he was saying.

“What?”

“It was the size of a pea when you were attacked, and survived against all odds.”

Claire’s eyes were wide and frightened. Her hand moved across her swollen abdomen and she freaked out.

“What the fuck Madu, what is this?”

It has been months you have hidden from the world, deep in sleep, but the baby grew. The doctor says you must get up, and walk, eat and drink. Please, Claire.

It was unthinkable to condemn this child to a life without parents, or a parent at least. The baby growing in her body gave her a purpose and a strong will to survive. It was a hard recovery, but she dug in and made the progress that everyone around her said was miraculous. She worked and she worked until her strength came back along with her reason to live.

Geillis reached for her phone hearing the airy sound of a caller far away. She dropped to the floor hearing Claire's voice and cried. It had been almost a year since they took her away and she feared the worst all this time. Claire cried with her and the girls tried to speak and catch each other up. Geillis knew she would never come back and it touched her that Claire would call.

Two years later, Geillis was living in Glasgow and ran to her ringing phone. She held it to her ear and smiled at the news of a growing boy and his loving mother. The women talked for twenty minutes and Geillis prayed she would not ask about Jamie Fraser. Geillis clicked off the call. Heartsick from missing her friend, relieved there were no questions about Jamie. He was getting married to Geneva Dunsany in two months. He worked in Germany, made a fortune, and was living large without Claire. Geillis would walk over fire not to tell her about his happiness.

Her phone rang again and Geillis answered before looking at the caller, it was Claire again.

“I couldn’t stop myself because I have to know. How is Jamie?”

Geillis clicked off, knowing she had delivered the death blow to her friend's broken heart. She prayed that Claire would find the strength to get through this. It was the second-worst day of her life.

Claire slept on the floor, next to her son’s bed for the next four months. Her grief wrapped around her throat first thing in the morning and hung on until she fell asleep. Her only break from the agony was when her wee son smiled at her with his sparkling blue eyes, just like his father. The pain and loss grew less painful as the months rolled on, but each year on his birthday she cried for a whole day.

Claire sat on the train, hearing her stop called out, she made her way to the door. She had been hired by a dance company in London and relocated one month before today. She was finally getting her feet under her and her confidence inched up daily. When the door opened, the crowd of people behind her pushed her out the door with enough energy to lay her flat on the smooth concrete. That hurt, she thought.

Big hands reached for her pulling her to her feet, “there ye are lass.”

She looked up at eyes so blue they took her breath away, the burr in his voice pulled her heart to his, waking her sleeping soul.

“Sassenach! Are ye alright?”

Jamie was in shock seeing her after so many years. The girl who would not leave his thoughts and dreams was standing right in front of him. They were frozen in time, staring at the face that was seared on their hearts. Claire suddenly came to her senses and quickly looked around, for a wife, who would take his arm and lay claim to him. She decided to live the rest of her days without that memory and broke away walking as fast as she could.

“I can keep up with ye easily Claire so ye might as well slow down, or give me that heavy bag yer carryin.”

Claire looked around again for a woman walking toward him. She took off again, telling Jamie over her shoulder it was nice to see him. She walked toward the exit, breathing hard from the effort. Looking back he was nowhere in sight. Guess the wife caught up to him. Coming out to the soggy day she felt relieved to have some natural reason for her wet cheeks. She squeezed her eyelids closed so she could focus and there he was, right in front of her.

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all1e23 · 6 years ago

Text

Astrophile [Pt. 5]

Chapter: Milky Way

Summary: Movie night is the best night ever.

Warnings: Fluffy fluff. Protective & soft Bucky.

A/N: Please don’t call looking for Bucky. He won’t be there. ;-) Send me love because i”m needy, okay?! Plus all your comments make my day.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

Bucky can’t remember a point in his life when he’s had serious difficulty asking a woman back to his place but right now occupying the sidewalk out front of Y/n’s bookstore he’s not feeling very confident. It could be the fact that he’s thoroughly exhausted after working a 10-hour shift or it could be the way she smiles at him. He’s not sure. Either way, he’s dragging his feet. The last thing he wants is to disappoint his baby girl, but they barely know each other. What are the odds Y/n wants to spend all of her free time with him and his daughter? From his experience with women over the last five years, the odds weren’t good.

The sound of Y/n’s laughter trickles through the cracks in the front windows, and his nerves don’t stand a chance next to that sweet sound. He needs to remember to help her fix those cracks though. That can’t be safe. He holds the door open for an elderly couple exiting and slips into the shop after them. Y/n is sitting at the front counter with a book in hand; her nose is crinkled in the cutest way. It reminds him of his Orion, she makes the same adorable crinkle when she’s focused. Bucky looks down and curses internally. He’s in his black jeans, dirty ass boots he only wears to work and a dark blue NYFD shirt, glancing back up at her light blue spaghetti strap sundress, and for the first time in his life, he thinks he should have listened to Sam. He should have changed before he left.

Not that his clothes matter he supposes. Y/n’s just Ori’s friend. That’s all.

Y/n looks up, a grin splits her face in two when she sees him standing in front of her. She sets her book down and looks behind him a small frown tugging at her lips when she notices he is alone. That’s a real confidence booster, Bucky thought.

“No, Ori?” She asks, smiling the same polite way she does for everyone. It’s not the same way she lights up when Orion is around he’s coming to notice.

“No,” he replied, nerves seeping back into his voice. “She’s at Nat’s waiting on me to pick her up.”

“Well,” She says, setting her book on the countertop before her and crossing her arms over her chest setting Bucky with a firm, playful glare. “Does this mean you have come to say sorry for treating my sweet Beck so cruelly?”

Bucky chuckles, relaxing enough to find his footing around her. She’s easy to talk to. He remembers that much. On more secure footing now, he closes the space between them resting his elbows on the hard surface that holds the register and leans forward a bit giving her that charming grin he saves for times like these. The times when asking real sweet just won’t cut it.

“Uh, wasn’t on the agenda no. I guess I should add it on to butter you up.”

Her eyebrow quirks up from his proximity and curiosity. “Butter me up, huh? What are you buttering me up for?”

Whelp, here goes nothing, Bucky thought. It was far too late to back out now.

“Every two weeks or so Ori and I have a movie night. I pick up a pizza and get a movie. We hang out on the couch and eat an unhealthy amount of junk food. It’s kind of our thing.”

She smiles at the thought of the two of them sitting curled up on the couch watching movies together. While that mental image is so sweet she might have given herself a cavity, none of what he has mentioned has anything to do with her.

“That sounds fun,” She murmurs, a little unsure of why Bucky drove out to her to tell her all of this. The confused look on her face had Sam’s voice ringing loudly in his ears, get it over with Barnes! This is just pitiful man.

“It is,” Bucky agrees, taking a deep breath and ripping the band-aid off before he makes a bigger fool of himself. “That’s kind of why I’m here. After you left, she asked me if it would be okay if you came to movie night and I promised her I would come here and ask if you would join us. I know it’s a little weird and you just wasted last night with us so it’s okay if you can’t or even if you don’t want to. I promised her I would ask and I don’t lie to my kid.”

Bucky and Y/n are both very mindful of the fact that he could have easily avoided all of this by merely telling Orion he asked her, and Y/n would have played along without hesitation. She would have explained that he came by to ask her, but she was unable to come because she had to work, none of which would be a lie. She does have to work. Instead, he went nearly twenty minutes out of his way to ask her if she would come to movie night with him and his daughter because he won’t lie to her. Even over something as small as asking someone to movie night.

It wasn’t that hard of choice.

“Okay. I’ll come to movie night.”

Y/n smiles at the look of shock on his face. He wasn’t expecting that obviously and maybe he didn’t want that answer.

“Unless,” She wonders aloud. “You want me to say no?”

“No!” Bucky rushes out startling her a bit. He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I mean no,” He manages to say at a much more normal volume. “You can say whatever you want. I didn’t think you would want to come. S’not like anything real exciting is gonna happen at the Barnes residence tonight.”

“Sounds pretty exciting. Pizza and a movie? Both of those are in my top five favorite things.”

She takes a moment to observe him, and it’s apparent just how exhausted he is, and yet he still came all this way to ask her when he could have called Natasha for her number. There was no way he’s taking the bus or driving when he looks like he is about to fall asleep standing up. She hops off the stool behind the counter and starts rapidly typing away on the computer in front of her.

“Can you flip the sign on the front door to closed?”

Bucky frowns but meanders back to the door and flips the sign over. “Is the next shift not here yet or somethin’?”

Y/n shakes her head as she gathers up a big bag she is shoved under the computer and pulls her jacket off the back of the stool.

“Nope. I don’t have anyone else coming. Just closing the shop early today. Can you get the lights over there?” She asks, ignoring the way his mouth is hanging open like he was trying to catch flies.

“You can’t–” He watches her turn off her office light and make her way towards him. “You can’t just shut down your shop because my kid wants to hang out with you.”

She laughs and flips off the lights she had asked him to turn off moments ago and shrugs casually. “Why not? It’s my shop. I can do whatever I want. That’s what it means to be the boss. Besides, you’re exhausted and can barely stand up so I can drive you to pick up Ori and we can order a pizza instead of picking one up.”

Bucky follows her out the shop thoroughly baffled by whatever the hell is currently happening.

“For the record, a night spent with Ori is never a waste in my book,” She states, keys jingling against her shooting star keychain as she locks the front door. Bucky watches as she struggles to get the door locked having to kick the bottom a few times to force the lock into place. Did everything need to be fixed in the damn shop? He watches as she shoves a unicorn stuffie into her bag and a small black book titled ‘The Moon Book.’ They are unmistakably gifts for Ori, and he can feel his heart stop at the thought she must have put into those presents.

He needed to thank whatever God brought this amazingly kind woman into his daughter’s life.

------

“Comet!” Bucky shouts through Natasha and Clint’s living room towards that staircase that led up to their master bedroom and the bedroom they have set up for Ori because Natasha insisted she has a place of her own when she’s over. Bucky had to admit with the amount of times she spends at their place it wasn’t a waste of money.

“Let’s go baby girl. It’s movie night, and I’ve got a surprise for you waiting outside.”

Natasha grins up at Bucky who is expertly avoiding his eyes and doing everything he can think of to prevent the question that’s about to come pouring out of her mouth, “So. Y/n’s coming over for movie night I hear?”

There it is. He freaking knew it.

“Nat,” Bucky murmurs, a bit of warning edging into his voice. He’s too exhausted to have this talk again and it’s not one he wants Y/n to hear.

“Ori likes her, and that’s the only reason she’s coming over for movie night. You know she told me Y/n is her best friend? She needs friends. You know how hard it is for her to open up. She’s got no friends at school, so if she wants Y/n to come over every single movie night, then it’s okay by me.”

Her expression softens at the thought of her niece having no friends at school and struggling to fit in. It makes her furious that no one in that pathetic excuse for a school can see how incredible Ori is. She can’t take it out on pre-k students, but their parents are fair game if you ask Natasha. Truthfully, Ori reminds her of Y/n a lot. Natasha nods towards Y/n sitting in the car, Ori’s surprise.

“She’s not the only one that has trouble making friends.”

Bucky’s frown deepens as his gaze drifts to the woman sitting out in the car, “What are you talking about Tash?”

“Y/n doesn’t have anyone,” Natasha clarifies gently.

“Before we met she didn’t have any friends. Her whole life is that shop. She goes to work and then back up to her apartment that’s right above the shop. I think that’s why she spends so much time hiding in her books. She’s lonely.”

Bucky watches as Y/n sets the book and a small unicorn stuffie on Ori’s seat and anger instantly swells in his chest. Who the hell wouldn’t want to be her friend?

“Well, she’s not alone anymore,” Bucky says, looking back at Natasha.

“Don’t even start. I’m not gonna let her go through life with no one to fall back on. If I didn’t have you guys, I don’t know where I would be. Especially at the beginning, when Ori was a baby. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for you Tash. I know that for sure.”

Natasha leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You don’t have to worry about that. You’re stuck with me. Friends will help, but I think Y/n wants more. She’s just scared to realize she wants something more. Do you really think Stark is no good for her? I know he’s a little much, but he’s sweet under that facade he puts on.”

Bucky’s eyes dart out to the car towards Y/n. “I– I don’t know. I don’t really see them together.”

Natasha grins and shakes her head at clueless dummy in front of her, handing over Ori’s booster seat. Ori comes racing towards them halting any more Stark talk. Ori starts to say hi to Bucky but her entire face lights up when she sees Y/n in the car, and she rushes past him towards Y/n’s car. Bucky looks back at Natasha with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t often she had trouble reading him, but right now she had no idea what he was thinking.

