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borrowedtimeandspace · 6 months ago

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Say You Love Me Too

AU: The Donna Trilogy | If I Could Turn Back Time

Note: This one kept getting longer on me, but I wanted to make sure I did these two justice. Here's hoping I have.

~~~

“Thirty days.”

Orrick’s words cut through the dusty air inside the walls of the cottage.

He and Zepheera hardly said a thing to one another since their talk over tea that afternoon. Nothing quite as meaningful, anyway. Her sudden return put a damper on his big plan to leave it all behind, and he hadn't accounted for dinner. Reckoned he'd borrow something nonperishable on his way out, just enough to sustain him on the journey between human houses. He'd steadily (albeit slowly) eaten through everything in their stores so that pests wouldn't find it and gather, ever since he decided what he would do if Zepheera didn't come back.

Now she had come back, and he didn't have anything in.

She was quick to offer to come with him on the borrowing trip, a standard food raid that he could easily do on his own. Still, with her penchant for vanishing, there was no way Orrick was leaving Zepheera out of his sight. So he agreed, and they silently traversed the darkened pathways under the floorboards and within the walls, all the way up to the humans’ pantry.

Despite their time apart, they fell into the rhythm of borrowing together right away. One kept watch while the other worked on subtly gathering food in a way that wouldn't be easily noticed, and they traded off these roles silently and smoothly. It was easy work for seasoned professionals, especially with most of the giant folk out of the house at that hour.

It was still odd for them both, how natural it all felt. Like nothing had changed, even though that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Orrick meant to emphasize that as he tossed the two words over his shoulder on their way back from a successful run.

Zepheera was quiet for the first few seconds afterward. “What?” she asked, though he noticed in her tone that she didn't sound like she'd misheard.

“How long you've been gone,” Orrick confirmed. He sent her a quick backward glance, though he was only able to make out her general shape in the darkness. “You asked, and it's only right I answer your question since you answered mine. It's been a month.”

His gaze lingered on her silhouette when he heard the slightest stutter in her steps, but she kept pace. He turned back to face the front once he felt assured that they weren't going to be separated again, and continued leading the way home.

It didn't sound like much, saying it aloud. One month. Some of Orrick’s most detailed sketches took him a few weeks to feel satisfied with the results. Zepheera’d knitted jumpers in that amount of time as well. Neither of those tasks had ultimately felt like they'd taken an incredibly long time in the past.

When it came to waiting to see if your spouse would return home, unsure of why they left or if they were even alive… Then, a month felt like an eternity.

Zepheera seemed to understand that, because she fell completely silent. It wasn't until well after they'd climbed down below the floorboards that she managed to whisper, “I'm sorry…”

“You've said that,” Orrick pointed out as they reached the main entrance to the home.

The door was a lid they'd repurposed from an old tin. The hinges were intact to use like a proper door, swinging inward with a firm push and unable to do so in the other direction. To keep pests and strangers out, they'd installed a couple of small hooks to either side of it on the inside, onto which they could drop a sturdy bar (usually a pencil) that would hold the door in place.

Orrick let the door swing inward and once again glanced back at Zepheera. In this space under the floor, a little more light was able to slip between the cracks. Now the shadows couldn't hide the flush of contained emotion in her cheekbones, the way she could barely maintain eye contact with Orrick for more than a second before her gaze lowered in shame.

The way that, though he wasn't barring the way inside, she simply stood behind Orrick. Almost waiting to be invited into the home they'd built together.

“You still haven't explained why you needed that answer. Why, of all things, that was the mystery to you.” Orrick's tone stayed even and calm, not wanting to come off as accusatory. She hadn't gone into any detail, but he knew that something had happened to Zepheera since he'd seen her last. Something that changed her.

Zepheera took a deep breath in and out, though Orrick noticed the slightest hitch, like a second small inhale before she let it slowly out. As she did so, her gaze met his and stayed this time.

“I told you, it's a long story,” she said, though to Orrick it didn't sound like an excuse. Zepheera wasn't dodging his question. No, she was simply warning him that the answer to it was far from simple.

Orrick slowly nodded in understanding. Then, with just as much care, he reached out a hand toward Zepheera, who blinked at it before looking back up at him.

“Tell it, then,” he invited.

In the dimness, Orrick thought he caught the briefest glimpse of a smile flashing across Zepheera's lips before she lifted a trembling hand to take his.

Learning that Zepheera couldn't age, while unexpected, wasn't too difficult for Orrick to accept. She had always been an unusual one, able to recover from injuries incredibly quickly compared to the average borrower. She took that in stride, and so did Orrick.

They crossed the threshold together.

~~~

When it came to time travel, however…

It wasn't the easiest topic to simplify for a borrower, let alone one who had lived his entire life in the 20th century. Space travel was only just becoming a more prominent reality for humans, and even that felt very far away and foreign to the smaller folk, who had no such ambitions. And apparently, Zepheera had taken part in that as well!

Zepheera hardly claimed to be an expert on the matter, but she explained it to the best of her understanding. Though she had clearly prepared something that would be easiest for him to swallow, it was an intense shift in Orrick's worldview.

He was still processing it all hours later, lying in bed and staring up at the underside of the floorboards that were their ceiling. Thoughts swirled in his head in so many circles that his eyes traced them as though they were visible in the darkness of night.

At the time, he understood just enough of what she told him to be able to nod along with it. Now, hours later, all attempts to let it actually sink in kept him awake.

What struck him the most in the moment was that Zepheera had traveled with humans.

It wasn't that it was more strange than the time travel, really, but it was one of the cardinal rules drilled into every borrower's head from the moment they were born. Never be seen or heard. Human beings were powerful simply by the nature of their being, well over a dozen times the size of a borrower more often than not. Even the weakest human could do the strongest borrower great harm with hardly any effort.

Whether a given human would treat the smaller folk that way was beside the point. They all had to be considered capable of such things by every borrower as a matter of caution.

Zepheera insisted that these humans were of a good sort. Well, one of them was actually not human, but was “close enough to practically count,” which was another notion Orrick was still grappling with. The Doctor, the non-human one was called. He'd saved Zepheera from a bad situation, and that was all she could say on the matter.

She went distressingly quiet when Orrick tried to ask about it.

Most of the time spent between making and eating dinner was filled with Zepheera’s stories about this Doctor and the human woman Donna Noble. How the unnamed terrible thing that happened affected her intensely, and her companions helped her recover from it. How they inspired Zepheera to take on a more active role in bettering the lives of others where- and whenever they went.

Orrick could tell they had been close, and the way Zepheera talked made it seem like this was a rarity for her. And he could see glimpses of the heartbreak in her eyes as she told him about how she was separated from them.

With a deep sigh, Orrick brought up both hands to rub at his eyes. He was making himself dizzy trying to understand time as something non-linear, but it was so intertwined with everything Zepheera had told him about her life.

The Doctor had a machine, she said, a vehicle of some sort that allowed them to go wherever they wanted at any time. She'd described it as something quite fantastical, far bigger on the inside than it appeared from the outside. It could disappear from one time and place, and reappear in another.

And even with all its magics, it still rendered the Doctor helpless to find Zepheera when she was lost. This was apparently due to the nature of said separation, her being somehow flung through time to the past, well before Zepheera's own birth.

“Wait, so…” Orrick had piped up at that point. “If you were in the past, and knew about things that hadn't happened yet…why didn't you try to change them?”

Zepheera had blinked at the question, one of Orrick’s few interruptions to her story. He wasn't casting judgment on her, and the sadness that crept back in behind her eyes told him she understood exactly what he meant.

“It's…quite complicated, being in the past. Especially your own past. Time can be rewritten, yes, but the effects of that are impossible to predict.” At that, her gaze lowered to her wringing hands. “And everything that happened to me… everything I've done… It made me the person I am today. Made me better. If I tried to change even one line of my own history, then the me I am now wouldn't exist anymore. Or worse. I couldn't risk that.”

Zepheera glanced back at him then. “Do you understand?” she’d ventured to ask.

Orrick had listened to every word, but that was the point where it all started to scramble in his head. Just like he would do later in bed remembering the feeling, he buried his face in his hands. “I regret asking…”

Back in the present, the sound of quickened breathing to Orrick’s left caught his attention. He let his hands run down his face as he turned to look at Zepheera's deeply sleeping form beside him.

There really was no place for her to sleep other than the bed they used to share. She tried to insist she had something in her travel pack that she could set up, but Orrick couldn't let her just sleep on the floor. Even after everything…it didn't feel right.

It wasn't like it was before. Orrick lay flat as a board on his side, while Zepheera had started out curled with her back to him on the other. A solid inch of their makeshift mattress was left cold between them, a significant distance when the tallest between them couldn't quite claim five inches in height. Though Orrick had been too overcome with his thoughts to move, Zepheera had long since fallen asleep and began stirring more than he ever remembered her doing in the past.

He gently rolled to his side to face her. She'd writhed enough to end up lying on her back. It was dim, but not dark enough to hide the sweat on her twisted brow. The grimace on her lips as she sucked in air between clenched teeth. How one hand clutched the covers and the one nearest Orrick, tossed up near her ear, twitched as though grasping at something that wasn't there.

Before he could think twice about it, Orrick slid a hand up to gently wrap around Zepheera's and give it a squeeze.

He understood then just how much pain Zepheera had kept to herself. From what he could tell, she had been truthful with everything she'd shared, and yet she'd glossed over the darker aspects before they could sink in. Now, it seemed like she couldn't hide it as easily in her sleep. Or hide from it.

Zepheera's hand automatically clung to Orrick’s. He froze, caught up in the feeling of her grip twitching in his; a feeling that gradually calmed down. After some time, he noticed a change in the rhythm of Zepheera's breathing and saw her shadowy shape turn his way.

She was awake. He couldn't explain how he knew that, but he did.

If she looked at him, he was only vaguely aware of it in his peripheral vision. He stared at their joined hands as his thumb gently traced along her palm, as though the new questions he had would be answered there.

“How long have you been gone?”

Zepheera stayed quiet a moment, recognizing the repeated phrasing. Now Orrick understood exactly why she'd asked, and that her own answer was not straightforward and very different from the one he gave. He waited while she momentarily pondered the answer.

“I think…” she whispered, “between when I left and when I met the Doctor, and then how long ago I was sent back in time… almost two hundred years.”

Orrick’s gaze snapped up to meet hers, something in him clenching to hear such a number.

“And…in all that time, did you…” Orrick hesitated; it suddenly felt quite silly to ask, but he'd already started. “Was there ever anyone else?”

Either the darkness was playing tricks on him, or Orrick caught the tiniest sparkle of hope in Zepheera's eyes. It was gone in a flash, and she slowly shook her head no.

Orrick scoffed at himself for forgetting. “Right. ‘Course, it wouldn't change anything, would it? You'd still be worried about outliving them and–”

“Nobody was you,” Zepheera emphasized.

His breath caught in his chest, along with any more words.

Outside of his control, the hand holding Zepheera's pulled it closer. It stopped a hair's breadth from his lips, and with the slightest pause, he angled his wrist to instead place the back of her hand against his cheek.

Orrick's eyes squeezed shut as he basked in the warmth of her skin. So many times since her return, he'd avoided such intimate contact with Zepheera. Like there was some wall between them after what happened, a line that he couldn't be sure was safe to cross. For his own sake or for hers. Over the past few hours, she'd chipped away at that wall with her honesty and openness about her completely mad life, and he could feel his resolve crumbling.

There was only one thing Orrick needed to hear to make it real.

“Do you still love me?” he breathed.

Zepheera's grip went slack in his hand and twisted its way out of it. Before Orrick could fear the worst, he felt her hand gently slide in to hold his cheek. His eyes shot open just as her thumb tenderly brushed away his tears.

With her own eyes welling up, glinting in the barest light that made it into the room, Zepheera spoke with more conviction than he'd heard yet.

“I never stopped.”

Orrick kissed her. The barrier shattered.

His wife was home.

#sfw gt #sfw g/t #gt writing #g/t writing #The Donna Trilogy #If I Could Turn Back Time #borrowed time and space #the borrowers #borrower OC #Zepheera #Orrick #doctor who crossover

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jdyyshit · 6 months ago

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a man stood in his small, cramped studio apartment right at the very edge of brooklyn

it’s quiet is all his mind musters

the roar of traffic, rumble of engines and the odd yell of a pedestrian or driver is all still very much prevalent. the laughs of teenagers rushing along the sidewalks with their friends, the car alarms blaring.

he tunes it out and focuses his attention back onto folding his shirt. this one old and the colour faded, the threads hanging. he’d outgrown it. he stares down, before shoving it into the duffel.

the creak of the floorboard turns his head. his girlfriend stands there, her eyes puffy and lip bloodied from her insistent chewing. she wears his university sweatshirt, having borrowed (stolen) it long ago. he lets her have it.

because when the bank accounts drained and the cupboards are bare, what does he have left to give?

his love?

except he’s already given all he can. he loves her like she’s his last breath of oxygen before death. the first breath of air after drowning. the virus and the cure. the poison and the antidote.

his brother would forever be more poetic she is my doing and my undoing. his beginning and his end.

she was everything.

so when she cries it cracks his heart.

she stands in the doorway, her arms wrapping around her chest, looking at him through misty lenses.

they’ve had this conversation before.

the fears, the tears. everything.

they have no other option, there’s nothing.

“we have to go, baby.”

her breath hitched “i know.”

“i’m sorry.”

“you’re not acting like it.”

he sighs, putting his shirts down. he grasps her wrist and pulls her gently onto the mattress on the floor. she curls slightly, her scraped knees drawn into her chest.

“remember our promise?” he murmured.

she hums, burrowing into his chest, tucking her head under his chin.

they fit like puzzle pieces.

“a big house with a big yard and surrounded with field.”

she nods.

“a garden with your favourite flowers. chickens, so we don’t buy eggs. maybe a cow or two. a wrap around porch to sit and watch the sunset.”

“a big fireplace that we drink hot chocolate by in the winter.” she says.

“with marshmallows?”

“with marshmallows.”

“a library” he continues “with all the books you can read.”

“a letterbox with our names on it.”

she leans into him and he breathes her in. lavender.

even if he was blind he could probably recognise her by that smell alone.

he’d feel for the soft skin of her cheek, the wispy curls of her hair, the rasp in her voice when she woke up.

“you forgot something.” her voice is low, almost drowned over by the noises of the city.

“what?”

“the pattering of little feet.” she adds

“huh?” his eyebrows knit together “like a dog?

“mhm. something like that.” she replies, and he feels something in her voice that’s like she’s revealing something hidden. a treasury of secrets almost. without another thought, she takes his arm and pulls it around her stomach.

oh.

something flutters in his chest. something unusual.

dangerous.

hope.

he blinks, twice. then looks at her, her angelic features even more gorgeous in the light of dusk. he lifts her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckle.

“one day” his voice cracks “i’m going to get you that house. those flowers. those books. i’m going to take care of you and we’ll never have to worry about food or money.”

i swear.

he leaves that unsaid, but he’s never meant anything more.

the sun’s lowering now and they turn to watch it.

all he can picture is her brown doe eyes and his chubby bright cheeks. he pictures tying shoe laces and sports practice and tiny shoes by the door of house he’s going to build her.

they watch the sun shift over it’s horizon. setting over the city, once the city of their dreams.

now all they have is their dusty apartment, their luggage, a little secret in their hearts and two plane tickets with their names on it.

and for today, that’s enough.

#writers and poets #writing #i love you #poetry #writeblr #writers on tumblr #love #i love him #i love my boyfriend #i love him so much #inspired by my lovely boyfriend #i love him very much

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baby-dr1ver · 4 years ago

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jealous

A/N: uuuhm sorry, I did not mean to make this so sad. i’m putting this out because i’m a shitty writer and haven’t written part 2 of “a switch” The song is Jealous by Labrinth!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: angst, sweet ending

Word Count:1659 (oh wow-)

feel free to leave some feedback, or come talk to me!

Living in Louisiana with the Wilsons was great. You helped Sarah cook and clean while the boys trained or were on a mission. You and Bucky wanted to stay, maybe find a house together, get a cat. Problem was, you weren’t together and that could cause problems. Sam eventually found his own place, so you and Bucky got to move into the guest room, instead of sleeping on the couch. You didn’t mind sharing a bed with Bucky, you both weren’t a fan of touch but, if it was just the two of you, you were okay with cuddling.

You had been friends with Bucky since the Avengers days. You both were closed off to others, always had your walls up. You never socialized, keeping to yourself most of the time. You both waited for people to leave the kitchen before you went in, and never participated in an annual movie night. You both had guilt on your shoulders from being ex assassins. That was the thing you had in common, the thing you kinda bonded over. After a nightmare, you’d walk out to the balcony, just to cool off, only to find Bucky already sitting there. You’d ask another about the nightmare, neither wanted to say anything. You’d just bask in the quiet of the night. That’s how you and Bucky became inseparable.

Back to present day, it was a rainy day in Louisiana. The thunder shook the house with it’s booms, and was followed by a quick strike of lightning in the distance. It was far enough away that it didn’t worry you when you went outside to the wrap around porch. The Wilson house was beautiful, with a huge yard, and porch, it was a dream. You rubbed your arms at the sudden gust of wind mother nature decided to blow in. You looked to your right, seeing the old piano that sat there. It taunted you everytime you walked outside, practically screaming, play me! And you were finally giving in. You sat down at the dusty bench, the wind picking up. You fiddled with the keys for a minute before you decided on what to play.

I’m jealous of the rain

You started to play the beginning keys of the song. Softly singing along. It was the song you’d play late at night, when the thoughts consumed you, and everything got hard.

That falls upon your skin

This song always reminded you of Bucky. He may have a hard exterior but, he was secretly a softie. I mean, he cried at Bambi and made me swear I wouldn't tell a soul.

I’m jealous of the wind, that ripples through your clothes

The song perfectly describes how you feel about him. You get so immersed in everything Bucky. Jealous of the way the sun kissed his skin, wishing it was you giving him a gentle touch.

It’s closer than your shadow, oh i’m jealous of the wind

Cause I wished you the best of all this world could give

As the song got louder, so did you. You wished you could tell Bucky, he deserves all the love in the world. He deserves to be showered in compliments and treated like a normal human. Not like the monster he thinks he is. He deserves happiness, and kindness and-

You were so lost in the music, just finishing the chorus, you hadn't noticed Bucky creeping up behind you.

