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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (chapter 10 - FINALE)

series masterlist

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 6k

warnings: implied smut, angst, fluff, romcom tropes, lots of swearing, pregnancy mention/minor breeding kink

note: click the asterisk for a hyperlink to a translation when the time comes

Six months later...

“It’s good!” she beamed, setting down the last chunk of pages and taking off her reading glasses. “Oh man, that ending hurt, but it’s really, really good!”

You leaned back into the plush chair and sighed with relief. “You think so?”

“It’s best-seller material,” she assured. “With some editing, of course. God, I can’t believe you were sitting on this for so long.”

“What are the biggest changes you want to make?” you asked.

“Well, I’m thinking we’ll cut the romantic subplot,” she mentioned in passing, like it was no big deal. “It’s distracting.

“Distracing?” you repeated. “Nia, it’s the story. It’s a romance.”

“I thought it was a thriller,” she frowned.

“A romance disguised as a thriller,” you corrected.

“Listen, I get what you mean, but I didn’t get this—” she tapped the nameplate on her desk: ‘NIA BROWN, HEAD PUBLISHER’ in shiny letters— “for nothing. I know what I’m talking about, and I know what your readers want. Violence, gore, drama!”

“It has all that!” you defended. “But it’s all there to talk about the real love he finds in her!”

“What do you mean ‘real love’?” she pressed flatly.

“I mean…” you pondered. “I mean love where you feel like a version of yourself that you actually like. Love where you feel unjudged, no precedents or caveats or back-up plans. Love that fucking hurts because you never wanted to rely on anything or anybody. Love that lives in silence because you don’t even need words.”

She furrowed her brow. “That… sounds nice, I guess, but I don’t think anybody really has that. Everybody needs a back-up plan. Everybody needs words— a writer should know that.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” you groaned, your face falling into your hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. Jesus Christ, I’m a moron.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“I had that! I had that, and I let it go! I’m the dumbest bitch on the fucking face of the Earth.”

“Don’t say that,” she soothed, but you were already standing up.

“No, I need to find him,” you decided as you grabbed your coat and briefcase. “I need to go back and try to fix this. I love him, I’ve never— I didn’t know I could love like that, I didn’t know I could be loved like that… oh my god, I need to find him. It isn’t over.”

“It isn’t over?” she repeated incredulously. “You said Michael signed the papers!”

“It’s not Michael,” you rolled your eyes as you stormed out of the office. “It was never Michael.”

You ran into the first telephone box you could find, slamming the door shut as you searched your purse for the business card that probably wasn't even in there.

After a moment, you gasped with delight when you pulled it from a very bottom pocket and began punching in the number as fast as possible with shivering hands, long-distance charges be damned.

“Hello?” the confused voice on the other end answered.

“Mrs. Alberti, hi— does Sebastian still work for you?” you asked hastily.

“No, dear," she sighed, apparently recognizing you by just your voice (and likely your request), "he quit recently, and moved away.”

“Moved?" you repeated with a wrinkled brow. "Where?!”

“I assume back home, sweetheart; to Bucharest.”

“Shit,” you sighed. “Shit!”

“Are you having your ‘run through the airport’ moment, sweetheart?” she realized.

“Yes, I think so— do you have his address?”

“Well, no, but I’ll see what I can find.”

You waited rather impatiently as she shuffled through papers in the background, mumbling to herself as she apparently searched for information that could help you.

“All I’ve got is the address of a previous employer… a carpenter,” she finally explained, breaking the silence. “It was his only reference when he came to work here," she explained.

"Wow, you really did just hire him for his looks," you blurted out.

"He was desperate for work, that boy had nowhere else to go,” she defended.

“Right, well, I guess if that’s my only lead then I’ve gotta go for it,” you decided. “Thank you, Mrs. Alberti.”

“I told you to call me when that book was a hit. Did it happen yet?” she piped up.

“It’s not published yet,” you explained. “It needs some more work… but I think it’s almost ready.”

“I think so, too, dear.”

Learn Romanian in 10 Weeks! A practical language guide.

Week 1, Day 1: Greetings

Hello Salut

Goodbye La revedere

Thank you Mulțumesc

You’re welcome Cu plăcere

Good morning Bună dimineata

Good afternoon Bună ziua

Good evening Bună seara

Good night Noapte bună

You brushed your hair back out of your face with a sigh, turning the page as you mumbled the phrases to yourself. Broken Hungarian and your high school education in Latin were not getting you as far with this as you had been hoping.

How are you? Ce mai faci

I love you Te iubesc

“Te iubesc, te iubesc, te iubesc,” you repeated over and over in a whisper.

Each day you had a new routine: practice Romanian for an hour, check flight prices online (or call the airline), research what you knew about Sebastian and the address Mrs. Alberti had given you, and then get back to practicing Romanian again.

Oh, and occasionally you worked on the edits Nia wanted for your manuscript. You were focusing on the minor changes— grammar errors, rearranging sentences— and putting off her big request for the removal and replacement of the romantic aspects. More than ever, they seemed like the most important thing the book had to offer.

You had a small apartment, just a place to sleep and shower really; much too small to fit everything you’d already taken from Michael’s house (you know, the one that used to be your house) along with what he’d shipped to you that you forgot before. He included a letter in the package as well. You threw it out, unopened.

Truthfully, you never really fully unpacked. As much as you realized you probably should, in order to really feel like you had a real home, you couldn’t bring yourself to empty your suitcases when you knew you’d be packing them again any day now.

You also realized how outrageous this all was. Ignoring the unlikelihood of even finding him in the first place, Sebastian probably wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you broke his heart, left, and then randomly tracked him down after over half a year. But to be totally transparent, you weren’t really doing this to get him back, necessarily. You knew that was probably never going to happen. You were doing this because you needed to try. You needed to go there, and get hurt, and come back knowing you did everything you could: you’d never be able to live with yourself if you did anything less than that.

You couldn’t start your new life until you had put everything else to bed. And if that meant being 100%, painfully certain that you and Sebastian could never be together, then that was just how it needed to be.

After two weeks of looking, there still weren’t any reasonable flights to Bucharest, so you booked another trip by train, figuring you could use the three day trip to brush up on the key Romanian phrases you were going to need as well as prepare your speech.

Yes, your plan was a speech. You didn’t have a back-up plan. You didn’t even have a return ticket back to London yet.

A passage by Yeats came to mind; But I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams.

In all your life, you’d never understood before why someone would want to only have their dreams. But now, here you were… and yes, it felt terrifying and vulnerable and uncomfortably naked, but it felt pretty damn good, too.

With a sigh, you scribbled out the last sentence you’d written, tossing the trash paper aside. You looked up out the window at the scenery flying by in a blur, worried that if you didn’t look out from the train every once in a while you’d get motion sickness.

The sun was beginning to set already, the green of hills and trees tinted orange. You only indulged in it for a moment, though, before getting back to this god-forsaken speech you were deadset on finishing before you arrived in Bucharest tomorrow. At first, you’d figured the translating would be the most difficult part… but writing in English wasn’t exactly a piece of cake, either. You had so much to say, and suddenly so few words for any of it.

You’d probably done more editing on this than any of your novels combined; the crumpled up pages spilling out of your wastebasket were proof enough of that.

“And I’m a fucking writer!” you groaned aloud, to no one in particular. “How is anybody else supposed to be able to do this, if I can’t?”

Other people aren’t as emotionally constipated as you, the voice of your inner critic reminded you plainly, making you roll your eyes at yourself.

A rap at your door made you sit up straighter and turn around. A stewardess slid open the frosted glass slightly to give you a friendly smile. “Is everything alright, ma’am?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of her accent. “Is that a Romanian accent?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” she nodded.

“So you’re fluent in Romanian and English,” you concluded.

“And Portuguese, yes ma’am,” she agreed.

“Could you come in here for a moment and help me translate something?”

She seemed slightly confused at the request but stepped forward, sliding the door most of the way shut behind her. Leaning beside you on the desk, she picked up your handwritten letter and blinked her wide, brown eyes a few times. You felt slightly embarrassed knowing she was reading such intimate thoughts, but that was how it felt the first time someone read anything you wrote so you were pretty much used to it by now.

“I usually ask the passengers what brings them to Bucharest,” she mumbled after a moment. “This is the most interesting thing so far. Am I reading this correctly, that you intend to confess your love to someone you met—” she scanned the page quickly— “during a vacation in Hungary?”

“Yup,” you smiled awkwardly, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

“And he doesn’t speak English?” she assumed; you nodded. “And… you don’t speak Romanian?”

You nodded again, and she breathed in and out quickly, sitting beside you as she stared at the letter.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she explained.

“Sorry for sucking you into the entropic vortex that is my life,” you chuckled.

“I don’t mean to pry,” she sighed, setting the letter down, and you laughed a little internally at the idea that she was worried about prying when she just read the most personal piece of writing you’d ever put to the page, “but do you think this is… enough? I mean, to build a relationship on?”

You just gave her a shrug. “I have no idea. But, you know, I spent my whole life worrying about stuff like that. I dated my husband for seven years before we got married, because I wanted to be sure. I was initially interested in him because he was successful and ambitious, and it made me feel like this was a really secure relationship that I could rely on. I double majored in English and Computer Science because I wanted a more stable career to fall back on in case being a writer didn’t work out, and even though it did, I’ve spent most of my career publishing what I thought people wanted to read instead of what I wanted to write, so I’d have a better shot at a good paycheck. I grew up thinking the best thing I could ever have was security. And now I’m divorced, watching my royalties shrink every month, more insecure in every way than I’ve ever been, and I’m realizing that the choices I made didn’t give me what I wanted. I gave up so much in the name of safety, and I let the one good thing I’d ever found go, so I could go back to being the same person I always was. I’m ready to settle again, if this doesn’t work… I’m ready to accept that this is just the way life goes, and be thankful that I got a taste of the kind of stuff I thought only existed in the sort of books I’d read but never write.”

She swallowed as she looked at you, and you felt your eyes water as you stared out the window towards the dimming scenery one more time, smiling at the sight of a distant village, a church with a steeple, vineyards and farms. Someone’s whole life is in that little town, you imagined, and they’re just watching your train go by like they see every other day.

“Sebastian gave me more security than I’d ever had before, even though the whole thing was such a ridiculous little whirlwind, and nothing like I ever imagined my life could be. But he made me want to be honest and raw and write sappy letters like the one you just read. He doesn’t have any money, at least as far as I know, and I haven’t known him for seven years, and on paper it makes no sense… but you would understand if you knew him. If you felt that joy that he radiates, if you saw him live his simple little life like it’s the best thing in the world. You would understand if you knew how much I needed this. You would understand if you had been just as miserable being who I’ve been for so long, and finally had a chance to be somebody you think you were maybe meant to be the whole time. So, if I never see him again, I hope I just get to thank him.”

You waited for her to say something, but furrowed your brow at the long moment of silence, looking back from the window finally and finding her staring at you with a tear running down her cheek. When you met her gaze, she quickly wiped it away with a sniffle and looked down at your desk again. “Let’s get to translating, shall we?” she announced with a half-smile.

You noticed the way the other passengers looked at you as everyone was in line to deboard from the train car; you stuck out like a sore thumb, since everybody else was carrying heavy luggage and all you had was a backpack.

In your defense, you really had no idea how to pack for a trip where you knew neither the duration nor the true final destination. So, it was mainly filled with your essentials, a few clothes for any kind of weather, and enough leu to buy anything else you needed along the way.

The stewardess was waving goodbye to everyone as they shuffled out into the train station, occasionally stopping to shake a hand or give directions to nearby destinations. When you were just about to pass by, though, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Good luck,” she whispered, holding you just a moment too long before pulling back and giving you an encouraging look. “If he doesn’t take you back, feel free to blame my translation… because if he knows what’s in your heart, I know he’ll say yes.”

“Yeah, that’s the hard part isn’t it?” you laughed weakly. “Thank you for your help. I guess if I come back alone for the return trip tonight, you’ll know how bad it went.”

“Then I hope I don’t see you again,” she winked.

It being a major train station and all, cabs were waiting around every corner so it was pretty easy to grab one and give them the address you already had written down for this exact purpose.

“This is pretty far,” the driver explained, “on the edge of town. Not a tourist spot.”

“Good, because I’m not a tourist,” you nodded, already only giving him half your attention as you pulled out the translated speech to practice.

“And you can afford this?” he pressed. You sighed and dug through your bag, pulling out a haphazard stack of bills and handing them through the plastic partition.

“Is this enough?” you asked, and he didn’t answer, just taking the money and starting the car as you smiled and leaned back in your seat.

As much as you had tried to convince yourself to not get your hopes up, the butterflies in your stomach felt more like whole birds at this point, demanding to break free as you practiced the words hand-written on the page over and over again, committing it all to memory.

“What are you reading?” the cab driver asked after several minutes.

“Oh, nothing,” you mumbled, “sorry if I’m bothering you, you can turn on the radio.”

“No, it’s not bothering me, but what you are saying… it’s very odd. It sounds like something from a play, or movie,” he explained.

“Um, it’s not,” you replied, a little embarrassed. “But does it sound like it’s from a good movie? Like, if you heard a character say this to another character, would you think they should get together?”

“I… don’t know,” he answered, sounding confused. “I mean, it depends on what happened, right? How they met, how well they get along…”

So, you told him the whole story, as succinctly as possible (which is not very succinct at all). By the end, he was actually giving commentary as you spoke.

“Why the hell did you leave?” he interjected, clearly irritated with you. “You loved him!”

“Yeah, well, sometimes love isn’t enough! I loved my husband too, and look how that turned out,” you defended.

“But that’s different. That was love for all the wrong reasons.”

“I promise, it felt very real at the time,” you shrugged.

“And now?” he countered. “You realize that this man— Sebastian, right?— is real.”

“I hope I’m right this time,” you offered. “But even if I am, he may not agree.”

The driver scoffed, taking a hand off the wheel to wave dismissively. “If he’s anything like you said, then he will still be completely in love with you. After all, you still feel the same way after all this time apart, don’t you?”