“Fine. Whatever. Set them up. I don’t care, but when it blows up in your face, I am one hundred percent saying I told you so.”

-------

Tonight was going down in the top three of the best movie nights ever, or at least according to Ori. There was pizza, homemade ice cream cookie sandwiches - which were merely premade chocolate chip cookies they had in the pantry and Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer. Ori’s favorite part? Y/n. It seemed like Y/n had a good time. He couldn’t really tell. She was hard to decipher sometimes, but she did this adorable little giggle snort laugh about ten times throughout ‘Hotel Transylvania 3’. Not that Bucky was paying attention to her; all his focus was on his little comet.

At one point, Ori had giggled and said, Daddy, you are just like Drac. He doesn’t know what to do either. Bucky really didn’t know what she meant, but Y/n seemed to get it because she covered her mouth to stifle her laughter. This was the last time he was going to bring Y/n over for a movie if they were going to gang up on him and he made sure they knew! Neither fell for his bluff, and they both had the nerve to say yeah right. At the same time even!

They are a couple of trouble makers.

Ori had fallen asleep on Bucky’s lap before the movie ended giving him a chance to thank Y/n for the car ride, closing her shop early and everything else Y/n’s done for Ori. As much as he loves his daughter, it’s nice when she falls asleep a little early. It gives him a minute to be just Bucky again, even if it’s only for thirty minutes before he goes to bed. He manages to slip out from under his little comet without waking her and offers Y/n a beer which she accepts with an excited grin and shit if that isn’t cute.

“So,” Bucky clears his throat uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other as he passes her the amber bottle over the kitchen island. “Nat is gonna try to set you up with Tony Stark. Just a warning.”

Y/n chuckles and sighs heavily, this isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. “She’s always trying to set me up with someone.”

“I personally don’t think he’s your type,” Bucky says too quickly, too flustered, he shouldn’t care if he’s not her type. They don’t know each other and talking about her personal life was too invasive. He glances back to check on Ori and finds her still fast asleep on the couch, clutching the unicorn stuffie that Y/n bought her.

“You think you’re gonna go?” He asks, purely for the sake of his daughter. If she started dating Stark then it meant Ori would be seeing him from time to time because there is no way he can keep Ori away from Y/n now-- not that he would ever want to. However, he wasn't sure he liked the idea of Y/n spending all that time with Stark.

For Ori’s sake of course. It had nothing to do with him or Y/n.

“Does it bother you if I go out with him?” She counters, taking note of the disapproval in his voice and the way he is ducking her gaze.

“I wouldn’t say bothers me. Just a little worried is all. Friends worry about each other, don’t they?”

Y/n can date whoever she wants and Bucky’s interest in that topic has nothing to do with anything other than friendly worry. He doesn’t want her to get her heart broken when things with Stark go sour, which they eventually will. He’s protective of his friends. The same way he looks after Steve or Natasha. That’s all this is.

“Friends huh?” She snarks, trying to hide the hint of hope that filled her voice — attempting to conceal that deeply buried longing to have someone else in her life besides Natasha, Ori and her books. Bucky can see right through her facade, and it makes his chest ache to know she’s been alone so long she can’t see they have been friends long before this night.

“Yeah, we are friends, Y/n.”

Bucky motions to Ori’s still squeezing her stuffie and grins at Y/n. “It’s too late to back out now. My kid loves you, and you made me read. You chose this mayhem.”

“Does this mean next movie night can I suggest a movie? It’s a grownup movie though. We may have to wait till her highness falls asleep.” Bucky shrugs for her to go ahead, not even realizing that he just agreed to spend another movie night with someone else besides his baby girl.

“We should watch The Martian once you finish reading it.”

“What the hell?!” Bucky shouts softly conscious of the sleeping little girl not that far away from them. He glares playfully at her and shakes his head in mock disapproval. “There’s a movie, and you made me read the whole damn book?”

Y/n perks up, beaming brighter than the sun, “So you finished it?”

Bucky grins at the way her whole face brightened, disregarding how his heart danced from merely a glimpse at that smile.

“Yeah,” He confirmed. “I finished it after you left the other night.”

“And you found out that Beck saves the day? Hm??” She asks, full of sass and i told you so’snark. Her eye catches a picture of the solar system, and she sets her beer down to look through the stack of Ori’s artwork that was on the counter. There are a few space-related ones that she imagined Bucky was happy to see when Ori brought them home, but her favorite was the picture of Ori as a princess.

“Yeah, yeah. Beck isn’t so bad. He stepped up at the end.”

In a normal situation, Y/n would have gloated over being undeniably right, but something under all the stack of colorful crayon drawings had her attention.

“Oh my god,” she says with a playfulness in her voice he hasn’t heard before, and he’s not sure it’s a good thing. She spins around on her heels holding a copy of ‘New York City Firefighters’ to her chest.

“Please, please tell me you are in this,” she begs practically bouncing with excitement.

It was, in fact, not a good thing.

Bucky’s cheeks tint pink at the sight of the horrid calendar, he reaches over the counter in an attempt to seize it from her delicate hold, but she pulls it out of his reach, immediately flipping to find his month.

“Don’t look at that. I meant to throw it away. Give it here!” He whispers, chasing her around the counter.

“Oh my- It’s so much better than I thought it was!”

She giggles, tip-toeing away from him as he chases her around the kitchen island. He had no shirt on under his jacket; his head was turned away from the camera with a shy smile, they left his hair down, and it was wet? They must have caught him mid-laugh because his nose scrunched in the cutest way. She’s never seen anything this amazingly hilarious in her life.

“Look at that little grin on your face. Were you shy Buck?”

“It’s for charity!” He whines, forgetting the way his heart flips at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Is it?” She asks through her laughter and tears that were now steadily falling. “Did they ask you to do that bashful smirk and the little nose crinkle?”

“They did actually,” He deadpans reaching over the counter finally stealing it out of her hands, her defenses had weakened thanks to her laughter, and he seizes the moment. Y/n sighs happily and wipes the fallen tears from her cheeks, attempting to catch her breath but the more he whines the harder it is to stop her giggles.

“The guys wouldn’t leave during my shoot. You can thank them for the face. Did you see Clint’s? He’s holding an ax over his shoulder like he’s Thor or somethin’. How come you’re only laughing at me?!”

“Oh, god. This is the best night. Will you sign it for me so I can put it up in the shop? Oh, please! Please!” She begs, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet for the second time over this dumb calendar.

He groans and looks around for a sharpie, pulling one out of the stacks of mail he had pilling up in the middle of the empty pizza boxes from dinner. She leans over his shoulder and watches as he writes quickly like he’s worried someone will rush in and catch him.

Y/n, you’re smoking hot!

Y/n giggles and tries to take it from him but he pulls it out of reach.

“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you take that!”

Her jaw falls open, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite her urge to stay mad at him.

“That was mean. Cold even.” She groans when her eyes fall on the clock behind his head. Bucky follows her eyes and winces when he spots the time 11:37. Waking with Ori first thing in the morning would be a real blast. She rarely sleeps past seven and the second her feet hit the floor she’s ready to breakfast. After cuddles of course.

“It’s getting late. I guess I should get going. I have to open the store in the morning.”

“I guess I should get her up to and follow her lead,” He muses as he pulls the calendar out of reach once again and smirks at her as if to say, Nice try.

“Text me when you get home, okay?”

He doesn’t really like the idea of her going home this late on her own, but he can’t do much with Ori sleeping on the couch. A text will have to do this time. Y/n raises her brow at him, slipping her purse on her shoulder.

“Dude, I don’t have your number. How am I supposed to text you?” Bucky rolls his eyes and holds his hand out for her phone. Y/n rolls her eyes, mocking him and sets her phone in his hands, he quickly types it in and hands it back over to her.

“Now you have my number.” He says with a smug smile and all.

“Okay,” She starts, stopping at the front door. “Before I go I have to know.”

“What?” Bucky pulls the door open for her, heart racing at the serious look on her face. What the hell does she need to know that is that serious?

“Do you often fight fires without your shirt?” She asks, fighting off her giggles for the second time. “Or is it just optional. When you’re feeling extra confident, you go no shirt. Not sure about how the pecs look you cover them up? Or is it by the seriousness of the fire? Smart. That’s very smart.”

He narrows his eyes and ushers her out the front door, “You’re banned from movie night. That’s it.”

“It’s too late, Buck,” She singsongs as she cheerfully skips down the stairs. “You chose this mayhem, remember?”

“No idea what I was thinking,” Bucky's shouts after her, watching as she walks down the sidewalk and gets safely into her car. The front door doesn’t close until her tail lights disappear. Just to be on the safe side. It takes all of ten minutes to clean up thanks to Y/n helping after pizza, even though Bucky remindeed guests don’t clean up. He’s beginning to see she does whatever she wants regardless of what anyone tells her. Bucky likes that. After making sure everything was shut down from the night, and all the doors are locked, he stashes the dreaded calendar in the basket next to the couch and scoops his sleeping comet off the sofa.

“I sleep with you daddy?” A sleepy voice called out from the crook of his arm.

“Yeah, comet.” He whispers back, placing a light kiss to her head as he carefully climbes the stairs towards his bedroom. Bucky lays her down on the right side of the bed, away from his pillow but she quickly moves over and wraps herself around his pillow taking up residency in the middle of the bed. Just like always.

The quiet vibrations coming from his side table have him yanking his ratty old black t-shirt over his head and skidding on his socks back into the bedroom. By some small miracle, Ori is still fast asleep and he breathes a sigh of relief. He flips the light off on the side table and gently crawls into bed, scooting the bed hog over as he went.

[(917)- 555 - 8899]: Home sweet apartment. Thanks for tonight. I had a lot of fun with Ori, and I guess you weren’t so bad either. Have a good night Mr. December.

Bucky chuckles quietly glancing down at Ori wiggling around in his bed, struggling to find a comfortable spot. He gently moves up to sitting and types out a quick reply and deletes it just as fast as he wrote it. He tries again, but everything he types sounds so stupid. He groans internally and leans his head back against the headboard. It shouldn’t be this hard to send her a simple text message. He takes a deep breath and types out the first thing that he can think of and hits send before he can change his mind. He doubts he will dream about anything besides her sweet laugh and pretty smile.

He’s not so sure he minds.

[December]: For the record, I wanted you to say yes. Have a good night, Beck.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #fireman!bucky #single dad bucky #modern setting #alternate universe

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mollyandsarawrite · 4 years ago

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I want a book and I want it now. I want to read the right words that will somehow explain the cosmic fuck of waking up every day and knowing I have to do it again the next day and again the day after that. I am re-reading Chloe Caldwell’s I’ll Tell You in Person for the third time because it makes me feel a little less stupid about feeling stupid, but I am beginning to know the words too well. I am starting to crave new reassurance. She has another book of essays, one Cheryl Strayed describes as a scorching hot glitter box. I don’t know what she means but a scorching hot glitter box sounds like a cool cocktail, and since I’ve deprived myself of that particular tonic, I feel owed something else. Maybe this is that thing. What are the odds I can find a physical copy of a critically unimportant book in the Boulder-Denver metropolitan area? How many bookstores could it take, really? I consider devoting my entire day to this.

I am trying to enjoy what’s happening in the moment. So far this looks like a series of unfortunate decisions and foreseeable consequences. I spent last night intermittently sleeping and tending to the throbbing pain in my right ear, a predictable side effect of my DIY piercing venture. It had seemed like a foolproof idea at the time. I would grit my teeth through the pain and then, in a flash, get the thing I wanted. Most schemes I’ve come up with in the past few years follow this same formula: the idea is to carry myself to a more desirable state, and to do it alone and fueled by manic willpower. I can tell you it’s not a good approach, but even as I write this I can’t bring myself to say it’s bad. I’m too faithful to my stubbornness. I want to be right.

I’ve gotten into the habit of saying out loud “how am I going to do this?” I mumble-cried this to myself last week as I was clinging to a rock wall on a sunless December day. My hands were numb and my brain couldn’t move past the anxiety of knowing that some untold number of feet above me, there was a boy I would very much like to be having fun with, who had scaled this heartily and without pause. I wanted to be having fun doing a thing that I really didn’t want to do. I told myself that if I just got used to this — the feeling of not having any feeling in my arms and legs — maybe it would be less miserable. Was that true? Did I want to be there, freezing and frustrated? Maybe I just liked the idea of him thinking that I was having a good time. I spun the mental circles but couldn’t imagine moving a single muscle. None of it was helping me haul myself up and over the fucking rock.