I’m jealous of the nights, that I don’t spend with you

All those nights you never spent with him, made you achel. You wished it was you fighting alongside Bucky or driving him home after a long day, just being there. Bucky came to sit next to you on the bench. You looked over to him, startled, and stopped playing.

“Don’t stop on my account. It’s beautiful.” You gave him a shy smile, and picked back up where you left off.

I’m jealous of the love, love that wasn’t here

You looked at him when you started to sing, hoping he would understand you. Those words hit home,you always felt like Bucky would never reciprocate the love you had for him. He deserved more than you. More than someone who can’t pick up his broken pieces when you were still trying to pick up your own.

You got into the chorus of the song, a crescendo of sorts. You had to break eye contact with him, all of the emotions overwhelming you. All the thoughts, the love, the emotion behind the song, shone through as you sang the lyrics out to him. Portraying everything you’ve ever felt for this man. All the heartbreak and misery. All the waiting around for him, and the constant heart ache. It’s hard to know that he may be happy without you.

As i sink in the sand

Watch you slip through my hands

Oh, as I die here another day

Cause all i do is cry behind this smile

Bucky couldn’t help but watch you in awe. The way your fingers moved against the keys, or the way he could see you move with the music, the passion behind your eyes. It was like the rain and you were in sync. Thunder clapping at the right time, and it was almost like the rain was keeping tempo. God, he was so in love with you. He hoped that this song was your way of telling him you loved him too.

I wished you the best of, all this world could give you

You looked over to him seeing unshed tears in his eyes. You knew the lyrics of the song, the passion you put behind it, was getting to him. And you couldn’t hold the tears in any longer, making your voice waver.

But I always thought you'd come back, tell me all you found was

Heartbreak and misery

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way

You're happy without me

You looked at him again as you sang. The song coming to an end, as you started to play the final chords. Your years dropped on the keys, and soaked your face.

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way

You're happy without me

You couldn’t look at him. Your facial expression would give away exactly how you felt. So helplessly tied to this man, clinging to every word he said, tended to every wound. It was hard falling in love with Bucky, knowing he would never let himself fall in love with you. You wanted to hold him in the night, cook his favorite meal when he was sad, and watch old 40’s movies with him. You just wanted him to be happy, even if it meant never being with you.

“Doll?” You head snapped up at the name. You barely heard it over the raining falling on the roof, and the occasional boom of thunder. Doll, that was a good sign. You didn’t really respond, just a slight hum, voice hoarse from singing.

“Do you really feel that way? That you don’t make me happy?” He said with exasperation. You could only nod your head, and sign. You didn’t know what to say, you’d never thought he would ask such a heavy question. You honestly expected him to get up and walk away.

“Y/N I- You make me so incredibly happy. Seeing you, being in your presence is like- sunshine coming out on a rainy day.” As cheesy as it sounded, he meant every word. Bucky brought his hands up to cup your face. You quickly leaned into his embrace, loving the contrast of his warm flesh hand, and the cold vibranium hand.

“I can’t even put into words how happy you make me. You brought out so much good in me, even when you were struggling, you always told me to keep my head up, always there to make sure I’m okay.” More tears streamed down your face as he continued to confess.

“I mean- I love you so fucking much Y/N- I can’t believe you ever doubted that. When I’m around you, god doll, it’s hard to think, hard to focus. Being with you is like- a breath of fresh air I never knew I needed. Loving you is like watching the sunset- you're so warm and soft and gentle an-and so kind. You were always so kind to me even if-even if I didn’t deserve it.”

Looking in his eyes, you knew he wasn’t lying. You could see the love in his eyes, in the soft way he spoke to you, even with the harsh rain coming down.

“You will always deserve love James. You deserve all the kindness, gentleness, warm feelings any other person has. You, James Buchanan Barnes, are an amazing, kind, incredible human being. That’s what I love about you. You may think you act tough but, deep down you love Sam like you Steve.” It was your turn to cup his face with your hands. He closed his eyes the minute you made contact with his face.

“I love you so much Bucky.” You choked out. Everything came rushing at you. Knowing he loved you too, made all the different. You’d never have to feel alone, or forgotten ever again. You never had to talk to a brick wall- no- . You would go to the ends of the earth for Bucky, and it was a great feeling knowing that he would too.

“I love you doll” He said before he pulled you in for a sweet kiss. At that moment, thunder clapped, and lightning strikes. The earth sounded like it was coming to its climax and you never wanted it to end. You never wanted this...feeling to end. The feeling of serenity in Bucky's arms, the feeling of harmonious embrace.

You both knew that it would never end. You would love one another until your dying day, and you were content with that.

#james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson #falcon and winter solider series

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solinarimoon · 3 years ago

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A Place in This World

A/N: This is my entry for @mrsalwayswrite 350 follower challenge. Congratulations on your 350 followers! You desreve them and so many more! My prompt was for the sense of sight and old books. I focused on an OC I created that could potentially mold into a larger story. This one shot takes place during season 3 of The Last Kingdom at the nunnery in Wincelcumb.

Warnings: angsty, bastard, and abandonment.

Word count: 2219ish

A Place in This World

The rustling of Edlyn’s steps echoed along the corridor. She tried to keep her feet light and gentle as she walked, but the bare walls and cold floors captured all sounds.

Evening meal would not be served for another hour or more. Instead of waiting to be roped into helping prepare the food, Edlyn had taken her first opportunity to explore the new convent she was thrust upon.

Rounding the corner, Edlyn came up short when she saw a door ajar at the end of the hallway. Peering into the room, she saw a warm glow from the fireplace illuminating a small chamber. Lining the walls on one side, across from the fire so their spines danced in the flickering light, were shelves of books.

Without thinking, Edlyn crossed the room and ran her fingers across the dusty volumes. Slowly, her eyes rose taking in the sight of so many new stories to read. One book in particular caught her eye, near the top shelf. Edlyn glanced around to her side and saw a short stepping stool.

Carefully, she moved the stool before the shelf and climbed to reach towards the volume.

“It would be polite to inquire for permission before taking a book from our meager library, young lady.”

The sudden shock of hearing a voice, startled Edlyn. She lost her footing and stumbled off of the stool to thump into the wall, somehow managing to refrain from knocking any of the books off in the ordeal.

“I’m sorry?” she questioned once she regained her footing. She turned to face the other side of the room obscured by the open door.

“I was suggesting you ask if it is alright for you to take a book from our library.”

An elderly nun sat in a cushioned chair next to a round table. There was a large collection of pages in front of her.

Edlyn cautiously approached the woman and squinted at the writing on the pages.

The nun settled herself back into the chair and folded her rheumatic hands into her lap, allowing Edlyn to view the pages properly.

Reverently, Edlyn slid several of the pages towards herself and picked them up to bring them nearer to the firelight.

“You must be Edlyn.”

The young woman nodded wordlessly.

“And what has brought you to our convent, young Edlyn?”

Shifting her eyes to meet the nuns and then back to the papers, Edlyn replied, “I believe you already know the answer to your question.”

“I know what my abyss has told us. But despite my youthful appearance,” the crone chuckled wryly, “I am old enough to know that there is usually more than one side to stories like yours.”

Frowning, Edlyn brought the pages back to place on the table. Contemplating how best to answer, she wandered back towards the bookshelf.

“Were you told of my parentage?”

“I was,” replied the old woman.

“Well being the bastard daughter of a king does not allow for a large selection of lifestyle choices.”

“Your brother found a path that did not include confinement in a monastery.”

Shocked, Edlyn quickly turned her head to meet the woman’s sharp, birdlike eyes. Those eyes bore into Edlyn daring her to refute her words.

“Yes, he did.”

Edlyn had not expected to hear her brother mentioned, but in truth it was the second reminder of him she had since entering the room.

“Tell me,” the woman compelled Edlyn.

Edlyn sensed this particular nun was not to be ignored or contended with. Sighing, she stepped back onto the stool and reached for the book on the high shelf.

“When we were children, after our mother died, my uncle paid the church to house us and to keep us together. I’ve no doubt that he was largely influenced in this decision by our father as well.”

Edlyn stepped off the stool. Glancing around the room and seeing no other chair, she picked up the foot stool and brought it to rest beside the fire.

Taking a seat, she continued, “Osferth was always the more studious child. Being twins, you might think we would favor one another, but we could not have been more different. Even our looks did not favor each other. He is light. Light brown hair and gentle, blue eyes. And you see me before you. Hair the color of raven’s feathers and eyes stormy like the sea. He enjoyed our lessons, was courteous, respectful. He was devout and the apple of the eyes of many of the nuns.”

“And I am guessing you, young Edlyn, were not those things.”

Chuckling mildly to herself, Edlyn shook her head in reply.

“Abyss Bethylda was constantly recalling my attention back to our lessons. I have a sharp tongue and a questioning and goading nature… Or so I am told,” she shrugged.

“So I ask again, how is it I find you here, in my library at this convent? It does not seem like the life that you would choose for yourself. If I may make such a judgement after only meeting you a moment ago.”

Edlyn stared down at the book in her lap.

“This book contains stories of the viking raiders and their plunder of Northumbria?”

“It does,” answered the woman with a ponderance in her voice.

“As children, the one thing my brother and I had in common was a love for books. For stories, really. Our Uncle Leofric would visit us often. We always listened to his war stories with rapt attention. And we always found ourselves most fervently reading accounts of the northmen. Particularly the attack at Lindisfarne.”