“If anything, I love him more every day,” you admitted, your heart beating quickly just to say it aloud.

“You know, when I met my wife, she was engaged to another man. He was rich, good-looking, and he wasn’t even a bad guy unlike this husband you describe. He was a good man, but he wasn’t right for her. They were… content together, but she wasn’t truly happy. Every night I would come to her window and beg her to marry me, because I knew that she knew we were meant for each other, but she was scared because her family wouldn’t approve and she would be a poor man’s wife.”

“How did you convince her to marry you instead?” you asked eagerly, sucked into the story already.

“I didn’t. On the day of the wedding, some people told me to go and break it up but I didn’t. I thought it would be wrong, to try to ruin her happiness and take it for myself by making a scene at the wedding. I realized she was her own woman and if she wanted to choose him, I had to let her. I had locked myself in my house, not wanting to see anyone that day, and she appeared at my door. I didn’t need to convince her because she knew the truth in her heart, and called off the wedding herself.”

“Wow,” you smiled.

“She was still in her dress!” he recalled with a hearty laugh. “She looked like an angel. We were married just a few days later. And next month will be thirty years,” he added as he lifted his left hand to show the golden band on his finger.

“Thirty years, that’s… a long time,” you sighed.

“It wasn’t always easy,” he admitted. “But it was always worth it.”

Just as you wondered what you could possibly say to that, you felt the car slow down to a stop.

“This is the address you gave me, this is it,” he explained, pointing out his passenger-side window. You leaned up against the glass and gasped in dawning fear as you saw the storefront dark and empty inside.

“No, nonono,” you whispered rapidly to yourself as you swung open the door and hopped out, pressing your face against the glass to try to get a look inside and finding what was undeniably a closed carpentry business. There was a note on the door, taped on the inside of the glass, and you knew enough Romanian to know it said something about a vacation and three months.

“Shit!” you yelped, holding your face in your hands, wondering if your journey had come to an end before it really began.

“Are you alright?” the driver asked, rolling down his window to speak to you.

“This was my only lead, I don’t have his real address,” you explained. “He used to work here, I thought maybe someone would know him…”

He sighed, giving you a sympathetic look. “Get back in, we can search nearby. You came too far to give in yet.”

But getting back in the car felt like giving in, too, which you realized as you looked back at the note taped to the carpenter's door. This was the closest you'd gotten, and it felt wasteful to leave with nothing.

Just as you were ready to hop in the passenger seat and start searching aimlessly through suburban Bucharest, or maybe look around for a Romanian yellow pages, you heard a noise from behind you, across the street; a laugh. His laugh. But it couldn’t be because it was too good to be true… and yet you found yourself whipping your head around and hoping beyond all reason that it was Sebastian.

Across the street was a restaurant, with a large patio where patrons were dining and chatting as they sat at wrought iron tables, and your eyes searched the crowd for any signs of him.

And then your gaze landed on a head of thick brunette hair, red and gold highlights so obvious now when the sunlight hit it this way. Broad shoulders wrapped in a white button-up shirt. He was facing away from you but he was looking to the side so you could see his face; he was smiling, laughing at something someone had said. And it was his smile that you recognized; it was like everything else faded away, and in that moment you thought maybe you could almost be happy with just this, just seeing him be happy even if it had nothing to do with you.

“Sebastian,” you called out to him, but he didn’t react. “Sebastian!”

His whole body turned, his eyes met yours, and you couldn't help but let the tears well in your eyes as you ran across the road to him.

He looked, understandably, stunned, and you realized he was actually waiting on a table at the moment; he said something to them, apparently excusing himself, and stepped closer to you.

But he stopped walking, not coming any closer, not exactly dragging you into his arms like you might've preferred, but with a breath to try to soothe your racing mind, you summoned your memories of the practiced letter and began. *

“Când am venit în Ungaria…” you started slowly, doing your best to remember the words and hoping your pronunciation wasn’t too awful, “nu căutam dragoste. Căutam spațiu, claritate și poate o idee de carte de un milion de dolari. În schimb, am găsit tot ce am căutat toată viața mea…”

You did your best to bite back tears, especially when his expression was nearly unreadable and you had no idea how well this was going.

“Ești tu, Sebastian, bineînțeles că ești tu,” you sighed, laughing slightly. “Ai fost acolo pentru mine când nici nu știam ce vreau de la nimeni. Ai fost prietenul meu fără să spui vreodată un cuvânt - cel puțin nu un cuvânt pe care l-am înțeles. M-ai iubit și nu știam ce să fac cu asta, pentru că uitasem cu mult timp în urmă cum se simțea să fii iubit. Și ce simțeai să iubești cu adevărat pe cineva. Dar te iubesc. Și am fost prost să te las să pleci, atât de neconceput de prost. Vreau să fim noi, Sebastian. Lasă-mă să te iubesc, mai dă-mi o șansă și îți promit că nu te voi mai lăsa să pleci niciodată.

The first thing he said was your name, and just the way he said it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“I… I dream that you would come back,” he shakily replied. “But now I cannot believe. You are my dream.”

Tears were openly flowing at this point and you wanted to run into his arms, but you tried to stay calm and hear him out. He stepped closer, almost hesitant, like you would run away if he got too close too fast.

“I love you, very much that I am sure I am insane person,” he explained with a grin, and you giggled. “We will live anywhere, do anything you would like— be my wife.”

You gasped as he pulled you into him, gripping your arms tightly as his desperation became apparent.

“Marry me?” he asked softly.

“Da,” you nodded, “yes, of course, anything—”

He kissed you suddenly, but gently, and it said more than any words in any language could.

It was a small wedding, in the Hungarian countryside by the lake. You could remember diving into that lake for lost pages of your manuscript; you could remember looking out over the water and dreaming of this moment you were living right now, thinking it was impossible.

He didn’t have much family, but they welcomed you with open arms.

Your family, well, they were too busy with planning another wedding, for your ex-husband and your ex-sister. A few of them sent cards but the rest were suspiciously quiet. You honestly didn’t even notice… you had a new family to attend to, anyhow. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any guests, since you were able to track down and invite a stewardess named Maria, and a cab driver named Andrei and his wife, Paola.

Sebastian’s cousins weaved flowers into your hair and his grandmother tailored her dress to fit you like a glove. A picture of his parents was hung nearby in tribute; he told you they would’ve wanted to see him get married but that he felt, in some way, they were able to even if they had passed away quite some time ago.

You realized you’d never seen him in anything even mildly formal before; in fact, the suit he wore was rather casual, all things considered, but he looked so painfully cute in it. Sometimes you thought he actually looked a bit out of place wearing a shirt, though, especially one that was buttoned up all the way.

Luckily, the shirt was halfway unbuttoned about ten minutes into the reception.

Mrs. Alberti cooked a massive dinner for everyone, and even grew the flowers that you carried down the cobblestone aisle.

And wow, can Romanians drink. You had to be careful not to try to keep up with them, because if you had you would’ve been blacked out halfway into the night and the last thing you wanted was to forget even a moment of this.

As the night started to wind down to a close, you and your new husband retired to the lakehouse, running up the stairs and finding them as creaky as always.

He wrapped his arms around you in the hall and kissed you eagerly as you stumbled back into the bedroom, tripping over the doorway and falling onto the bed together.

It felt so right to have his weight on top of you, to feel his smile against your lips, to wrap your arms around his neck.

“This room,” he mumbled into the kiss. “Do you remember first time?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “da, I remember, how could I forget?”

He grinned and moved his lips down to your neck. "I thought of you every day… I love you,” he whispered.

“Te iubesc,” you whispered back.

It was almost like the first time in so many ways: passionate, yet oddly hesitant as you rediscovered each other. It was comfortable, though… you couldn’t think of any other person you felt so comfortable with, somebody who finally got you out of your own head and who made you want to experience everything life had to offer.

You were sure you’d never gone so long without worrying about something in all your life.

“My wife,” he whispered against your skin. “This is all I had wanted… from seeing you in very beginning.”

“You’re all I ever wanted,” you sighed in return, “ești tot ce mi-am dorit vreodată, Sebastian.”

Life with Sebastian was beautifully simple. You spent most of the day writing, usually, while he built furniture to sell and occasionally gardened with his spare time. You could always tell how busy you’d been with a new novel lately by how perfectly groomed the hydrangea bushes were.

You’d told him once that you’d come to Hungary looking for a million-dollar book idea. A Killer in Disguise performed alright, but not anywhere near that. The Language of Love, on the other hand, was definitely a million-dollar idea… about eleven times over. Sebastian didn’t seem to worry too much about how much money you made, though; he was just proud to say that he was the inspiration for your hit novel. You secretly suspected that he was more proud of your work reaching enough international notoriety to be translated into Romanian.

His English still needed some work, but you found it endearing. He was determined to get better and spent at least a half-hour each day practicing, but you hoped he wouldn’t get too perfect because you would miss the silly little mistakes he made. At least you could be sure he’d keep the accent forever… damn, that accent; and he knew exactly what it did to you, too.

In fact, you were crossing through the hall in your robe one evening when your husband’s voice stopped you.

“Darling wife,” you heard Sebastian call from the bedroom in a playful sing-song.

“What is it, Seba?” you asked with a smirk.

“Come in here, please…”

You opened the bedroom door to find most of the room covered in rose petals: most of all the bed, which was surrounded by candles, and topped with a shirtless (as per usual) Sebastian, laid on his side seductively with a long-stemmed rose (one you recognized from his very own garden) between his teeth.

“What are you doing?” you laughed. “Is this some sort of special occasion I’ve forgotten?”

You were already searching your mind for what it could be, but your two-year anniversary had passed a few months ago already and since it was spring it couldn’t be the anniversary of when you first met since that was late in the summer.

“Iss not quite a thpecial occathion yeth,” he answered before taking the rose from his mouth so he actually made sense. “I was considering it could be a special occasion, when we’re done…”

You smirked and climbed over the candles and into bed with him, taking the opportunity to run your hands over his chest. “And what occasion would that be?”

“A year from now, it could be the anniversary of when our child was conceived,” he answered.

Your breath caught in your throat, your voice reduced to a whisper of surprise. “Seba—”

“If you’re not ready, I will be understand,” he instantly added, stern yet soft. “Only if you want this, I just thought that maybe—”

You silenced him with a kiss, lacing your fingers into his hair and letting him roll you onto your back. He pulled back just enough to let you answer, but your noses were still bumping into each other and you smiled.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. More than ready,” you whispered.

He grinned and kissed you again, deeper and slower as he held your face with one hand and gripped your waist with the other. As his lips trailed down to your neck, you were interrupted with one pressing thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

He popped up and looked down at you with a smile. “Sure!”

“Why are you wearing ratty old jeans?” you laughed.

“Hey, these worked on you the first time,” he defended.

You gasped. “You don’t mean those are the jeans—”

“Yes,” he nodded, “the jeans that I had been wearing when I was working on Mrs. Alberti’s cottage. And, truly, when I was finding an excuse to work outside your window.”

“Wait,” you sat up, “did you actually work outside my window on purpose?”

He laughed, hanging his head quickly before looking back at you again with a sparkle in his eye. “You are very smart, my love, except for those times when you are— how do you say? Oblivious.”

You chuckled, unfortunately very aware that he was right.

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was building a window frame, nearly a dozen metres away from the window it was for?”

You thought for a moment before dropping your face into your hands and laughing. “No, I didn’t notice that. I was too busy giving you a thorough eye-fuck,” you recalled.

“Yes, because I was not wearing a shirt and this distracted you,” he pondered, sounding suddenly like a scientist explaining a theorem or something. “See, that’s the beauty of wearing the jeans and no shirt. The body distracts you while the jeans seduce you.”

“How about you take the jeans off and put that body on me, capisce?” you pleaded; not that you didn’t love his humor or anything, but maybe his funny bone wasn’t exactly the bone you were interested in at the moment.

He grinned devilishly and suddenly pulled your legs apart, settling his body between them as he kissed your neck again, nipping at your jawline and ear. “You’re being impatient, dragă,” he purred. “You want to have my baby that badly?”

You whined involuntarily, arching your back as his hands roamed your body and finally began to untie your robe and push the silk out of the way. “Yes, Sebastian, please—”

“Let’s just say, theoretically, I wanted to have more than one? Would you have another of my children?” he asked softly as he reached up and palmed at your breasts, teasing your nipples which were already much too hard and sensitive for how little he’d touched you. The rough denim rubbing against the inside of your thighs was oddly arousing— maybe it was the sensation itself, or maybe it was just that this was almost like the first thing you imagined when you saw Sebastian all those years ago.

“Yes,” you moaned out your answer, “yes, you know I’d do anything for you.”

“What if I wanted a big family?” he pressed. “Really big? Like, Catholic big?”

“We can have our own fuckin’ Brady Bunch, Seb, I just need you right now,” you begged, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a hot and desperate kiss.

He decided to wait until afterwards to ask what a ‘Brady Bunch’ was. You decided to wait until afterwards to ask when he’d learned how to use the word ‘theoretically’.

sfarsit; the end

#sebastian stan x reader

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peakywitch · 4 years

Text

Behind the Garrison, by the Canal - Finn Shelby

Word count: 1630

Warning: mention about sex and semi-nudity (?)

A/N: i wrote it in spanish and translated it, apologies if you see any mistake!

gif: @el-cheung

A soft knock on the door interrupted (Y/N) from his reading. She looked up curiously from her book, not knowing who it might be.

Her mother? She was upstairs sleeping with the baby.

Her father? He was working.

Her older brother? He was meeting his fiancé’s parents.

Finn? No, he was at a family meeting, it couldn't be him. Plus, they never met each other during the day.

Y/N got up from the uncomfortable purple sofa, going to the door. She tried to peek through the small window to find out who it was. Suit, a peaked hat, a cigar. A Blinder.

Sh took a deep breath, had her brother gotten into trouble? Having exhaled, she opened the door, showing Finn.

"Finn?" she asked curious and somewhat nervous, they were only supposed to see each other half past eight, behind the Garrison, by the canal.

If her father came earlier from work, she was dead.

"Hey, Y/N." he smiled, as he spoke fast.