I found myself there again last night, except this time on my bathroom floor, mouth dry and coppery from the burn of my unhappy piercings. I rubbed alcohol between my fingers, a belated attempt at sanitization. I tried holding one side of the earring and twisting off the back and in the midst of the pain it hit me that I only had myself to get myself out of this. I had to successfully do what I was doing and simultaneously stay conscious and not vomit. How the fuck am I going to do this?

I don’t know how I get from one place to the next. How I stay presentably intact enough to put myself into the world day after day is baffling to me. The old clouds of guilt and superstition loom over budding wonder and excitement. I don’t trust good feelings, and I can’t shake the sense of everything being small and insignificant. I try on three versions of the same black t-shirt to go work a retail job where everyone else looks like they just rolled out of a tent. My heart might kill me. I’ve newly decided I’m not someone who believes in marriage. One minute these things are monumental and overwhelming, and the next I can’t remember how I came to care so much. Maybe I feed these fires of feeling and fear because I want to be a person who has convictions. It sounds more appealing than stumbling around in confusion.

I drink a lot of tea. I read when I feel like I might as well spin into a black hole— sometimes books, sometimes Twitter. I ask myself often if I am enjoying something or if I just like the idea of enjoying it. I find myself waiting for things to end— work, conversations, days. I don’t like the feeling of living exclusively in my brain so I experiment with snapping back into my body— I stretch. I dance along to a song if I can get over my self embarrassment. I buy kale and beets and nightshades because it’s the season of warm and hearty vegetables and I force myself to make things with them. If nothing else, I will be able to say I made something.

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ldybluerse · 5 years ago

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The Nice and Accurate Tale of Beauty and the Beast

Chapter One: Beauty and the Beast Good Omens AU

“Oh hello again dear.”

Aziraphale gave the young woman who had just burst into his shop a smile that, for the unobservant, would be welcoming and friendly; the truth was that smile was quite forced and strained. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, as she was respectful and kept mostly to herself. It was simply the fact that he had no desire to sell (or loan) his books to a single person on this green Earth. Yet, no matter what he did to deter visitors, she would come back as soon as she finished one book, ready to borrow another. Her tenacity was almost admirable, if only it hadn’t been directed towards the Knight who just wanted his little bookstore to be left alone by others so that he may enjoy his collection of books in peace.

Aziraphale did have to hand it to the girl: she took the utmost care of every book she borrowed and only ever returned one in poor shape. She left that morning, completely happy to borrow a beloved book (for the third time, in fact), only to return moments later with the bottom of her blue dress and white apron covered in mud stains and her big brown eyes drowning in tears. She was so very sorry for what had happened to the book, she said, and that she’d tried to clean it with her dress before rushing back to his shop. Seeing her distress, Aziraphale almost wanted to forget his frustration with her. Almost. Sighing softly, he put his upset on hold to get the girl a calming cup of tea and then looked over the damages. It was only after she’d composed herself and finished her tea that he found out the truth: it hadn’t been the young woman’s fault at all, but the fault of a boisterous young man who (in Aziraphale’s opinion) caused far too much trouble and got away with too much of it. When she saw that the book had been completely cleaned up and that the shopkeeper wasn’t angry with her, she settled down fully and took her leave with the novel under her arm once more (along with a small blessing of protection on the way home).

He huffed softly, looking over his poor, abused book. Someone really should put that boy in his place. Alas, the trouble he caused was not enough to warrant the Knight stepping in and risk blowing his own cover; the boy, after all, was not the monster he was seeking--though, frankly, he did have quite the monstrous personality, even for a young human male. It had taken a minor miracle to restore that book properly, which wouldn’t have been needed if the young man hadn’t purposefully thrown it into the mud when he realized the young woman was giving said book far more attention than his half-baked and vulgar attempts to impress her. There was little to redeem the boy in Aziraphale’s eyes, what with his poor fashion sense (entirely too much flesh showing) and the horrible personality that was only accentuated as he stomped about town and bullied people, especially that one friend who followed about like a whipped puppy. He was certain the young lady felt the same way, which was why she was constantly dodging his advances. Aziraphale had instantly been wary of the young man since he’d arrived, but that feeling grew to a strong dislike when the personal harassment and mockery began (usually over his own fashion standards and the fact that he ran a bookstore). Nothing quite like a local land-owner’s son thinking he’s better than all those around him and grinding those “below” him beneath his boots to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Aziraphale did his best to ignore the young man when he was obliged to leave the shop, but sometimes it was unavoidable when the brute would try to use his large body to block his path and cause trouble. If he had to guess, he’d also say the young man targeted him because the young woman he fancied started spending so much time in his shop. (A ridiculous notion, honestly, as Aziraphale was just as annoyed by her frequent presence there as he was.)

A day or two later, the young woman appeared in his doorway once again. Tucking away a lock of brown hair that had freed itself from her ribbon, she smiled at Aziraphale as he approached from behind the counter.

“Back already?” he said. It sounded friendly enough, it really did, for Aziraphale was not one to be rude. He was ever the gentleman.

“Oh, yes, Monsieur Fell, I could hardly put it down,” she replied with great excitement. “Do you mind if I borrow another?”

Aziraphale was resigned to his fate of letting her borrow books, despite his own desire to keep them all locked away for his own enjoyment, as the girl did not take any polite form of “no” for an answer and he was not the sort to be impolite for no reason (and often when he did have reason, but that was neither here nor there). It was not that he disliked the girl entirely, as he did admire her love of reading and her impeccable manners when she visited his shop.

“You know my rules, Mademoiselle. Feel free to see what piques your interest.”

(His rules were actually “stop taking my books”, but that would be a funny rule to enforce when you’re running a bookshop and expecting it to stay open.)

She was a flighty young lady at times, but at least she was kind company during her blessedly short visits.

“Had you heard about the Baker children?” she remarked as she browsed the shelves. “The youngest fell ill. Coughing something awful for days, the poor dear. The doctor even told her parents they shouldn’t expect her to recover.”

“How dreadful! Are they really so certain of it?”

“That’s just the thing, Monsieur Fell! She’s nearly better now! Madam Baker’s been telling everyone that someone left this strange medicine pouch on their doorstep for the child. She told my father that they were going to lose their child anyway, so they were willing to try anything--and it worked! She says it was a gift from above… which, if you ask me, must be the case because no one saw who delivered it and the doctor is completely baffled.”

“Well, I’m truly grateful the child was saved. A blessing indeed.”

Aziraphale gave her a polite smile, but not one with such friendliness to invite more conversation. It seemed like an utterly foolish idea to give a sick child any kind of randomly-appearing medicine, but who was he to question desperate parents? Besides, if he did remark on his own thoughts, then the young woman might stay longer to gossip (and he very much wished for her to leave so he could get back to his reading). Thankfully she didn’t seem to have much more to say, as she was distracted by looking over books; not long after, she had selected a new book and was out the door, her nose already between pages.

Once the shop was quiet again, he spared another thought on who the mysterious medicine benefactor could be, as it was definitely not himself. Perhaps another Favoured was in the area? Although that made little sense, as the powers-that-be weren’t exactly known for popping in to give a poor family some medicine and then leaving again, and surely if someone like that was visiting the town where Aziraphale was known to be stationed, they would at least stop in to introduce themselves. He shrugged to himself and settled behind the counter again, sipping his tea as he returned to his book--only for the bell over the door to jingle cheerily again! (Blast that thing, and blast these customers!) He hardly ever had more than one visitor a day, and most days it was that young woman. Briefly, Aziraphale fretted that another book had met a muddy fate. The Knight stepped from behind the counter, and his mood soured even more when he saw something he wanted to see even less than a customer: his boss. Aziraphale put on his best professional smile and cheeriest voice as he greeted the two men at his door.

“Prince Gabriel, what an honor to see you! And the Knight Sandalphon as well, yes. Always a pleasure to have you.”

It seemed the two Favoured were attempting to blend in, but doing a shoddy job of it. The prince’s crisp fabrics and pristine cool greys weren’t exactly attire that the average layman would wear in this area. The spotless white and tan outfit of Sandlephon stood out in equal measure; the fabric of one sock alone was worth enough to feed a family in this town for a month.

“No, no, not ‘Prince’ or ‘Knight’, Aziraphale. We’re here undercover!” Gabriel announced, flashing a pearly-white smile that didn’t quite reach his amethyst eyes. (Sandlephon’s echoed smile was more a barely concealed snarl.)

Aziraphale quickly nodded and then approached them cautiously. He wasn’t sure why his superiors were visiting him in person like this, but he would be the gracious host no matter what; he does have standards, even for unwelcome guests.

“Is it safe to speak here? Are we alone?” The prince was still smiling as he looked about the shop, but it looked more fake than the gold in Sandalphon’s front teeth. Aziraphale could take lessons.

“Of course, let me just lock up and adjust the sign,” the Knight replied. “So no one accidentally walks in on us.”

He did just that, sliding the lock into place and feeling quite unnerved at having to turn his back on the two of them… which was just silly, he knew. They were Favored, the Good Guys. It shouldn’t be worrisome to have the good guys behind you, right? Yet, just having them both in the same town (much less right there in his personal space) made Aziraphale very nervous indeed. He flipped the door sign to “Closed” and then turned back to his guests.

“Now. How can I help you, gentlemen?”

His voice was even, calm, keeping the nervousness he felt well hidden.

“We’re just stopping in to see how things are going with the Fallen monster lurking about. Any news?”

Gabriel’s eyes seemed to flash with something that Aziraphale could not name, which tapped him further along the edge of unease.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, with regret. “Not even a shriek in the night. I’ve searched practically everywhere for its lair. Nothing in the usual places like cemeteries, bogs, or ditches… I even looked into one of the supposedly haunted homes at the edge of town. All I found there was some rats. Well, actually a lot of rats. None of them Fallen either, just normal rats.”

Ah--he was babbling. He shut himself up.

“That is most troubling news, Aziraphale!” the prince exclaimed, looking disappointed. “You need to find this Fallen and find out what it’s been doing. I mean, we all know it’s up to no good--it’s a Fallen!”

Gabriel laughed at his own joke, if one could call it a joke. Which, it really wasn’t.

Aziraphale gave a mild fake chuckle so as to not upset Gabriel. Sandalphon managed a sneer.

“I assure you, I will find this Fallen and thwart its evil wiles. The good news is that I’ve settled in peacefully and no one here suspects a thing. They all think I’m just a scholarly old bookseller.”

“Now, that is great news! You can sneak right up on that Fallen!” Gabriel gave his hands a soft clap before rubbing them together, looking pleased. “He won’t suspect a thing!”

“Exactly.”

He had to remind himself to remain cordial. Keep smiling. Act friendly. Just some good old boys discussing murder. No trouble at all. They’d leave him alone soon enough, and Aziraphale could return to what he wanted to do, instead of what he ought to be doing. Frankly, if the Fallen he was sent to “remove” wasn’t causing any trouble, then he didn’t feel the need to bother with it at all. But his superiors didn’t need to know that.

“Well, we’ll just get going so you can get back to work finding that Fallen! The sooner it’s found, the sooner you can come on home,” the Prince told him, like he assumed Aziraphale was as sick of being here as he was. “And don’t you worry, we’ll continue to check in on you from time to time! Make sure everything is going according to plan, that kind of thing.”

“That’s most gracious of you, sir.”

The last thing Aziraphale wanted was them popping in too often and finding out that he was not, in fact, doing his job as correctly as they thought he was. It wasn’t like he was completely ignoring his duties: he watched over the town and made sure everyone in it was safe (reasonably). There were plenty of times when a hungry family would find a basket of food on their doorstep, left there by an unknown benefactor. Others would find a few extra coins in the dirt on the same day the rent was due that would be just enough to cover the amount they lacked. The homeless always seemed to have a soft blanket and a hot drink to keep them warm at night. All of these little ‘coincidences’ were just a few kindnesses he’d done for the townsfolk since his arrival, small but positive changes that surely made a difference for the better. Finding a Fallen who hadn’t made itself known and wasn’t causing any trouble to speak of was not his top priority. The Prince and his Knight moved to leave, and Aziraphale remembered something he’d wanted to ask them.

“Oh! Am I to assume that you were the ones to deliver that special medicine to a sick child a few days ago? The parents are saying it was a blessing and are most thankful.”

Gabriel’s face took on an exaggerated frown as he thought for a moment.

“Nope, wasn’t us, not our department.” He looked to Sandalphon, who nodded in confirmation. “We just arrived this morning and have no interest in… local affairs. That’s your area.”

That was a surprise, and yet not.