Gazing down at the bound pages, Edlyn traced the words and found her mind returned to a moment many years past.

~~~~~~~ 10 years earlier ~~~~~~~~

“Edlyn, don’t!” Osferth exclaimed as his sister climbed on top of the table.

“Hush, you’re meant to be guarding the door, Osferth. And it’s fine. I just need to step here and then I can reach it,” Edlyn whispered harshly. The ten year old placed a foot onto the shelving encased on the wall beside the table she was currently standing on.

Osferth turned back from peering out the door and down the hallway.

“There is no one coming. Did you reach it yet?”

“Not...yet….almost,” Edlyn spoke while straining to reach her arm up higher.

“Edlyn!” Osferth whined while approaching the table. “Why don’t we just ask someone to get the book down for us?”

“Yes, why don’t you?” A deep, rumbling voice came from the doorway.

With a gasp, the young girl and her twin both turned to see who had caught them in their plot. Edlyn’s foot slipped and she shrieked as she felt herself begin to fall.

With two large strides, the man crossed the distance with the speed of a cat to snatch Edlyn before she hit the floor.

“Uncle Leofric!” Edlyn exclaimed while throwing her arms around the man's neck.

He let out a hearty laugh.

“I have missed you too, little Eadlyn.”

He placed the young girl onto her feet.

“Keeping up with your studies, Osferth?” He asked while stretching his arm out to grasp the boy's shoulder with a fond smile.

“Of course, Uncle. Abyss Bythilda suggests I should pursue becoming a scholarly priest.”

Quickly, Edlyn cut her brother off, “why would you want to do that Osferth?”

The boy turned his face down to the floor and shuffled his feet, mumbling “I never said it was what I would want. Only what the abyss suggests, Edlyn.”

“Stop giving your brother a hard time, young lady,” Leofric commanded. “Now, children, what was it you were willing to risk such daring behavior to access?” He asked while approaching the shelves.

Osferth was quick to reply, “it was the accounts of the Northmen’s raid on Lindisfarne!”

“This one up here,” Leofric asked while sliding the volume off the shelf and bringing it over to the window. He opened the tome and turned to have a seat on the bench resting underneath the window’s ledge.

The children nestled next to him as he began reading the account aloud to them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edlyn broke from her reverie to look back up at the nun. She found the woman’s own eyes studying her.

“If you had met Osferth when we were ten, you would have seen him as the one pursuing a life of God fearing obedience and prayer. Abyss Bythilda certainly thought so. But we all realized much too late that he did not want that life any more than I did, than I do. He ran away in order to pursue a different life. He left me behind.”

Edlyn spoke these final words softly, while bringing her eyes back to the book in her lap.

“And what stopped you from also leaving the safety of the church? You have a reputation for being strong and independent, young one. And it is no secret that you have refused to take the vows, becoming one of our Order. It is what has sent you to our doors from your previous nunnery. Do you intend to continue to take advantage of the church’s generosity for the rest of your life? Being a bastard but still using your royal lineage to garner room and board”

Edlyn jerked her head to meet the older woman’s gaze once more.

“You do not hold back your questions, do you old woman?”

Chuckling, the nun replied, “No I do not. I am Sister Agatha. And I would not see a soul such as yours crushed under the obedience and piety that our lord demands of his disciples. Why is it that you stay? Truly?”

Edlyn stared at the old woman, not daring to trust herself to speak. The woman’s questions cut to the core of the inner demons that Edlyn felt warring inside her head daily. Her spirit longed to follow in her twin’s footsteps. Osferth had left her. He had struck out to forge his own life. And Edlyn could not dismiss his betrayal.

She longed to lead a life that was more. More than what the church could offer. More than prayer and obedience. More than quiet contemplation and reflection. Just… more. But the truth was that Edlyn was scared. From her very birth, she had been forced to face adversity. The life of a bastard daughter of a king. She had endured the abandonment. The rejection of her father. Then the loss of her mother and being thrust upon the church. Then when her uncle was lost in battle. And finally the abandonment. Waking up to find Osferth gone.

When he left, he had placed the account of the northmen’s attack on Lindisfarne on her bedside table along with a short note.

“I can not remain here any longer.

I must make my own destiny and find my own way.

It is where God is leading me. I will miss you dear sister.

All my love,

Osferth”

Edlyn could barely make out the words in Osferths scratchy hand through the tears overwhelming her eyes. With all of the loss in her life, all of the hardship, Osferth had been hers to rely on. The twin piece of her soul that she could cling to when the rest of the world was dark and desolate.

And he had left her.

In the deepest and most secret part of her heart, Edlyn knew she was terrified to be abandoned again. It was what kept her tethered to the church. The church, despite her nature to rebel and push back on the strict and stingy rules, had always been there for Edlyn.

“You ask why I stay, Sister Agatha? Truly?”

The sister answered with an unwavering stare.

“I stay because I fear to lose myself out there. The church is my safe harbor in a world that I fear would drown me. But despite your blunt words, they ring true. I am not made to be wedded to God.”

Edlyn frowned at her hands gripping the pages of the book in her lap.

Sister Agatha considered the young woman before her for some time.

“We will see about that, young one. We have had many young women come to our halls seeking refuge and protection. And I have seen the lord call to some of them and seen him deliver many from peril. I have also seen women find their courage and forge their paths. Paths that do not lead to a life of nunnery. I realize I have just met you, young one, but your eyes speak to me of great things. We just need to find your mettle.”

Edlyn gazed at the old woman, thinking over her words.

Before she could formulate a response, Sister Agatha rose and held out her arm to the young woman.

Standing and replacing the book on its shelf, Edlyn took the older woman’s arm and the two retraced Edlyn’s previous paths to the kitchens to check on dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aethelflaed rode fast and hard towards Wincelcumb nunnery. Eadlyn did not know it, but the arrival of her half-sister would bring about immense upheaval in her world. And Sister Agatha’s predictions were soon to bear fruit. Eadlyn would find her courage. And she would find her family and place in this world along the way.

Tagging my usuals (please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my list):

@maggiescarborough @pokeasleepingsmaug @nxrdist @mystic-shadows42 @emilyhufflepufftlk @magravenwrites @lauwrite1225 @morosemagick @thebohemianpenguin @mrsalwayswrite @notyourwildestdream @obipoelover @ecarroll1978 @93xdiagonxalley @nobodys-business-world

If you would like to read more of my works, you may do so here

#The Last Kingdom #mz350celebration #osferth #should I make this more than a oneshot?#leofric

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lexiepiper · 4 years ago

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Dani visits the human world and notices some things that have changed since the last time she was there.

Phic Phight Prompt by @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

Summary: What is there to say?

Dani slipped through the Fenton portal into the world of the living, and was immediately greeted by the feeling of cool air on her skin. She took a deep breath, hovering invisibly in the middle of the lab and slowly cherishing the sensation of fresh, living air filling her lungs.

The lab was… quiet. She frowned and spun on the spot, confirming that she was the only person there. The monitors lining the benches were dull, and there were no typical flashing lights or whirring electronics. The only illumination came from the portal. Dani didn’t know a lot about other people’s labs, but Vlad’s had always been full of soft noise, as machines hummed and blipped little tunes that had always soothed her back to sleep.

She pushed the memory away. Maybe the Fentons’ lab was just quiet when nobody was there? After all, it wasn’t like there were growing life forms that needed constant support and monitoring.

Still. It didn’t quite seem to fit the glimpses of this place that she’d had in the past, no matter how fleeting they’d been.

She phased through the ceiling, and the darkness was replaced by soft natural light that streamed through open windows. The glimpse of sunlight struck her with unexpected surprise, and Dani hissed in a sharp breath as her core hummed deep within her centre. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to fly out into the open sky, feeling the wind in her hair and the sun soaking into her skin for the first time in… wait, how long had it actually been?

She frowned, scrunching her face as she tried to track how long she’d been in the Ghost Zone. Surely it hadn’t been more than a few months, right?

Shaking her head to clear it, she glanced around the living room. Unease prickled down her spine, dampening her good mood, but Dani couldn’t quite place what was wrong. There was that same old couch and rug, a TV against one wall, and framed photos lining the mantelpiece.

She was surprised that Danny hadn’t appeared yet. Shouldn’t she have set off his ghost sense by now?

Dani’s heart pounded against her ribcage as she floated up again, phasing through the floor of Danny’s bedroom…

This was Danny’s room, right? No, she must have misjudged the layout of the home. It appeared to be a guest room, with a plain mattress devoid of blankets or sheets on the bed frame, and empty shelves lining the walls with a clear desk tucked in the corner. The curtains were drawn, but they were so threadbare that there was no problem seeing in the bright daylight that shone right through.

She phased through the wall, and ended up in a room with a decidedly teal colour scheme. The curtains were closed in here too but enough light filtered through to make out the details anyway. It was as neat as one of those pictures of perfect homes in magazines, and the framed high school diploma above the study alcove suggested that the room belonged to Jazz. Or… it had? The air felt stale and dusty, like nobody had been in here in a while. Dani drifted over to the dresser and ran her finger across the top, coming away with a fine layer of dust.

She pinched her lower lip between her teeth. Jazz had been pretty close to graduation when Dani had gone into the Ghost Zone, so maybe she was at university now?

Yeah. That made sense.

Unease settled more densely over her, and Dani phased through the wall again. She passed through the linen cupboard and a bathroom in desperate need of a good clean, and then found herself in what was obviously Danny’s parents’ room. This one finally appeared to be lived in, with the duvet crumpled and left unmade, and glasses of water on bedside tables. The curtains were open in here, and the air felt fresher and less dead.

Dani didn’t really want to poke around through Maddie and Jack’s stuff, so she phased back out into the hallway. She tilted her head, scowling as she counted the doors in the hallway.

There were exactly five — one for each bedroom, and one for the bathroom and the linen cupboard.

Dread dropped into her gut, like she’d suddenly swallowed a bowling ball, and Dani crept back into the first room. She pulled back the curtains, and dust motes swirled in the beams of sunlight as the room was fully illuminated. She stood in the middle of the carpet, turning in a slow circle and reaching out tentatively with her core.

There were slightly darker rectangles on the wall where there used to be posters of star charts and band tours, and when she tilted her head back, Dani could just make out the tiny silhouettes where glow in the dark stars had once been stuck to the ceiling and the white paint had faded around them.

She couldn’t sense any other ghosts beside herself. There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of residual spectral activity aside from the steady hum of the portal two floors beneath her.

“Where are you?” she whispered into the still emptiness.

Maybe… maybe she’d been gone longer than she’d thought. Maybe Danny had graduated and gone to college too. She didn’t think he’d have abandoned Amity Park, but maybe he’d moved out with Tucker, or finally gotten together with Sam or Valerie and was living with them? She didn’t really know much about his friends, but that seemed like the kind of thing they’d do, especially if Danny’s parents didn’t know his secret yet. He was probably just too far across town for her to sense.

Dani shot up through the ceiling and broke into the open air. The sunlight enveloped her with sudden life, and despite everything she smiled and gave a deep sigh. The Ghost Zone had been interesting, and it certainly helped to keep her core stable, but her human half delighted in the chance to soak in the energy of the mortal world once more.

Making sure that she stayed invisible, Dani floated above the town in a huge, lazy loop, feeling for any sign of Danny. There was a gentle breeze, and she revelled in the way it stirred her hair and brushed against her exposed skin.

By the time she’d returned to Fentonworks, the contentment of being in the human world had once again been overrun by anxiety.

Dani debated dropping by Valerie’s house, before realising that she didn’t actually know where it was. She scowled, but after a moment of thought began to fly across the town again, this time with a clear destination in mind.

She touched down in the parking lot behind the library, using invisibility to mask herself as she changed into her human form before walking through the front doors just like any normal kid. Nobody even glanced her way, and Dani sidled over to the row of thick computer screens that buzzed almost imperceptibly and played screensavers of what looked like photos of community events. She picked the screen furthest from the library desk, as far away from prying eyes as possible but when she nudged the mouse the screensaver was replaced with a screen prompting her to log in.

Dani frowned and looked toward the desk. She didn’t have a card, but she didn’t really want to sign up for one either. Didn’t you need ID for that kind of thing?

An older man sat down at a vacant computer close to hers, and Dani slid out of her seat and casually strolled to the bookshelf behind him. She pretended to be scanning the titles while he slowly used pointed index fingers to tap out his login details, and Dani carefully repeated the details in her mind as she grabbed a random book and headed back to her seat. Her screen had jumped back to the screensaver, and she doubted that she could log in while the man was already suing his account, so she surreptitiously turned to the back of her book and used a glowing fingertip to etch the man’s username and password into the bottom corner of the final page. She flipped back to the front cover again and raised an eyebrow at the yellow smiley face and the large self-help title in raised gold block letters.

Oh, well. Whatever.

Dani thumbed through her book, skimming through some of the tips in the organisational section while surreptitiously stealing glances at the man on the nearby computer. Her fingers almost itched with anticipation but she held herself steady.

It didn’t take him long to leave, and Dani could only hope that he hadn’t used up all of the allotted time on his account for the day. She flipped back to the details and typed them in, relief pulling a sigh from deep within her as the computer opened up to its main desktop page. The little timer in the top corner indicated that the account still had twenty minutes, so she pushed the book aside and opened the web browser straight away.

It only took a few seconds to log into Facebook, and Dani felt a twinge of guilt at the sheer amount of notifications. She was tempted to check them now, but the steady timer in the corner reminded her to focus and she clicked into the messenger webpage instead.

There were only two conversations — one from Danny, and the other from Valerie. Val’s were bolded and unread, but Danny’s…

Dani chewed her lip and brushed overlong bangs out of her face, trying to fight through the sudden heart-wrenching betrayal of abandonment.

Danny’s last message to her had been over a year ago, the day she left for the Ghost Zone.

She quickly opened the conversation, double checking that yes, he hadn’t messaged her since she’d left. It didn’t make sense. This was their only form of communication when she wasn’t in town! Did he really think so little of her, that he wouldn’t message her so that she’d have something to come back to? Was she really just a clone to him after all?

That last thought stopped her anger in its tracks. Danny would never think that.

She took a deep, grounding breath, and opened the unread messages from Valerie.

There wasn’t much there, but what Danielle did see turned her blood to ice.

How could I have known when neither of you ever told me?!

I’m sorry

Please, Danielle, I’m sorry!

I didn’t mean it

You have to know I didn’t mean it

I never would have done it if I’d just KNOWN!

I’m sorry

Dani swallowed, hard. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard but for a long moment she just stared at the screen.

She clicked back into her conversation with Danny. The last time he’d messaged her was only a few days before that frantic barrage from Valerie.

Just make sure you stay away from Skulker!

Frostbite will help you if you need it

Or Pandora

At the time, she was amused by his overprotectiveness. Yeah I know. See you later!

He’d responded cheerfully, but then had never messaged her again.

Okay

Stay safe!

I hope you have a blast

She read it again, and panic crept into her core. “No,” she breathed, and clicked back to Facebook’s main page, searching up Danny’s account.

The latest posts were birthday wishes from two months ago.

Dani scrolled down, numb horror cocooning her thoughts. The posts made by his friends and family all blurred together into a collage of soft wishes of peace and somber murmurs of sadness. Below his birthday wishes were a collection of posts from four months ago, and Dani’s hands trembled as she read every single one.

Sixteen months.

The ambient sounds of the library faded into static as she realised that Danny Fenton had been dead and buried for sixteen months.

She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat, and it was like fighting past hands that were clenched around her neck. Dani’s eyes burned and she dragged in a shallow breath, sharp with the strain of fighting back tears.

They slipped down her cheeks anyway, and she sniffed and took another strained breath, clicking into her messages once more.

She didn’t know what to say, but Dani knew she had to say something. It wasn’t right, to just leave him hanging like that.

Her hands clenched in her lap, and Dani rubbed the water off her face only to have more tears fall straight away. A sob clawed its way out of her throat and she pressed her fist over her mouth, muffling it as much as she could.

People were looking at her now, and she ducked her head and tried to hold everything in.

This wasn’t fair. How could she have let this happen? How could she have left him?

How could he have left her?

She clenched her teeth together. As tempting as it was to post on his page, she didn’t want to be public about it. What right did she have anyway, to freshly grieve him when he’d already been gone for so long? What right did she have to message his friends, who she barely knew, or his family, who she had never even met?! How could she drag them into her existence when it’d just dredge up the rawness all over again?!

Dani realised that she’d tensed her body so much that she was trembling with the effort and had forgotten to breathe. She took a shaky breath, and her tight muscles snapped into a loud, hiccupping cry.

Gritting her teeth again, tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping into her mouth and off her chin, Dani typed three words into the private message chat box.

I’m so sorry.

She closed the browser, and the screen went black and flicked back to the login screen as the timer hit zero.

Grief crashed into her with the force of a tsunami and Dani pressed her palms over her eyes and wept. Huge, gasping sobs tore from her chest, making her gut ache as her pulse roared in her ears.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

It was probably the stupidest question she’d ever heard, and Dani shook her head mutely, keeping her hands over her eyes as the tears continued to flood through her fingers and snot began to drip from her nose.

Someone nudged her shoulder. “Here,” the same voice offered, and Dani peeked through her fingers to see a tissue box. She squinted up at the librarian, and the tears kept flowing like a tap that had been left running.

Dani pressed her lips together and nodded once, grabbing a handful of tissues and immediately burying her face in them as she was hit by a fresh wave of grief. She knew that eventually she’d have to move, she’d have to stop crying and take the next step, but for now all that mattered was the way her head throbbed with every sob and how her eyes burned hotter and hotter the more she cried. She couldn’t breathe deeper than short, shallow gasps, and every time she tried to think, all she could picture was Danny’s face and her world came crashing down again.

It took her a long time to stop crying, but when she did she was left staring at the pile of soaking tissues next to the keyboard as the bright halogen lights made her eyes sting.

She had no clue what to do now.

He was dead, and she didn’t even get to say goodbye.

#Danny Phantom #Phic Phight 2021 #Phic Phight #idiot-cheesehead-archenemy #lexiepiper #I should probably tag this as angst so yeah #angst #This fic was an emotional journey to write and maybe I'm being a bit transparent but I hope you enjoy it

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pressedinthepages · 4 years ago

Text

One Condition

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Jaskier/Reader

Rating: E

Masterlist

a/n: Reader Request [Hey! I love your Witcher fics! I know it might seem a silly prompt, but could you write an oneshot where Jaskier and the reader are sharing a bath together, and smut/fluff happens, please? Thanks so much!] Hey thanks nonnie! not silly at all, mostly just like, hella sexy.

Also, thanks to @sometimesiwrite for beta-ing!

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, smut, bathtub sex, and they were roommates

Jaskier returns one cold winter evening looking for a bit of warmth.

A single flurry of snow floats past your window, blown by a soft wind that frosts at the edges. You’ve been teaching at Oxenfurt for about fifteen years now, and this is the first year that they’ve seen fit to house you in your own private quarters in the city, rather than the set of dormitories, but it was on one condition.

You let Professor Julian Pankratz winter in the home as well.

Well, that certainly seemed doable when you had agreed at the start of the term. You had been left with a sizable house all to yourself, complete with a luxurious bathing room just off of the bedroom. The home became your sanctuary, letting you fill it to the brim with books and knowledge.