"I know we said to meet in a few hours, but since I have the afternoon free, I thought about asking you if...you could...lend me another book?" the nervous smile was still there.

The young girl was teaching the younger Shelby how to read, and since he learned, he read every book there was and to be.

Pride and Prejudice? Finished in 72 hours.

Little women? One week.

Hell, he'd even read the bible and could recite some verses from memory.

On one occasion, Finn told Y/N that he had corrected Isaiah, about the bible:

"I will fear no evil!" Isaiah said humorously, as he answered Arthur about whether he was afraid on one of those many illegal occasions. “Jesus said it, you know, Arthur? And I…” Finn cut him off, correcting him.

"Isaiah, that’s Psalm 23:4." Finn said casually, as he finished his cigarette.

Arthur, John, and Isaiah burst into laughter, of course after trying to figure out how Finnny Boy knew so much about God.

"Sure, Finn. Give me a moment." Y/N closed the door, took the Illustrated edition of Alice in Wonderland that he was reading, took out the bookmark, and returned to the door. She opened it and Finn was still wearing that nervous smile.

"Here it is, have fun with Alice, the Queen and the Mad Hatter, Finn." Y/N's smile made Finn's hand shake.

A few weeks ago, the boy had killed a man. His hand did not tremble, his head did not hesitate. But, oh shit, his heart exploded in anger that night, at home. Finn would never admit it, but it scared him to grow up and be as savagely violent as Arthur, or as distant as Tommy. Fear and anxiety were eating him alive, until he realized that his hand was shaking when she smiled at him.

“Thank you, beautiful." He smiled, as he exchanged the borrowed copy of Romeo and Juliet for that copy of Alice. After a wink and a "see you later" he walked away.

With a stomach full of butterflies, Y/N closed the door.

"Hello friend," she whispered to the book. "Have they treated you well?"

Y/N sat down on the couch again, going over the sentences she had marked with her black pen for the umpteenth time. As she was fanning through the pages, a piece of paper fell on her legs. Curious, she took it in her hands and saw Finn's handwriting. She knew it was his, she had taught him to write in italics. Also, she would recognize that misaligned handwriting and that soft stroke anywhere.

“I thought I knew love until your beauty seduced my eyes. Page 118 –Finn”

She smiled.

After greeting her father who had just arrived from work, Y/N commented that she would go to sleep and skip supper. The clock in her room read half past seven in the afternoon, which gave the signal to Y/N to escape through her window.

She wrapped herself up, looked at herself in the small mirror on her wall, and went out the window. Although the house had two stories, Y/N's room was downstairs, making it easier for her to get out the window.

Legs out, then the torso, the arms, and finally the head. Once outside, she adjusted her hair and began her short walk.

Y/N lived just five minutes from the Garrison and should meet Finn in an hour. But she wanted to stop by the Garrison to say hi to Harry. Also, she was to bring him a shirt that her mother had fixed for him.

As she thought of Finn, the five minutes turned into two seconds, and Y/N found herself in front of the pub. It was Friday, so it was full of men with inhuman amounts of alcohol in their blood. She took a deep breath and opened both doors, the smoke from so much cigarette making her dizzy.

She walked over to the bar and saw Harry serving a scotch. Her nose narrowed, remembering that awful taste she'd tasted with Finn.

"It's horrible," Finn had said, "I don't know why my brothers drink this shit."

"Hello Y/N" Harry greeted, anyone could hear her mother's Irish accent on him.

"Hi Harry, I bring you your shirt. Mom thanks you for making her focus on something other than the baby."

They both laughed, as Y/N handed him the bag. After a casual chat, some questions about her father, her new brother and her mother, they said goodbye. Y/N passed by the private booth, but didn't hear a soul. Maybe Finn was already by the river.

It was a matter of seconds before she reached the river, in their usual spot. She sat on a rock and waited.

Two, five, ten, fifteen, thirty minutes.

It was ten past eight, maybe quarter past eight.

Finn wasn't coming, and Y/N was starting to get scared. It was late, she shouldn't be alone. It was eight thirty, she had waited fifteen more minutes.

"God, don't let anything bad happen, please” Y/N said between prayers.

When she got up, she started walking in the direction of his house. To Finn's house. She was sure he was reading. She headed to Finn's house mainly because she was only a few feet away from it and also because she wanted to know if he was okay.

When she arrived and saw the light on, she was relieved. She knocked on the door, she would ask him to accompany her home.

"I’m going!" Finn yelled, there was a laugh and a slim, semi-naked woman who was wearing a man's shirt opened the door, still laughing.

"Lydia I told you that..." Finn's laughter stopped "Oh bloody hell."

Finn had come up behind Lydia, shirtless and his suspenders dangling at his sides.

The floor shook under Y/N's feet. The rest was blurry, for both of them. Finn remembered the cold hitting his shirtless chest as he yelled Y/N's name all over Watery Lane and Saint Mary's Street, asking for forgiveness and for her to listen to him. Y/N remembered the knot in her belly, hearing nothing except her breaths and feeling how Finn's words he had written burned her heart. Her heart, for the first time, was breaking along with the trust she had in him. Because she thought he was good, she believed that he loved her and that he wouldn't be fooling around with others after all those kisses and secret talks on the river.

When she got to the door of her house, Y/N was trying to open it. But the key was on the other side.

"Can you hear me for a damn moment!?" Finn yelled, coming to her side. He took the sad girl by the arm and turned her around.

"Do not touch me! Don't ever touch me again in your fucking life, Finn Shelby!" she bellowed, tears spilling from her eyes.

"Okay." he quickly separated from her, releasing her “But you have to listen to me. I…She…” his voice trembled.

"Did you sleep with her, Finn?" Y/N whispered.

"No...I..." the boy nervously combed his hair as he looked at the floor, Y/N knew instantly that he was lying.

"You had sex with her?!" Y/N let out in a strangled cry, asking but claiming at the same time. Her angry eyes were focused on Finn's, who were scared "And don't lie to me, please don't lie to me."

"Yes."

Y/N’s throat went dry, while her heart kept on breaking.

"Since when?"

"Five months now."

"Oh..." Y/N let out bitterly, then laugh "You are so afraid of looking like your brothers that you forget a detail: You are them, you always were and always will be."

“Don't tell me that, Y/N. You can't tell me that…” Finn cried.

"Yes, I fuckin’ can. You could shag her, I can tell you the truth. I'm not lying to you, Finn. I never lied to you."

“Do you remember two weeks ago, on the river? You said…” Y/N interrupted him.

“I said how I felt, Finn. Now I feel so much, so much pain and hate that I wish I had never told you."

Finn's face was a complete puzzle.

The door slammed open, appearing Y/N's older brother.

"Bye, Finn."

She entered the house, and headed straight for her room, ignoring her brother's whispers about how she should never have gotten together with Shelby. That they do this, they do that.

“Y/N! I am talking to you!" Peter said, entering his little sister's room.

"Peter, stop it, ok?" exploded Y/N “I know I didn't have to hang out with the Shelby family. But you're also dating a stupid woman and nobody tells you anything! "

Peter backed away, shocked.

“No… Peter, sorry. Wendy is…"

“Save it, Y/N. I opened the door for you, so that Dad wouldn’t kill the Shelby himself. But first thing tomorrow morning, they want you down. Both of them."

And just like that, Peter left the room, leaving Y/N in a mess and crying.

#finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #arthur shelby imagine #arthur shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #joe cole #john shelby #john shelby imagine #polly gray #michael gray #alfie solomons #the peaky blinders #birmingham #luca changretta

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nxmuzluv · 3 years

Text

ariana birthday hcs !! —

it’s september 1st in south korea & japan rn,,,, so you know what that means

26th birthday hcs 👁👁

(this post is long as hell so brace urselves lmao)

on the morning of her birthday, ariana is woken up by either twitter and message notifications or her husband

her fans are blowing up her mentions with birthday wishes and her family & friends are doing the same, so bet that she has about a million notifs

since byakuya gets ready for work before ariana, he usually comes back to wake her up (even if she’s already up lol)

he hands her coffee (a caramel macchiato with a shit ton of cream and three sugars), tells her “good morning” and “happy birthday, love,” and kisses her on the forehead

(SOBBINFGMNBKJHBMK)

they usually have a short lil conversation about whatever (what they’re going to do that day, ariana’s birthday, other random topics) before byakuya tells ariana to go to work lol

but before she does, she usually opens twitter and scrolls down her birthday hashtags (which are already trending with about 100,000 or so tweets lmao), and responds to her text messages

three hashtags i came up with are “#AutumnFairyAri,” “#26WishesForAriana,” and “#아름이하트27개” (#27HeartsForAhreum) 🥺

(the last one is because ariana is 27 in korea lol)

guaranteed that she’s smiling like an idiot at those tweets lol

if her fans are lucky, ariana might like their post. if they’re extra lucky, she might even respond-

(cue the combustion of her fanbase)

then she posts a lil morning selfie, thanks her fans for all the birthday wishes, complains about how she has to go to work on her birthday, and then she finally gets ready for work lol

as ariana does, her fanbase is literally in flames lmao they’re screaming at her new selfie (“LOOK AT HER HAIR OMG MNJSHFJFMNGJ” - one of ariana’s fans, most likely), flooding her comment section, and taking over the trending page

ari and byakuya usually leave together, and ariana gets dropped off first, so when she does, they usually say goodbye to each other & byakuya gives her another kiss on the head

ofc they say “i love you” to each other, and if anyone around them has sumn to say about it, then byakuya can just make their jobs disappear !! 😗✌🏽

once ariana gets to work, she’s immediately greeted by another round of birthday wishes and the occasional gift (because oh my GOD she gets so many from her staff)

the best gift comes from her manager of 22 years, yoo miyeon. that woman is literally like ariana’s second mother it’s so cute-

miyeon usually says something along the lines of “remember when you were shorter than me ???” (it is now the other way around lmao)

near the end of her day, ariana sits in her company’s conference room, goes live on vlive, and opens the shit ton of gifts, cards, letters, and bouquets that were sent to her by her fans (and god damn doesn’t she get a lot-)

(ariana loves the bouquets,,, she literally squeals every time she sees that she got another one :(( she’ll be making flower arrangements with all of them later on lol and she’ll probably go live again 👁👁)

her birthday lives are one of the things ariana loves the most. she gets to speak to her fans, speak to her staff all casually, and her fans get to see her again. it’s a win-win :))

(bet, byakuya is watching that live when he has the time and has sent a message to ariana. when she spots his message, knows it’s him, and gets incredibly happy is one of the best moments of the live)

she also speaks to her family (they’re all in korea and america while she’s in japan 😕) during the live !! near the end, ari blows out the candles of the cakes that were bought for her by her staff and her family, and she answers questions from her fans

(lol remember back in 2011 when ari’s fans thought she was gonna finish high school & come back to korea, but instead she met this tall blond mf, fell in love with him, moved in with him, and then ended up marrying him 10 years later so now she’s really not coming back ??? lmao good times 🤣🤣🤣)

it’s a v nice moment & if you miss it, that’s such a loss lol ariana rarely goes live since she’s always so busy

after well over 12 hours, ari’s work day is finally over. on those types of days, she gets home before byakuya at around 7 or 8pm

after work, both of them go to dinner !! :))

while byakuya is coming home, ariana just gets ready. there’s a dress from byakuya that was hung by his staff in ariana’s closet (it’s black and designer, ofc 🙄✋🏽), and all ari has to do is shower, do her hair and makeup, pick out her shoes, and pick out a bag from the literal hundreds that she has

say it with me, y’all !! bag hag

ariana goes live on instagram while she does that as some kind of “get ready with with me” thing. she gets to talk to her fans again (especially her stan twitter ones lol), ask how she should style her hair & do her makeup, and ask what accessories she should choose

she also plays music in the background (especially britney spears, christina aguilera, the pussycat dolls, rihanna, nelly furtado, gwen stefani, lee hyori, or hyuna because they make her feel hotter than she already is lmao) !!

and ari sings to whatever’s playing and she gets haruka-

(am i allowed to put her here ??? i’ll just put here here lol 🤪)

-to say hi & help with her hair and makeup, so ariana’s lives are just a gold mine worth of content lmao

byakuya comes home just a lil while before ariana’s finished, and ofc, she forces asks him to say hi to her fans

lmao all that man does is silently wave with the world’s straightest face, and the chat is just yelling about how fine he is (“GO OFF RICH BOY” - one off ariana’s fans, probably). like HE’S NOT DOING ANYTHINGFGDHMBK

but as they should 😩☝🏽

ariana asks her fans if she should leave or stay on the live for a while longer, and ofc, they usually say that she should stay,,,, but that woman rarely listens tbh ASMNKHJFMNJK

she might stay for like,,, 5 minutes, but usually, she just leaves lmao

a lil while before she and byakuya leave, they talk to each other and to haruka for a while, and haruka probably most definitely takes polaroid pictures of ari and byakuya before they leave lol

(ariana def posts those on twitter later and all byakuya does is retweet them)

(but ofc he’ll tweet out a post wishing his wife a happy birthday,,, okay byakuya, look at you making progress !!)

the restaurant ariana and byakuya go to is of course very fancy and luxurious (it probably serves french cuisine too lmao). ari insists that they get a table on the rooftop, and since it’s her birthday (and since he loves her sm), byakuya complies :))

they talk the entire night, and if she can, ariana reaches over to hold byakuya’s hand most of the time :((

(taking a bit from rae’s hcs on how byakuya would celebrate his s/o’s birthday,,,,, like i’ve kinda been doing the whole time 🚶🏽‍♀️)

after dinner, the two of them will take a walk through tokyo. ariana would love it (well, not really, because she’s wearing literal heels lmao), especially since she and byakuya rarely get to do things like that. she’ll be taking pictures of things she finds interesting and would 100% ask byakuya to take pictures of her (and vice versa)

(she’s posting those on twitter too,,, ariana nation is getting fed well lol)

and then they can finally go back home and stay home, and ariana can finally open the rest of her gifts !!

they’re gifts from her family, her close friends, and of course, from byakuya and haruka !! ari’s literally smiling the whole time as she opens her presents (especially the ones from her family,,, hayley’s homemade birthday cards are always so cute 🥺), and haruka has that polaroid camera out again

(ariana: does anything)

(haru: you’re doing great sweetie !! 😀📸)

idk exactly what ariana would want for her birthday (tmw you don’t even know the preferences of your own character 🧍🏽‍♀️), but most likely, it’s either something homemade or a designer item lmao (mainly another purse-)

fun fact: her aunt josephine spoils the shit out of her lol like ariana could see a bunch of bags from chanel, louis vuitton, and yves saint laurent and automatically think “yeah, that’s my aunt lol”

ariana facetimes her family again, as well !! they get to speak to byakuya and haruka, they sing “happy birthday” to her in korean, they ask her if she liked their gifts, and it’s just a very cute family moment :))

it’s like,,, 11pm by the time ari finishes opening her presents, so she really has to go to bed

before that though, she spams her followers with the pictures that were taken, and posts one last “thank you” tweet before her birthday inevitably ends 😕

(well not really since it’s gonna be september 1st in other parts of the world lmao)

“everyone! thank u sooo much for all the birthday wishes u gave me today! it wouldn’t have been such a great one without y’all, my family, my best friends, my husband (@ByakuyaTogami), and my no. 1 fan, my sister-in-law lmao (@harukaonice). i love each and every single one of y’all with my entire heart, and i’m so glad u love me just as much 🥺 i saw as many of ur posts as i could, and i just wanna thank y’all for reaching over a million tweets! can’t believe y’all think that i’m that important lol (i mean, ofc i am 🙄✋🏻) anyways, once again, thank y’all smmmm! love y’all lots!! <3 ari <3” - ariana’s tweet 🥺 (that she posts in four different languages lol; english, korean, japanese, and french !!)