“Yes, I... I suppose it is. Must’ve been another kind-hearted fellow who beat me to it,” Aziraphale replied, with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

“It seems your positive influence is leaving its mark on others. Keep up the good work! I’m so pleased you’re able to vigorously hunt for that Fallen and still make time for good deeds.”

Gabriel was beaming at Aziraphale as he and his Knight headed out, and Aziraphale wanted to feel pride in that praise but something behind that smile made Aziraphale want to jump right out of his skin. He waited until the door slammed shut and the shop was empty again to let out a long, slow breath of relief.

There was a reason why Aziraphale accepted positions that took him away from the elevated castle that Her people preferred, a reason why he loved posing as a bookkeeper instead of playing his role as a Favoured Knight: those fake smiles and pleasant voices were never as friendly or happy as they seemed. There was always... something hidden just beneath them that gave Aziraphale pause. He was a Favoured, but didn’t truly belong amongst their numbers and he knew that. In his bones, he hated the cold edge in those looks, the disdain, the disgust, the warning. Stay where you are. Know your place.

There was no reason to threaten him. He was here, and he was doing his job--he was just doing it at his own pace and enjoying what he could along the way. The city had more warmth in strangers then he had ever found in the pristine pillars of the palace.

——————————————————

Just to note, I am posting the full story here and on AO3. Also... still have no idea what I am doing.

HUGE THANK YOU TO @brstudios for her editing, ideas, ear to jabber on, and friendship. She really wanted this AU too, so I hope I am doing her a happy.

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manggojooz · 6 years ago

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Take My Hands Now (Part 4)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

word count: 2,910

genre: drama

summary: You were born with a condition that allowed you to feel the pain someone else was going through when you touched them. Jungkook, on the other hand, looked like he could not be any less bothered with other people’s feelings and was a well known playboy of the school. One night, at a party, while he attempted to turn you into his toy for the night, he grabbed your hand and pain crashed through you, making you wonder whether behind the facade of this pleasure seeker, he could also be hiding something.

warnings: nothing, PG max

comments: it’s long, i’m sorry i got carried away coz i wanted this to make myself feel better about the last few days. so... there’s lots of jungkook x reader interactions

"Is either one of us really ok?”

You were still looking at him with anger and tears in your eyes. Once you were able to catch your breath again, you promptly got off the bed and lumbered towards the nurse station.

“Hi, excuse me... can I leave now? I'm fine now”, you asked the nurse on duty, eager to get out of this place and get away from that man.

“Sure, just need you to sign on this and settle the bill”, she replied.

Right. You didn’t have your wallet or your phone with you. What now? Should you ask her if you could go look for your store manager? Will she be willing to let you go off just like that?

“Here”, Jungkook handed over his card to the nurse.

---

“I’ll pay you back for the hospital bill and this taxi fare tomorrow”, you said after getting onto the taxi that Jungkook had hailed for the both of you. You disliked the feeling that you owed him something.

“Mmhmm, but you actually have a lot more to pay me back for other than just that”, he said cryptically.

“What do you mean?”

“Just you know, interest and all that. Nothing’s free in this world, Y/N”, he said as he sat next to you in the backseat.

His demeanour was subtly different from earlier, just enough for you to feel it. He was looking out the car window, his shoulders slanting towards you, right hand resting on the door’s armrest, tapping his index finger slowly. On the flipside, You were sitting as close as possible to the car door, ready to jump out the moment the taxi reached your university hostel, constantly worrying whether he’ll probe further about you.

Jungkook was revisiting his encounters with you. You definitely feel something whenever someone touches you. He thought about it some more. Both the times he touched you, you cried. So you could sense sadness? But wait, the pregnant woman touched you and you fainted. So it’s not just emotions?

His phone was continuously buzzing and he didn’t even bother to check who it was.

“Don’t you want to pick that up?”, you asked as the constant vibrations were starting to bother you.

“No. It’s probably just Hoseok wanting to know why I’m not answering, which is why I’m not answering”, he replied with his eyes still peeled on the buildings passing outside the car window.

You glanced at the clock at the front of the taxi, “11.53pm”. It was already that late? But it’s probably considered early for predators like him.

The rest of the journey was surprisingly quiet, he didn’t pester you, he didn’t ask you more questions, he just sat there next to you as though he thought you needed time to heal from the trauma earlier.

He only said “I’ll see you tomorrow” as you were alighting.

“What? Why?”, you were sure the only lecture you shared with him was not tomorrow.

“What do you mean why? Aren’t you going to pay me back tomorrow? That’s what you said. Now go rest”, with that he reached over easily from his seat with his long arms to close the car door you were still holding.

---

Early next morning you went to the book store to collect your belongings before class. There were a slew of messages and missed calls from Mirae and Namjoon. You wasted no time assuring them that you were fine, and then slowly scrolled through all the messages until you reached the ones which had triggered their worries:

“Is that you Y/N, in the video??? Y/N, where are you???

Why haven’t you been replying the whole night??

You’re scaring us... You’d better be crashed out sleeping! If I don’t hear from you by morning, I'm going to storm your room!!”

You opened the video Mirae had sent. It was a video some passerby must have taken of the pregnant lady in the bookstore and it captured the exact moment you fainted from the contact with her. You were just grateful that whoever took the video only had a low-resolution camera.

As you were about to turn it off out of sheer embarrassment, you saw a figure rush towards your unconscious form in the video. He hovered over you, seemingly shaking your shoulders trying to wake you. That was when the labouring woman grabbed a handful of his dark brown hair and he flailed back in shock. You burst out laughing at the shaky fuzzy footage.

He somehow managed to coax the woman to let go of his luscious locks and allowed her to grip his hand instead for support. Then, the video skipped to various paramedics descending on the scene. The lady was placed on a stretcher and was being wheeled out from the store. Meanwhile, your store manager was busy pointing towards your motionless body on the ground and speaking in a frenzy to one of the paramedics. They looked like they were arguing over something when that same male figure suddenly barged in between them and just lifted you off the ground, disappearing out of the camera’s sight.

Now what he said to you in the cab yesterday made some sense. At least in the video, he didn’t seem like the cold and distant non-human that the rumours made him out to be.

Perhaps you have been letting other people’s words affect your judgment too much; you of all people should know how much it hurts when others assumed what they knew about you.

---

Classes ended monotonously that day and you had a late lunch with Namjoon and Mirae, filling them in on what had happened the day before. Mirae was having a blast re-watching the video knowing now that the guy who had his hair almost pulled out by the suffering mother was none other than the chic and haughty Jeon Jungkook.

After lunch you went to the bookstore again for your shift. It was still as quiet, as though the whole hoo-ha that was yesterday had never actually happened.

Jungkook said he’ll see you today, but how? “Don’t tell me he was going to suddenly pop up here”, you thought to yourself, after all this was probably the only place he knew where he could find you.

Just then the ringing of the counter phone broke your daze and you rushed over to get the call.

“Hi this is Euphoria Books, how may I help you?”

“Hi Y/N…”, you froze at his voice. He called you on the freaking bookstore main line?!

“… Jungkook here.”

Silence on your end.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, but how’s the repayment looking today? You might be raking up more interest than you think.”

You couldn’t leave the store because the manager had gone out to run errands and you were the only one around.

“I can’t meet you now, I’m working.”

“Yeah ok, that’s cool cause I’m caught up with something too, can you just pay me back the money through a phone transfer, you know how to do that right? You just gotta key in my phone number, and then…”

What the… did he need the money that urgently that he will call you to transfer it to him now-now? But who were you to question since you were the one owing the debt and seriously, you were just glad this meant that you don’t actually have to meet him in person any more.

“Yeah of course I know how to do it”, you took down his number, he quipped a ‘thanks’ and kept down the phone.

Still puzzled, you fumbled around for your handphone. It has only been a few weeks since you managed to figure this handphone payment transfer deal. Isn’t technology amazing nowadays? You were not that amazing at it though and it took you a good five minutes to do something so simple but when it was finally done, you were relieved. It felt like you had at least paid something back to him.

You put down your phone and stood up from the counter to get back to work when the face that greeted you almost made your heart jump out from your chest.

“Oh my goshhh, you gave me a shock! What the hell… didn’t you just say you were caught up with something and asked me to do a phone transfer to you? What are you doing here now?”, you said exasperatedly.

Jungkook was just standing there, leaning against the counter on his left arm.

“Yeah I was caught up with something”, he placed a cup of iced americano in front of you.

“And yes, I did also tell you to do a phone transfer…”, he whipped out his phone and placed it on the counter for you to see. The bank app page was opened:

“[your phone number] $375

Received at 4.16pm”

“… because how else would I get your phone number?”, he said while taking a sip from his own drink.

You were baffled that he would even come up with something like this.

“Maybe you can just try asking next time?”, you said while looking at him with a questioning frown.

“I would have tried. But the last few times I asked you anything the reception wasn’t exactly what I would call… responsive”, now he was just leaning on the counter with both elbows and his face a tad too close to yours for comfort.

Granted, he did have a point though. Perhaps you were needlessly stand-offish to him since the start.

---

Jungkook ended up hanging around in the store and it wasn’t as if you could just chase him out because he was pretending to be flipping through each of the books on the display shelf.

You tried your best to ignore his presence but you looked at the coffee he brought for you and noticed a piece of yellow paper stuck to it. Turning the cup around, it said, “Sorry for what I did in the hospital yesterday.”

---

The next day he came again, brought you a cappuccino this time around.

He chose to stroll around in the manga section that afternoon, lazily sipping on his own drink, which you have now come to realise looks more like an iced chocolate rather than coffee.

“Are you going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”, he looked up at you quizzically.

“This!”, you gestured to him sitting on the floor reading one of the manga. “Do you want something from me? Because to be honest, you don’t look like you belong in a bookstore”, you said.

“No? I thought I would just hang around, you know, in case another pregnant woman comes around.”

Strictly speaking, there wasn’t anything wrong with what he was doing or what he said, but something was always so off tangent about it.

“Ok that is just bizarre, what are the chances something like that would happen, again?”

“This is bizarre?”, he got up from the floor, “I thought you are more... bizarre. How do you feel things when you touch someone? Do you sense everything they feel? How does that even work?”

You rather disliked the fact that he was so quick-witted to deduce such things.

“I wouldn’t know how it worked, I was just born with it. It's not as if I could ask the heavens why they made me this way or ask them to fix me, you know.”, you were avoiding the crux of the question.

“True that, wouldn’t it be good if we could leave a bad review for them sometimes?”, he said rather earnestly while pointing up towards nothingness. And you must be delusional, because you actually felt understood for a moment, by him.

---

Another day, another cup of coffee; vanilla latte.

He was still drinking that iced chocolate from the coffee place though.

“Why do you always get iced chocolate for yourself?”, you asked while walking up to him who was holding a book in his other hand, trying a bit too hard to look like he could actually be interested in reading about the life of Michelle Obama.

“I don’t drink coffee. It’s too bitter”, he replied while sticking his tongue out and making a face like Disgust would in “Inside Out”.

“Hah, as if alcohol doesn’t taste bitter. You don’t seem to have a problem with drinking that.”

“There’s a difference”, he said. “You endure the bitterness of coffee to become more awake, but you get through the bitterness of alcohol and, hopefully, you are less awake”, he said while closing the book he was holding.

---

Fourth day, and he brought you a mocha, still chocolate for himself; he might be running out of options pretty soon.

There were hardly any customers that day and the manager was out again. You were browsing through the music section until you picked out an album and put it into the player. Sure, music can be digital nowadays, but there was something about putting a disc into a player that you just related to; maybe you felt like you were able to feel the music that way.

Jungkook snuck behind you and suddenly asked, “What’s that?”

“A CD player?”, you answered.

“Obviously. I meant the album.”

“It’s just a random one I picked out”, actually it wasn’t, you liked that artist.

He just shrugged and continued mindlessly flipping through the albums aligned perfectly on the sides of the shelves.

“I think I haven’t thanked you for the other day”, you abruptly said to him.

“Which part?”, he probably has no idea you saw the video of his hair being almost tugged out. Just having reminded yourself of it made you smile a little.

“For... just, everything”, you replied, “and you can stop buying me coffees now.”

His hands stopped in the middle of the stack of CDs he was disturbing and his heart skipped a beat.

He cleared his throat and said, “I was just trying to figure out what kind of coffee you liked, but you didn’t finish any of them... so I’m not sure this is working out very well”, his tone sounding like he wanted to test your reaction.

“Caramel macchiato, I like that. Next time just ask me. But you can stop buying me coffee for real”, you answered with the tiniest smile still on your face.

Then, the cogs in his mind started to turn.