Just as the last of autumn had blown through, so had Julian, landing right at your door like a leaf whisked from a tree. You remembered him from your own time at Oxenfurt, having been a few years behind him. He had made quite a name for himself in his time traveling the Continent, and you looked forward to learning from him yourself.

But by the Gods did he talk.

From the moment he crossed your threshold with a kiss to the back of your hand and a request to be called “Jaskier,” he never actually seemed to stop chattering. He would talk about nothing for hours, pretty words lined with prettier threads. Jaskier prattled on about his travels, the weather outside, a nice flower he had seen while heading home. Hells, if he wasn’t talking, he was still making noise, humming as he went about his business around the house.

It was...different. You were used to quiet, silence suspended on the web of a spider. But Jaskier brought music, and life, into your dusty old home. Your heart warmed whenever he bustled back through the door, arms full of papers and little odds and ends he had found on the way home. You could lose yourself in his eyes, and the way that he devoted himself fully in a moment with you. It was breathtaking, being on the receiving end of such pointed attention.

Not that you’d ever tell him that. No, best to keep that bit to yourself.

You perk up as the front door suddenly opens to reveal Jaskier, looking all the world like the perfect representation of winter. His bright doublet is encompassed by a thick fur cloak, bright white and lined with a deep, wine red. His hair, soft chestnut waves that have grown a bit long in his tenure, is dotted with soft flurries of snow that have yet to be brushed away. He kicks off his boots, leaving them haphazardly off to the side. At least if someone tries to break in they won’t get very far before something of Jaskier’s trips them.

Jaskier smiles when he sees you, shucking off the cloak and leaving it to hang on a peg by the door. “Ah, my favorite young professor. I hope you have not stayed up on my account, darling.”

You shake your head, holding out a steaming mug. “Not at all, Jask. I was just reading for a bit when I peeked out of the window and saw you coming. That white cloak is immensely recognizable.”

“Ah, you like it? I had it made not too long ago, I liked the contrast of the colors and how it differs from my typical wardrobe...You know, I once knew a man in Novigrad who…”

And there he goes, sipping his mulled cider as he prattles off into no man’s land with his words. You smile as you listen, settling back into your chair. Jaskier moves to perch atop the arm, his backside barely brushing against your shoulder. You shift a bit, not wanting to read too far into it. Surely he just wanted a seat close by, ignoring the several other chairs in the room.

“-for a bath?” Jaskier asks, and you blink back at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Sorry, what was that? I was in an entirely different world.”

�� Jaskier smiles, bright and wide and contagious. “No worries, love. You are a scholar, it is what you do. I was going to draw a bath to stave off the cold, and I asked if you would like to join me.”

You thank the Gods that Jaskier is not one of the Witchers that he sings of, since he surely would have been able to hear the way that your heart stuttered in your chest. “I-well, if you wouldn’t mind, I don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense, I insist! That is, if you truly want to?” Jaskier goes serious for a moment, like a turn of a page. Suddenly, his face is all hard lines and worry between his brows, as if he were the one concerned about overstepping a line. His eyes are still kind, asking you genuinely if you would like to accompany him.

You smile, looking away before meeting his gaze once more. “Sure, Jaskier. I think a warm bath sounds lovely.”

Jaskier springs up, holding his hand out to you with all of the joy and mirth returned to his features. He pulls you up, leaving your now abandoned mugs on the floor beside the chair as he leads you to the bathing room.

The wooden floor is cool on your bare feet but the air in the room is warm from the raging fire that heats water for the tub. Jaskier quickly undoes the delicate clasps on his doublet and drapes it over a rod along the wall. He shucks the sleeves of his chemise up to his elbows as he crosses to the fire. You see his arms swell as he lifts the great pot, and you can only hope that the heat in the room camouflages the way that your cheeks flush with arousal.

“Should I go fetch some more?” Jaskier grunts as he sets the empty pot on the floor. The tub is filled about a third of the way, but that should be plenty for the two of you. You shake your head, swallowing thickly as Jaskier begins to untuck his chemise from his trousers. He lifts the shirt over his head, revealing a broad chest covered in dark, thick hair that just begs for your fingers to run through.

Jaskier closes the distance between you, stopping just shy of touching you. “May I, my dear?”

“Please…” you whisper as Jaskier brings his hand to the neck of your blouse. He deftly undoes the tie at the top and flitters down the line of buttons. When the shirt falls open Jaskier’s hands push the fabric aside and down your shoulders, his touch like fireflies alighting on your skin. You shiver into his hands as they toy with the waist of your skirt, teasing before undoing the tie and letting it pool around your feet.

You stand before Jaskier in only your underclothes and you instinctively move to cover your chest.

“Oh, darling,” Jaskier croons, “Please don’t hide from me…”

You blush as your arms fall away, and Jaskier’s breath hitches high in his chest. His hands find your hips and grasp the hem of your underclothes, his eyes finding yours once more before moving.

“Go ahead, Jaskier.” Your voice is small but sure, and you stand confidently as Jaskier slides the delicates down your legs. You step out of them and reach for Jaskier’s trousers.

Jaskier chuckles as you frantically search for buttons down the front or a tie on the side, but you can’t find any fastenings. “On the back, dear.”

He turns, revealing the silly little bow at the small of his back that holds his trousers on. You smile as you slowly pull the ties, feeling the fabric loosen where it sits on his hips. As they start to fall you take the initiative to fit your fingers into his smallclothes as well, bringing everything to the floor in one swift motion.

You kneel on the floor for a heartbeat too long, just admiring the view. Jaskier’s legs are long and hairy, his thighs thick from the countless miles he has trekked over the Continent. You are oh so tempted to reach up and give his pert little ass a squeeze, but you just barely resist. Maybe another night…

You stand and turn towards the bath and you hear a gasp when Jaskier turns around. You look over your shoulder to find him looking directly at your own backside, and he flushes even deeper when you catch him looking.

“Sorry, darling,” he whispers, a look of awe crossing his features, “you are truly a work of art.”

You laugh, a new wave of arousal soaring through you when you look down and notice that Jaskier is half-hard, hanging heavily against his thigh. You step into the tub, letting the warm water lap around your ankles. You hold out your hand, beckoning Jaskier to join you.

He takes your hand, fitting your fingers with his own as he climbs in with you. “Go ahead and sit, love. I’ll sit behind you.”

You lower yourself into the water, sighing a bit as it warms your skin down to the bone. Jaskier follows close behind, and the sound that he lets out is obscene and goes straight to your core. The water sits right at your chest and you watch the steam rise in little tendrils that dissipate before your eyes. You scoot forward and lean back to dunk your hair under, feeling the droplets fall fast down your back.

“May I wash your hair for you?” Jaskier purrs into your ear. You melt into him, feeling the strength of his chest resting against your back.

“If you’d like,” you reply, and Jaskier leans over to collect the soaps and oils. The scent of flowers fills the air as he pours something into his palm and begins to run his fingers through your hair. His nails scratch along your scalp as he works the soap into a lather, rubbing little circles into the tender skin atop your crown and down to the nape of your neck.

You are very quickly lulled into a sense of peace, your arousal all but forgotten. But every touch of his hands sends sparks down your spine and you can feel your core flexing and squeezing, searching for any small bit of relief.

By the Gods, he’s even humming now. But it’s slow, and his voice has dropped lower than the sweet, bright tone you have become accustomed to. You feel his chest vibrating against your back, and even down so far as the persistent hardness that presses itself against your ass. You moan darkly, letting the resonations from his voice soar across into your bones, everything having amplified in the matter of the moment between heartbeats.

“Jaskier, please let me get this soap out of my hair so I can kiss you,” you murmur, fidgeting under his fingertips. He chuckles as you scoot forward once more, his hands returning to your hair as you lean under the surface. The water turns hazy with the suds rinsed from your hair as you sit back up, turning to face Jaskier where he rests with his back against the rim of the tub.

Your hand rests on his neck as you lean in, Jaskier’s finding your hip as he pulls you close. His skin is warm and wet from the humidity in the room and your fingers slip into his hair, curling a bit at the edges where it has dampened. You close your eyes as your lips meet, reveling in the sweet indulgence of his attentions. His lips are softer than they have any right to be in the chill of winter, but you can’t linger on that.

You climb into Jaskier’s lap and straddle his hips, shivering when you feel his fingers drift under the water to your core. His eyes lock with yours as he leans into you, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses over your chest while he plays with you beneath the surface of the water. You sigh as he slips a finger into your heat and circles the little peak of nerves with his thumb.

Jaskier’s fingers move deftly around, in and out and adding a second as he strokes up and down your side with his other hand. “Ah, my dear,” he murmurs into your skin, “may I have you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, pushing into his hands as your hips chase him. He withdraws his fingers from you and takes your hips in a strong, firm grasp. All of the air leaves your chest when his length finds your core and pushes, filling you slowly. Your hips meet, and the world has fallen away from the walls of the room.

You stare deep into the clear pools of Jaskier’s eyes, blown out with lust and looking at you with such blatant adoration it’s dizzying. “Please, Jask.”

Jaskier grins, “Anything for you, love.” His grip on your hips tightens as you raise yourself, sinking leisurely back down and up again. Jaskier’s head lolls back against the edge of the tub as the water swells around the two of you, his eyes shutting as he takes his pleasure. You scratch along his scalp as you increase your pace, feeling his thighs twitch beneath you.

You continue faster and faster, chasing your climax as it builds with each passing moment. Water sloshes out onto the floor in waves. Jaskier shifts, planting his feet and pressing his chest up against you as he meets you thrust for thrust. You see stars with each spear into your core, moaning freely when his teeth dig into the meat of your shoulder.

Your climax overtakes you, blinding in its euphoria. You are painfully aware of every sound and feeling in the relative vicinity but they are only background noise, deafened by Jaskier moaning his own orgasm into your neck. You feel him swell and spill within you, carefully riding him through his high as you come down from your own.

The only sounds become your own heavy breathing accompanied by the gentle dripping of bathwater onto the floor. Jaskier looks up at you with that same dreamy look in his eyes and you find that you cannot resist the urge to meet his lips. The kiss you share is slow, languid, painted with contentment and strewn with sweet release.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper against his lips, stroking your thumb across his cheek. You feel his smile against your mouth, his cheek pushing up into your hand.

“As I said before, my darling,” he murmurs, “anything for you.”

#jaskier x reader #smut #and they were roommates

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars CXLI (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: That’s right PoA gifs are making a comeback -Danny

Words: 3,121

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Three: A Brief Talk.

Mel was packing up the stuff she'd taken to the mission when someone knocked on the front door.

She heard Erick said he'd get it a second later. Mel put everything in her bag and hung it over her shoulder, rushing out of her room. Dumbledore stared at them with a smile.

"I must say you worked faster than expected."

"We did our best — Oh!" Erick went to the living room and grabbed his bag, drawing out the men's wands. "These are from the death eaters — maybe you'll be able to track them down?"

"I could, if Ollivander hadn't gone missing," Dumbledore said sadly. Mel didn't ask about it, she wasn't ready for any more bad news. "Anything I should know?"

"Yeah," Mel approached. "I'm upset."

Dumbledore gazed at her quietly.

"I said I'd tell you everything and I will, but you must wait a bit longer. We'll visit Harry's house tonight, and pay a visit to Slughorn."

"You said we couldn't talk to him."

"This time will be different. This time I'll go with you."

"How wonderful," Mel said sarcastically.

"I'll get my stuff," Erick gave her a look that was meant to stop her rudeness.

"Very well," Dumbledore nodded, "do close the door on your way out, Mr Flint."

She followed him out in silence, her uncle approached the entrance of the Dursley's house and knocked on it.

"Were you in danger?"

"No."

"Then you know I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell us everything," She replied. "You keep withholding information and I'm not some disposable thing you can use as you please —"

"That was never my intention," Dumbledore interrupted. "By the end of the year you'll know all, and you'll understand why I've acted this way."

Mel seriously doubted that but she'd been proven wrong before, she was willing to hear his side of the story.

Mr Dursley complained all the way to the door, he opened it abruptly, freezing at the sight.

"Good evening. You must be Mr Dursley. I daresay Harry has told you I would be coming for him?"

Harry rushed down the stairs and stopped at a considerable distance from his uncle. He looked torn between amusement and panic, holding a pair of trainers in one hand and a telescope in the other.

The young witch eyed Mr Dursley up and down and held back a smirk. He was wearing a reddish dressing-gown. The last time she'd been standing this close to the man he'd looked gigantic, now he was barely able to reach her nose.

"Judging by your look of stunned disbelief, Harry did not warn you that we were coming," Dumbledore said happily. "However, let us assume that you have invited me warmly into your house. It is unwise to linger overlong on doorsteps in these troubled times. It is a long time since my last visit, I must say, your agapanthus are flourishing. What do you think, Mel?"

"Oh, it's been years," Her voice trembled with contained laughter. "The house looks exactly as I remember, though. Is your chimney still the same after the Weasleys burst through it?"

Harry snorted at this, and this caught the old man's attention.

"Ah, good evening Harry... Excellent, excellent."

"I don't mean to be rude —" Mr Dursley spoke.

"— yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often. Best to say nothing at all, my dear man. Ah, and this must be Petunia— Albus Dumbledore, we have corresponded, of course. And this must be your son, Dudley?"

Mel looked at the boy, it had been almost two years since she'd last seen him: He was muscly big, with the body of a trained wrestler. She didn't like that he'd be able to kill a child with his bare hands and call it a sport.

"Shall we assume that you have invited us into your sitting room?

Dumbledore crossed the hall and she followed, Harry jumped the last steps and approached them.

"Aren't — aren't we leaving?" He inquired.

"Yes, indeed we are, but there are a few matters we need to discuss first. And I would prefer not to do so in the open. We shall trespass upon your aunt and uncle's hospitality only a little longer."

"You will, will you?" The Dursleys were all glaring at them.

"Yes, I shall."

He drew his wand so rapidly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three of the Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa zoomed back to its original position.

"We may as well be comfortable."

"Sir," Harry started anxiously. "What happened to your — ?"

"Later, Harry. Please sit down."

The boy looked at her searching for an answer, but she had none. It was her first time seeing Dumbledore's injury as well. She walked up to the armchair and stood next to where her uncle had seated. Harry sat in front of them.

"I would assume that you were going to offer me refreshment, but the evidence so far suggests that that would be optimistic to the point of foolishness."

A third twitch of the wand, and a dusty bottle and five glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.

"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore.

Mel took her glass and inhaled the sweet scent before drinking it, hiding her grin. She was starting to feel less annoyed now that Dumbledore was torturing the Dursleys with his displays of magic.

"Well, a difficulty has arisen which I hope you will be able to solve for us. By us, I mean the Order of the Phoenix. But first of all, I must tell you, kids, that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago."

"Oh. Right..." Harry muttered.

"This is, in the main, fairly straightforward. You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit a few of Sirius's personal possessions. Emily knows this of course, but Sirius left the other half of his gold to you and your brother, Mel. As well as the rest of his belongings, which you'll be able to use once you're of age."

It was obvious Leon was going to inherit stuff from Sirius, the man was eager to provide for his new family, he wanted to be there, make sure his son would never be left to his luck.

"The slightly problematic part of the legacy —"

"His godfather's dead?" Mr Dursley interrupted. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore without further explanation. "Our problem is that Sirius also left you number twelve, Grimmauld Place. To the three of you."

"He's been left a house?" Mr Dursley questioned.

"He's not done talking," Mel snapped, Mr Dursley turned purple at her statement.

"You can keep using it as headquarters," said Harry. "I don't care. You can have it, I don't really want it."

"Me neither," Mel accepted. "I don't need it, nor I think my brother will want to use it once he's old enough."

"Brother?" Mrs Dursley asked in bewilderment.

"That is generous," said Dumbledore. "We have, however, vacated the building temporarily."

"Why?"

"Well, Black family tradition decreed that the house was handed down the direct line, to the next male with the name of 'Black.' Your brother should be the one to take it, but we can't be sure if the rules apply since Emily and Sirius decided to use her last name. While Sirius' will makes it perfectly plain that he wants you to have the house, it is nevertheless possible that some spell or enchantment has been set upon the place to ensure that it cannot be owned by anyone other than a pureblood."

"I bet there has," Harry lamented.

"Quite. And if such an enchantment exists, then the ownership of the house is most likely to pass to the eldest of Sirius's living relatives, which would mean his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry stood up in distress.

"No..."

"Well, obviously we would prefer that she didn't get it either. The situation is fraught with complications. We do not know whether the enchantments we ourselves have placed upon it, for example, making it Unplottable, will hold now that ownership has passed from Sirius's hands. It might be that Bellatrix will arrive on the doorstep at any moment. Naturally, we had to move out until such time as we have clarified the position."

"But how are you going to find out if we're allowed to own it?"

"Fortunately, there is a simple test."

"Will you get these ruddy things off us?" Mr Dursley yelled.

Harry looked around; all three of the Dursleys were cowering with their arms over their heads as their glasses bounced up and down on their skulls, their contents flying everywhere.

"Oh, I'm so sorry... But it would have been better manners to drink it, you know."

Mel left her glass on the coffee table and waited.

"You see," Dumbledore continued, "if you have indeed inherited the house, you have also inherited..."

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the Dursleys' shag carpet and covered in grimy rags. Aunt Petunia let out a hair-raising shriek; nothing this filthy had entered her house in living memory.

"Kreacher," said Dumbledore.

"Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't, Kreacher won't! Kreacher belongs to Miss Bellatrix, oh yes, Kreacher belongs to the Blacks, Kreacher wants his new mistress, Kreacher won't go to the brats and the Black bastard! Kreacher won't, won't, won't —"

"As you can see," said Dumbledore over the yelling, "Kreacher is showing a certain reluctance to pass into your ownership."

"I don't care," said Harry with repulsion. "I don't want him."

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"You would prefer him to pass into the ownership of Bellatrix Lestrange? Bearing in mind that he has lived at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for the past year?"

"Won't, won't, won't, won't —"

"No," Mel replied, "we need him far from them."

"Give him an order," said Dumbledore. "If he has passed into your ownership, he will have to obey. If not, then we shall have to think of some other means of keeping him from his rightful mistress."

"Won't, won't, won't, WON'T !"

"Kreacher, shut up!" Harry demanded.

It looked for a moment as though Kreacher was going to choke. He grabbed his throat, his mouth still working furiously, his eyes bulging. After a few seconds of frantic gulping, he threw himself face forward onto the carpet (Aunt Petunia whimpered) and beat the floor with his hands and feet, giving himself over to a violent, but entirely silent, tantrum.

"Well, that simplifies matters," said Dumbledore brightly. "It seems that Sirius knew what he was doing. You three are the rightful owners of number twelve, Grimmauld Place and of Kreacher."

"Wonderful, I own a haunted mansion," Mel sat heavily on the armrest of Dumbledore's chair.

"Do we have to keep him with us?" Harry asked.

"Not if you don't want to. If I might make a suggestion, you could send him to Hogwarts to work in the kitchen there. In that way, the other house-elves could keep an eye on him."

"Yeah," said Harry, "yeah, let's do that. Er — Kreacher — I want you to go to Hogwarts and work in the kitchens there with the other house-elves."

"You're not allowed to leave your duties unless we ask you otherwise," Mel added.

Kreacher, who was now lying flat on his back with his arms and legs in the air, gave Harry one upside-down look of deepest loathing and, with another loud crack, vanished.

"Good. There is also the matter of the hippogriff, Buckbeak. Hagrid has been looking after him since Sirius died, but Buckbeak is yours now, so if you would prefer to make different arrangements —"