(SHE’S SUCH A SWEETHEART IM LITERALLY CRINGHMNHJDJGKM)

then ariana and byakuya finally go to sleep (it’s like 1am now jesus christ-), and ariana’s twitter notifications are still blowing tf up lmao

n e ways, that ends this behemoth of a post !! happy birthday to my baby, ariana park and even though she doesn’t exist (😕), i hope she enjoys it to the fullest !!

bonus !!

if she has a public appearance scheduled before or on her birthday, if fans are allowed to attend, they sing “happy birthday” to her whenever they see her !!

like, she could be entering a building and they would sing it, and then she could exit a few hours later & they’ll sing it again lol

ariana’s just like, “babes, you already sang this to me earlier !!”

when it comes to her “more important” birthdays (although her birthdays are always important)—such as her 18th, 20th, or 21st birthdays—ariana will throw quite a big party. like there would be a bunch of celebrities and popular society figures on the list,,, it would be a whole spectacle that the average person could only dream of getting into lmao (like me, ofc 🚶🏽‍♀️)

when ari was a child, her parents would throw a birthday party for her nearly every year lol,,, and while they were living in korea together, they would have dinner with nearly their entire family, too

(she always got two cakes, too,,, like it’s just kinda tradition for the park family at this point lol)

since ariana and jungkook (from bts) share the same birthday, either one of them message each other to wish each other a happy birthday !! ari also sends him a gift, while jungkook posts said gift on twitter and probably fanboys,,, i have a feeling that he would be a fan of her and her dramas,,, as well as the rest of bts

(they have each other’s numbers because ariana is a korean celebrity and they’ve attended events together on multiple occasions,,, ofc she and bts know each other lmao)

and i forgot to mention, but haruka would totally watch ariana’s birthday vlive if she didn’t have practice or something,,, probably sending as many messages as she can & aggressively hearting the live lmao,,, that girl really is ariana’s biggest fan SKJMNNFJMK

i also forgot to mention that JH entertainment (ariana’s agency) releases photos from a birthday photo shoot that they did with her !! they have different themes every year and they’re always so cute :((

they’re also taken prior to ariana’s actually birthday, especially since she’s always in japan now lol (but like,,, how do people not notice her going back and forth between korea & japan sometimes-)

(also, big verified accounts and celebrities on twitter & instagram wishing ariana a happy birthday >>>>>)

(celebrity tingz 🤪)

n e ways, now i’m done !! happy birthday, ari ilysm <3

(the character of haruka togami belongs to @raes-ramblings, btw !!)

#this took ALL FUCKING DAY #i started this when i was going to school & now school’s almost OVER #oh GAWD 🧎🏽‍♀️#i’m so glad i finished this tho !! it was so fun to write :))#once again happy birthday ari ily with all my heart !!#(and congrats on ur marriage 👀)#cece speaks :)#cece writes :)#danganronpa #danganronpa oc #headcanons #trigger happy havoc #danganronpa 1 #dr1 #trigger happy havoc oc #oc headcanons #byakuya togami #byakuya x oc #oc x canon

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blonde-toddy · 3 years

Text

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4

Oh they're at court.

Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.

Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.

Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!

Oh he's buying jewelry already.

Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.

Too bad she came back to reality.

Hyacinth is my spirit animal.

Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.

Shit. So am I.

I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.

Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.

I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.

Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.

I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.

Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.

Those damn dingbat sisters.

Maybe Penelope does care.

Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.

Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.

A boxing match date? I'd be down.

The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.

Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.

Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!

Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.

But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!

Mondrich for the win!!!!

Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.

Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.

Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.

Violet always worries about the wrong shit.

Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.

Be Hyacinth.

Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.

SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.

Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.

Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke

Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.

If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.

There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.

Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.

She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.

He's so jaded it hurts.

Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.

Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.

Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it

Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.

Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.

Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.

Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!

Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.

2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.

Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.

And Anthony looking tongue tied.

Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.

Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.

Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.

Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?

And wtf are you doing Eloise?

Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.

"Get out."

Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.

Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.

Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.

She done spotted Simon. Its over.

Fuck off Cressida.

Rip that mf necklace off girl.

Simon followed her ass outside.

"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.

"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.

Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.

Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.

Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.

Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit

I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.

She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.

Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.

Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?

He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!

Oh shit Anthony caught them.

At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.

This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.

Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.

Poor Daphne.

Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?

That can't be good.

At least Benny is having a good time.

Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.

Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.

Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.

Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.

Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.

Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.

Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.

Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.

So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.

Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.

No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.

He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.

Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.

Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.

Colin is so pure.

I knew that Cressida shit would come back.

Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.

Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.

Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.

Hurry hurry Daphne.

Daphne down....but she's alright.

Call them idiots just like they are.

Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.

Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.

They do obviously love each other though.

Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.

So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.

You playing with fire, Simon.

I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.

No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.

So the duel resumes......or not.

Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.

Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.

Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!

#bridgerton #bridgerton reaction #bridgerton season 1 #simon x daphne #daphne x simon #lady danbury #the duke of hastings #daphne bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #penelope featherington #marina thompson #portia featherington #will mondrich #violet bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton

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sylvesterlestermanchester · 3 years

Text

Fearfully and Wonderfully

Summary: Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to experience when he starts his first semester at Uni, but he was pretty sure an incredibly sheltered Catholic boy stealing his heart wasn’t on his list of typical college tropes.

Word Count: 12401

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. All mixed together. Fun times!

Warnings: Conversion therapy, homophobia, brief allusions to sex and genitals. One puke joke?

A/N: This is my first ever published fic-I’ve been writing for literally years little bits and pieces, but COVID has me going crazy and I just wanted to put some effort into an actual thing. Thanks for reading!

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked through the door to his dorm the first time, parents and sullen little brother in tow. All of his knowledge about Uni had been from TV and movies-maybe he would have some frat guy in the bed across from him, or maybe a stoner, or maybe a weird silent dude who will disappear after the first week and let Dan put their beds together so they would actually fit his gangly body.

What he isn’t expecting is to have an eight-year-old girl bodyslam herself into his legs, followed by a loud groan and a sharp voice scolding “Suzanne, we told you to stop running!”

Dan’s eyes look down at the (quickly retreating) girl and blinks a few times as he takes in the scene in front of him. There are way too many people in the crowded room right now-he counts two identical boys, both around 10, bouncing on the stiff dorm bed, one pre-teen digging through a cardboard box, a girl around Adrian’s age whispering something to an older woman with a toddler in her arms, standing next to a quiet-looking tall man, and, of course, the eight-year-old, now having been scooped up by a sheepish looking guy around Dan’s age who’s giving him an apologetic smile. This must be the Philip Lester on his room assignment form. “Sorry. My family is kind of, erm, excited.” He says with a small, nervous laugh and sets the girl aside before sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Phil! You must be, um...Daniel, right?”

Dan takes a second to readjust the bags in his arms to shake Phil’s hand awkwardly, trying not to look too overwhelmed at the scene in front of him. “Dan’s fine.”

The kids have all frozen in place, staring at Dan with wide eyes like Dan just sprouted a second head. There’s a few long beats of silence as Phil shakes his hand just a little too enthusiastically for just a bit too long.

Finally, Phil’s mum places a hand on her son’s shoulder, beaming brightly. “It’s so great our boys will be living together!” She cheers to Dan’s mum, who looks a bit bewildered. Ms. Lester gently takes a few of Dan’s bags and sets them on the bed, continuing to chatter on. “Come on, we can unpack while you two get to know each other better. I need to know who my son is going to be rooming with, right?” She continues to babble in a thick northern drawl as Dan glances back at his parents, who look like they’re about to bolt for the door and leave their son to be swallowed whole by these people.

“You’re rooming with an absolute freak,” Adrian mumbles in his ear with a small smirk. “Karma is a bitch, huh?” “Shut up.” Dan hisses back through his teeth, trying to look as interested as possible as Phil’s mum keeps talking.

“The weather here is so nice-it’s already getting cold up in Rossendale, can you believe it? Max and Adam were running around outside, and I was so scared they were gonna catch cold, you know how quickly little ones do. Oh, the drive here was wonderful-” “We saw cows!” One of the kids butts in, and suddenly they’re all talking, any nervousness they had around the strangers suddenly vanishing.

“And horses!” “We got hamburgers, and there was this huge truck-it had to have, like, forty wheels-” Phil seems to take after his dad, quietly but quickly unpacking since his siblings have seemingly given up on it in favor of telling Dan’s family every detail of the six-hour car ride. At one point he makes eye contact with Phil, who gives him an apologetic look, his cheeks flushed and an embarrassed grin on his face as the kids chatter along excitedly like they’ve never talked to another person before.

Finally, right when Dan feels like his ears are going to fall off, Phil speaks up again. “I-I think I can get this from here, guys. Mum, Dad, why don’t we go out for a walk before we say goodbye? I know you guys want to see the geese on campus, right?” The kids all cheer like geese are the most exciting thing on Earth, scrambling for the door. Phil’s mum gives Dan a tight hug and Phil’s dad, still not having spoken a single word, even gives his shoulder an uncomfortable pat before they head out. The small space suddenly feels vast and empty, and the silence is almost tangible. “Well. They seemed...friendly.” Dan’s mum says after a few moments, his dad snorting.

“You’re in for quite a year, huh, kid?” He jokes. Dan laughs weakly, but in all honesty, it doesn’t seem that funny.

Just what did he get himself into?

Dan’s curled up in his bed when Phil finally comes back a few hours later, giving Dan that same crooked, shy grin from earlier. Now that it’s just him and not him with (presumably) his entire Brady Bunch-style family, he can get a better look at his roommate. He’s tall, about an inch taller than Dan, and lanky. His black jeans are just a bit high on his ankles, and his faded green shirt clings to his skinny frame. As Dan’s eyes travel higher he takes in his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes wide behind his oversized glasses, all behind shaggy black hair that doesn’t match his ginger eyebrows-ginger like every other family member of his. Dan suddenly feels a bit self-conscious in his Game of Thrones pajamas and old school shirt, pulling his covers up a bit higher as he takes in the other young man with a strange feeling in his chest. He’s definitely different than anyone Dan’s ever known. But damn, if he isn’t cute.

“Sorry if my family was a lot today.” He says after a slight moment of silence, a slight giggle slipping out as he walks over to one of the boxes on his side of the room. “I’m the first to go to Uni out of my brothers and sisters, so my parents decided to, like, make it into a whole thing.”

The memory of the chaos is still fresh in Dan’s mind, but hearing Phil talk about it, he can’t help but smile a bit as well. “I’m the oldest, so I get it. And they were nice. Your siblings are very...uh, talkative.” He says slowly, trying not to sound rude, but Phil’s giggling again before he can worry too much about it.

“We’re from kind of the middle of nowhere, so they’re just excited to see, like, humans outside of Rossendale for the first time.” Phil joked as he started reorganizing some of the things his siblings had just sort of dumped around the room. “Plus, they don’t usually get sugar, but they had soda on the way here. So they were practically about to explode by the time we pulled in. They just exploded all of that excitement onto you.”

Dan can’t help but laugh a bit at that as he watches Phil set some thick books up one way and then rearranges them. “Oh, Jesus. That car ride must have been nuts.” Phil looks over his shoulder, grinning wider now. He looks more and more relaxed each minute, as if he was just as nervous about Dan as Dan was about him. “You have no idea, oh my gosh. They were already wound up for today, and then there was soda, and Max and Alex-they get carsick even worse than I do, and then Suzanne had to pee, like, forty times an hour, and Mum was all weepy...this has been the longest day of my life.” He joked, laughing along with Dan.

Even though Dan can’t connect any of the kids to their names, he feels like he knows them decently well. In fact, as the conversation drifts into more goofy road trip stories, Dan’s surprised with just how close he feels to Phil like they’ve known each other before they even met.

It’s strange, he finds. But then again, Phil’s pretty strange, after all.

Dan doesn’t fully realize how strange Phil is until the next day. There’s a few hints-Dan makes a reference to some TikTok audio and Phil admits he’s never used it before, staring in awe as Dan scrolls through his ForYou Page for him. When they head off to orientation in one of the lecture halls, Phil’s head jolts up and his face flushes bright red when one of the countless speakers jokingly curses (if you can count “ass” as a curse-Dan honestly can’t). But it’s not until they’re out at the quad with some of their new peers for lunch when Chris turns to Phil and asks if he went to the school his cousin went to up north. “Oh, I didn’t go to school.” Phil says with a bright smile, before quickly adding “I mean-I was homeschooled. So I just kinda did the work when I wanted to.”