“Well, if you really wanted to thank me for something, why not buy me dinner? How about tonight?”

“Don’t you have better places to be at night?”, you didn’t want to succumb, “pick anything from here...”, you gestured the entire store, “I’ll gift that to you instead.”

---

“Must say she’s an interesting and difficult one.”

Jungkook muttered to Hoseok who was busy setting up the new Hi-Fi system that he just bought for their school hideout. Given that they are from the rich families sponsoring the university, it was a piece of cake for them to get a private basement practice room to use at their leisure.

“Who? Oh that one, which you have been trying to land since…”, Hoseok started counting on his fingers when a pillow hit his face.

“Don’t take it out on me man! You know these people are all interesting until you get to know them. Then you realise they are all the same, just wearing different skins. So why don’t you just pick one that has a prettier skin?”, Hoseok said while hurling the pillow back onto the couch Jungkook was sitting on.

“You don’t get it, she’s different.”

“Oh wow, is she now? How so, Romeo?”, Hoseok was getting increasingly better at his patronizing act.

“Jung Hoseok, you continue with this and the next thing hitting your face will be my fist”, Jungkook said sternly before calming down, “... she has this ability, I don’t quite get the mechanics yet but it seems like she can feel what you are feeling when you touch her? You know what I mean? Like superpowers of sorts?”

Jungkook can literally make out the words ‘I don’t get it’ on Hoseok’s face. And after a moment Hoseok’s eyes suddenly lit up like when Jack Sparrow saw rum and asked, “ooohhhh, so if you are feeling horny and you touched her, will she…?”.

Jungkook glared at him really hard but he had no answer.

“What? It’s a legitimate question”, Hoseok tried to defend himself. “So what gives? What are you trying to do? The usual modus operandi? Reel in and ditch?”

“It’s not going to be that easy isn’t it”, Jungkook’s tactics have almost always been physical.

“How do you catch something that can sense your intentions...”, wondered Jungkook.

Hoseok laughed at him, seeing how Jungkook is taking the hunt so seriously. “Since your birthday party is next week, can you please get over this one by then”, he said while sitting down on the armrest of the huge couch.

“What birthday party? Since when was I having one?”

“Dude! You really think I’m gonna waste a perfectly good excuse to have a party? It'll be your birthday but it’s gonna be my party, ok? You better be there. And that’s one week for you to be done with your Ms. Superpowers”, Hoseok said while patting Jungkook’s chest with the back of his hands.

Jungkook looked back at him with a glint in his eyes, he hasn’t felt this motivated in a long time.

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notlikeotherbirds · 5 years ago

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So I wrote this for @magical-bee and since it’s her birthday this is now a present. Happy Birthday.

Crowley and Aziraphale stepped through the door of the bookshop. They had just came from dinner in a nice restaurant that Aziraphale had wanted to try out. The evening had been very nice. Very nice evenings were almost routine now. Armageddidn’t had been half a year ago and life had been very quiet since then.

But now they immediately felt something was off as they stepped over the threshold to the bookstore. The place felt strange but even worse was then that they could sense supernatural beings.

They looked at each other, recognising that the other one was indeed also feeling it. Hell or Heaven had caught up with them. The freedom and peace was over. They had hoped they’d have more time. They would have done things differently if they had known how little time they had left. For a start they would have brought up the courage to make a move.

They braced themselves for the worse, stepping into the store. The bell over the door rang again when the door closed behind them. They stepped closer together waiting for the angels or demons to strike.

A figure walked around a corner, from behind a bookshelf. Their posture was upright, the walk in neat little steps, the heels of their shoes echoing through the silence of the bookshop.

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley recognised the small woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a beige skirt, a rose coloured blouse and a light brown cardigan over it. Her hair was white and tied up in a neat bun. She was very obviously an angel. So heaven had acted first.

“I’m sorry gentlemen” Her voice was bright and her tone was only the slightest bit rude. “We are closed I’m afraid. You’re going to have to come back another time.” She said with a polite professional smile but a dangerous little twinkle in her eyes.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at her. Their expressions had gone from terrified but ready to face anything to very confused and frankly extremely unprepared for this. They had no idea how to react to this small woman telling them to leave the bookshop. When they didn’t react the woman frowned at them. Then a realisation crossed her face.

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were angels. I wasn’t expecting a visit. How may I help you?” She said with a different but still polite and professional smile. The rudeness had not gone out of her tone or her gaze but now it was different. It had changed from scaring people away to ending this conversation as soon as possible because she really did not like her co-workers. She waited for them to respond and when they still only looked very confused at her she started to get nervous.

“Gentlemen? Are you feeling alight? You seem distressed. Maybe you’re at the wrong address? This is Principality Aziraphale’s residence. That’s me. Is that where you were supposed to be? Because if you’re not, you’re not right here.” Another realisation crossed her face. “Unless you’re demons? Oh I do apologize. You’re here to see my wife Crowley? She’s just in the back. I’ll call her for you, if that’s what you’re here for.” She said with regained composure. She had thought it were angels because of the light clothing of one of them, after all it was terribly hard to keep light suits clean if one worked or even just walked into hell. But now that she thought of it the other one was dressed awfully dark so they might just as well be demons. It should be added here that it might also have been similarly hard to keep dark clothes dark when being in heaven for too long. The holiness of the place tended to scare anything with too much edge into something cute and preferably with a nice pattern or a lace trimming.

Aziraphale frowned and opened his mouth. He needed a few tries to start the sentence. “Did you say Aziraphale?”

The woman smiled at him “Yes I did. That’s me.”

“But…” Aziraphale started when another woman came round the corner.

She was the aforementioned wife. She was wearing something that was almost exactly what Crowley would wear. A loose very stylish, black suit, sunglasses and some weird accessories that were hard to identify. Her hair was at shoulder length and a dark red. She had an undercut but that was barely visible when her hair was down.

“Everything alright angel?” She said walking up to Aziraphale, the female presenting one.

“Yes, dear thank you. These Gentlemen came by I think they want to speak to you. They seem a bit confused.” Aziraphale said to her wife. She gave the two a short nod expecting them to say something.

“I’m sorry this is fairly strange.” Aziraphale, the male presenting one, started “You see, you say you are the Principality Aziraphale, but I am the Principality Aziraphale.”

Now the two women were the ones looking confused. “How do you mean?” asked the angel.

“Well you see. We are here because this is my bookshop. Or better it should be. I do believe this is not my bookshop. But we came here because this is where my bookshop should be.” Aziraphale looked around. The bookshop had the same feel to it, the mouldy smell the bad lighting, the confusing furniture arrangements, but the books were not the same, he recognised that obviously since he knew every single of his books and here were a few that he did not know. A lot more children’s books for a starter even after Adams changes, the books meant for children were not so widespread. The furniture was a bit different here and there. There were also quite a bit more houseplants than in his shop.

“Well that is indeed a very peculiar situation.” Said Aziraphale. She didn’t look completely convinced. This could just as well be two demons playing a very strange prank on them. But when she took a closer look at the pair she did see the similarity. They looked like the two of them but in male and maybe a bit more tired.

“Well I suppose you are Crowley then.” She said to Crowley.

“Did you say wife?” he answered. Aziraphale and Crowley (the women) looked at each other.

“Yes we’re married, we’ve been for 5 thousand years now. Are you not?” Crowley answered.

“5 thousand years?” Crowley repeated. His mouth staying open.

This settled it then. There was not a demon or angel up above or down below who didn’t know the two were married. It had made quite the ruckus when they had held the ceremony 5000 years ago. They had all been rather alarmed. Even though in the end they couldn’t do anything against it.

“Maybe we should sit down. Have a cup of tea in the back.” Suggested Aziraphale. She gestured their guest to the back of the shop. The two men complied. They knew of course where to go. The shop wasn’t the same but it was close.

In the back they sat down. The two men on one couch and the two women on a different one across from them. Aziraphale got up immediately again. “Drinks, right. Tea, cocoa?” She asked.

“Get something a bit harder please. Think the occasion calls for it.” Said Crowley. Aziraphale nodded to her and left for the kitchen. She came back with a two bottles of wine and four glasses. When they all were equipped with a full glass they started the conversation back up.

“Where did we stop?” Said Aziraphale “Oh marriage right. You were saying that you two haven’t been married for 5 thousand years.” She said to Crowley. She really found he looked quite similar to her wife. No wonder, they were the same person just from other universes, at least that was her theory as to now. He did look a bit more anxious.

“Yea not really” he glanced at Aziraphale, his Aziraphale not the one he had answered to. This was all very confusing. “How did you get past the whole demon, angel problem?” he said to the two.

“Oh that was easy. The system is full of loopholes. I just said that a true angel would have to have enough love given from the Almighty to love a demon and Gabriel never said anything about it again.” Said Aziraphale a bit smug. Crowley smiled at her and said “And I said that I was tempting an angel and that they should maybe step their game up a bit.”

Crowley looked baffled at the response. How had that been so easy? The solution to the dilemma had been so close the entire time and they just hadn’t thought of it.

“The ceremony was rather nice. There were no churches of course. The flood had just happened. But the rainbow was quite the nice addition to the wonderful occasion.” Swooned Aziraphale in memory. She too her wife’s hand and smiled at her. Crowley smiled back.

“I presented as male for the whole thing, I had a very cool outfit. And the license is still valid. I updated it now and then of course.” Added Crowley.

“So you didn’t fall?” asked Aziraphale. He glanced at his best friend. “You know, the whole loving a demon thing. Always thought giving in to that would most definitely be a big enough sin to fall immediately.” He wiggled a bit uncomfortably and avoided looking over to Crowley now who was staring at him and repeating ‘loving a demon’ under his breath. Instead he fidgeted with his hands and looked at the women across from them.

“Of course I didn’t fall! Loving someone is never a sin. No matter who they are.” Said Aziraphale with the conviction of an angel who had been a patron to gay people for centuries.

“Wait are you going to tell me you are not even together?” said Crowley shocked.

The two men answered her question by nervously changing their sitting position, avoiding eye contact with everyone and stammering incomprehensible starting of words (That was mostly on Crowley’s part). A light blush crept on Aziraphale’s face. “No we are not together. I mean we have spent the better part of our time on earth together and we have the Arrangement but we are not together” He cleared his throat “romantically.” He finished the sentence and settled back into the sofa akwardly. The demon and the angel seemed to be extremely uncomfortable with the whole situation. They avoided looking at each other altogether. Except for maybe a few side glances that they pretended to not see.

The two women were about to change the subject when a voice came from their right side.

“Mammon, I’m hungry.” Said a child. She was about 11 and was wearing a very comfortable looking pyjama that had little demons and angels on it.

They all turned around to her. Aziraphale, the one spoken to, said: “We just had lunch, how are you already hungry again?” she mumbled something about fibre and vegetables. The girl rolled her eyes and leaned dramatically on the doorframe she stood in. She leaned forward and looked past Aziraphale to Crowley “Mom, I’m hungry.”

Aziraphale did not look amused at that and gave a warning look to Crowley. She in turn looked very torn between her wife and her daughter who was making puppy eyes at her. She bit her lips glanced at Aziraphale and stood up.

“Come on Eve, I’ll tuck you into bed.” She shooed her away from the room. Aziraphale did not miss that they went the longer route that lead through the kitchen. They could hear Eve ask “Who are those guys? They seem super uncomfortable.” The faint answer could not be made out from the sitting room but if they would have heard it they’d hear “That’s Zira and me from another universe.” Crowley could be glad her wife had not heard her, she didn’t like being called Zira.

In the sitting room Aziraphale looked annoyed. Only a little. The kind of annoyed you get when your spouse does something that you don’t like and know they can’t help. She sighed and listened for her fife, but they had gone out of audible range.

“She’s spoiling the child. She has always had a soft spot for children.” She complained shaking her head. Then she realised who she was talking to. “But you obviously know that. And it’s really not a bad thing.” She back paddled.

Aziraphale, the man, nodded knowing. Crowley shot him a look. “I don’t have a soft spot.” He hissed, the s sounds getting a bit out of control. To distract from his softness, that was non-existent obviously, he asked: “You have children?”

“One, Eve is adopted obviously.” Said Aziraphale. Crowley came back at that moment. “All tucked in like a little angel” She stopped, made some stutter noises and continued “Well not angel, more antichrist. Still a very sweet one.” She sat next to Aziraphale again, who gave her a knowing and a little bit scolding glance which Crowley ignored with long practiced skill.

“That was the antichrist?” Asked Aziraphale confused. “What does he, I mean she do here?”