"No," said both of them, then Harry added, "He can stay with Hagrid. I think Buckbeak would prefer that."

"Hagrid will be delighted. He was thrilled to see Buckbeak again. Incidentally, we have decided, in the interests of Buckbeak's safety, to rechristen him 'Witherwings' for the time being, though I doubt that the Ministry would ever guess he is the hippogriff they once sentenced to death. Now, Harry, is your trunk packed?"

"Erm..." Harry blushed.

"Doubtful that I would turn up?" Dumbledore smiled.

"I'll just go and — er — finish off," said Harry, picking up his telescope and trainers.

"I'll help," Mel said.

It was the first time she'd ever been in his room. The only time she'd managed to look around was when they rescued him on the Ford Anglia. It was evident this was the only place in the house Harry was allowed to exist freely: A bit messy from running around and packing everything in a hurry, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Cozy," She teased.

"Shut it," He replied, hastily picking up his stuff. "I should've known... of course he wouldn't leave me..."

"You had your reasons to doubt," She shrugged, then added. "We both do..."

Harry stopped and looked at her, but she wasn't in the mood to talk. Mel helped him pack and soon enough everything was in place, she grabbed Hedwig's cage and smiled at the creature.

"Hi there..." She looked back at him. "I'll never forget the look on your uncle's face when we arrived, he looked so frightened!"

"I'm glad I don't have to stay," He picked up his stuff and guided her out. "Because he would murder me if I did..."

Mel snorted, following him to the hall. However, Dumbledore hadn't moved.

"Professor?" Harry spoke. "I'm ready now."

"Good. Just one last thing, then... As you will no doubt be aware, Harry comes of age in a year's time —"

"No," said Mrs Dursley.

"I'm sorry?" said Dumbledore.

"No, he doesn't. He's a month younger than Dudley, and Dudders doesn't turn eighteen until the year after next."

"Ah," He smiled, "but in the Wizarding world, we come of age at seventeen."

"Preposterous," mumbled Vernon.

"Now, as you already know, the wizard called Lord Voldemort has returned to this country. The Wizarding community is currently in a state of open warfare. Harry, whom Lord Voldemort has already attempted to kill on a number of occasions, is in even greater danger now than the day when I left him upon your doorstep fifteen years ago, with a letter explaining about his parents' murder and expressing the hope that you would care for him as though he were your own."

Dumbledore's air changed, and although it wasn't obvious, he was once again emanating power, now more than ever he looked like a man no one should try to upset.

"You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. I'm thankful Emily agreed to move in next door all those years ago and relieved a bit of Harry's misery. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you."

"Us — mistreat Dudders? What d'you — ?"

"The magic I evoked fifteen years ago means that Harry has powerful protection while he can still call this house 'home.' However miserable he has been here, however unwelcome, however badly treated, you have at least, grudgingly, allowed him houseroom. This magic will cease to operate the moment that Harry turns seventeen; in other words, at the moment he becomes a man. I ask only this: that you allow Harry to return, once more, to this house, before his seventeenth birthday, which will ensure that the protection continues until that time."

Mel would've loved to add a few insults of her own, but she knew there was no use, they would never learn, would never feel guilty for treating Harry the way they did and to be honest, Dumbledore was right, Mel and her mother were his real family.

"Well... time for us to be off," said Dumbledore, standing up. "Until we meet again."

Mel looked at them one last time without saying anything, something in her felt different, there was a bittersweet emotion that kept her from enjoying herself, and at the same time stopped her from snapping.

"Bye," said Harry shortly.

"We do not want to be encumbered by these just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards the boy's trunk and owl. "I shall send them to the Burrow to await us there. However, I would like you to bring your Invisibility Cloak... just in case. And now, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure."

Erick was waiting patiently against the front of her mother's car. His backpack was hanging from one shoulder, and when he saw them he quickly approached.

"All good?"

"Yes, we just wanted to chat a moment before leaving."

"Chat?" Erick raised a brow, he knew the Dursleys weren't friendly people.

"We'll explain later. C'mon, time to go."

"We're not taking the car?"

"No," said Dumbledore. "It'll be faster if we use magic. Keep your wand at the ready."

"But I thought we're not allowed to use magic outside school, sir?" Harry asked.

"If there is an attack," said Dumbledore, "I give you and Mel permission to use any counter jinx or curse that might occur to you. However, I do not think you need worry about being attacked tonight."

"Why not, sir?"

"You are with me... This will do."

He stopped at the end of the street.

"You have not, of course, passed your Apparition Test," he said.

"No," said Harry. "I thought you had to be seventeen?"

"You do," said Dumbledore. "So you will need to hold on to my arm very tightly. My left, if you don't mind — as you have noticed, my wand arm is a little fragile at the moment."

Erick looked down briefly at his hand and paled.

"Professor, I passed my apparition test last month, I can take Mel so you don't tire yourself out."

The idea of Dumbledore 'tiring himself out' was laughable, but Mel didn't want Erick to feel stupid, and it appeared that Dumbledore was of the same mind.

"Very well, Mr Flint, if it's not much trouble..."

"It's not."

"You know where to go."

Erick offered his arm to her.

"Ready?"

"Like we have a choice," She groaned, firmly holding onto him.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @wlwmaximoff @reverse-hxlland @hamiltonwc @omiwashere @t-rexs-world @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee @thelastpyle @cedricisnotdead

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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skullrock · 4 years ago

Text

the campers, chapter one - Steve x Reader

chapter one: the enemies

series summary:Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: You and Steve unfortunately reunite for the first time in five years.

warnings: swearing!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: alright fellas, I am back with another longfic! this one is a summer camp au. this chap is mainly exposition but it’ll flesh out in the next chapter. hope you are ready to go on this ride w me!

===

Steve isn’t quite sure what he signed up for.

“Steve, you have to,” Dustin pleaded with him a month ago. “There aren’t enough counselors, and if there aren’t enough counselors, then there’s no camp.”

Steve rolled his eyes, bit his heart was sympathetic. “Why is that my problem?”

Dustin sighed, frustrated. “Because we’re best friends, and you’re supposed to help your friends when they need it.”

Steve rolled his eyes again as he contemplated the scenario. Steve had gone to camp when he was younger, but it was nothing like Camp Know Where. Steve’s parents had sent him off to a summer camp that some other Hawkins parents sent their kids to. Tommy H. had always gone, as well as some other boys Steve grew up with. He enjoyed his time there – it was always pleasant and fun. Just a boy doing boy things with his shitty friends. But Camp Know Where had a purpose. Steve didn’t know the first thing about science. Dustin said that could be used to his advantage - Steve wasn’t so sure.

“What’s in it for me?” Steve asked, unpeeling an orange as he leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment.

“The camp is right on a lake,” Dustin began. “It’s a great spot for swimming and kayaking. You don’t know shit about science, so this is an opportunity to learn. And some of the camp counselors are babes.”

Steve snorted. “What are they, forty-five?”

“Uh, no? They’re your age?”

Steve’s brows shot up at the mention. “You’re saying there are babes I have a chance with there?”

“They’re apparently not your type, ya know, since you hate nerds.” Dustin shrugged his shoulders, but Steve was still very, very interested.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And, anyway, you can lead the sports and adventures and hikes and stuff, if you don’t like science. And it’s a nice way to get away from Hawkins for a few months.”

Steve nodded thoughtfully. “Is it paid?”

“You get a stipend of two hundred a month.”

Steve nearly choked on his orange. “Two hundred dollars a month?!”

“And your food is paid for. So is your laundry and housing. It’s free.” Dustin grinned smugly at Steve, and Steve held his hand out.

“You got a deal,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Steve went through a phone interview and Dustin wrote him a glowing recommendation. And here he is, a month later, driving towards Michigan with Dustin in the passenger seat and multiple suitcases in the back. Steve was required to come two weeks early to learn the ropes, while Dustin was allowed to come early because he was a designated Camp Leader, along with Suzie and some others.

“They call us the ‘Know Everythings’,” Dustin beams.

“Sounds like they’re trying to call you smartasses,” Steve responds, staring absentmindedly out the windshield. Dustin’s smile drops and Steve’s widens. “Don’t worry, Dusty-bun, your girlfriend likes it.”

Dustin slams himself back against the seat, looking out the window. “Should’ve never invited you.”

“Too late.”

Steve was excited beyond the nerves. He had needed some type of self-intervention and introspection after the last three years. He needed a way to mend the emotional scars that the Upside Down and Nancy had left. Dustin had said there were a lot of authors and poets who wrote about the healing power of nature. Steve’s not sure it’s legit, but it’s more hope than he’s had in a while. Robin had also insisted it would be good for Steve to get away from town and try to find himself. So Steve is going into it with an open mind, trying to fight his negative side with suffocating positivity.

You, on the other hand, knew exactly what you’d signed up for.

You had gone to camp when you were younger, too. Except you hated that camp with a passion. Each summer, you’d cry to your parents as June rolled around. You didn’t want to go back to that stupid, hot, ridiculous camp, where a certain group of boys made your life hell. But your parents insisted it was good for you, and they sent you until you were too old to go. In a way, they were right; the camp had taught you to stand up for yourself. It gave you the confidence and self-love a lot of people didn’t have. But you certainly wished you’d found all of that in a healthier way - not because boys would steal your clothes when you were swimming at night, leaving you to walk to your cabin naked.

So, you signed up to help out at Camp Know Where two years ago because you loved science and the outdoors, and you wanted to facilitate a healthy self-love journey for the campers. You wanted to help teach them how to be themselves, to love themselves, to stick up for themselves. And, truth be told, nerds need that kind of reassurance. You’re a nerd – you’d know.

You came to camp two weeks early to help train the new counselors. You didn’t get the list of names, but if you had, you would have run away as soon as your eyes landed on Steve Harrington.

It was, by all accounts, a beautiful June day. Not too hot, not too cool. The breeze rustled the leaves and the waves of the lake lapped the shoreline. Not a cloud in the bright blue expanse above the camp, which was buzzing with Camp Leaders and trainees. You stood at the entrance, helping direct people to the registration table. You were excited to see some of your favorites again – especially Suzie and Dustin. They’d been campers you bonded with last year, and you were ready to see them again.

Suzie came by first, adorably excited to see Dustin when he arrived. “He said he’s bringing a friend to help be a counselor, do you know them?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you remark. “Do you know their name?”

“Steve, something? They’re pretty close.”

The name Steve had always left a bitter taste in your mouth, so you visibly cringe. Suzie’s brows furrow but you assure her you’re fine. It can’t be that Steve. There’s no way the Steve you knew at Camp Golden Rays was about to come here, to a nerd-infested camp, to help out with kids. No way.

You continue to greet campers and new counselors as they come. During a lull, you lean against the picket fence that lined the entrance, looking out at the parking lot. You see a nice BMW come into view – it’s not one you’d seen before. Must be someone new, you think, pushing yourself up off the fence to greet them.

The first person you notice is Dustin, easily recognizable despite the hat covering his curly hair. He’s taller than the last time you’d seen him – kids grow up so fast. You smile brightly, happy for him to finally arrive, but your smile plummets comically as you see the next person step out.

It’d been 5 years since you’d seen Steve Harrington, and his hair had grown out and his body had toned, but it was unquestionably him. Steve, that stupid, smug bastard. That idiotic jerk who used to smack your lunch tray and trip you. That moron who all the girls swooned over and excused countless times for shitty behavior.

Here he is, at Camp Know Where – a place you never thought you’d ever see him.

Of course, Steve doesn’t know who you are, at first. His concussions had clouded his memory, only remembering bits and pieces. It takes work for him to remember who people are, or what things happened. Most of his memories of Camp Golden Rays are intact, but he had severely repressed his shitty tween behavior. As he approaches, all he really thinks about is that Dustin was right, there were babes here.

“Y/N!” Dustin calls out, running awkwardly with his trunk to come hug you. You hug him, but your eyes stay on Steve, who beams at you as if he didn’t ruin your whole life.

“Look who it is.” Your voice is cold and monotonous.

Steve stops dead in his tracks, confusion twisting on his face. What now? he thinks. This isn’t the first time he’s forgotten who someone was. But then it hits him, and the realization nearly sweeps him off his feet. Regret, remorse, guilt, and anger rip through him as he remembers you. You, who he used to shove. You, who he used to laugh at. There’s still a part of him that feels that hatred for you, deep down, and he tries to shove it away.

“Jesus Christ,” he says under his breath, before loudly saying, “Hi, Y/N.”

Dustin’s brows knit together, and he looks between you two. He can assume that you both have a history. Steve probably stood you up or something. Slowly, he asks, “You two…?”

“Nice car,” you quip. “Daddy buy that for you?”

“Nice to see you, too,” Steve responds, dragging his feet towards you. There’s a lot of things he wants to say – that he’s sorry, that you look really good now, that he’s changed. But it all rests at the base of his throat. His mouth opens and closes a few times.

“Can someone please explain?” Dustin says.

“You’re friends with this asshat?” You ask Dustin, gesturing to Steve. “Like, actual friends with him?”

“Guilty,” Dustin says sheepishly. He’ll fill you in on Steve’s growth later. “Let’s go find Suzie, Steve.”

And despite your apprehension towards each other, you and Steve share the same thought – This is going to be a long summer.

===

taglist (join here!): @harringtown @heart-eye-harrington @rosecolouredboi @comedy-witch @lovesong-remastered

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #the campers #working on a playlist!!!

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banashee · 3 years ago

Link

CW: - swearing - exhaustion - longing / loneliness

Late night and early morning

In all honesty, it could have been much, much worse. At least, this is what Jon keeps telling himself as he is wide awake in a hotel bed and doesn't even react when a heavy arm is swung over his shoulder, almost hitting him in the face.

He sighs, not for the first time that night. Jon simply moves the hand out of his face and closer to his shoulder in slight irritation, knowing it won’t stay there for long.

Predictably, the only answer he gets is a long snore, about as gentle as a chainsaw.

Eyes heavy, Jon tries to make himself more comfortable. But once again, this proves itself to be a lot harder now that Tim, fast asleep and dead to the world, seems to have chosen him as his own personal pillow. Or teddy bear - it’s a bit of an even tie so far.

Truth be told, this is not at all what Jon had expected from this work trip.

A few hours earlier -

It isn’t that big a deal, really. Jon and Tim have been sent to a small village up north, in order to investigate an old, abandoned farm building. Strange things are supposed to happen, and well, given the nature of their job, it is on them to take a close and personal look at it.

Truth be told, the two of them are happy to get out of the city for a bit, especially since it’s on the institute’s dime. They just have to be there, wander the old abandoned farm and then make themselves a few nice and comfortable evenings. There is a small pub, right next to their hotel, and a lake that is nice to sit nearby.

All in all, it is a rather nice and idyllic place.

“This is great, I almost feel like we’re on a holiday. Well, minus this part here, maybe.” Tim gestures around and in the general direction of a very old, ragged scarecrow to prove his point. It really is an ugly thing.

“The village, certainly. Him over there? Not so much.” Jon nods over to the scarecrow, and for a moment, it feels like it might be staring back. He shakes his head - what a silly thought. He continues,

“I have a feeling we’re wasting our time here. I cannot see anything out of the norm, this place is just… Old. And abandoned. “

“Well, it adds to the… Spooky factor.” Tim grins at the disgusted look on his friend's face as soon as the word leaves his mouth - he knows that “spooky” gives Jon the hives, and admittedly, he’s having way too much fun with it.

“Eugh. I wouldn’t put it like that, but… Yes. Yes, I think it does.”

“It’s a psychological thing… But then again, people did disappear here. I’m just not sure if it really is something paranormal or simply, well, crime.” Tim shrugs, and bends forward to take a closer look at some dusty artefacts in a lopsided shelf on the wall. It’s mostly fertilizer, watering cans and all sorts of small tools - nothing that would look suspicious on a farm at all.

“And as far as we know, Police never found any signs here that would indicate crimes. Still… I’m really not sure about this… Hmm...” with a thoughtful noise, Jon peaks around the corner of a dusty, cob-web covered tractor. Careful not to touch anything, he searches the corner with a torch and almost jumps to the ceiling when the light cone lands on a fairly large spider in her net, surrounded by several egg sacks in the corner. Jon could swear the bloody thing is staring right back at him with way too many hungry eyes.

“Jesus! Fuck no…”

“Everything okay?” Tim asks from behind him, and Jon can hear him stepping closer as his heart is about to beat out of his chest. He hates hates hates spiders with a passion, and for good reason… But he isn’t willing to discuss this right here.

“I- yes, I’m fine… I just got startled, is all. Huge spider.” Jon shudders in disgust, and is ridiculously proud that he doesn’t jump at the touch from hand on his back. Mostly because he knows who is coming up behind him.

“...That’s one big Nope in a web.” Tim agrees, peering over the smaller man’s shoulder and then makes a face.

“At least there is nothing else to look at there… No hidden doors or anything strange as far as I can tell.”

“No, it doesn't look like it. Come on, let’s call it a day. We still need to check in to the hotel.”

“...Right.” quietly thankful for the excuse to leave, Jon easily falls into step with Tim. They only arrived a few hours earlier, but they knew that once they checked in, they wouldn’t want to leave anytime soon. So, they make their way to the hotel right after the first, very rough investigation.

It’s a small village and the hotel is easily found. It’s an old, but well taken care of building. Clearly, it is a very central place and looks pleasant enough from the outside. It is definitely a lot nicer than anything either of the researchers would have booked for themselves. But since the institute is paying… Well, they intend to enjoy the stay while it lasts.

From behind the service desk, Jon and Tim are greeted by a clerk who is of friendly and helpful nature. This is probably why it takes the two men a second to catch on when he reads back the booking information to them for confirmation.

“So, that is one double for three night’s then, gentlemen. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No thank you, this is fine - wait, a double? Not a twin?”

The smile on the clerk's face seems to freeze into place, and he begins typing, slightly more panicked than before.

“I am so sorry, there must have been a mistake in the booking.” Apologetically, he looks up and back and forth between Tim and Jon.

“...Usually, I’d offer to rebook but as it is, we’re full for the next two weeks. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, gentlemen.”

Jon glances over at Tim.

The two of them have been working together for a while now, and it is safe to say that they’re friends. There might even be something like a mutual crush, but… It’s not like either of them is talking about that part. Instead, they share another quick glance and come to an agreement.

“That’s alright, we’ll take the double. Please, there is no need to worry.”

Clearly still embarrassed, the man behind the counter sends them on their way with not only the keys to the room, but also a generous handful of vouchers for the in-house restaurant.

The evening itself is quiet and comfortable, spent with good food, conversations and friendly banter. It’s easy to forget about the job, now that they’re done for the day. And thankfully, it seems to be a bit of a bust - as frustrating as it is to find that, they still have three nights booked here and they’ll be covered back at the institute for the time being.

In all honesty, both Tim and Jon could think of plenty that would be worse than being stuck in a nice little village with a friend.

As the evening is getting late, the two of them make their way up to the small but comfortable room.

And this is how the two of them end up in the double bed.

At first, they’re back to back, with a tiny bit of casual distance between them. It’s their careful attempt to not remind themselves of feelings that may or may not be mutual. But that lasts for about five minutes, which is about as long as it takes Tim to fall asleep that night. As soon as he is out, Jon is informed of that fact when the first wave of snores shakes the bed. Or at least, that’s what it feels like.

“Psst. Hey. Tim. You’re snoring.” he presses out between clenched teeth, but it’s useless. Jon sighs, but he doesn’t try again. For one, he doesn’t want to make a fuss, and he also doesn't really want to wake Tim up.

Lord knows, he is aware that sleep doesn’t always come easily to him. It doesn’t come easily to Jon himself, either, and that’s not even taking into account someone who clears an entire forest in their sleep right next to his ear.

And this is when the shifting back and forth begins.

Arms are flailing, elbows collide with ribs and shins are kicked - Jon does his best to rearrange himself in order to be somewhat comfortable, but it never lasts long.