“Your parents homeschooled you? Didn’t Dan say you had, like, twenty siblings?” Louise questions as they all turn to look at Phil. Dan feels a migraine coming on just imagining being home with all of those kids all bloody day, though he can actually picture Mrs. Lester teaching them all pretty well. Phil laughed a bit, cheeks flushing pink as he looked down at his sandwich.

“We all were. My mum and dad didn’t like the schools in our area-they wanted us to be more connected to the church, said that “our values weren’t instilled in traditional education’.” He explained with a small shrug. When PJ raised an eyebrow at that Phil pulled a small cross necklace out from under his shirt. “I’m Catholic. I actually have plans for Seminary after getting my bachelor’s-so if you’re planning on getting married, I’m taking bookings now.” Phil’s last comment was clearly meant to lighten up the mood, but it’s obvious that the subject matter was making the group a little uncomfortable, considering they all just met. Dan’s mentally running through Phil’s belongings in their dorm-were all those books Bibles? Was he going to start hanging crosses everywhere? Or make him wake up early on Sundays?

Before his brain could spiral out further Chris blurted out “So, were you raised in a Jesus bubble or something?” Louise smacks his arm but Phil giggled. “I-I have been told I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life before, yeah.” “Were you allowed...TV?” PJ asks slowly, eyes widening when Phil shook his head.

“Not cable. We could watch DVDs, but they had to be approved, so it was usually educational. I know a lot of animal facts, actually. Did you know hippo-”

“What about the internet?” Louise cuts him off.

“Not after my older brother got caught Googling “bikini girls” when he was 10.” Phil joked lightly. “But even before that, my mum was pretty anti-internet. If I really needed it for school or whatever, I’d go down to the library.”

“No Harry Potter?” “Promotes witchcraft. Apparently. I haven’t read it for myself, but-”

“Dating?” “Not without serious intention to marry-and I’m not exactly ready for that, so-” “Running water?” “You know what’s funny?” Phil says, giggling a bit and bringing his knees loosely to his chest. “You guys think I’m weird, which is totally understandable. But your guys’ lives before this sound weird to me, too. Like-Chris, you got to play video games as a kid, right? And I was taught that those would turn me into some homicidal maniac. Dan, I saw you have a horoscope app-that’s the occult, so that’s a huge no-no.” Wow, okay. Before Dan could feel too offended, though, and Chris could jump in, Phil keeps going. “But, like, I get that you’re not a witch, or Chris, you’re not gonna chop me up into little pieces when I’m sleeping. There’s gotta be some middle ground here, right? So...you guys could show me how to live more like you, and maybe you guys would be more interested in what I’m into?”

There’s a small silence that falls across the group before a wicked grin slowly appears on Louise’s face.

“What do you want to learn first?”

The next few weeks are a bit of a whirlwind for Dan. Between classes, hanging out with new friends, homework, scrambling to find a job, remembering to text his mum and let her know he hasn’t died, he’s barely able to keep his head on straight. But the time he spends trying to introduce Phil to the “real world” is some of his favorite.

Phil had set some ground rules-nothing that could kill him or ruin his life if it got out on social media. If he got too uncomfortable, he was allowed to tap out, but he’d give it an honest attempt. And nothing Satanic. (Dan had laughed until he realized by the look on his face that he wasn’t joking).

Granted, their friend group hadn’t done a great job at the start. PJ thought it would be hilarious to let Phil start with some “iconic reading material”.

Dan had been in class when they had presented the book to him, and the two were in their respective beds when Dan heard a shocked gasp from Phil’s side of the room.

“You good, mate?” He rolled over, watching as Phil sat upright and started flipping through the pages. “Do-Do you know about this book?” He asked, face turning impossibly redder as he held up the cover for Dan. 50 Shades of Gray. As Dan burst out laughing, his roommate whined playfully.

“What-Phil, who gave this to you?” “PJ said it was necessary reading!”

“PJ is a dunce. Give it here, I’ll protect you from the big bad book.” Dan teases, but Phil quickly shoves the book into his hands like it’s on fire.

“I’m gonna have nightmares about ties and rich men for weeks.” He grumbled playfully, curling up on his bed and reaching for his phone. “I’m never trusting Peej again.”

Louise turns full maternal the next day when he struggles to recount the experience in polite language (Dan holding back laughter), and she decides to go the complete opposite way, launching a mission to, as she put it, “reshape Phil’s lost childhood”. Phil lightly pushes back against wording, because he feels like he had quite a nice childhood, thank you very much.

Still, Louise comes over a couple of nights later, armed with her laptop.

“They couldn’t come up with a more creative name than “High School Musical”?” Phil teased gently as she pulled it up on her screen.

“Phil, you sweet boy, High School Musical is a cultural milestone that you need experience. So no backtalk!”

“Whatever you say.” He said, sitting on the other side of her and holding a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

They watch the first movie, and then the second, and then Phil’s begging to watch the third. As the final song plays Dan glances over and sees that Phil has his head ducked down, shoulders shaking gently.

“Phil?” Louise asks gently right as a choked sob erupts from him. She lets out a yelp as Phil flings his arms around her neck, laughing shakily. “It was just...Troy chose basketball and music…both of his passions...” He blubbers out, nuzzling into her shoulder as she coos. “You’re so weird, hon. You know that?” Once he’s calmed down enough (when Dan offers him a hug the waterworks start up all over again, sniffling. “So. Is that what your guys’ school was like?”

Louise and Dan glance at each other before bursting into laughter, only stopping a couple of minutes later when Louise turns to Phil once more. “If you liked High School Musical, you’re going to love this show Victorious…”

Of course, it’s not all smutty books and (incredible) movie trilogies.

Being homeschooled meant that all Phil knows is doing school when he feels like it. Lucky for Phil, he’s a huge nerd, so homework and studying actually excite him. The problem is, these things tend to excite him at 3 in the morning, and he actually has classes to go to now outside of his room.

By day three of no sleep, Phil swears Dan’s grown wings, and Dan intervenes. They make up a rules sheet-bedtime is 2AM, wake up at 10AM, eat three meals a day, no more than five cups of coffee a day (of all the vices Phil was deprived of, caffeine was clearly not one of them-Dan’s never seen anyone drink more coffee in his life). He gets him down to one all-nighter a week, and in turn, Phil wakes him up each morning and helps him with schoolwork so Dan doesn’t have to face going to the tutoring center. It turns out that Phil’s kind of a genius, despite never being in a classroom until a couple of weeks prior.

Chris is the one who convinces Phil to get social media, telling him that “only serial killers and old people” don’t. Phil’s not the greatest at it at first (there’s a lot of pictures uploaded on accident to his Instagram stories and nonsense tweets), but he slowly gets more used to it, getting his terrible puns and weird things he sees on campus out to the world (all 20 of his followers).

Dan can’t help but get slightly annoyed when Phil’s phone is shoved in his face to choose a filter of some stupid looking goose that’s close to attacking him, but the look of pure elation that Phil gets when someone sends a dog meme in their group chat is enough to warm his heart in ways he didn’t want to address fully but knew he couldn’t ignore.

There’s so much to teach him, and it seems like each day something pops up. Still, Dan’s surprised by Phil’s world, too.

First, he brings them to a non-denominational bible study group. PJ groaned quietly as Phil handed them all cheap paperback Bibles before they entered the church.

“Can’t we do something a bit more...fun? With less reading?”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Phil said with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels. “And if you like it-which hopefully, you will-we can come back once a week, and I’ll get you some nicer Bibles. These are just to start out with.”

Louise forces a small “yay” as they head inside, Phil leading them through the sanctuary with a happy sigh before taking them down some stairs, where a young woman sits in front of a small arrangement of chairs. “Phil, you brought your friends!” The woman cheers and Phil laughs happily. “Caroline-this is Dan, PJ, Chris, and Lou. They’re new to all this, so we’ll go easy this week?” He joked lightly, and Caroline nods, asking them about their religious beliefs.

“Uh, went to church a few times with my Nan. Atheist.” Dan says, biting his lip. He never actually said the “a'' word around Phil, and he’s a bit nervous that he’s going to suddenly flip out, but he still seems just as excited as when he walked in.

“Atheist. Never been-parents hate churches. Can I still grab snacks?” Chris adds and Caroline laughs, nodding.

“I’m a little complicated, but it’s basically just hippie church.” PJ says, shrugging. “Singing and chanting and all.”

“I go about once a month-I’m Episcopal, officially, but I’ve been to other churches too.” Louise gently smiled, and with that, the group got started. They went around and talked about their weeks, a few upcoming events, a prayer, and then Caroline instructed them to get their books. Phil pulled a well-worn leather Bible out of his bag, and Dan’s eyes widened a bit when he opened it. There are post-it notes everywhere, with entire passages highlighted and notes covering practically every margin in Phil’s stupidly perfect handwriting. It’s clear that Phil’s spent a lot of time with the book.

“Since we have guests, I figured we’d take a break from our reading of Matthew and focus on a couple of specific verses today,” Caroline says brightly. “James 1:13-15: “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”

There’s a slight pause and Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?” “In simple terms-don’t say God isn’t the one to tempt you, because when you stray off His path, that’s on you.” One of the group members explains. “And if you do sin, it’ll lead to, uh, death.”

“Well, does God not tempt us to do bad things by putting so much pressure on us to be perfect?” A girl with blue hair jumps in, raising an eyebrow. “He sets the standard so high. Sometimes I’m just like, ‘Chill, dude. I can’t do everything. I’m not you.’ “

PJ snorts at that, giggling. “You call God dude?” They’re all laughing now, but Dan can’t believe it-he wants to jump in.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” His voice is a bit quiet but inquisitive. “Isn’t God supposed to be loving and forgiving? Why does He want you guys to be perfect? That sounds kind of...harsh.”

“Well, He knows we’re not perfect.” Phil says, and another guy nods.

“He asks for us to be because it strives us to be better. And it teaches us that messing up is okay.” The conversation keeps up for a bit before Caroline interrupts, asking them to focus on the latter half of the passage.

PJ narrows his eyes at the text before looking up. “Am I really gonna die if I sin?” “Well, sin was what led us away from eternal life in the first place-Adam and Eve kinda messed that up for us.”

“Yeah, but our personal sins can lead us to death, too. Not just old sins. That’s what God’s warning us about here.”

“Not every sin does, though. Like mixed-fabric shirts.” Louise grinned a little. “Or grabbing dudes by their nads during fights.” PJ’s eyes widened and he turned to Phil. “Are those actual rules?!” “It was a different time!” Phil giggled as he watched him flip through the pages quickly.

“Where does it say we can’t grab nads?’ “Can we stop saying nads in church?” Phil pointed out, still laughing despite his red face.

Caroline tuts and wags a finger playfully. “Uh-uh, Philip. No judgment. They can talk about nads all they want, now.”

The entire room is laughing again as Phil buries his face in his hands. Finally, when he controls his giggles, Caroline speaks again. “Do you think talking about that kind of stuff in church is a sin, Phil?”

It’s teasing at first, but Phil actually thinks about it for a moment.

“Well...my household was pretty strict growing up. I mean, I got yelled at once for just sneezing during church.” He admits slowly and Dan’s eyebrows furrow a little. He can’t imagine either of Phil’s parents yelling at him, or anyone, really. “But I get why it was. They wanted me to love God, and respect Him, just like they loved and respected me and I loved and respected them. So I think if you do things with love, genuine love, it’s not a sin. But if you do things out of hate, or anger, or with the intention of hurting, that’s a sin. And that’s not automatically bad-like T’andra said, we’re all gonna make mistakes. Just keep on acting with love, and I think you’re good.” There’s a pause, and Dan’s face flushes slightly. Not just at how much Phil was saying “love”, but the words he spoke, and the true thought and passion behind them.

The moment is cut short when PJ snorts. “So if I love nads, I can talk about them to Jesus?”

By the time the room is back under control, the group is over. “Y’know, that was actually pretty fun.” Chris said after they had all grabbed snacks and talked to everyone.

“It was! It was like...philosophical debate.” Dan said. “The real nitty-gritty. The topics of good, evil, life, death, corruption-” Louise shoved him gently. “So deep, Dan. Of course you enjoyed it.” She joked lightly before adding “No offense, Phil!” Phil doesn’t seem to care-he’s grinning so wide it must be hurting his cheeks, and Dan would be lying if he isn’t tempted to start reading the whole Bible from cover to cover just to see him grin like that again.

Phil also manages to bring them to actual church services a couple of times (though getting college students out of bed before noon on a weekend proves to be a practically impossible task).

Dan has to admit he’s not as impressed with this as he is with the study group. The group is fun-they can all talk, and laugh, and actually discuss the points. Church is...not. They sit on hard pews. They listen. They stand and sit and kneel and stand and sit and kneel. They sing a few songs, and while Phil’s quiet baritone makes Dan’s sore knees quiver, it’s not enough to really warrant him waking up at 8AM on a weekend.

Phil is politely understanding of this, though it’s clear that this is of certain importance to him that his friends might not ever understand. It’s admirable if nothing else.

Other than storytelling from his childhood (which does little to make him seem more normal, honestly) and the weekly study, though, Phil doesn’t talk too much about the church to his other friends. Dan, however, is different. Maybe it’s just the fact that they live together and their space is more shared, but Phil opens up to Dan a bit more about it. He reads passages and verses to Dan, he prays in front of him, and he answers his questions in a non-condescending way. Dan has to admit that while he likes what Phil says, he can’t find himself connecting to it in the way Phil has, with his entire heart and soul. But Dan can admire the stories and the way his friend sees the world, and this new world that he’s entering with him.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes that he’s seeing the world in two ways-Dan’s universe, and Phil’s universe. They’re so different, but (and he’s sure he’d never admit this out loud) Dan prefers when their universes collide.