“She lives here. We adopted her, obviously.” Answered Aziraphale her dimension twin. Crowley ginned very malicious. “We stole her.” Her wife glared at her. “You stole her. I made sure no one would notice and filled out the adoption papers.”

“Oh come on Angel you liked how I ran off with the antichrist, turning up at your doorstep. It was very romantic.” She grinned at Aziraphale and nudged her. Aziraphale was having a hard time hiding the smile that was betraying her. “Hardly, you live here. And it was way too risky.” But it was obvious to see she had already lost the argument and was getting lulled in by Crowley who was leaning in to her and had started caress her arm and throat with her fingertips.

The two men watched their play, so similar to them and yet so different. Crowley really wished he could lean that close to his Aziraphale. And Aziraphale could not take his thoughts of Crowley’s fingers on his throat. Even if they weren’t really on his, and they weren’t really Crowley’s. But just the thought of it did some rather inconvenient things to him.

The women in turn seemed to realise that they were not alone. Aziraphale took the hand that was tickling her skin and held it in hers.

“Well if you didn’t adopt the Antichrist, how did you avert Armageddon?” asked Crowley a bit disappointed that her actions had been stopped and started drawing circles on Aziraphale’s hand with her thumb instead.

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. Their eyes met for a moment before both quickly looked away. “Adam kind of did that himself. He grew up with humans, was human incarnate you could say, told Satan he wasn’t his dad and his friends destroyed the horsepeople.”

“And we avoided being destroyed by heaven and hell through a clever ruse.” Added Aziraphale cheery. “We tricked them into thinking we were the other one, we switched faces.” He was awfully proud of that still.

“Wait heaven and hell tried to destroy you?” asked Aziraphale. “Not very angelic” added Crowley. Aziraphale ignored her. “Why didn’t your antichrist just make everyone forget? That’s what Eve did.”

The men shrugged. It just made for a nice dramatic ending they guessed. “So you’ve been raising her. And she still lives with you even after Armageddon is over?” Asked Crowley.

“Yes of course where else would she go? We’re her parents.” Answered the other Crowley.

Crowley had just gotten another reason to envy the women. He wouldn’t admit it but he was missing Warlock. The little kid had really grown on him. He had a soft spot for children after all. And even if he hadn’t been the antichrist raising him had been so nice. Crowley had been genuinely happy these few years, a kid and constant company from Aziraphale. It had been easy to imagine them a family.

“That sounds very nice.” He said. The softness in his voice made Aziraphale turn to him. He saw sadness, grief and longing in his face. Moved by the affection in Crowley he put his hand on the demons, to signal him he understood. Crowley me this gaze and smiled a sad smile.

“We looked out for a child for a few years, we thought he was the antichrist but there had been a mix up. We couldn’t keep him though, obviously, he has parents and we were just his nanny and his gardener. He grew on us quite a bit.” Explained Aziraphale.

The two women looked sad at that. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Said Aziraphale softly. Her tender look at Crowley made him all squirmish. “It doesn’t matter. It’s just a kid and I was just his nanny.” He mumbled and avoided the soft looks of both Aziraphales. The other Crowley wasn’t better she looked so understanding. It was almost worse.

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand lightly and took his hand back to himself. He noticed his discomfort and didn’t want to make it worse. The hand had been the smallest of Crowley’s worries and he was missing the warmth already. Something in him desperately wanted to reach out to get it back but he stopped himself.

“How did you mix up the Antichrist?” asked Crowley to ease the other from the unwanted attention.

They spend the next few hours comparing and explaining the differences of their universes to each other. They were quite similar. Now and then the woman Crowley had stopped the woman Aziraphale from getting into a stupidly dangerous situation but mostly it was the same. They didn’t seem to have a lot of influence on the humans in general.

“Makes you think huh?” said Crowley (the man) “Heaven and hell can’t think up anything as good or bad as the humans do on a regular basis. I’ve always said that.” He had gotten a slightly annoyed look from Aziraphale for that.

But even the points in their lives were actually quite similar. Both had eaten Oysters in Rome, after a very frustrating mission for Crowley. The reign of King Arthur had been very easy for Aziraphale and rather annoying for Crowley and rather moist for both of them. The 14th Century had been terrible for everyone involved. Shakespeare had needed a demonic miracle to get anyone to see Hamlet. The arrangement had obviously not happened for the women because they had been married for quite some time at that point. The French revolution happened. They moved to London Aziraphale opened a bookshop, Crowley took a century long nap, much to Aziraphale’s despair.

“You noticed I was gone for a century?” asked Crowley at that (The man obviously, the women were living together after all) “Yes of course, I missed you. Do you actually think I wouldn’t notice you being gone for an entire century?” Answered Aziraphale accusingly. The women gave each other a knowing look. And Crowley added ‘I missed you’ to his pile of things he would have to really think about along with ‘Loving a demon’.

Crowley bought the Bentley. World War one happened, the Nazis came and went. Queen happened and ruined all tapes in Crowley’s car, the antichrist was born and the Apocalypse happened or rather didn’t happen. That last one was different for the two of course.

“It’s getting rather late.” Said Aziraphale, looking at the clock on the wall. They all obviously did not need sleep, but they didn’t want to bother Eve, who should be sleeping by now (Although she probably wasn’t). And the two men should really be getting back into their own dimension. Who knew what kind of consequences this whole interaction may have on time and space and such.

“Yes you’re right we ought to try and get back to our universe.” Aziraphale agreed. They stood up and Crowley and Aziraphale walked themselves (from a different reality) out. The demon and the angel stood arm in arm watching the demon and the angel leave their shop.

“Do you think they’ll get it together now?” Asked Crowley.

“Do you mean if they’ll have the guts to make a move on each other?” She paused and looked at the door where the two had just walked out of “One can only hope, they seemed awfully tense about it.”

Crowley and Aziraphale smiled at each other and shared a tender kiss that said, I am so glad we didn’t go through the torture of pining for 6000 years and instead just boned on the ark. Then they went back to their daughter and their happy life together.

Meanwhile the other Crowley and Aziraphale had stepped through the door and landed on the street before the bookshop. The light in the bookshop was not on anymore. They couldn’t see the other two through the window but that could also be because the windows were very dirty. They stood on the street before the bookshop, not sure what to do now.

“Do you want to come in?” Asked Aziraphale unsure. He didn’t want Crowley to go home just yet. But he wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. It was late after all.

“Do you think it will be back to normal again?” Asked Crowley instead of answering. It wasn’t a no and it was enough for them both to work with.

“I hope so, only one way to find out.” Aziraphale stepped forward opening the door to let them in. The door opened and the bookshop stayed dark. There were no angels or demons around. They could feel they were back in their own reality. Back in their bookshop. Crowley caught himself thinking that and made another mental note to think about how he felt the angel’s bookshop to be his home as well.

Aziraphale held the door open for Crowley, who took the invitation immediately. Inside they went to the back and picked out some more alcohol. It did take a lot to get a supernatural being like them drunk and they had barely had anything yet so they were not really at risk of getting shitfaced and saying things they’d regret. Of course they might say things they could potentially regret sober too but it was best not to think of that.

They sat down, at the same sofa they had sat on in the other bookshop, next to each other and both pretended to not notice it.

“Well that was quite an experience.” said Crowley. He was slouching as regular and maybe his slouch was conveniently getting him closer to Aziraphale.

“Indeed, can you believe we’re married in a different universe?” Aziraphale took a sip of his wine.

So right to the subject thought Crowley. He was considering whether the angel was the one moving too fast now. He disregarded the thought.

“For 5000 years. They did seem like more capable versions of us. Maybe it’s the teamwork.” Crowley said. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was implying that they would be together already if they were more capable or if they would be more capable if they were together. It didn’t matter really, because what he definitely had implied was that he did not think it to be ridiculous that they might be married.

“Maybe we could be more efficient too if we were to cooperate more.” Said Aziraphale. Crowley looked at him. He tried to figure out if he meant cooperate in work together or in be together. Aziraphale had obviously meant the latter but he had always been quite proud of his ability to give subtle hints, or at least that was what he wanted to think of himself. After all almost getting killed by Nazi spies, just to get his best friend to talk to him again, wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Would you want that? To cooperate more?” Asked Crowley and hoped desperately that Aziraphale had meant the latter. He was very fidgety but he somehow managed to sit still and hold Aziraphale’s gaze. Aziraphale smiled at him.

“I would very much like that.” He put his hand back on Crowley’s where he had taken it away earlier. Crowley never wanted to miss it ever again. Somehow Aziraphale really was the one moving faster now. “Would you like that too?” Aziraphale moved closer now. They were already sitting awfully close so there was not much space left between them.

“Erm, yes I… I’d like that” stuttered Crowley. He was having trouble speaking with Aziraphale so close. Luckily he did not need to speak anymore. Aziraphale had closed the space the space between them completely. He was kissing him. His hand sneaked up to cup Crowley’s cheek. The kiss was very tender and sweet. It tasted like wine and hope and future and coming home. Aziraphale pulled away again. Crowley made a small noise, his eyes closed behind his glasses.

“Was that what you had in mind?” asked Aziraphale in a low voice. His hand was still on Crowley’s face. Crowley leaned into it and nodded lightly. Aziraphale laughed softly. He raised his other hand, which had still been laying on Crowley’s hand, to Crowley’s face. Crowley made a disapproving sound. Aziraphale pulled away his hand in which Crowley’s cheek was cradled, only a bit, moved it higher and removed Crowley’s glasses with both hands. Crowley opened his eyes and met Aziraphale’s. They were full of love and the slightest bit amused.

This time it was Crowley who leaned in, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s back. The kiss was deeper and quite a bit less chaste then the last one. His hands wandered over Aziraphale’s back, up to his neck and in his hair. The angel reciprocated the gesture. He used both his hands to pull Crowley closer to deepen the kiss and explore the demon’s body.

Desperation kept them close. Even as they pulled away their limbs stayed entwined.

“Can you imagine, we could have had this 5000 years ago?” Said Aziraphale. Crowley scoffed at that. “Don’t remind me. I have wanted this for about that amount of time, if not longer.” He buried his face in Aziraphale’s neck.

“I have the feeling we would not have gotten a lot done if we had.” He laughed. His hand ran through Crowley’s hair.

“I’m glad we can figure out what exactly it means to really be together like this. Maybe we’ll have another 6000 years to make up for the time we wasted being afraid.” Aziraphale said. Crowley lifted his head.

“I’d like that.” He made a break to evaluate whether to say what was on his mind. Aziraphale gave him an encouraging nod. He understood him and he wanted to know. “You said, in the other bookshop earlier, that you were afraid of falling because… you said that your…” He trailed off without the courage to finish the question.

“My love for a demon?” Asked Aziraphale softly. Crowley hid his face again and nodded. Aziraphale took his face in his hands and looked in his eyes.

“I meant that Crowley. I love you.” Crowley did everything in his power not to start crying. A few tears did escape but he smiled through them. He leaned his forehead against Aziraphale’s.

“I love you too.” He whispered. Silent enough to only be heard by the angel. Even though they were alone, this was meant only for their ears.

At last they got the chance to live a happy life together, and they took it. Sitting together on a sofa, closer than they used to they started the rest of their lives.

#good omens #crowley #Aziraphale #fem!crowley #fem!aziraphale #innefable husbands #innefable wives #fanfic #fanfiction

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

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Recipe For Disaster 2: Electric Boogaloo

Summary: Jim is NOT happy about his sister’s boyfie. (not a part two despite the confusing name)

Warnings: swearing, a gilmore girls reference, divorce kids got daddy issues

Word Count: 5560, my longest yet woohoo

A/N: here it is im finally done with this. i- im tired. i love jim he was my favorite until doux came along but he can be a little bitch boy sometimes. and the word of the day is giggle im so sorry

tags: @alovesongshewrote hope i can deliver now that you have expectations lmao

It was a good Saturday. The trollhunters trio had gotten an early start on training, and thus Blinky had released them for an early lunch. It was a particularly successful day, with Claire really getting the hang of the shadow staff, so they decided to not make poor Jim cook for once and go out for a treat. And Toby really wanted a sandwich from Benoit’s.

They opted to walk to downtown instead of biking, as a way to cool down. Plus, it would give them time to digest their food on the walk back, before they returned to training once again. Although that was more of a problem for Jim and Toby, since Blinky wanted Claire to start reading a certain book this afternoon. She’d be in the library, quietly sitting while the boys go back to running around and fighting. The spring flowers had just started returning to Arcadia Oaks. The flowerbeds that decorated town added a cheery air to the day. Happily, Jim ran up in front to kick a pebble as they came up towards the bistro around the corner. He stopped in his tracks.

“Is Y/n’s boss flirting with her?”