That is, until Tim turns over onto his other side and slides his arms around Jon. He shifts a bit, until they’re pressed flush against each other and Jon can feel the warm, even breath on his neck. At least, Tim’s snoring is now way more quiet - more like a soothing white noise instead of the offensive chainsaw.

Even though it is dark and no one else is awake to see it, Jon can feel the deep flush creeping up his cheeks. But apart from that, he is… Comfortable - happy even.

His heart is beating faster now, almost hammering out of his chest. It feels like it must be deafening, and Jon is almost surprised that the sound of it doesn’t fill the entire room.

He didn’t expect any of this, but there is no denying that it feels good to be held, to be close to someone he cares a lot about. But Jon doesn’t know how to address any of this in the future. He is well aware of his ever growing feelings for Tim, but this… This is much more.

Jon feels warm, happy and comfortable. Laying here like this, surrounded by warmth and with the breathing, sturdy body of his friend pressed against him, the idea of actually talking to Tim about this doesn’t seem too bad anymore.

Almost without noticing, one of his hands finds its way to Tim’s forearm slung over his chest. Skin brushes against skin, and it feels just right.

“You couldn't have come up with that position like an hour ago, could you?” Jon asks sleepily, but he smiles. Unsurprisingly, all he gets in response is another quiet snore as Tim tightens his hold around him. It only makes Jon smile wider, but he already drifts off into sleep and doesn’t answer. .

Sooner rather than later, the next morning comes. The first rays of sunlight creep in through the half closed blinds, tinting the room into a soft glow.

Tim is the first to wake up, and he is pleasantly surprised when he realizes that there is a weight on his chest and hair tickling his chin. It’s been a long time since he woke up with someone else, and truth be told, he’s really missed that feeling.

He is especially happy since it is Jon of all people who is currently fast asleep half on top of him. There is something between the two of them, and has been for a while actually. A feeling that seems to grow every day, and yet, neither of them has initiated a conversation about it as of now.

Tim glances over at the clock on the bedside table - it’s still early, so he closes his eyes again and lets himself drift back off into sleep.

The next time he wakes up, the sun is completely up in the sky and the clock informs him that they were asleep for longer than they probably should have been.

Despite all that, Tim doesn’t make a move to wake Jon up, too happy and content to be close to him. Instead, his hands start combing through his hair absentmindedly until eventually, Jon stirs awake. He blinks a few times, clearly taking in the situation, but he doesn’t move away.

That fact alone makes Tim happier than it probably should.

“Good morning.” he says, carefully casual while he continues to gently untangle a knot in the other man’s hair.

“....Just five more minutes…” comes the sleepy response, muffled into his chest.

“Five more minutes.” Tim agrees, and leans in closer. He’s perfectly fine with that - it’s not like this is a hardship. Not at all.

But as it is, the idyllic morning can’t last forever. The next time Tim looks at the clock, he realizes that now they really are late - it’s not like anyone would care or find out, but the responsible adult part of him already feels slightly guilty.

“Jon, wake up. We’re late.” he regretfully informs him, and Jon shifts a bit while opening one eye. He looks like a sleepy cat, and Tim finds that endearing as hell.

“I suppose we are… But it’s not like anything would wait for us out there.” And grumpy, too. That’s good to know, he figures.

“Oh wow, I’m sure Creepy Frank over at the farm would be disappointed to hear that.” Tim quips at him, the smile clear in his voice.

After a beat of silence, Jon lifts his head off of his chest and squints at him through messy strands of his hair.

“You named the…? You know what, nevermind.” he flops down again and decides to not-care. He’s too tired to deal with this.

“Well, we’ll spend some time at that farm, we might as well give our ugly friend a name.”

That actually gets him a laugh.

“How very charming of you. What time is it?”, he asks then.

“Half nine.”

“Half - okay yes we really should get going….” Regretfully, Jon peels himself off of Tim and feels across the nightstand with one hand, searching for his glasses without actually sitting up. Even though they haven’t even left the bed yet, he already feels colder.

Their day is largely uneventful. Mainly, the two of them keep investigating and walking around the old farm, talking and bantering like they always do. Occasionally, they throw a quip towards Creepy Frank, just for the fun of it, but they still can’t find any evidence of anything that would be relevant to them and their jobs.

They discuss this while sitting by the lake, comfortably in the shade of a large tree while they’re having a late lunch.

It’s idyllic and comfortable, and under different circumstances, “romantic” would be a word that could come to mind.

But as it is, neither of them mentions the last night or the way they woke up. It still doesn’t stop them from sitting closer together than usual, close enough even, so that their legs bump together.

Maybe, one day, they can come back here together - it's a daydream well worth entertaining.

When the darkened night sky stretches out over the village, Jon and Tim climb into bed next to each other. But unlike the night before, they don’t even try to keep a distance. In quiet agreement, they shuffle close to one another and rearrange themselves until they’re both in a comfortable embrace. They fall asleep fast that night, listening to each other's heartbeat and breathing until sleep pulls them under.

By the time morning comes, both Tim and Jon are once again happy, warm and comfortable as they wake up wrapped around each other. Sleepily, they enjoy the gentle physical contact for as long as it lasts.

They are well rested - better so than either of them has been in a long time.

Their remaining days in the village are pretty much the same. There is nothing noticeable going on in the old farm and Creepy Frank is unsettling as always.

Around lunch time on the last day, they have once again made themselves comfortable by the lake. They write their reports there, because there is no point in going back to the farm or the hotel now - they’ll leave later that evening, their luggage already stashed away in lockers at the train station. They’ll miss this place - despite it being technically a work trip, It has been a nice change from their busy everyday life in London. Not to mention the other, more private parts of it all.

Neither of them has made a move to talk about The Thing between them yet, and maybe that won’t happen until they’re back home - who knows. Just a few times, Tim opens his mouth as if he isn’t sure what to say, but then he always comes around with some sort of joke or teasing.

Jon picks up on it, but he isn’t great at talking, either. He wants to - but as it is, he remains silent and chews on his words without getting any of them out.

At first glance, it looks like nothing has really changed, but when Tim and Jon walk to the train station in the early evening, they hold hands the entire way. Once they have found their seats, they continue to do so, but still, neither of them mentions anything. For now, it is perfectly alright. Neither of them wants to have this potentially awkward conversation in public.

They keep up their conversation and occasionally squeeze the other’s hand in silent acknowledgement.

The everyday life in London and the Magnus Institute gets them back into its claws almost as soon as they return to work. There isn’t a lot of opportunity to start a serious personal conversation, and so they fall back into their old routine. They work on opposite desks, they share lunch breaks and walk to the library together, and things should be as they always are.

They are not.

Jon notices it in himself first. In the short time he’d been away with Tim, those three nights sharing a bed with him had been the best sleep he’d gotten in months, if not years. It had been only three nights - but Jon misses him already.

When before, he’d been faintly aware of, and mostly ignoring his feelings for Tim, now he lays awake at night because he feels cold and lonely without him.

Jon stares at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes itching from tiredness. He’d give anything to fall asleep right now, but he knows it is useless.

Sleep has always been a difficult topic for him, as insomnia, nightmares and circling thoughts about everything and anything tend to keep him awake on a regular basis. But those three days… Those three days had been special, and Jon isn’t sure he can ever get back from the way that makes him feel.

One night, about a week after returning back home, he is staring at his ceiling again, half-tempted to text Tim, who always looks tired and worn out when he sees him at work. But Jon doesn’t want to take any chances - what if he does manage a bit of sleep and then gets woken up from a text in the middle of the night?

His thumb hovers over the send button in their ongoing text conversation.

Hi,

Are you awake?

It’s short, but Jon knows it will tell Tim an awful lot. He sighs, unsure what to do. But then, he accidentally moves wrong, and he hits SEND without meaning to. He shoots up into a sitting position in his bed, cursing out loud as he stares at the screen. After the first shock, he calms down. it’s not like he didn’t want to send the text, it’s just that he isn't’t mentally prepared for it. Not really.

Before he can go down another rabbit hole of thoughts, his mobile phone vibrates in his hand, and a text from Tim appears on his screen.

Hi, I sure fucking am. Can’t sleep. You?

Can’t sleep either. Not since. Well.

Jon doesn’t even think as he types his reply, and he sends it off before he can stop himself. He is half tempted to ask if Tim wants company, although he doesn’t know how to phrase that over text. Not with all the feelings they haven’t yet talked about.

He is saved from agonizing over it when Tim himself asks him the very same question.

Do you want company?

It would be an understatement to say that Jon is relieved.

Yes, please. I’d like that

Tell you what? I’m already on my way. I fucking hate sleeping on my own.

That last text makes Jon’s heart beat a little bit faster once again, but he is more relieved than anything. And to his great surprise, it doesn’t take as long as he’d thought it would until his doorbell rings.

He scrambles out of bed and into the hallway to open the door. It doesn’t occur to him just how frazzled he must look. Deep purple bags under his eyes, hair standing up in every direction as it has escaped from his braid and clothes that are way too big on him and hang off of him like potato sacks.

He is tired - so, so tired.

Only a short while later, Tim shuffles out of the lift, and he looks just as exhausted as Jon feels. He must have rolled straight out of bed, put on shoes and a jacket and that’s it.

Instead of making one of his usual quips, Tim simply slumps into Jon as he hugs him, his head resting on top of the smaller man’s.

“Hey.” He hugs back and remains standing in the doorway - he is pretty sure they’re both going to fall over if he tries to move now.

“Hmmm… Much better.” Tim squeezes him a bit tighter, like he always does when he is showing affection. it’s very much him, and Jon finds he is long used to it by now. Even more so, he needs it. It makes him feel warm and reassured.

“Wanna come in? It’s much more comfortable than the hallway.” he tries to reason, and yawns. All he wants is to get back to bed, preferably with the warm presence that is Tim.

Quietly, he nods and let’s go of Jon, but very reluctantly so.

The two of them shuffle back into the dark bedroom, where the covers are kicked aside in a messy tangle. Clear evidence that Jon himself has trouble sleeping as well, even though it is obvious by now.

Almost wordlessly, the two of them climb in, much like they did the other week in the shared hotel room, and simply hold each other close.

“Thank you.”

The words are so quiet, Jon almost misses them. But he doesn’t, and he knows exactly what they mean. As bad as he is with communication and interpersonal relationships sometimes, he understands. He understands and he feels the same.

“Of course. I missed you, too.” he answers, just as quietly, and without thinking, presses a quick kiss on top of the bright purple mop of hair resting on his chest. It’s ironic, really, how their positions are now in reverse to what they were back on the work trip, but they don’t mind either way. All that counts is that they are close now.

They don’t talk any more than that, because they are both way too exhausted to hold a conversation.

As they drift off into sleep, they remain wrapped around each other, soaking up each other's warmth and company like a sponge. Being together feels just right.

Tim and Jon have been friends for a while, and neither of them could tell when the romantic feelings had first started to show themselves. But they know that they care deeply, and most of all, need each other.

Falling asleep together is bliss, and it makes them feel safe and loved. It really shouldn’t have been surprising that the two of them had so much trouble after getting a small taste of what could be.

Jon and Tim hold each other close as they finally fall asleep. Fingers brush softly over beard stubble, hair and exposed bits of skin while their lips quietly find each other in the dark. And really, for now that is worth much more than words.

“I can’t sleep without you anymore.” They don’t say that night, but they do so the next morning when they wake up, almost in the same embrace as they have fallen asleep in.

They face each other, and their words are sealed with another kiss. It feels different, in the light of the morning, but it feels just as right as searching for one another at night, exhausted but safe together in the dark.

“I love you.”, the two of them blurt out pretty much simultaneously soon after, and really, what else is there to say?

Both Jon and Tim are happy, after all. And so they make their way into the kitchen for breakfast, hand in hand and with a warm, quiet and content feeling spreading throughout them.

#banashee writes #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #JonTim #pre-canon

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queenlists · 5 years ago

Text

Twisted Halloween

A Dandy mott x reader where the reader is Dandy's friend and gets kidnapped by twisty on halloween and Dandy is angry but doesn't reveal his identity to the reader only gives them special treatment! (Sorry if that doesn't make sense!) ~signed just a simple Dandy loving anon~ (Request)

Word Count: 3104

A/N: Thank you to the Dandy loving anon that sent me this request! I hope that this is similar to what you wanted. We are at 168. Thank you all for the support! I really do appreciate you all. If you want to find my masterlist, please click here! I hope you enjoy this ✌

Post Date: 05/14/2020

“We can just come pick you up. You’re cutting into our Halloween party time,” Dandy whined into the phone. “I’m almost done! Don’t worry about picking me up, I will take my bike,” I stared at my costume, wondering what it was missing. “I’m sure you want your own mode of transportation after everything. I understand,” I bit the inside of my cheek as I slowly worked on my costume, not sure how to respond. “It’s okay. Really it is...is this tomato on my sandwich? I specifically asked for no tomato! Where’s your manager?” I sighed, listening to Dandy tear into an unfortunate caterer. Stepping back, I admired my work “Alright, I’m on my way!” I chirped into the phone before ending the call.

It’s Halloween. Every Halloween, Dandy and I have a small party. Just for the two of us. We haven’t missed a single Halloween since we met and despite the heated fight we had, we couldn’t miss this one..

“You can’t do this to him. You can’t do this to me. Please, Y/n, one more Halloween. Just one more!”

What a mistake

My eyes fluttered open as the sunlight danced on my face, waking me of my involuntary deep slumber. My head pulsated with pain as my dirt covered body shivered. As I lifted my arm to rest my hand on my aching head, I could hear the chains scrape across the floor. Where am I? My eyes scanned the dusty room. A cage. I was in a cage. In a cage on a bus. My eyes continued to scan the room as they fell upon old toys that must have been older than I am. Dirty dolls in worn, ragged dresses. Some missing one eye, one arm, one leg, or even their head. Wheeless toy trucks. Squeaky toys that probably spat dust out when squeezed. I heard a small cough nearby. I slowly turned my head, wincing. My neck felt so stiff. My eyes connected with another's. A girl around my age and a little boy. I immediately identified them as the missing siblings from just a few weeks ago. No one knew just how long they were gone. Their parents were on a vacation at the time of their disappearance. Their faces were plastered on flyers, newspapers, milk cartons, the news channels, etc. They looked different now compared to the clean, polite, bright eyed children the pictures portrayed. They were covered in dirt, dirtier than I was. Their hair matted. Their clothing torn and riddled with holes. Their eyes sunken. They must’ve been here for awhile now.

"D-do you know who did this?" I stammered, licking at my cracked lips. I tasted blood and my lip was swollen. I continued to run my tongue over my enlarged bottom lip as the girl began to sigh "The clown. Twisty the clown,"

Twisty. Dandy, my best friend, had talked about Twisty over a million times before. Dandy became obsessed with clowns and even had his mother buy him a clown costume. A few of them actually. I had always assumed the disappearances were blamed on an urban legend as they were so mysterious and unheard of in this part of town. Nothing happened like this in Jupiter. The streets were innocent. They were so innocent that the cops were so bored from the lack of action in town that they’d drive on down to the freak show to stir up some trouble themselves. As corrupt as that was, no one really complained because without it there would be nothing for the bored to gossip about. There would be nothing to gasp and read about in the daily newspapers. Nothing to wake up tired eyes. Nothing to shake and stir the town. Kids were free to roam around until nightfall and even then as long as they stayed in or around their yards, they continued to play with little to no adult supervision. No harm done. Every child accounted for by supper. The only odd and sometimes looked down on thing in town was the freak show and even that wasn’t bad. Jupiter was safe..up until now anyway.

“Twisty? Isn’t Twisty just a name they plastered onto the missing case?” I looked between the girl and the boys. “Twisty is real. He’ll come back sometime today to give us supper..maybe,” the little boy looked down, poking at a stale piece of moldy bread. “How long have you been here?” I chewed on my lip, producing more blood. “It’s hard to remember,” both the boy and girl whimpered, their eyes lowered as they stared blankly at the floor. I choked down a sob as I shook my head in disbelief. Why me? Why them? Why is this happening?

There were crunching footsteps coming from the distance. My ears perked up as I scrambled to my knees. “It’s him,” the little boy whimpered as the girl pulled him towards her, rocking him back and forth as she hummed to him. As the footsteps got closer, I could hear the tingle of little bells. Goosebumps perked up on my skin as the bells and footsteps got closer and closer. Louder and louder. After a minute or two I could hear maniacal giggling. Shuddering, I closed my eyes as shivers shot down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut as I heard the bus door peel open. I could hear the tingle of bells paired with heavy breathing. I felt myself slip into an abyss of panic, so I went to my happy place:

The warmth of the sun kissed my skin as I frolicked in the flowered garden with him. My cheeks burned from the stretch of my smile and my stomach clenched with my heavy laughter. His blue eyes hid behind wrinkled eyelids, his sparkling white teeth shone in the sunlight through his smile. I ran my thumb over his hand as he led me towards the big mansion that he lived in. The inside of the mansion smelled of sweet baked goods as a hint of cinnamon lingered in the air. Fresh bread. Fresh pie. Fresh cookies. You name it, it was there. Flowers. Big bouquets of flowers placed here and there, adding a pop of color to the big mansion. A sweet treat for the eyes.

You could hear the faint tune of Dora’s hum from the kitchen as well as you could hear the gentle, light clicks of Gloria’s heels coming towards us. “You look absolutely wonderful today, Y/n. You look handsome as ever, Dandy!” Gloria pressed her lipsticked lips together in a pleasant smile as she stood in front of Dandy and I. “Mother, have Dora bring us up a platter of desserts as well as finger sandwiches and some iced tea!” Dandy ordered. “Please,” I added with a smile. Gloria’s eyes were glued to our interlocked fingers. “Mother!” Dandy shouted, tightening his grip on my hand. “Yes, dear! I heard you clearly. I will send her right up when it’s all prepared,” Gloria’s eyes slowly travelled up to my eyes. We held eye contact for some time before she nodded, walking away towards the kitchen.

“Let’s go!” Dandy grinned, leading me upstairs. I looked through the design on the staircase railing at Gloria who stood in her place, looking back at me. Her eyes were quiet and gentle, but at the same time telling. Almost warning. My footsteps quickly matched Dandy’s as he began to drag me up the stairs and through the house to his playroom.

We laughed and joked around from sun up until sun down. His laugh, contagious. His smile, breathtaking. Time flew by with him. There was so much to do in so little time. “Together we can do anything, Y/n! We’re the bestest of friends that ever existed. We can be rulers, we SHOULD be rulers! We could rule the universe and take over galaxies. We’re unstoppable. We’re immortal and invincible!” Dandy preached, flailing his arms around with a big smile. Pointing everywhere as he stomped around with his head held high. His confidence beamed and poured right out of him as he spewed “Y/n, we could move mountains and drain oceans. Shall we take over?” Dandy’s smirk slithered across his face as he leaned in closer to me. “We shall,” I grinned at Dandy.

Pleased, Dandy flopped onto the big couch that I perched up on, laying his head on my lap “I got this for you,” Dandy handed me a piece of my favorite candy as well as a flower that he had picked from their garden “To an amazing friendship,” “To an amazing friendship,” I smiled back at Dandy, smelling the flower.

I could feel the warm bursts of heat coming from the other side of the cage as Twisty breathy panted by my face. The smell of mint drowned my senses. I heard the wired cage dangle and shake as Twisty grumbled. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes as I heard the locked cage door screech open. I could hear the bells jingle as metal clanked and spun on the floor. “Mr. Clown, can we leave after supper?” I heard the boy squeak before the girl shushed him. Twisty didn’t respond. There was a continued shuffle then a brief pause. I knew that Twisty or whoever this clown is was staring right at me. I refused to open my eyes even after I felt something drop at my feet. I kept my eyes shut when the cage screeched to a close and keys jangled as the door locked.