When Dan comes home after a long day of classes and working at the campus bookstore, he’s exhausted. The soft music fades through the room as he opens the door to find Phil chewing on a pen, looking just as anxious as him. “I think my brain is leaking out my ears,” Phil said wearily, looking over the top of his glasses at Dan. “Do I have brain on my desk?” Dan snorts and rolls his eyes, reaching over and grabbing his textbook. “We need a break. And you need sleep-I know you took that second all-nighter last night, rule-breaker.” “Fine. Watch something with me?” He says after a moment, grabbing his laptop. They load up an episode of Zoey101 (they’d finished Victorious the week before) and hit play.

As the bars from the theme song fade out, Dan suddenly feels a strange pressure on his shoulder. He glances over and finds Phil with his cheek pressed to Dan’s shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose as he lets out a soft snore. Dan pauses the show, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of them. Dan and Phil.

He lives for those moments: Getting coffee after a class. Sending each other memes. Trying new food at the dining hall. Brief greetings in the halls. Shared looks as they hang out with their friend group.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes he's never fallen quite this hard before. He doesn’t just want to make out, all hot and heavy, or go further than just that. He just wants this-Dan and Phil-forever, even just as friends. He didn’t expect to find that in this pale, bible-banging weirdo, but now that he does he never wants to let him go.

Dan’s getting that feeling now more and more, the Dan and Phil feeling when they’re in the study group a few weeks later. They’re both sat towards the back, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter as they’re hunched over Dan’s Bible.

“I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver…” Phil says under his breath in a low, gravelly tone.

Dan turns to the next page. “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes!” He whispers, still trying to make his voice sound high-pitched.

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from-”

“Dan, Phil, I’m guessing you both are whispering about how excited you are about our retreat at Camp Brabeck?”

The two both fall silent, Dan quickly glancing between Phil and Caroline, her smile wearing a bit thin from having to call them out. Phil’s eyes are wide, suddenly all signs of laughter gone. “Camp Brabeck?” He squeaks out, and the leader nods.

“On our upcoming four-day weekend. It’s up North, so it’ll be a bit of a drive, but we’ve already got the vans rented out and everything.” She says before noticing Phil’s sudden change in demeanor. “Phil, you’re from around there, actually. Have you been before?”

Phil blinks a few times before nodding, curling up into his seat a little. “O-Oh. Well, I actually did, once, but-”

“Great! So you’ll be down to come, right? We’ve got more space in the van, and it’ll be fun…” Caroline says hopefully, not letting him argue as he starts shaking his head. “Plus, if you’ve already been there, you can tell us all about it! C’mon, this is right up your alley. I think you’ll-” “I’ll go if Dan does.” Phil blurts out suddenly, looking nervously over at. Dan’s definitely confused now-Phil loves the outdoors. He loves this group. He loves-well, to be fair, Phil seems to love most things. He’s racking his brain trying to figure out what it could be, but he just can’t, and now all eyes are on him, and-

“I mean...as long as someone brings bug spray.” Dan says slowly, Caroline beaming and writing on her clipboard before talking excitedly about the campground. The two stay quiet, Dan focusing on Phil’s eyes trained on her and hands gripping his Bible so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

The minute the group ends Phil makes a beeline to the door, walking so fast that Dan can’t catch up without actually chasing him. Dan’s phone dings a short moment later:

Sorry 2 run! Had 2 catch up w some1 4 a thing. Thx 4 signing up w me ^_^ - Phil!

Dan furrows his eyebrows, and not for the normal reason of Phil’s stupid abbreviations and the fact he insists upon signing all his texts. He’s trying to piece the pieces together from the few characters on his screen when Louise puts a hand on his shoulder. “So what was all that about?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, giggling a bit as she gives his arm a light squeeze. “What did you show him that spooked him so bad?” Before Dan can speak, Chris is at his side.

“He’s just embarrassed that Dan was flirting with him during the Jesus Power Hour.” “Dan, were you?” Louise gasped teasingly, and Dan sputters a bit, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. “Chris-what?! No, no, I wasn’t flirting. I wasn’t! He just-when she mentioned the retreat-and the camp-” Dan’s face is bright red now, suddenly the words from Solomon seem a lot less goofy and a lot more...romantic, to outsiders, with their heads bowed together with dumb grins on their faces.

Louise and Chris shoot Dan equally doubtful looks. “Dan-” She starts, but Dan grits his teeth.

“We’re not-neither of us are like that.” He snaps. As she steps back and Chris raises an eyebrow, guilt starts to pool in his stomach, but he can’t stop. “For one, I’m not gay, and two, Phil is gonna be a priest, remember? Aren’t they, like, sworn to celibacy?”

Chris and Louise glance at each other. “Mate...chill, yeah? We were just joking. We know you’re not...y’know.” “Good.” Dan said before turning and stomping up the steps, the unnerving sense that the painting of Jesus had his eyes following him the whole way.

A few minutes later, Dan is sitting in the back garden of the church that Phil helps tend to after services, the wind whipping through his hair. Usually, he’d be walking to a Starbucks with Phil, discussing that session’s theme in-depth and watching Phil’s face turn pink as Dan releases the string of expletives he’s been holding in for an entire hour. The expletives are running through his head at top speed, as he spends about three minutes crafting the perfect text message.

hey, i’m sorry if i weirded you out today! didn’t mean to haha. i was goofing off way too much and i know you take these meetings p seriously. i’ll take it more seriously next time and not distract you

Dan hits send after rereading it about a million times, groaning audibly as he does. It’s not exactly a “Sorry I have a crush on you and made you seem gay but I get you’ll never like me and that’s fine I just wanna spend all my time with you”, but it’s the best he can do.

No worries! OMGosh I was just embarrassed 2 b called out like that hahaha! 0_o <= Literally my face. I was def the 1 who was whispering 2 loud. Lol! -Phil!

dude, it was totally on me. Dan texts back, chewing on his bottom lip. Phil had looked pretty freaked out, but if he was fine, maybe they could just...move past it? really, i started it.

Noooooooo! I take all the blame. I had some cookies b4 group and I was on major sugar rush. Btw...I had some of those cookies ur nan sent! Sorry, I’ll buy some snacks 4 us. Ask her to send more, tho? So good <3 Thank u! Take dancing men as an apology (/-_-)/ |(-_-|) -Phil!

okay, seriously, who taught you to text like this? my head hurts trying to decipher everything

DANCING MEN 4 U (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) ~(*-*)~ (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) -Phil!

you’re ridiculous. Dan can’t help but laugh, in spite of the churning feeling in his stomach. He drops his phone onto the grass next to him and looks up at the sky.

“If you know Phil so well, big guy, what do I do?” He asks before he can stop himself, before pausing. Half of him expects a thunderstorm to start, and him to get struck by lightning, or a rainbow to leap across the sky and the clouds to part to show Phil’s shining face as the sun. But after a few long moments of silence, Dan realizes he’s not going to get any divine intervention and groans.

“Well...let me know when you figure it out.”

The next couple of weeks go by quickly. Everything seems normal-they go to classes, they go to work, they go to group, they goof off. The four-day weekend creeps upon them, but before they know it the whole group is up at 6AM standing in front of a huge white van.

“This isn’t cult-ish at all.” PJ yawns, chucking his duffle bag into the trunk. Louise sips her coffee and squints over at Phil.

“This has to be a sin, you know. Not giving a girl her beauty sleep.” Usually, Phil would spout something about “being beautiful in His eyes”, but right now he’s getting the same sense of panic in his eyes that he had when the camp was first mentioned, laughing weakly as he adjusts his glasses. Dan is just awake enough to get the sense that Phil has been repressing the idea of the trip until this exact moment, but he also knows just how to fix it. He had been stockpiling on Phil knowledge for this exact moment.

Phil jumps a bit as Dan nudges him. “Relax. Listen, I know what’s up.” He says quietly, watching as his friend’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“What?!” Phil yelps a bit as Dan gently leads him away from the rest of the group. “I mean...what do you know? What’s up?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

Dan holds back a fond noise as he smiles gently, shaking his head. “No need to be embarrassed, Phil. My mom went through the same thing for years.” As Phil looks more and more concerned, wringing his hands, Dan digs in his own backpack for a moment before pulling out a small box of Dramamine and handing it to him. “So you don’t upchuck all over us.”

There’s a beat as Phil stares down at the box, eyes wide, and Dan almost thinks he’s got it wrong. Does Phil not get carsick? Was he insulted? Was he really that embarrassed by it?

Phil finally starts to giggle, but it seems more relieved than anything. He nudges Dan lightly and opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah, Dan and Phil! The dynamic duo. You two can sit in the back with the bags!” Caroline’s voice cuts through whatever Phil’s about to say, and he turns to Dan with a small shrug.

“Looks like it’ll just be you I puke on.” He says, a slight grin on his face as he pulls the door open for Dan, who rolls his eyes but steps in “Gotta get you a poncho for the splash zone.” Dan gags playfully before squeezing in to sit next to Phil amongst all the bags, rolling his eyes and plugging his earbuds in before holding out one bud to Phil and turning on their shared playlist-a mix of indie, Christian rock, (mostly clean) emo jams, and Disney Channel top hits. It’s not the most welcoming thing to listen to at 6AM, but if it keeps Phil calm and Dan from actually needing a poncho, he’ll welcome it.

The majority of the drive is spent in and out of sleep for Dan, guitar chords and vocals bouncing around his sleep-deprived brain. He’s not fully conscious until around noon when they’re about an hour away from the camp. The roads are getting twisty, and it’s then that he notices that Phil has his eyes screwed shut and face scrunched up, both hands shoved into his messenger bag. It only takes a slight peek for Dan to see his fingers curled tightly around his well-worn Bible, and he bites his lip.

Phil talks about leaps of faith a lot in group. Dan doesn’t quite get it, but he’s pretty sure he’s taking one when he slides his hand into the other’s bag and gently coaxes Phil’s hand into his own. The young man stiffens up for a moment before turning to stare at Dan with wide eyes.

“Shush. It’ll help nausea.” Dan mumbles, his own face red and praying that Phil won’t ask how exactly it will. There’s a pause before Phil smiles weakly, turning his face away, and Dan is about five seconds away from opening the van door and hurtling himself onto the road.

Phil’s probably just been playing nice, and now Dan’s gone and made it uncomfortable for the both of them, and Phil can’t even look at him. Dan’s whole body turns hot, but right before he can pull away, he feels Phil’s slender fingers intertwine with his own.

It’s not the first time they’ve held hands-they do it at the start and end of study groups, and at church, and that one time Phil got them all to hold hands while standing on a hill to reenact the ending of High School Musical 2 for his Instagram. Dan was a bit flustered then, too. But this is different. It’s...intimate. Phil’s never held his hand with such need before, fingers locked with his and palm quivering gently as he mouths a silent “thank you.” Dan feels his entire body buzz, and he can’t help but close his eyes and try to focus on the music and not the fact that he feels like he’s literally twelve years old.

The rest of the ride somehow takes an eternity and only a minute before the van stops, Chris bemoaning his hunger loudly and the rest chattering excitedly. Phil finally opens his eyes and turns to Dan, slowly pulling his hand away.

They both look at their hands, and then back at each other. There’s a long pause before he opens his mouth, and Dan’s heart starts pounding so hard he’s surprised Phil can’t hear it.

All that Dan has thought about them staying platonic goes out the window. Dan wants nothing more than to lunge forward and shove his lips against Phil’s, to run his hands through his hair, to climb into his lap and- “I didn’t puke!” Phil blurts out loudly, loud enough that everyone hears. The group falls silent before one of the other young men, Raz, gives Phil a thumbs up. “Good for you, bud. C’mon, let’s get these bags up to the cabin, and then we can get some food to celebrate.” Phil laughs a bit too hard at that, face bright red. As he clamors out of the van he leaves Dan in the backseat, trying to climb over the mountain of bags as he watches his friend chatter away as if nothing happened. He watches for a moment before shaking his head quickly, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He was just making things more complicated than they needed to be. They didn’t share a moment. No way.

Dan hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks along with PJ and Lou, struggling to stop the loop of those ten seconds from playing in his head.

Dan liked that the Bible study group wasn’t too Jesus-y. It was more philosophical than anything. Even church was just an hour a week on the weeks he went, which was really only once a month when Phil promised brunch afterward.

This weekend, he and his friends had realized, seemed to be where the group could get enough Jesus to last them until the next retreat. It started with grace before lunch-simple enough. But then a pastor had started to preach to them during lunch. And then after lunch. And then afternoon Bible study-for two hours, with a lot more reading and praying than actual discussion. Pj, Chris, and Louise were clearly trying not to fall asleep, while Phil sat off a bit, eyes trained on either the priest or his Bible, hugging himself tightly as he stayed completely silent.

“It’s just so boring!” Louise groaned once they were all finally outside and out of earshot. “I’m sorry, I know this is what you want to do with the rest of your life, Phil, but we’re in nature! Why are we just stuck in some stuffy room listening to an old dude read for hours when we can see the cool stuff God apparently built for us?” “God wants me to climb some of those rocks over there.” PJ agreed, snapping a few pictures on his phone. “He tried to call me earlier to tell me so, but reception sucks here.”

Phil laughed a bit, but it’s definitely more hollow than his normal giggles. “I’m sorry, I-I really thought-”

“Wait. Haven’t you been here before?” Louise asked as PJ started jogging over to the huge rocks, Chris following shortly after. Phil paused before rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I mean, yeah, but-”

They’re both cut off by someone calling Phil’s name, and he whirls around to see the priest-the same “old dude” Louise had just been insulting-walk over and clap a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Philip, you must have grown a full foot since I last saw you!” Dan glances over at Phil with a slightly surprised look. He knew Phil had been here before, sure. But to know this man? Someone who seemed so different from Phil in so many ways?

“O-Oh, Father Richard. Hey. Guys, Father Richard worked at the camp I came to a-a couple of years ago.” “And Philip was one of the finest boys there, wasn’t he?” If the man notices Phil shift from one foot to the other nervously, he sure doesn’t show it. “I mean, they were all wonderful young men, don’t get me wrong. But Philip-you’re truly going to be a man of the cloth. Don’t you both think?” Dan is watching Father Richard’s face closely, immediately feeling himself wanting to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it wasn’t for Phil, he’d have made an excuse and walked off by now. It seems like Louise isn’t thrilled, either, but she smiles and nods a bit. “It’s clearly his passion, uh, Father Richard.”