The other two teens came around Jim to see. Y/n laughed at Douxie’s dumb joke and put her hand on his shoulder.

“And is she flirting back?” Jim asked incredulously.

Claire didn’t take this the same way Jim did. “Aww, that’s so cute.”

“No it’s not. It’s weird. And wrong.” Jim asserted.

“What are you talking about,” Claire lowered her brows with an annoyed tone.

“No, no. he’s right. Y/n doesn’t flirt. Or date. I’m not even sure she crushes.”

Claire shook her head, “That can’t be true, TP. She’s like, old. You two just didn’t notice it.”

“Oh, no, we noticed it. She went to every school dance alone, even senior prom.” Toby added. “It was kind of sad to be honest.”

“Remember that time that big movie star came into town? He was the prettiest guy I’d ever seen, and Y/n was just like ‘eh he’s okay, I guess’. We literally had a fight over that one.” Jim chuckled.

“I literally can’t imagine Y/n in a relationship. She’s just too all over the place.”

Claire rolled her eyes and gestured her hands towards the scene in front of them. “Well, she seems to be doing just fine now.”

Jim didn’t know why, but this made him a little huffy. “Whatever. It’s just a crush, anyways. She’ll get over it soon enough.”

Douxie leaned over to give Y/n a quick peck goodbye before he headed into Mr. Benoit’s to start his shift. He had swapped shifts with one of his coworkers for the day, so he could have the evening off. Y/n headed back to the bookstore. She tucked her hair behind her ear as she left, smiling to herself. The three trollhunters still stood right where they were, staring.

“I don’t think it’s just a crush, Jimbo.”

Jim was outraged. How. How was this happening. He could understand her not telling her family, their mother could be a bit nosy sometimes when it came to her daughter’s personal affairs. But his sister had often said she didn’t have enough time to pursue a love life whenever their mother probed her. There was no way she just started having said time. Right? It was curious, too, that out of all the people she could have chosen in Arcadia, she chose Douchey. That guy had girls fawning over him wherever he went. There was no way Y/n was into that.

Come to think of it, Y/n had been acting really strange ever since she had gotten that job at the bookstore. It was so easy to make her laugh now. She was actually wearing her hair in different styles instead of her signature. She actually enjoyed Barbara’s cooking. Or at least complimented it a lot now. Still a baffling action nonetheless. It was if she was experiencing the side effects of something. And that bookstore reeked of magic. Magic had the power to drive people out of their minds. He’d had plenty of first-hand experience with that. This whole situation was fishy.

“Well, I think it’s so cute they’re together now.” Claire said cheerily. He loved her but she wasn’t exactly the best when it came to making judgement calls. Hell, the fact that she was dating him after all he’s put her through was enough proof of that.

“Well, I think its magic.” Jim deadpanned.

“What.” Claire snapped.

“He’s got a spell on her! Some sort of enchantment. A charm!”

Toby was too tired from training today to deal with this. “I’ll agree, he does have charm, have you had him as a waiter? But not the kind of charm you’re implying here, Jim.”

“Douxie is my magic teacher, Jim. I promise, he’s a really nice guy.”

“Nope. There’s no way my sister would be into a guy, let alone a guy like,” He tried to find the right words but just sputtered, “Like that!” he motioned to poor Doux, who was changing the specials sign out front. Douxie was one of those bistro employees who always got asked to draw up the sign because his calligraphy was so good. Doux had to admit, his handwriting was messy compared to Merlin’s standards, but to Mr. Benoit’s he was a calligraphy god.

Toby looked Doux up and down. “I don’t know man, Y/n is kind of alternative.”

“Yeah, who do you think helps me dye my hair all the time? And sneaks me into concerts?” Claire added.

“Okay. I get that. But he’s just not good enough for her.” Jim said through gritted teeth.

Toby sighed. “Then who is?” he asked wearily.

Jim got defensive. “I don’t know! A prince, maybe. One that’s in line to be king. Not one of those waiting-for-a-brother-to-die ones, but a real one.” He nodded his head like any of that was realistic. “Definitely not just some wizard who works in a bookstore.”

“She’s just some wizard who works in a bookstore, though.”

There was no getting through to Jim. “Think about it guys, my sister, suddenly getting cozy with a magic man? Bushigal. She’s under a spell. I’m going to fight him.”

“No, no you’re not,” Claire asserted, “You’re going to have lunch like we planned AND you’re going to be civil.” Claire and Toby both grabbed one of his arms and dragged him towards the bistro.

***

The hostess guided them to the table. Claire sat across from Jim and Toby. They were handed the menus. Claire showed interest in the lunch specials while Toby flipped to the sandwiches. Jim just brooded while he stared unblinking into the first page. And by chance, and by the fact that this scene would be boring and or pointless if not, Douxie was the waiter for said table. After handing off the check to one of his other tables, he waltzed over to the trio, happy to see his protégé.

“Ello lads, how’s it going? How’d that test go today, Claire?” Douxie ruffled her hair. Jim narrowed his eyes at the sight.

“Horrible! I bombed it for sure!”

Toby rolled his eyes, “You say that about every test, Claire, and then it turns out you aced them.”

“No I mean it this time, TP. I didn’t even finish the last three questions. It was so bad!”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Douxie chuckled. Oh to have the problems of these youngsters. Claire and Toby got into some sort of glare match where they both just made more and more aggressive funny faces at each other. Both finally conceded and they fell into giggles. Douxie was glad to see Claire having so much fun, but he noticed someone else at the table who was not having said fun. His apprentice Claire’s boyfriend, his master’s champion, and his darling Y/n’s brother, looking like his dog ate his homework, or whatever teenagers got angry about these days.

“Cheer up, lad.” Doux grinned at Jim, “Hangry? I get that. You look like you could use a good meal.”

“Well strangely I am in a cafe”

Claire kicked Jim under the table. He tried his best to stifle the grunt of pain. “Don’t mind Jim, he’s a tad grumpy from a bad training session. And we’ll take waters all around.” She smiled. Doux hurried off to go get their glasses.

In the end, Toby couldn’t pick a sandwich. He had three favorites and couldn’t decide between them yet. Jim and Claire had his back. They both got one of them and he got the third. Then they would all share the halves. A good plan. And it was a delicious one. Toby was thankful for his partners.

***

After finishing up training and walking Claire home, Jim and Toby went their separate ways. Toby had promised his Nana he’d go with her and her boyfriend to see a play in the next town over. Jim had promised his mother he’d be home for a family dinner. He wasn’t able to be home in time to cook, so this was going to be a roulette wheel when it came to food. He was betting on Y/n. As he came to the front door, he cracked it first and smelled the air before going inside as to make sure his candid reaction wouldn’t be bad. The aroma coming from the house was heavenly. Alright, Y/n. Jackpot.

Jim swung the door open wide as he strutted in. Everyone was in the kitchen, it looked like. He put his bag up and called to his family that he was home. Which was met with the two voices he had expected, but one he hadn’t. And it was a voice he didn’t want to hear right now. Douxie. Hisirdoux fucking Casperan. In his house. In his kitchen. In his territory.

Jim immediately felt his muscles tense up. He took a deep breath and put on his best fake smile before heading into the kitchen. Y/n was sautéing something over the stove. Barbara was stirring something which meant that she had insisted on helping and Y/n had done the equivalent of giving your younger sibling a game controller that wasn’t plugged in. The offending wizard was leaning over the bar counter from the other side, chatting away as if he had any reason to be here.

Once Y/n caught sight of Jim, she bubbled. “Jim! How was hiking? You three have fun?” she knew where he actually spent his Saturdays but they had to keep up the rouse for their mom. While Y/n particularly didn’t care for the lying, she also agreed with Jim that some things are best kept from worrisome mothers. Barbara gave her enough shit already for her frequent homecomings from bars and shows in the wee hours of the morning with scrapes and bruises. If their mother knew about Jim’s marginally more dangerous late-night escapades, she might actually have a nervous breakdown.

“Oh yeah, it was great. We saw a deer. It had a baby with it.”

“Majestic.” She turned and gestured to the man at the counter, “You remember Douxie, right?”

“Of course,” Jim said through gritted teeth forced into a smile. “In fact we just saw each other at the bistro earlier today.”

A timer went off. Y/n expressed her delight that something in the oven was done. Barb got some plates out of the cabinet, while Y/n pulled the main course out of the oven. She handed Jim the plates and silverware and sent him to go set the table. Jim supposed this was better than having to talk to Douxie. Until Douxie insisted on helping him. Great.

“So, Jim, I’ve heard a lot about you-”

“I’m sure you have.” Jim cut him off. Douxie was a bit confused, but figured he was still grumpy like he was earlier at the bistro. He’d leave the moody teen alone then. Perhaps he be in a better mood after getting some food in him and spending time with his family. Doux would try for conversation again then.

Jim did not get any less grumpy, to Douxie’s dismay. And Y/n’s. Y/n really needed both her family members to like her boyfriend. They were all each other had, and any strife would put a strain on their tiny closely-knit family unit. Y/n loved Douxie, and she wanted Jim and Barbara to love him to. To accept him. It would help put a validity to her feelings. If they liked him then she had made the right choice. She could never be with someone her loved ones hated. And as a bonus, it would be nice if she could give Douxie the family he never had. He deserved as much.

Luckily, Barbara had taken quite a liking to Arcadia’s most charming waiter. Jim however, was subtly hostile. Or at least he thought he was being subtle. It was very apparent to the other three at the table. As Douxie was animatedly telling Barb some story that she was laughing very hard at, Y/n turned to glare at her brother. Jim tried to feign innocence. Y/n rolled her eyes and put some more salad on her plate. Jim noticed the bracelet on her wrist. Funny, she had never been one for jewelry before. But she started wearing this one everyday right around the time she started working at the bookstore. Interesting.

Douxie finished up his story and turned his attention to Jim. He’d try once again to engage the trollhunter. He knew how important this was to Y/n. Douxie was going to make this little man like him if it was the last thing he did.

“I saw the school play you were in a couple weeks ago, Jim. You were quite the actor, and I know Shakespeare’s tough. Have you ever thought of going into it professionally? Claire’s told me she wants to. You two could be one of those celebrity power couples.”

Jim just offered a short thanks that was less hostile but not exactly enthusiastic either. Well, at least Doux was getting somewhere. It’s a start. Y/n was content with this. Jim would warm up to Douxie eventually. It didn’t have to be right away, even if she would have liked that.

After the dinner conversation had died down and the food long gone, Y/n set out to clear the table and clean the kitchen. Barbara also went to help her, but Douxie assured her he’d take care of it. He was a world class waiter after all. He stacked up the plates as Y/n grabbed the dinner dishes. And so the two set off to the world behind the wall, to clean or canoodle or whatever. Jim wasn’t too keen on thinking about it. His mother pulled him into the living room to sit on the couch and preceded to ask him twenty questions about Claire. He was almost happy when the lovebirds came back.

And then his mother made them all play some card game for three hours straight. All while the lovebirds flirted away right in front of them. It was like they had no shame. This guy just had to have Y/n under a spell or something, Jim was sure of it. There was no other explanation. As she giggled at another one of Douxie’s stupid jokes that weren’t even funny, Jim felt sick.

Finally it came time for that douchebag to leave. Jim rolled his eyes at his mother and sister fawning over Doux as he made his way to the door. He slinked over behind them to watch the guy leave and make sure that he left. As Douxie went through the door he gave Y/n a quick peck and said the stupidest line Jim had ever heard. Who does this guy think he is. Once the door was shut and Doux had indeed walked away, Jim scoffed.

“Bet that guy has a bank of pickup lines he’s memorized. There’s no way he came up with that on the fly.”

***

Jim was furious. He fought like a madman during training. Draal was just making it worse by encouraging it; he really liked the kid’s fire today. Draal had no idea what was up with him right now, but Jim was giving it his all. The trollhunter was rarely this aggressive. Blinky looked on as Jim growled and shouted with every strike. He hadn’t seen his son frothing at the mouth like this before. It was glorious. Keep this up and Angor Rot won’t know what hit him.

Claire and Toby were also training, with Arrggh, albeit with not even half as much gusto as Jimbo. They were also a wee bit distracted, trying to wind Jim down from said gusto. He came over to where they were to get some water. Taking this opportunity, Toby tried appealing to him once again.

“Dude, give it a rest, this is just like how you got all pissy about your mom dating Strickler.” Toby was exasperated.

“Y/n can’t date guys, my mother can’t date guys, no men should be frequently invited into our household! No boys allowed! Me and Toby are the only boys allowed!” Jim growled. He stormed off across the keep to go land another hit on Draal.