I finally opened my eyes when I could hear the shuffling start to fade away. I could see the back of the clown walking away before prying the bus doors open then closed again. I looked at the girl and the boy who were shoveling what looked like plain oatmeal into their mouths from metal plates before looking down at my feet. My favorite candy and a familiar flower along with my favorite meal that looked eerily similar to Dora’s style of cooking. I scrambled to my feet to try to get a glimpse of the clown, but by the time I made it to an open window the clown was gone. I could only hear the faint jingles of the costume.

My stomach grumbled as I fell to my knees, unwrapping the candy and shoving it into my mouth with a satisfied sigh. “He never gives us candy,” I heard the little boy whimper. “Or anything other than oatmeal,” the girl added. I slid the container with my favorite food in it to the siblings “It’s yours,” I watched as their faces lit up, small smiles as a thank you. As they began to eat, I sighed and twirled the flower in between my fingers awaiting Dandy.

“Oh my gosh, Dandy! You can’t just say that,” I giggled, covering my mouth as Dandy stood in front of one of his many mirrors. “But the beauty of it all is that, I can!” Dandy grinned, staring at himself in the mirror. “Do you know what you want to be for Halloween?” Dandy nodded before turning towards me “Have you heard of Twisty the clown?” his eyebrows wiggled as his eyes stared into my soul. “Oh yeah, Jupiter’s killer clown! Instead of pinning the cases on a legend, the police need to be searching and catching leads” I rolled my eyes. “No Y/n it’s not a legend. He’s real!” Dandy stamped his foot before sighing “Twisty is real,” I watched as Dandy pulled out a clown costume, dangling it in front of himself as he posed in the mirror. “You’ve been into clowns a lot lately,” I watched as Dandy began to admire himself in the mirror, his eyes dressing himself up in the costume. “I met Twisty. We are partners,” Dandy ran his fingers up and down the costume.

I mildly laughed, shaking my head at Dandy’s ridiculousness. Dandy was known to come up with fantasies in his head and get wrapped up in them. It was best to not argue with him. “Why are you laughing?” Dandy snapped, his eyes burning holes into my head. “Calm down!” I defended, shocked by his tone. I was used to him speaking harshly, but to everyone else and never me. “I will not calm down. You are disrespecting me,” Dandy began to slowly creep over to me, his tone getting louder and louder. His tone of voice sending unpleasant chills up and down my spine over and over again “You’re supposed to be my best friend and you don’t believe me?””

I quietly stood up, backing away from Dandy “I just didn’t think he was real. I believe you Dandy. I do,” I backed myself up into the wall as Dandy got closer and closer until his body pressed against mine. His sharp eyes searched mine before a smile ripped across his face “Okay! Let’s play a game, huh?”

My thoughts were cut short as I heard the bus doors pry open. I snapped my head towards the clown, gasping. I felt a thousand bullets tear into my body as I looked Twisty up and down with watered eyes. “Dandy,” I whispered, covering my mouth. Dandy grunted through the dirty mask, walking towards the cage. Dandy stood in front of me, staring at me with those eyes. I stuck the flower through the case, staring Dandy in his eyes “Why are you doing this Dandy?” Dandy’s eyes were glued to the flower. “You’re better than this,” I whimpered, looking at the boy and girl behind me “Let them go. Let me go! We can talk about this,” I snapped my head back towards Dandy with pleading eyes “Please,”

Dandy wasn’t hiding behind that mask. It only covered his mouth, leaving his slick back hair and bright eyes open to see. Dandy grunted into the mask, his eyebrows squeezing together as he jumped up and down, rattling the cage. I heard shuffling as the girl held onto the whimpering boy. I didn’t move as I stared at Dandy who continued to rattle and shake the cage in an attempt to scare me. “You don’t scare me. I know you!”

Dandy ripped the flower through the cage, tearing it up into pieces and throwing the tiny brightly colored pieces towards the boy and girl. “Leave them alone!” I demanded “You are a monster!” Dandy began to heavy breath as he threw the bag of stuff at the cage before stomping away and out of the bus. I crouched down as I reached for the bag. Pulling on the string, the bag fell over and some of the contents spilled out: my favorite snacks, my favorite bottled sodas, a greasy brown bag of food from the small diner that Dandy and I frequented, a container of sloppy oatmeal, wet wipes, a brush, a crumpled up ball of paper, and one pair of clothes.

My clothes. The clothes that I had left the night I ran out on Dandy.

I tried to stay away from Dandy as much as I could without him taking much notice. He started to become increasingly angry. More physical. More uncontrollable. More spontaneous. We were enjoying a late night snack with Gloria. We were dressed up in these new, silky pajamas that Gloria had spotted on one of her out of town outings. I had agreed to a sleepover after Gloria showed up to my house, proposing the idea that I come spend time with Dandy sick or not due to his lonely behavior. “He misses you dearly and so do I” she pleaded. The woman goes through hell with that boy, so it was hard for me to not agree.

“Let’s shoot the freaks!” Dandy laughed, waving a gun around. “Let’s not,” I bit my lip as I glanced at Gloria who sipped at her cup of tea. “Stop being a buzzkill!” Dandy shouted at me. “You’re being so unreasonable! You’ve been acting so different, Dandy. This is why I’ve been avoiding you!” I screamed back. I covered my mouth as I shook my head. I didn’t mean to say those words. It was supposed to be subtle. Leaving his house an hour early. Two hours earlier. Three hours earlier. Staying home “sick” for a day. Then two days. Then a week. Progressively detaching him from me was the plan and now it’s out in the open with no way of backtracking.

Dandy stumbled back “You weren’t sick last week?” I pressed my lips together as I looked down. “You are such a liar! No wonder why you refused our doctor to visit. You are nothing, Y/n!” Dandy screamed “You are..nothing,” “Dandy, no!” Gloria screamed.

It all happened so slow. I heard Gloria scream. I heard the tea cup shatter. I felt little drops of the hot tea splash at my legs. I felt Gloria’s hands as she pushed me down and out of the way onto the floor. I heard the loud bang of the gun. I could smell the smoke and gunpowder. I could hear the bullet crack through layers upon layers of the living room wall. Gloria kept shouting, but I couldn’t make out what was being said. The only thing I could really hear was the ringing in my ears. I laid on the ground for a moment not wanting to believe that my best friend would have shot me dead.

I would have been dead had I been alone with Dandy.

It took a minute for that to seep in, but once it did..

“You’re crazy! You’re a monster!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet and running out of the door. I could hear Dandy shouting followed by more gunshot noises. I could feel the heat from the bullets as they chased and missed me. My feet had never ran faster.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Dandy screamed with every bang of the gun.

I opened up and smoothed out the piece of paper and sat down on the floor to read it:

“I’m kind of sorry” was sprawled out in beautiful red writing. Not Dandy’s handwriting but it was Gloria’s.

I shook my head in disbelief as I passed the boy and girl the greasy bag of food and snacks. I watched as they tore open into the bags, hungry for something other than cold oatmeal.

I could hear erratic jingling of bells outside along with the famous words of Dandy “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

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destiel-love-forever · 5 years ago

Text

What a Jerk

It’s Valentine’s Day. For Castiel & Dean, that means war.

Read below or on AO3: HERE

"What a jerk," Castiel grumbles, closing the door as the delivery man leaves.

"Who?" Benny asks from his spot on the couch a few feet away. He turns to look at Castiel, more words about to come out. Then he sees the giant bouquet of flowers in Castiel's hands and grins. "Oh. Dean."

"Stop smiling. He's an asshole." Castiel storms off to the kitchen. Since his penthouse apartment is an open-floor plan, though, he doesn't escape Benny. He just gets his bitch face from a new angle.

"Yes," Benny says sarcastically. "What an asshole for buying you flowers."

Castiel huffs as he searches for a stupid vase for the stupid flowers. "I told him not to do this."

"Yeah, bad idea. Telling Dean not to do something is pretty much the equivalent of challenging him to a duel."

There's a dusty vase beneath the sink. Castiel takes it out and fills it with water, not bothering to clean it first. When it's filled enough for the flowers to survive - because Castiel isn't a monster, he's not going to purposely kill beautiful flowers - he stuffs the bouquet into the vase.

"There." He sets the vase on his kitchen island and breathes a sigh of relief. "At least it's over now. Right?"

Benny snorts. "Dude, it's 8 AM. There's no way that's all he has planned for the day."

"You work for me, ya know," Castiel says in a voice that's supposed to be threatening but isn't. "You have to take my side."

"I'm your bodyguard. I keep you safe from bullets and kidnappers. Not overbearing lovers."

Castiel sighs in frustration. He pulls out his phone and very aggressively types in Dean Winchester's number.

Dean answers almost instantly. Clearly, he had been waiting for this call.

"Hey, C-"

"This stupid romantic nonsense is a waste of money and I swear Dean Winchester if you get me any more presents today I'm going to break up with your stupid ass!"

"So you got the flowers," Dean says with a smile in his voice. "Good. You should get ready for work, my love. Don't want to be late."

"Don't ignore me, Dean! You promised. You promised not to do this!"

"No. You ordered me not to do this. I never agreed."

"Dean-"

"Have a nice day, babe. I'm sure I'll be hearing from you soon."

"Dean!"

"Oh, and Cas?"

Castiel grits his teeth, fuming. "What?"

"Happy Valentine's Day."

Castiel growls - yes, growls - and hangs up. He throws his hands in the air and turns to Benny. "What a jerk!"

----

When Castiel stops at his favorite coffee shop for his usual morning Americano with cinnamon, the barista already has his order ready. It has a message written on it in Dean's hand writing, black sharpie scrawling its way across the disposable cup.

You are so brew tiful. I love you like I love my coffee - inside me (;

Castiel rolls his eyes. "What a jerk."

"Sorry?" the barista says in confusion.

"He's a jerk." Castiel grabs a disposable cup from the stack beside the register. He pops the top off the one Dean wrote on and pours his coffee into the fresh, non-Valentine cup. Then he tosses the graffitied cup and nods at the barista. "Have a good one."

"Uh… yeah." The barista watches him go, looking crestfallen. Clearly she had found it romantic. Disgusting. "You too."

----

Another bouquet of flowers is waiting for Castiel when he enters his private office. He glares at it from the doorway for a long moment before huffing in annoyance, going over and grabbing the damn thing. Still dressed in his trench coat, still with his briefcase in his left hand, Castiel walks down to the bull-pen and lifts the vase in the air.

"Who fucked up today and needs a Valentine's Day present for their significant other?" he yells, his anger making most of his employees shiver or tense up.

It takes a second but then a woman in the back tentatively raises her hand. Charlie. She's dating Dorothy from accounting. They're a cute couple.

"They're yours," he announces, thrusting them out in the air to silently tell her to come get them.

Blushing, she makes her way to Castiel. She mumbles something about not forgetting but running out of time this morning. Castiel couldn't care less whether Charlie forgot or not. He just doesn't want to stare at the damn flowers all day.

Once they're out of his hands, Castiel waves a hand in the air and says, "As you were."

Benny is smirking when Castiel gets back to his office.

"What's so funny?" Castiel asks in a voice that's supposed to be threatening but just makes Benny's lips lift higher. "What?"

"I'm assuming you didn't see the box of chocolates."

Castiel parts his lips, about to ask what Benny means, when he sees a heart-shaped box beside where the flowers had been. He deflates. Goes over to his chair. Slumps down. Sighs dramatically. Then he takes the box and reads the attached note.

Life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get. - damn glad I got you, babe ♡

"What a jerk," Castiel growls at the box. He rips the lid off and snatches a piece of chocolate before pushing it toward Benny. "Stop fucking smiling and eat. And don't tell him I ate any of it. That asshole knows I can't resist chocolate so you have to lie."

"Sure thing boss," Benny says with a wink. "Sure thing."

----

"Are you Castiel?" a man dressed in a cupid costume asks.

Castiel shakes his head. "Nope."

Unfortunately, he's in the breakroom at work and his employees think this whole battle between Dean and him is hilarious. Balthazar says, "He's lying" at the same time Chuck says, "He's Castiel."

Castiel decides he's going to fire them both.

The cupid smirks and turns to Castiel. Castiel puts a hand up in protest. "Whatever it is, I don't want-"

"Lord Almighty,

I feel my temperature rising

Higher higher

It's burning through to my soul

Boy, boy, boy,

You gonna set me on fire

My brain is flaming

I don't know which way to go

Your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir

You light my morning sky

With burning love"

"Nope," Castiel mumbles under his breath, grabbing his lunch and heading out the door. "Nope, nope, nope."

The damn telegram follows him. Everyone in the office stares, their jaws dropped open as the goddamn CEO is followed around by a glittery man dressed as cupid singing an Elvis song. Castiel isn't even embarrassed. He's just pissed.

Castiel enters his office and shoots a glare at Benny who had conveniently been gone to the bathroom when this all went down but is now back at his rightful place by Castiel's side. "Make him leave."

"It's coming closer

The flames are now lickin' my body

Please won't you help me-"

"Why? He isn't a threat."

"He has a weapon!"

"It's a plastic bow, boss."

"And my chest is a-heaving

Lord Almighty

I'm burning a hole where I lay."

"I own this goddamn building and I'm telling you, head of my security, to kick him out!"

Benny gives him a wry smile. "I'll get right on it, boss. Highest priority."

"Cause your kisses lift me higher

Like the sweet song of a choir-"

"You're fired."

"Oh, well, in that case I suppose he'll get to stay."

"Ah, ah, burning love

I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love."

Castiel grabs his office phone and presses 7, gritting his teeth. With every ring that passes, his rage boils. He's a breath away from exploding.

"Singer's Auto, this is Dean."

Castiel slams a finger down on speaker phone and turns to glare at cupid as he finishes the damn song.

"Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love

Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love."

Finally, it's over. Cupid winks at him before leaving. Benny smirks. Dean - the jerk that he is - is laughing hysterically on the other line.

"I hate you," Castiel states very matter-of-factly.

"Oh come on!" Dean snorts a laugh. "It's Elvis! You love Elvis!"

"Not anymore! Congratulations, Winchester. You have officially ruined Elvis for me."

Dean laughs harder. "God, I love you babe."

"Gaaaah, no!" Castiel hangs up the call before Dean can use his mystical powers to sweet talk Castiel into forgiving him. It ain't happening.

Castiel bangs his forehead against his desk a few times before deflating against it. "What a jerk."

----

Castiel walks into the first jewelry store he comes across. He storms past all of the stupid Valentine's decorations and up to a young man in a sharp suit who is smiling far too wide if you ask Castiel's opinion. Castiel smacks the palm of his hand on the glass display in front of the man and growls, "I need a goddamn engagement ring."

----

A ring box heavy in his pocket, Castiel stands outside Dean's small two-bedroom house. The yellow paint is peeling back in places, revealing the blue beneath. They come from two completely different worlds. Dean, the eldest son who sacrificed everything he had to raise his baby brother, dropping out of high school, working two jobs, scraping his father off whatever bar floor or sidewalk he ended up on most nights. Castiel, the eldest son who had the world handed to him, private prep school, undergrad at an Ivy league, two master degrees, no student loan debt, a $100,000 no-strings gift from his father to start up his own company.

Dean lives in a house that was foreclosed and rotting on the inside. He’s owned it for three years now. The floors and roof have been replaced. The staircase rebuilt. The walls repainted. The kitchen remodeled. The bathroom gutted. All Dean’s doing since he couldn’t afford to hire contractors.

Castiel lives in a penthouse apartment in a building that’s only seven years old. He got to pick in a catalogue what model of every room he preferred. Professionals molded his home into exactly what he wanted it to be in two weeks, handing it to him furnished and beautiful.

Dean works 60 hour weeks at his uncle’s auto shop, always smelling of oil and sweat. He drinks Jack Daniels. Listens to classic rock. Wears stained jeans and cotton shirts so worn they have holes in the collars and become see-through in certain lighting.

Castiel works 80 hour weeks, but only 30 of them are spent in the office, the rest spent on his phone or at his home so he can lounge on his couch and peruse documents without worrying about employees bothering him. He’s currently working through a bottle of 1926 Macallan. He listens to classical music, as well as plays it himself on his own grand piano that overlooks the city. Wears tailored Brioni suits and silk ties to work, settling for Gucci denim pants and cashmere sweaters when he's casual.

They should have never even met. Castiel would never take his car to a low-grade dealership like Singers. Never. You just don’t do that. Castiel was sure they wouldn’t even know what to do with a custom built Tesla like his. Yet, there Castiel was, broken down outside of the city with a migraine the size of Texas and stubborn impatience that made waiting for the professionals from the dealership that would take 3 hours a choice he wasn’t willing to make. So, he typed in auto shops on google and picked the one nearest to him.

Singers Auto.

Dean had showed up all southern drawl and warm smiles. Flirted right past Castiel’s foul mood. Stroked the hood of his Tesla like it was a cherished pet. Spoke to Castiel confidently about his knowledge on the vehicle. He offered to tow it into the city for Castiel if Castiel wanted but assured Castiel that if he chose to let Dean bring it to Singer's Auto, Dean would be able to take care of it.

“Easy fix,” Dean had said. “In and out. Twenty minutes.”

Castiel had agreed. It was completely out of character but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted more time with the mechanic.

He left that day with a fixed car and Dean Winchester’s number.

They never once brought up the salary gap between them. Some nights they’d crash at Castiel’s. Some nights at Dean’s. They’d go to five-star restaurants and gorge on filet mignon and lobster. They’d go to McDonalds and demolish burgers and chocolate milkshakes. Neither of them so much as blink.

Castiel smiles to himself as he looks at the house again. Where will they live? Castiel could care less, if he’s being honest. He’ll move here if Dean wants. He can deal with the furnace that needs to be kicked every few days as a reminder to work again. He can deal with the pipes that always freeze in the winter. He can deal with the way the fifth step creaks because Dean messed up when building the staircase. As long as he has Dean Winchester, he has everything.

“The hell you doin’ out here?” Dean yells from the front porch, snapping Castiel from his thoughts.

The ring box in his pocket grows hot in anticipation.

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” Castiel yells back, casually walking across the street from where he parked. “I figured if you’re going to insist on celebrating the idiotic holiday, I might as well win by outdoing you.”

“Oh, really?” Dean huffs a laugh, taking the porch steps two at a time until he’s on the grass of his front lawn. “How do you expect to do that?”

Castiel stops when he’s on the sidewalk, about five or so feet between them. He gives Dean a cocky grin that makes Dean’s smirk fall just an inch. Dean Winchester doesn’t like to lose at things - especially all of these silly competitions they get themselves into.

How long can they go without having sex or masturbating, and who will break first and beg the other to fuck him?

Who can eat the most pie in one sitting?

Which one can buy the best Christmas gift?

Who can win the most tickets at the arcade?

How long can they keep their prank war going, and who will be the one to finally throw in the towel when it goes too far?

Who can scare the other badly enough to make them scream?

Which one of them will win the cheesy romantic award of Valentine’s Day 2020.

Castiel won the 1st, 3rd, and 6th.

Dean won the 2nd and 4th.

Neither have won the prank war bet - it’s still on-going.

But Castiel Novak is going to win this damn Valentine’s Day award. If Dean wants to play this game today, it’s on.

“Cas-”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel says softly, in a voice sickly sweet and loving. He lowers himself to one knee and reaches into his pocket.

Dean’s eyes flare with rage. “No! Don’t you dare!”

“You’re the love of my life-”

“Stop!”

“I can’t imagine any possible future that doesn’t have you in it-”

“I hate you so much right now,” Dean chokes out, eyes welling up.

Castiel smirks and opens the ring box. “Will you marry me?”

“No,” Dean grumbles with a pouty look on his face. Then he growls low in his throat and shakes his arms like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Fuck - fine! Yes. I’ll marry you.”

Grinning, partly because the love of his life just agreed to marry him but mostly because instead of Dean evening the score Castiel is now 2 points ahead, Castiel pushes to his feet and slips the ring on Dean’s finger. He tugs Dean into his arms and kisses him breathless.

“Proposed to me on Valentine’s Day,” Dean says with an incredulous huff, resting his head on Castiel's shoulder and hugging him. “What a jerk.”

If you enjoyed this, please consider supporting my starving artist bum by donating at my Ko-Fi or becoming a Patron <3 Everything helps!

#fluff #destiel #dean winchester #castiel novak #valentines day #hopeless romantic dean #cas hates valentines day #arguing #this is war #valentines day war #benny #ceo cas #mechanic dean #cute #romantic gestures

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skzluvs · 4 years ago

Text

Phobia; Han jisung

Genre: angst, fluff (if you squint)

Warnings: mention of nightmares

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: Hi! I’m back from my hiatus with another angst fic inspired by the drama it’s okay to not be okay combined with a little bit of phobia I hope you guys like it!

The girl who fed on nightmares

there was a girl who woke up every night by the nightmares, demons that haunted her dreams. She was twisted inside, held back by the painful memories of her past.

panting breath, irregular heartbeat, a cold sweat dripping from her forehand. she opened her eyes to meet with the darkness of her room. Terror washed over her. frightened.