“Oh, absolutely. As long as he keeps his head out of the clouds.” He throws his head back and laughs, Phil’s grin looking more like a grimace as he chuckles along. “I swear, this boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him!” “I think Phil’s pretty smart, actually.” Dan says suddenly, a good bit of bite to his tone. He’s not sure why, but something about this guy gives him the creeps. He stares him in the eyes as he gets a surprised look from both him and Phil.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Well...I suppose he’s matured a lot over the past two years. Good to see you again, boy. We’ll have to catch up.” With that he heads off, giving Dan a slightly curious look as he does so, and Phil watches him go before shaking his head.

“Jeez. Phil Lester Fan Club over here.” Louise teased gently before frowning. “What’s his deal?” Phil bit his lip and sighed. “That’s how he is.” He explained quietly, yelping as Louise pulled him into a tight hug.

“Philly…” She cooed before moving to sit on the grass with him, motioning for Dan to do the same. “Talk to us? You’re not usually closed off like this. We know something’s up.” Phil squirms, and Dan can tell he’s debating whether or not to lie. He’s seen it before-when Chris asked if he looked good in his new neon t-shirt, or when some girl asked him once if she was being too annoying after complaining about her roommate to them for five minutes straight. “I just...I came to this camp when I was younger and had different ideas than I do now.” He explains finally.

“Like how interesting that Richard guy was?” Dan tries to joke, instantly regretting it as Phil brings his knees to his chest and curls up into himself.

His voice gets quiet, as it does sometimes when things get serious in group meetings and he’s comforting someone with a verse or trying to explain a tough concept to Dan.

“Like...I was raised to think God ruled with a vengeance. If you sinned in any way, He would punish you. That’s what my parents said. We were supposed to fear Him, y’know? And when I came here...Father Richard pushed that hard.” Phil explained gently. “But I don’t think God’s like that. I think we’re all sinners-we all make mistakes. James 3:2 and all that. God loves us in spite of our flaws. Hearing him talk about God like he was so cruel, and then reading about His love for us...it was the first time it didn’t add up for me.”

Dan’s eyes widened. In all his time of knowing Phil-two months doesn’t sound like much, but it feels like a lifetime ago-he’s never once heard him speak against his parent’s beliefs. Sure, he could admit that they were a bit extreme at times, but it was always quickly followed with how their intentions were good and that everything had been great.

“And as someone who wants to be a priest, I don’t think the way to get people to turn to God is to scream at them until they repent and scare them into not sinning. I think you need to be like Jesus. Hate the sin, love the sinner.” He continued, forcing a tiny smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because we’re all His children, after all. And He’s got a path for all of us-fear won’t guide us onto that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Louise reaches down, giving his hair an affectionate tousle. “You start preaching like that and I’ll come to your church every Sunday. I’ll even sing in the choir.” She joked. A slow beam spread across Phil’s face-a a genuine one, and he stood up before pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you both. I-If I had known he would’ve been here, I’d have at least warned you-”

“Shush, mate. You had no idea. Trust me, you’re way too much of a softie to lie to us, we know that.” Dan laughed a bit, giving Phil’s back a light pat. Phil giggled a bit before pulling away, taking a deep breath.

“Wanna go make sure Chris and Peej don’t crack their heads open?” He said finally, and before they could say anything the two of them were taking off towards the rocks, Dan chasing after both of them. Despite his grin, he still couldn’t help but feel like his head was heavy with questions. Father Richard had seemed boring, and a bit grumpy, but not angry. Were Phil’s changing beliefs really all that had happened?

Phil had seemed relieved to talk for a bit, but the mood shifted again once evening activities started. Father Richard had preached again during dinner-and again, nothing terrible happened. He made a few dry jokes, he talked about having “complete and total faith”, he read some long passages that Dan didn’t care about. He was too busy glancing over at Phil next to him, who had left his food practically untouched.

Then there are evening vespers, with Phil’s hands clenched together so tightly in prayer that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails dig into the skin. The firepit seems to be going well-he shares a s’more with Dan, but before he could get another he’s pulled aside by Father Richard. Dan’s sure at one point the two glance over at Dan, but then Phil’s walking back over, trying to look interested in some story one of the group members is telling as he brings his knees to his chest. Even Chris and PJ seem to notice that something’s going on, but with a pointed look from Dan, they give him some space.

They turn in for the night, but Dan wakes up way too early to find Phil curled up on his bunk pouring over his Bible. The bags under his eyes tell Dan that he didn’t sleep a wink last night, and he sighs. “C’mon, you gotta show me where the showerhouse is.” He says gently, and Phil looks up at him with a tired laugh. “Do I?” He teased weakly. After a minute though, he sits up and stretches. “Mmm...fine. But no chickening out.” With that he hops down from the bunk, peeling off his shirt before walking over to his bag.

Dan’s pretty sure he gulps audibly as Phil grabs a change of clothes and a towel, eyes wandering over him. Though Phil braved the communal showers at Uni, he was always sure to change in the stall-Dan had never seen him in so much as a pair of shorts that went higher than his knees. And yet, here he was. Dan would feel guilty about watching him, especially considering he knew Phil was having a tough time, but…

He couldn’t help it. His best friend looked hot as hell from behind. He couldn’t help but admire his slim frame, his lean but toned arms, and when he turned around, the slight smattering of chest hair that slowly turned into a happy trail that crept lower, into-

“I’m telling you now, if you forget a towel you’ll regret it.” He said, voice still low from sleep, and Dan snapped his head up. “Towel! Right! Let me go grab that.” He squeaked and quickly moved to grab it, trying to hide his flushed cheeks as he snagged a change of clothes as well. By the time he looked up Phil was already heading for the door, humming under his breath, and Dan followed him quickly.

After a few moments of silence, Phil spoke. “Father Richard is leaving tonight, so you won’t have to sit through his lectures after today. He’s just stopping by to talk to us. So we’ll have less worship-y stuff and more free time tomorrow.” Phil glanced over at Dan. “Sorry if I’m weird about it. I just..y’know.”

Dan nodded and relaxed into the shared feeling of relief, even if he didn’t exactly know what Phil was talking about. Before he could ask, though, they were at the small building-just a row of four stalls that looked like bathroom stalls, built out of wood. As Dan stepped inside and stripped-definitely not thinking about how Phil was doing the same just inches away, especially as he heard his sweatpants hit the ground-he rubbed his eyes. “Is there coffee here?”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need coffee here.” Phil laughed a bit, a genuine one, and Dan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at where his head peeked over the stall.

“Dude, I’ve seen you-sweet fuck!” Dan shrieked as he turned the single knob on and freezing cold water shot out of a showerhead on the ceiling. “How the fuck do you get the hot water?!”

Phil was really laughing now, his witch cackle carrying over Dan’s screams. “No hot water at camp.” He sang playfully. “And no swearing, either, but-”

“Christ on a bike, no wonder you were fucking miserable here!” The words come out before he can realize it, and suddenly he freezes (as well as he can while shivering like mad), but Phil only laughs harder.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dan can hear the grin in his voice, and he lets out a long breath. “Whatever. Shitting fucking fuck! Let’s get this over with.”

Dan somehow manages to survive the worst shower of his life, his hair curling as he towels himself off before tugging on clothes and leaving the showerhouse. If it wasn’t for the bright smile on Phil’s face, he’d say it wasn’t worth it. But at least for right now, Phil is his old, giggly self again, and Dan comes to the realization he’d do just about anything to keep him like that.

Unfortunately for Dan, it doesn’t last long. As they’re walking back to the cabin, Phil glances across the way and sees Father Richard, walking through the trees. “Oh, shoot, c’mon-” Phil grabs Dan’s arm and tugs him along a bit faster, not looking behind him for nearly a full minute. As he glances over and sees the look on Dan’s face he finally stops, sighing softly. The joy from before is gone. “Sorry. I just...too early to try to handle that right now.” “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s just get going to the cabin, yeah? I’m still freezing.” Dan jokes weakly, and Phil tries to crack a smile, still looking uncomfortable as they walk along the trail in silence.

The rest of the day is disturbingly similar to yesterday, and the whole group is sensing that Phil is just...off. He’s usually eager to jump into discussions, but even when Father Richard gives them the chance to talk, Phil seems totally holed up in himself, mumbling something about wanting to give others a time to speak (which pushes the topic along to Louise, who fumbles it totally and is earned a condescending smile from Father Richard).

By lunch, Dan thinks he can’t sit through another hour of this. By mid-afternoon, he’s considering faking being possessed by Satan. And by dinner, he’s come up with about forty ways to fake the possession. The only reason keeping him from doing so is that when he mutters it to PJ he tells him to wait until after dinner-if he keeps Chris from food, he’ll have bigger things to worry about than a camp full of religious fanatics thinking he’s possessed.

They set the tables and then get in line to eat dinner. Dan immediately realizes Phil isn’t anywhere to be found, exchanging concerned looks with Louise. When they get five minutes into dinner and realize that Father Richard is also missing, he starts to worry.

What if Father Richard was...well, what would he do?

The truth is, Dan doesn’t know what the big deal is with this guy. He honestly doesn’t seem to be too bad, but the control he has over Phil’s emotions is genuinely weird. Still, he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

“Hey, Caroline!” He says, quickly jogging over to the young woman, and she gives Dan a kind smile. “Dan, hey! How have you been enjoying this so far?” She asked gently, resting a hand on his arm. “I know it can be intense, considering your, um...well, you weren’t exactly in the church before you joined us, and-”

“Caroline, it’s all great, but do you know where Phil is?”

She smiles and gives Dan’s arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you two found each other, you know that? You guys are like-”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t be mushy, even if you guys are my favorite freshmen.” She winked before waving her hand towards the door. “He’s out by the lake with Father Rich. They go way back, did you know?”

Dan nods slowly. It’s clearly not the answer he wanted, because Caroline leans in. “Don’t tell him I said this, but trust me, Phil’s not choosing Father Richard over you. You’re still his BFF.”

Wonderful. That’s the reassurance he needed right now, that Phil wasn’t going to choose a 65-year-old man to be his ‘BFF”. He manages to smile and thank Caroline before going to wait on the mess hall deck. If Richard was going to drag Phil away, then dammit, he was going to be the first to talk to him when he got back.

Phil doesn’t come back up to the mess hall for at least another hour. His eyes are rimmed red, and he’s alone. The second Dan hears his footsteps he shoots up. “Phil!” He shouts after he yanks his earbuds out, and Phil lets out a yelp, laughing shakily. “Oh my God, did he-did he make you cry?!”

Phil rubs his eyes quickly and giggles weakly. “Dan, I cry at everything. We cried together over that muffin in the dining hall on Wednesday, remember?”

Dan doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but suddenly Phil’s arms are pulling him into a long hug. “We just had a long talk. Don’t tell me I missed anything?”

“They went on some dumb night hike, but-don’t tell me you wanted to go on the night hike?” He asked as he saw the disappointment on Phil’s face, frowning. “We can go! We can go right now, and meet them, and-” “Dan. Breathe, okay?” He giggled and led Dan inside. “Our group can go on our own little night hike tomorrow, I’ll survive. Besides. I haven’t gotten to spend time with you these past couple of days, and I’ve missed you.” Phil’s voice is a bit softer, and he gives him a shy smile.

Dan’s face turns red and he sits down in one of the faded couches, Phil flopping next to him. “It’s only been, like, a day and a half.” He mumbles.

“It’s been a long day and a half.” Dan nods slowly, looking up at Phil. “Is he gone?” “Yep. Just left camp now. Didn’t wanna make a fuss.” Dan can’t help but roll his eyes a bit at that, shaking his head. “Now, c’mon. Can we talk about something fun? Like…” He reaches out and snatches up an old copy of Women’s Health from a bin by the fireplace, clearly meant for kindling. “What advice can we find for two lovely women like ourselves?”

As he flutters his eyelashes at him, Dan can’t help but laugh, grabbing the magazine from him. The two swap it back and forth, giggling like children at the stupid advice and making fun of all the pictures. The tension from before melts away, and suddenly it’s just Dan and Phil, the two of them being absolute idiots and laughing over nothing. After the last day and a half, it feels amazing to just laugh.

When they finish that one they go to the next one in the bin. They read through issues of Runner’s World, Golf Digest, Christian Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and even a Highlights before Phil’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

“Oooh, I need some food. Why don’t I go grab us some snacks from the kitchen? There’s some board games in one of the closets, find something for us to play?”

With that, he’s up and going into the kitchen, and Dan wanders over to one of the closet doors. Sure enough, he sees some old board game boxes peeking out behind some moving boxes. Dan goes to move one out of the way when he catches a peek of the pile of brochures inside. His eyes run over the text and clip-art outline of a strong-looking man. Program Judges 6:12 at Camp Brabeck: For teen boys and young men struggling with sexual impurity.

Sexual impurity? Dan grabs the brochure and flips it open.

Today, our young men are raised in a culture where abnormal lifestyles are being accepted, even praised and celebrated. It’s no wonder that more youth than ever before are turning out oversexualized and confused, and more than ever are struggling with same-sex desires...

From there on, the words start to blur together for Dan, and he flips the brochure over.

And then Dan sees it. In the top corner is Father Richard, smiling wide.

With his hand on Phil’s shoulder.

Dan feels his stomach churn violently as he looks at younger Phil. There’s no way it could be anyone else. Even if he’s a bit shorter, and his hair isn’t dyed, Dan’s studied Phil’s face long enough to know it’s him. As Dan grips the picture frame in his hands, Phil’s words from yesterday come back to him, hitting his chest like rocks.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

Phil worked with Father Richard, at this-this “camp”, this place. They worked together.

“God loves us in spite of our flaws.”

Not only was Phil not gay, thus extinguishing the slightest bit of hope he had, but Phil was actively homophobic. Phil worked at a bloody conversion therapy site, for fuck’s sake.

“He’s got a path for all of us.”