Blinky blinked. He was taken aback at the hostility from his charge. “So, do either of you have any idea as to what that was about.”

“Right now the winning theory is that this is like, about how heartbroken his mother was when his dad left, so now he doesn’t want that to happen again or something,” Claire sighed. Her teacher really was a good guy. Lonely too. Just like Y/n. They were going to be good for each other. Her boyfriend should be happy for them. Jim took a particularly dirty swipe at Draal. Toby grunted in sympathy. “Or maybe Douxie just poked Arcadia’s most possessive bear.”

***

Jim and Toby were walking downtown, enjoying their free time after a trollhunting mission on this fine Sunday afternoon. That is, until they came in sight of the bookstore. Jim felt that bitter feeling in his stomach again. He knew Y/n wasn’t working today. Douchey would be all alone. Now was his chance to confront this and end it before it got any worse. Toby noticed the malice in his eyes as he stomped towards the bookstore.

“Woah dude, what’re you doing?”

“I’m just going to have a little chat with Mr. Casperan that’s all.”

Toby threw his head back in exasperation. “There no talking you out of this is there?”

“Nope”

The bell jingled as they walked in. The bookshop smelled like Christmas. And Jim was about to try and talk politics with his racist uncle at the dinner table. Douxie came over and greeted them cheerily.

“Good afternoon, lads. Looking for any book in particular?”

“I’m not a part of this. I just happen to be with him physically.” Toby quickly asserted. Douxie quirked a brow at the odd statement. Jim pushed forward aggressively. Doux had the sense to back away from the boy.

“I’m onto you, wizard. Just what did you do to my sister? Did you slip her a love potion? Is that bracelet she’s been wearing charmed?” Jim growled. Toby cringed on the sidelines.

Douxie blinked. “Excuse me?”

“There’s no other explanation for your ‘relationship’. You’ve got to be magicking her. And I won’t just sit here and let it happen. That’s my sister and it’s my job to protect her from creeps like you.”

Douxie took in the boys words, and a deep breath. He tried his best not to sound too defensive and provoke the kid further, “Okay, wow. That’s quite an accusation there, friend.” He moved away from where the boy had backed him into a bookshelf. “You know, out of all that you just implied, the part I think I’m most offended by is the fact that you’d think I’d mess with Y/n’s free will like that.”

Douxie straightened some books on a nearby display. “You know Jim, when it comes to love-” Jim stormed out of the bookstore before Doux could take his lecture any further, grabbing Toby by the arm so he’d follow. Toby mouthed a big ‘I’m sorry’ to Doux as he was pulled out of the store.

***

Jim’s pencil felt abused. He was furiously scribbling the answers to his homework with a heavy hand. He still had a lot of pent up rage, even after accosting poor Doux. After snapping his lead for the seventh time in the hour, Jim decided that switching subjects to Spanish instead of math for a bit might help him calm down. He moved to his bed to start the assigned reading. He laid on his stomach, propping up his head in his hands to see his textbook. His blue eyes perused the paragraphs punctuated by cheesy cartoons. He was halfway through the third page when a knock came at his door. Taking a deep breath, he called for whoever it was to let themselves in. His sister stepped into view.

Jim ran a hand through his dark hair. Here comes the scolding. He didn’t even have to ask if Y/n had heard about what he’d done today. If Douxie himself hadn’t told her then Tobes certainly did. Jim wasn’t proud of it, now that it was all said and done. He knew he deserved whatever Y/n was about to dish out. He sat up and crisscrossed his legs. She pulled his desk chair over and sat backwards in it so that she was facing him on the bed.

That’s it. No scolding came. She just sat and looked at him, neutral faced. He squirmed at the nothing. She lifted up the coffee mug in her hands and took a slow sip, not breaking eye contact with him. Jim began to sweat. He tried to avoid her gaze by looking down at the floor, but he could still feel her eyes upon him. Sighing, he had to admit defeat.

“Okay, so I do feel bad about what I said to Douxie today.” He looked back up to meet Y/n’s eyes. She raised a brow. “It was wrong of me to jump to conclusions like that, I’m sorry.”

Y/n appeared to be satisfied by that. A smile spread across her face and she nodded to him. She stood up, and ruffled his hair on her way out. Still refusing to break her silence, she motioned for him to follow her downstairs.

***

Y/n set her coffee cup down on the table. She pulled another mug out of the cabinet for Jim. Grabbing the coffee pot from its nest under the coffeemaker, she filled Jim’s mug and topped off her own. Sliding the mug across the table to Jim, she sat down. Jim could smell the aromas of the several colorful dishes baking that he could see through the screen of the oven door. Strange, it was already half past nine. There was cinnamon in the air, so at least one of those dishes contained dessert. Jim’s stomach growled at the thought.

“You know I’m not the one you should have to apologize to, Jimbo.”

“I know, I know,” He looked at the ground, “I’ll go talk to him tomorrow after school.”

Silence filled the kitchen again. Y/n took a sip of coffee. This conversation was going to be hard. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. She took yet another long sip of coffee to figure out a good enough way to word this. She took a breath.

“So, uh- listen Jimbo. I- I know it’s tough, ya know, with it just being us. And our family’s tight because of it. But you can’t get so protective that new people can’t join it. Or even try.”

Jim took a breath, “I know it’s just, I-, what happens when we, when you, get so attached to him, and he decides that he doesn’t care for you anymore. When he turns out to be bad. When he just disappears. Like- like they do.”

“Oh, Jim,” She reached across the table for his hand. “That’s my risk to take, Jim. I fully recognize that what I’m doing is hazardous and I could get hurt really bad. But I still chose to do it. I choose it every day. We all do, when we fall in love.”

Jim took a sip and lingered, staring into his cup. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” He chuckled, “I know I’d be devastated if Claire ever wizened up and left me.”

“Look, you gotta trust me okay? Douxie isn’t dad or Strickler. I promise. He’s kind. I trust him. After you apologize, I think you really should start to make an effort to get to know him. If not for me, for Claire dude. And I think you’ll really like him. Promise you’ll give him a chance?”

Jim sighed in defeat. “Alright. I promise.”

She stood up and stretched out her back, making those stretching noises that people do. She checked the food in the oven. The buns were ready, but the quiche still needed a few minutes. She took out the pans and put them on the cooling rack. After fanning them for a few seconds, she turned to Jim, “So you want a spinach bun or a cinnamon bun?”

“How is that a question?” Jim laughed.

“Spinach bun it is then,” She teased as she tossed him the cinnamon one.

“What’s all this for anyway?” He gestured to the oven and the buns.

“Oh, uh, its actually for a date tonight?” She looked warry of how he’d react.

“Okay,” He guessed now would be as good a time as ever to start letting this go, “You crazy kids have fun.” Y/n laughed, relived.

Douxie had just finished up the sweeping and was ready to close up. As he headed to towards the front doors, he took one last look around the place to make sure he didn’t miss anything. All clean and tidy. Whoever opened tomorrow would appreciate it. He flipped the neon sign from open to nope and started locking up. Which is when his girlfriend pounced on him and almost gave him a heart attack. She just appeared out of thin air to tackle him into a hug. Scared the living daylights out of him. Y/n apologized profusely when she noticed him freak out but was still snickering between sorries so she probably didn’t mean it. He asked her just what the hell she was doing here and she picked up a picnic basket that was on the ground to show him.

“I just knew a certain wizard hadn’t eaten yet tonight.”

***

Y/n felt the ground beneath her back through the picnic blanket. The new spring growth had made them a cushion of sorts. Her head rested in the crook of Douxie’s shoulder as his arm was wrapped around her. It was nice here. Comfy. She could smell his hair and feel his chest move as he breathed. Their heartbeats made a nice rhythm to accompany the cricket song and the noise of the trees swaying. The stars were so lovely tonight. Stellar.

Douxie broke the quiet. “So I brushed up on my astrology.”

“Oh yeah?” Y/n quirked her brow. Astrology was one of her biggest interests. She’d loved it since her grandmother had given her a book about it when she was small. It was a well-worn, well-loved book. Her grandmother had handwritten things in the margins too. She’d been talking Douxie’s ears off about it during work earlier that week. Something was just so fascinating about how there were gorgeous balls of light in the sky that could tell you the future. There really was magic embedded in the fabric of the universe. It was sweet that he would care enough to learn about her interests. Very sweet indeed. The fact that he went out of his way just so he could talk to her about something she loved? Tooth-rotting. She wasn’t sure if her heart sped up because she was excited to talk about astrology or because of the sugar rush he just gave her.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve needed to look at constellations, we do have GPS now, but I think I remember enough,” He pointed to the sky, “That’s Pisces, right?”

“Yes!” Y/n couldn’t stop herself from smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

“And that’s Aries, which marks the beginning of spring,” He looked back at Y/n who nodded to him, “oh, and look! We can see Venus tonight.”

“Hey Douxie, I love you. And You’re really making me want to kiss you right now.”

He chuckled and wiggled his eyes brows teasingly, “Ah, yes, I am aware of the effect I have.” She rolled her eyes and put her hand on his face to push him away. If he saw the blush creeping up on her, he’d just get flirtier. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. Something caught her eye and instantly stole her attention.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish Doux.” She pointed to the streak of light that flashed.

“I don’t need wishes when I’m here with you, Love.” If her face was pink before it was bright red now.

Y/n hid her face in her hands, “No! You were supposed to say something silly,” She came back up to look him in the eyes, “not something that makes me want to kiss you even more.”

He leaned his head in closer, “Well, what’s stopping you, Y/n”

Well, that was obviously a dare. She couldn’t not kiss him now. So she did. They melted into it instantly. At first it was sweet and slow, but they got a bit hungrier, and the kiss got a bit sloppier. Douxie smelled like the bookstore, Y/n loved the smell of the bookstore. It was everything safe in her life. He was everything safe in her life. Her best friend. He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. He loved how her lips just fit together with his perfectly. Y/n Lake was everything he’d been waiting for all these years. Soft and kind, with such a beautiful heart. Not to mention, a badass. Yet, even with all his ancient baggage, she still cared for him. Made him feel like new again. Out of all the wizards of Arcadia Oaks, she chose him. He still couldn’t believe it. They pulled apart way sooner than either of them wanted, but they did have to breathe, so it had to be done. Locked in Douxie’s gaze, Y/n broke the intensity to giggle.

“But really, I was setting you up for a joke. You know what you could have done with that, Doux?” She teased.

“I’ll remember that for next time, Love.”

“Ah, they’re super rare. This is the first time I’ve ever seen one in all my stargazing years.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of time to see the next one. And the next one. All the shooting stars you want. Only seeing them every few decades could make them a special little thing for us.” He said so nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just implied that he expected their love to last for countless decades. As if it were a given. Suddenly it hit her. She could live thousands of years by his side. She would live thousands of years by his side. This was it. She wasn’t even sure humans could turn this vivid a shade of red. Y/n’s heart was gonna pop if it beat any harder.

“Stars, are you just hellbent on making me combust tonight? It too hot out here for this.” Douxie just laughed, a twinkle in his eye. She focused on her beloved stars to calm her down. She sighed, “The stars really are beautiful tonight.”

“You know what else is beautiful?”

“Me?”

“You- aww, you’ve heard that one.”

Y/n’s snort rung in the air. So, he does just have a bank of pick-up lines he’s pulling from. Interesting. Guess it must be tough having to be Arcadia’s most charming waiter. They stilled again. The comfortable silence embraced them. And they could have basked in it all night, if Douxie had not a burning question he had been waiting to ask his beloved.

“So- uh,” She looked to him expectedly, “Do you think there’s life out there?”

Y/n tried not to laugh too hard with Douxie’s very serious tone, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

Now it was Douxie’s turn to smile so wide his cheeks hurt. “Really?”

“Yeah,” She said, “I think it’d be kinda arrogant to assume that with all that vastness up there that we’re the only ones who exist.”

“That’s a really good point.” Douxie said excitedly. He pulled her tighter into his embrace and snuggled. “I think I’m going to use that on Zoe next time she tries to tell me that I’m crazy and aliens aren’t real.”

“Yeah Babe! Win that argument!” Y/n encouraged.

She peppered his face with kisses. That big smile stayed on his face as he closed his eyes in delight. He repaid her with a nose kiss. And she repaid that by starting another snogging session.

***

Little did they know that shoot star was really aliens akiriddion spaceship crash 3below wait shit the akiriddions landed in like season two and ive set this in one ugh just pretend like this makes sense hfhadhiufs

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie casperan imagine #lake!reader #toa douxie #douxie #douxie casperan #my writing

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