"it's just another nightmare" she said trying to calm down the thoughts that were messing up her already deranged head.

a familiar setup, you might think she grew accustomed to the feeling after the third night but that's was not true the lingering feeling of numbness grew by the time she realized there was no escape from the chains that still cuffed her up.

the morning came earlier, with very few hours of sleep, she got up and got ready for work. the days turned into a monotone.

she arrived to bookstore, pure silence made her mind feel content. A moment of peace in the torrential rain.

"excuse me" a soft voice called her, almost as quiet as a whisper that's being shared between lovers.

she looked up to meet with a boy, with black hair and a mischievous smile, he looked cheerful with an undeniable strong aura that surrounded his slender figure, definitely not the type you would see in a library at 8am in the morning.

"yes" she replied politely to the boy who carried a handful on books on his arms.

"i want to check all of these out please" he placed the books on the counter.

As she took a look at the pile, she got intrigued by the peculiar selection.

children books.

but not the kind that you read to a child unless you want them to have nightmares, and she knew damn well about that.

"you like this gruesome stuff ?" she was never the kind to question other people's interests but for some strange motive she wanted to know.

" it's a children's book how can you call this masterpiece gruesome" the boy seemed rather offended by her words.

" the pictures make me want to cry my eyes out and I'm an adult, there's no way this book was targeted for such audience" she said

" it seems like you know nothing about this books not the author , therefore I won't be engaging in a discussion, you can continue to be ignorant later just let me borrow them so I can go" he said annoyed, taping with his finger on top of the dusty cover.

The girl refused to give out response and rather continued to do her job. she sure didn't get paid enough for that.

"here" she said handing him the books along with the returning slip. "you have 2 weeks to return them unless you want more time come before the deadline to extend the borrowing period"

"thank you" he left not sparing to look at her for the last time before exiting through the door.

the browned eyed boy who just happened to be named han jisung, she found out his name through his library card. Was all she could think about, not because she was interested, but because of the of his actions. Usually she evaded social situations, she found people not worth of her time, but there was something about that boy that made her wanted to crush him like a fragile butterfly with broken wings.

another meaningless night, it was tiring to get emptied out like that. Every time she closed her fears shaped into a reality. she was stuck with the phobia.

days passed by, a body that walks through the streets without a soul. There was nothing she wanted nothing she desired more but to fall asleep. So she lived her life longing for that moment.

going through the bookshelves placing them correctly by alphabetical order. A pair of eyes stuck to the back of her head.

a boy who watched her carefully from the other side of the room, and he probably thought he was being precautious, but she knew she was being observed.

Jisung. Who came everyday just to sit as far back from the main entrance as possible, hiding in a corner reading the books he so much loved. After the first encounter with the girl he could no longer sleep the same way. His thoughts circled around her small frame and the sound of her broken voice.

there was this thing about her, he called it despondency and he was drowned right into it. like the tales had taken over a human form.

by the end of the two weeks he stood there fidgeting, over the course of the last couple of days his little instigating got him nowhere. She repeated a daily routine, there was nothing to analyze in her vague movements and worn out expressions. However he knew she hides more than the human eye can perceive behind that weary facade.

The moment she clocked out he followed her outside.

"why are you following me" the girl stopped her tracks and made a spin over her ankles, just to meet with him.

"I needed to ask you something" He said rather shy. all the courage he build up over the weeks disappearing at the strong gaze that confronted him.

"I'm not obligated to respond, do me a favor and get lost" She turned around and continued to walk.

It was an expected reply exactly what made jisung decide it was better to come up with a different plan.

every day he would put a book of his collection on top of her desk hoping she would get interested enough to read it.

but instead she would just eye the cover and place it back to its shelf.

Not until one day she meet to something different, the book had a folded edge, opening the page carefully, her fingers ghosting over the words printed on the glossy paper.

"bad memories from the past that he wanted to erase from his head"

"were replayed in his dreams every night"

"and haunted him nonstop"

"the boy was terrified of falling asleep"

a creeping feeling went down her spine, and her trembling hands made the book fall. Her own monsters greeted her with a grin. Collapsing with the wooden floor.

jisung got petrified by the loud sound. He hurried his way to find the girl unconscious on the ground. it was all his fault.

a disturbing sound came from her mouth. She woke up in an oddly unfamiliar house. Her body covered by a thin blanket, the walls were closing like the screams that got caught up in her throat.

jisung who was downstairs making dinner ran through the stairs and opened the door alarmed at the high pitched noises.

"Are you okay?" He exclaimed trying to recover his breath.

"what am I doing here? where am i ?" she asked not trying to panic even more. She felt so dizzy the room kept on spinning.

"you're at my house, you passed out at the library" He said scratching the nape of his neck with guiltiness.

"I remember now, this was your deed, you and your stupid nauseating books" by the looks of it she had been gone for a while. Not to mention the longer she was in a slumber the longer the suffering.

"not my fault you got scared by a book for 5 year olds" He said shrugging, with an unprovoked expression.

"And you dared to call me an ignorant" she deadpanned.

"Do you fear anything?" He asked out of the blue.

what is the real meaning behind fear?. Fear is tangible. Is the anxiety, the desperation to run away and hide forever where they can't find you, it means to want to stab your eyes with a safety pin to blind the pain. Is the captivity of oneself.

"You're scared of yourself aren't you?" it no longer sounded like a question but more like an affirmation.

he had figured you out in no time. You couldn't let them see the vulnerable side, not to anyone and most definitely not this stranger.

"You said it yourself you know nothing so leave alone before it's too late" She threatened.

"Anyways I'm sorry for being so persistent, never intended to make you feel uncomfortable, I'll be downstairs if you need me, dinner is ready if you want to come and have something to eat before you leave" He knew it was better not to push it if he wanted answers.

But why was he so desperate to understand the world inside her head ?

Jisung felt the loneliness of her being. He came up to the conclusion that he wanted to be the person who brought the girl back to life.

After some time he grew a step closer to her, not to the point she would stop pushing him away but at least his efforts had made a very insignificant change.

She would let him read the books to her once in a while, she fed into the words, relating to every single one of them. But things were still the same at night, she would break down to the horrifying sight.

"Jisung why are you still here ?" she asked him unable to understand why the boy remained by her side even when she treated him like a piece of trash.

"Because im trapped under your spell" he confessed.

"You’re e going to end up in so much pain" she said looking into his eyes.

"You can't go to heaven before crossing the flames of hell" He responded with certainty. “ and If I have to burn I rather do it while still holding you”

"Would you still like me if you knew the kind of monster I am, not the one you read in books but the kind that hides behind a mask and transforms at night"

" I would still like you if you were the devil himself"

" The devil wont tear your soul apart like I would trust me" She knew she would drive him into despair. But she had warned him multiple times, from here she no longer take accountability, he would meet fear. She would make sure of that.

I'm stuck with the phobia although I want to stay with you I'm scared that you might disappear in between the shadows. How can I hold you when I was made to destroy you.

there was a girl whose world was a pitch black hole and her insides were dark and twisted, and a boy who fell in love with her repulsiveness swore to never leave her, but her darkness overshadowed the fugacious happiness of a spur moment and the voices in her head claimed that she was all alone. but the boy sang to her a lullaby that lulled her into a deep sleep and for the first time in forever there were no painful memories in her dreams.

She was the girl who fed on nightmares. The one he once read about and the one he was now holding on his arms.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fics #stray kids au #hwang hyunjin #bang chan #kim seungmin #han jisung #seo changbin #lee felix #yang jeongin #lee minho #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids #stray kids scenarios

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nad-zeta · 4 years ago

Text

Match up ｡◕‿◕｡

Hello, may I get a ikemen vampire match please! :D PHYSICAL FEATURES: 5'5", long straight black hair (past the shoulders, but not past the chest), light brown skin, beauty mark on my left cheek almost adjacent to nostril, "fiery" brown almond shaped eyes and a little bit of a thicker eyebrows, body figure: close to a pear shape or an hourglass (I really can't distinguish the difference between the two when it comes to my body).

PERSONALITY: I tend to be down to earth when I need to be, but to be honest my head is always in the clouds and I have a habit to look forward to the future rather than to focus on the present. People would tend to think I am strong and could be a good leader, but I think they hold this perception because I am confident in myself and strong willed. In actuality I hate to lead others, rather I like to help everyone else with their vision or goals. I am also someone who finds positivity in many situations, but sometimes pessimistic (or just pure procrastination) gets the better of me, but I have no worries when this happens because I becone my own motivator. Big dreamer and occasionally a romantic (when the mood is right). Also, I have had my shares of being shut out during conversationsor have noticed people wanting to be a part of a group or to be inclusive in some manner, due to these experiencesand observations I found myselfalways wanting to make sure everyonehas had their voice spoken and listened to. As a direct influence to my personality on how I want everyone to have a voice and to be listened to I became someonewho enjoyed being the listener and the observer in the group. I have recently taken the Bridge Myer Test and it said I am and INFP (which I believe describes me fairly well).

HOW WOULD I ACT IN A RELATIONSHIP: I love to listen to others and observe their reactions, understanding who they are on a deeper level, this only further my understanding of my love language: which is quality time. Just spending time with the person I love and listening to them while they interchangeably listen to me is my ultimate high. Even enjoying each others company and not saying a word sits well in my heart, as long as we are enjoying ourselves. I am not a level 10 PDA person, but to be honest I wouldn't mind having someone who is expressive in that area (as long as I am given space afterwards), to be honset I may even enjoy it. At the start of a relationship I tend to have rose colored glasses on max as I pursue someone I like, but as they admit their emotions they hold for me and the lovely valentine styled scene shatters and I begin to see everything more clearly. Instantly I tend to only want a relationship of friendship to grow between us, which becomes a better outcome as I can grow to love the confesser as the person they really are and actually develop genuine love and not just a crush or lust.

MORE INFO ABOUT ME: I am currently studying architecture and I love the arts. Hobbies of mine is to expand my herb garden, go jogging, go white water rafting, learn to roller skate (still a beginner), learn to paddle board (still a dream of mine to even start this hobbie), help my dad pick vegtables from the garden, and feed our sheep. I tend to take the beaten path when traveling, shopping, or finding a place to eat. Also for a little fun for this match-up, I'm minoring in Medevial Renaissance in hopes to use my degree to go to Europe or Japan and restore old castles or buildings. Speaking about traveling, I love areas that heavy on history, culture, and connected towards nature (some areas that come to mind is Scotland, New Orleans Louisiana, Savannah Georgia, Montana, Italy, Greece, ect.). Some of my other invests would be: enjoying horror, mystery, psychologically teasing movies and books, murder podcasts, history documentaries (especially history documentaries that involves the involvement of phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,.ect) paranormal YouTubevideos, I love to go antiquing, and enjoy exploringthe food world (while I also improvemy skill in cooking), and I enjoy indie pop music and recently found myself loving songs with a twist of blues.

Hi hi love! 🌻❤Thank you so much for the request and sorry for taking so long with it! I hope you have a super good day, sending lots of hugs! ❤☺Hope ya enjoy it! ❤☺ @100christy

So I match you with.................. Comte

The first time you met the legend, Saint Germain de Comte was during one of your classes minoring in the Medieval Renaissance. They had gotten in a very handsome man with gold, dusty coloured hair and timeless golden eyes, to guest speak during one of the lectures. He spoke with a sense of a knowing grace about alchemy, the traditions, cultures and history of that time. He had encaptivated all the students; all eyes were on him as everyone hung onto his every word. He elegantly walked about the lecture hall speaking as if he had, had a first account of the event being described and that is when his eyes locked with yours. His golden eyes were gleaming in the rays of the afternoon sun, piercing down into the depths of your soul, and that is when this mysterious man stole your heart. And little known to you, the second this man saw your fiery brown almond eyes, his breath caught in his throat and he found that for the first time in his immortal life, his heart had been stolen right from under his nose.

For the rest of his lecture, you were off in the clouds, far away from reality, in fact by the time you had come back down to earth the lesson was over and all the students were on their feet to leave. You caught a glance of the golden man’s coat that he had forgotten laying on the front desk. Suddenly you felt the urge to chase after him. You trailed behind the blond man, hoping to catch up to him to deliver him his coat back. You followed him all the way to some fancy museum when you lost sight of him as he disappeared through a large wooden door. There was a mystical air about the door and sounding area, and as a travel and mystery lover, you couldn’t help but follow after the man. The room around you changed from crips white museum walls, to an old victorian style room filled to the brim with the most fascinating antiques. You wished nothing more than to explore the house filled with the most curious nicknacks, but you pushed on to find the man to return him the coat.

You were suddenly startled when the very man that you were trying to track down, appeared behind you and tapped you on the shoulder, “Are you looking for me, Ma Cherie.” You got a freight but relaxed the second you caught sight of his gentle smile.

“Found you! You forgot your coat in class, so I thought I might return it to you.” He smiled down tenderly at you as he gently took the coat from your hands, “I hope you didn’t go through to much trouble to get this back to me my dear,” He then carefully took your hand and laid a chaste kiss on it, “would you like to join me in the garden from some tea, Ma Cherie. I would like to do at least something to thank you for going through all that trouble.” A sad smile crossed his face as he gently took your hand in his and led you to the garden signalling for the butler to bring the two of you some tea and snacks to the gazebo out in the lush, vibrant garden.

Comte couldn’t help but smile a fond smile down at you as you excitingly examined his herb garden. He crouched down beside you and gushed all about his little plants he had nursed from seedling, and you couldn’t help but smile up at the man. His timeless old face had tuned youthful as he raved all about the herbs and how his butler uses them in their meals. He even offered you a little patch to start your own, and before you could decline, he dropped the “you will be here for one-month” bomb. And that is how your relationship with the pureblood started.

In the weeks to follow you and Comte spent a significant amount of time together from travelling around the province to visit every antique shop insight to doing a bit of gardening together.

As it was, the two of you shared a common love language, and that would be quality time, and as such, every free moment the two of you got, was spent together. Comte is very much a busybody and has many different friends in different places, so its no surprise when he invites you along to travel with him. Once he is done with his business the two of your travel around the area going sightseeing, from looking at different castles to discovering all that is to be known about French architecture of the late 19th century. In fact, sometimes your travels expand even out of Paris to neighbouring provinces and areas.

When the two of you aren’t off travelling the world together, you are back at the mansion just enjoying each others company. Sometimes the two of you would simply be in the same room together each busy with their own task while enjoying the company of the other presence.

As time passes the two of you become relatively close friends, Comte knows you have to go back in a month, and he wouldn’t dare ask you to give up your life in the future for him. So he cherishes every moment spent in the past with you. He knows his heart will be broken in two when the day comes, but he is determined to do what it takes to make you happy. After all, you are the love of his life, whether you know it or not. This man fell in love with you the moment he first met you, and after spending countless days with you, that love has only grown.

He loves how strong-willed and confident you are, giving all the men and woman at the fancy banquets a run for their money. He loves how much you have helped the fellow residents subtly realize their visions and goals and have helped them to grow. He especially loves the way you include everyone in your conversations. You're a truly kind and caring soul, and he can't help but deeply cherish you. So he does the only thing he can do while you are still with him….. he spoils you. This man loves to buy gifts for you, and he WILL buy you anything and everything your heart desires.

And through your time spent the golden pureblood, you have come to realize that somewhere along the line you stopped seeing him as a friend and instead saw him as a potential partner. Your rose coloured glasses were shattered, as you had come upon that realization one night during one of the balls. You were dancing with Comte and couldn’t help but beam at the carefree smile he wore, and at that moment you realized you wanted to spend the rest of your life seeing that carefree smile. You realized that your feeling had gone beyond some measly crush or just lust, but that you truly loved him as a best friend, dare I say, soul mate. You were now determined to make your feelings know.

You confessed your feeling to Comte one sunny afternoon while the two of you went white water rafting. After making your way down the river, the two of you landed up in a still lake in the middle of the forest. The two of you had found this river a while back while you were hiking after you had insisted on taking the beaten path. On the waters of the crystal clear still water you looked up into Comte's golden eyes and confessed your love. To say this man was delighted would be an understatement. Gentlemanly as always he gently took hold of your hand and kissed it, while stating that he felt the exact same way.

The two fo you cuties were inseparable, always off together doing some or other fun activity. Comte loved that you had so many varies hobbies, and he truly enjoyed participating in each and every one of these hobbies. Be it jogging, or rollerskating he was always keen to try new things.

His favourite of your hobbies would have to be shopping and discovering new places to eat. If the two of you aren’t doing something active, you are out in the town buying everything in sight and trying variouse new restaurants. It has actually become a lunchtime tradition for Comte to seek you out and escort you into town where the two of you would have lunch together at a new café.

The two of you have a very open and honest relationship that has been built on the best foundation….. Friendship. Comte absolutely loves those quieter moments with you nestled against his chest as the two of you talk about anything and everything. He loves that you actually listen to and try and, understand who he is on a deeper level.

He is at his happiest when he is just spending time with you and listening to you as you interchangeably listen to him as well. Speaking of, you absolutely love picking this man’s brain about cultures and history, and he loves nothing more than to tell you story upon story of historical events that he has lived through and witnessed first hand. This man lives for that excited expression on your face whenever the two of you talk history, culture and how it is connected to nature. And oooh when comte found out you liked mysteries and stories about the paranormal (phantoms, occult, witchcraft, voodoo,etc), he was all too pleased to spill the tea and even do some research on the topics together with you.

All and all the two of you have a lot of fun together, whether its out exploring the world or spending a quiet night in simply nestled in each other's arms exchanging words of love. Comte will spend every day of your mortal life cherishing you. And every day of your immortal life together showering you with an endless amount of love and affection. After all, he is at his happiest when you are happy, his dearest soul mate

Other Potential matches………………… Dazai

I hope you enjoyed this love and have the best day!❤☺🥰

#match ups #ikesen matchup #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #comte de saint germain #ikemen vampire comte #comte #submission

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rumbelleshowdown · 4 years ago

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Author: Tea Rose

Prompt: Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

North Star

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

#rumbelle showdown 2020 #round three entry #author: tea rose #rumbelle fic

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