Phil wasn’t uncomfortable about Father Richard-he was uncomfortable about Dan and their friends being around Father Richard, and them finding out just what a homophobic, lying, fake-

“I found Pop-Tarts!”

Phil’s voice interrupts the swirling thoughts in his head, and he slowly turns, holding the brochure up. “Were you ever going to mention this?” Phil’s face goes pale. “I...Where did you…” He whispers, but Dan growls. Actually growls. Red hot anger is taking control now as days, weeks, months, years of suffocated emotions rises to the top suddenly. A lifetime of not fitting in, a lifetime of hiding, and to be rejected by Phil-like this.

“Nice pic of you and your friend, Phil. You worked with him on this? You and Richard, two pals-and you knew we’d judge you for it, so you just decided not to tell us?!”

“Wait, wait, Dan, no. It’s not like that. That’s not what-” Phil tries to butt in. Dan isn’t having it.

“Do you realize what kind of damage you do to people, Phil?! You can’t act like-like Little Mr. Innocent about this, this is some seriously fucked up shit you’ve done!” Dan’s properly yelling now, getting to his feet and not even stopping as Phil cowers back. “And-And worst of all, you hid it from us! You talk like you love everyone, hiding behind your stupid flowery language, but you’re a total fucking hateful dick!”

Phil suddenly stands as well, putting his hands in front of his chest, but irritation is creeping into his voice. “Daniel. Listen to me, you don’t understand. I’m not hateful-” “Oh-Oh yeah? Not hateful, huh? Not hateful when you say ‘gay is an artificial construct, created to celebrate people’s sinful homosexual desires’? Or when your stupid fucking camp goes to ‘remove young men from their unhealthy environment to bring them to Jesus and see the errors they’re making’?” Dan’s reading directly from the pamphlet now. “That doesn’t sound loving, Phil!”

“Dan, let me-” “There is literally nothing you could say to make this better. You think you’re helping, don’t you? But you’re just-just spreading hate, and-” Dan’s words are cut off as Phil suddenly grabs him by the back of his head, pulling him into a hard kiss. For possibly the first time in his life, Dan is rendered speechless, especially a few moments later when Phil pulls away and his eyes well up.

“Dan…” He choked out, sinking down onto the couch and starting to sob. “I didn’t-I didn’t-” After a moment he grabs the brochure weakly. “I didn’t work at the camp.” He chokes out finally, and Dan just stands frozen in place. “I was a camper.”

Dan hates that he doesn’t know whether he should trust him or not. But...this is Phil, crying ugly, hard sobs, and he can’t help but feel his heart break in two. “A...camper?” He asks slowly, moving to sit next to him but keeping his distance.

Phil lets out a pained noise but nods. “I signed up to go. Because I kept having these-these dreams, and these urges. And I thought if I did everything right, if I listened to Father R-Richard…” He has to stop himself to catch his breath as it comes quicker, curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. “I thought if I could be perfect, I could b-be like him. A priest. A husband, to a wife. A father to my k-kids. An ex-homosexual.” He said, tears streaming down his face. “Dan, I-I tried so hard…” Dan frowns, running a hand through his hair slowly. “You can’t just-I mean, I don’t think it works like that, Phil,” Dan says after a moment, and Phil nods quickly. “I know, I know. God knows I know. They tried everything on m-me. I mean, everything. But the more they did, the more angry I got, with myself, with Richard, with God. I hated God, Dan, I hated him so much, and I did all this stuff…” Dan can’t stop himself but reaching out and taking his hand at that, and Phil clings to it almost instantly. “I lied, and I ripped up my Bible, and I did stuff with the other guys there…”

Dan blinked a few times. For Phil, that was intense, and he can hear the guilt and true sorrow in his voice. “You-I mean, no offense, but kissing a few guys and tearing up a book aren’t exactly unforgivable sins.” He says, hoping to bring him comfort. To his surprise, Phil laughs sadly.

“I did more than just kiss, trust me. When Richard found me in the showers with one of the guys-”

At that Dan’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. Phil, who half an hour ago was blushing at ads for tampons, in the showers with a guy? “He-He decided I needed more intense therapy. It was hours and hours of just being told how disgusting I was, being shown these videos, being preached at, b-but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop feeling like I did.”

“Phil…” Dan feels his broken heart finally crumble. He pulls him into a hug, letting him sob into his hair.

“F-Finally I just lied my way th-through it. That’s what m-most of us do. And then I was th-the big success story, and they took that dumb picture, and it was finally over. I went home, and I was so mad I decided I’d go through my Bible-the nice, new one my parents had bought me, when they heard that ‘somebody’ tore up my old one-to s-see how wrong I was before and how terrible He was. So I stayed up for nearly a week, no school, no nothing. Just reading.”

Phil pulled away to reach out, grabbing his copy of the Bible from his bag “ And as I read, I…”

He took a deep breath as he opened it up and slowly turned the pages, motioning to the Post-Its and notes littering the scripture. “I didn’t find that. I found a God that wanted me to love-He wanted me to love my family, and my friends, and my neighbors, and-and guys. He wanted me to love you. He wanted me to love you, romantically.” At that, Dan feels his heart stop and he gently moves to look Phil in the eyes. “You really think that?” He whispered, Phil nodding quickly as he ran a hand through Dan’s hair.

“God gave us all the ability to love-fully, and deeply, and wonderfully. And-And I love you, so much. I didn’t want to freak you out, and I’m not ready to be out, but-” This time it’s Dan’s turn to cut him off with a slower, gentler kiss. “Shh. We don’t have to tell anyone.” He murmured.

“It can just be us?” Phil asked in a small voice. “Just you and me?”

At that, Dan is pretty sure he’s going to explode, because dear God that’s all he’s ever wanted. He wants to scream, he wants to jump up and down, he wants to run down the fucking mountain and throw rocks at Father Richard’s car-

Instead, Dan takes a deep breath before smiling and nodding. “Just me and you.” He agreed quietly.

He leaned in and kissed Phil again, cupping his cheeks. This time was gentler, and Phil let out a soft, relieved noise as his lips moved against Dan’s and he pulled Dan close to him.

“I love you,” Dan says once they pull away. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Have I ever read you Proverbs 17:28?” Phil interrupts with a giggle. Dan raises an eyebrow but grabs Phil’s Bible, flipping to it.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

“Did you just ask me to shut up and keep kissing you through a Bible verse?!” Dan whined, but he can’t help but grin as Phil kept laughing, nodding as he connected their lips again.

Time seems to stand still. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, ten hours, ten years-Dan can only guess how much time has passed when they hear the group off in the distance. “Shit-shit, okay, one last-” Dan jerked away but Phil giggled, grabbing the plate of Pop-Tarts and Dan’s hand before dragging him outside. He took him out a bit before they got down to the lake, sitting on the sand and wrapping his arms around Dan. Dan pauses before shyly climbing into his lap, and then they’re kissing again, Phil only pausing to catch his breath and murmur “I’m sorry you thought I could be homophobic.” “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before jumping to conclusions.” “I’m sorry I didn’t open up about what had happened.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been that guy in the showers with you.” The words leave Dan’s mouth before he can stop himself-humor is a coping mechanism for him, but right now, he wants to kick himself when he hears Phil’s gasp.

“Oi! Not yet, at least.” He said with a slight laugh, pressing his lips to Dan’s cheek and watching as his face burns red. He grins and presses a few pecks to his lips before looking up at the sky.

“...You really think God wants this for us?” Dan says and Phil closes his eyes, snuggling closer.

“‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:113 to 114’.” Phil recited quietly. “God made us fearfully-like, with great awe and respect of us-and wonderfully. He made us find each other, he made us love each other.” He kissed Dan’s nose. “So that’s us. Fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dan looks at Phil with a soft smile, a bit worn from all the excitement of the day, but feeling...free. “Fearfully and wonderfully, huh?”

Phil nods, and Dan pulls him even closer.

“I could get used to that.”

#phan #dan howell #phil lester #dan and phil #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfic au

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ahtohallan-calling · 4 years

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chapter 6 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

note: this chapter is rated m. in the interest of keeping this blog SFW, an edited, t-rated version is below the cut, but if you want to read the whole thing, follow the ao3 links above!

“Hey, Kris,” she whispered.

“Hey, Anna. Welcome home.”

chapter 6: soap

Kristoff had made her promise to try and sleep on the plane, but that was impossible, really, considering they took off at only 10 A.M. and there were so many movies to watch and so many snacks to try and-- more importantly-- he was waiting for her on the other side.

Honey was sitting beside and for once had let up on her good-natured teasing; Anna had a feeling the other woman knew she was getting more and more nervous about getting back to L.A. She’d been looking forward to this day for what felt like ages, but she couldn’t help feeling apprehensive; what if Kristoff saw her and all the chemistry just evaporated? Or what if he was already over it and didn’t show up to the airport at all? Or what if--

A nudge against her elbow jolted her out of her worries. “Hey,” Honey said softly. “What’s that big frown about?”

She quickly slid a smile onto her face. “Frowning? I’m not--”

“Anna, I’ve spent almost every morning the last month and a half looking at your face. Trust me, I know when something’s up.”

Anna let out a sigh. “I just...I guess I don’t really know what to expect. You know?”

“With Kristoff?”

“Yeah.”

Honey leaned back in her seat, looking thoughtful. Anna had spilled out their entire history to her over the dozens of hours she’d spent in her hair and makeup chair, and she was immensely grateful for the other woman’s friendship throughout the whole film shoot; she’d been an anchor during one of the most overwhelming times in her life. Feeling suddenly sentimental, she reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand.

Honey grinned and squeezed back. “What’s that for? I didn’t even give you some of my trademark brilliant advice yet.”

“You don’t have to. I’m just grateful to you for listening to me.”

“Hey, you’re an actress. Normally people pay for the privilege.”

Anna pretended to gag, and Honey laughed. “Okay, okay. Seriously, though, Anna, you’ve been a good friend, too. Sometimes people will go, like, a whole shoot without even learning my name.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, seriously.”

“We’re still going to hang out once we’re back in LA, though, right?”

“Um, hell yes.”

“And you’re still going to go on a date with my sister?” Anna asked with a devilish wink.

Honey just laughed. “Only if you promise to still hang out with me when it inevitably goes terribly.”

---

The others had warned her that paparazzi would likely be waiting in the arrivals lobby; while Anna was by no means a big enough star to really worry about it, there was still a decent chance she might end up in the background of someone else’s photo or that a picture might end up in the tabloids once the movie came out, so she’d thrown a sundress into her carryon to change into just in case-- and a pair of running shorts to wear underneath in case of any wardrobe malfunctions.

She slipped into the bathroom to change about an hour before they landed, grateful that the first class bathroom was at least a little bigger than the one in economy. But as it turned out, no matter where you sat on a plane, if you were on there for eleven hours and hadn’t slept a wink, you’d end up looking pretty rough.

Anna bit her lip nervously as she pulled her hair back into a French braid to try and make it look somewhat presentable. Her face, though, was an absolutely lost cause. She’d brought a little tube of mascara with her and tried swiping some on, but even that didn’t make much of a difference. You’ll be lucky if Kris doesn’t take one look and run away screaming, she thought morbidly before letting out a near-silent groan and burying her face in her hands.

He’d seen her first thing in the morning and as she crawled into bed; even before she had left LA he’d seen her crying on the floor and her most unflattering giant t-shirt, but for some reason now she couldn’t shake the fear that he would see her and suddenly change his mind, that once he saw her in person again everything would change.

Eventually the “fasten seatbelt” sign pinged back on, and she abandoned hope of making herself presentable. She settled back into her seat, chewing on her bottom lip and hoping everyone else assumed she was just nervous about the plane landing.

And then at last they were on the ground, and she was back in LA for the first time in six weeks, and she was grabbing her carryon and walking through the gate and then immigration and then the baggage claim with everyone, and then suddenly she was hugging Honey goodbye, and a bright pop of light flooded her vision.

She felt her friend’s arms tighten around her. “Jesus, never get used to that shit,” Honey muttered.

“Oh-- they weren’t kidding about the paparazzi, were they?”

“Nah. And Adam just walked up, so if I were you I’d make a quick exit before more of them show up.”

Honey gave her one last squeeze before pulling away. “Good luck with everything, okay? Text me if you need to talk.”

“I-- I will, have a good summer,” she said with a half-hearted wave before turning back to face the crowds of people in the arrivals hall, trying to spot Kristoff’s head above the crowd.

Another flash went off, and then suddenly a whole cluster of them as Adam walked past, waving at the crowds with practiced ease. Anna squinted against the light, temporarily blinded as she tried to fight the rising fear that he wasn’t there, that he hadn’t bothered to show up at all, or that the whole thing had been a dream.

And then, all of a sudden, she heard her name and turned to the left, and there he was, holding a bouquet of sunflowers and grinning so broadly her fears suddenly melted away. She’d imagined this moment over and over again, had thought she would run to him, jump right into his arms and kiss him, or maybe tackle him and just have her way with him then and there, or maybe he’d grab her and dip her down low and kiss her, or maybe she’d just burst into tears.

None of that happened; instead she just made her way over to him, her heart pounding harder with every step, and the moment he was within arms’ reach she dropped the handles of her suitcases and hugged him around the waist as tightly as she could, resting her head against his chest and inhaling the clean, woodsy smell of him.

Kristoff held her back just as tightly; she could feel his heart racing beneath her cheek and smiled. “Hey, Kris,” she whispered.

“Hey, Anna. Welcome home.”

She pulled back from him just enough that her eyes met his, and then she was rising up on her toes and he was leaning down and then he was kissing her so sweetly she wondered how she had ever worried about this.

At last he pulled away, wearing a dopey grin. “I, uh, I got you flowers.”

“Oh! I saw!”

She pulled away from him just enough to take the bouquet. “You remembered sunflowers are my favorite.”

“Of course.”

She threw her arms around his neck this time, kissing him so hard she heard someone in the crowd wolf whistle, and they both pulled away, red-faced and sheepish. “So, um,” Kristoff asked, leaning his forehead against hers, “where do you want me to take you? Home, I guess?”

“Your apartment.”

He sucked in a breath. “I-- you-- I-- you weren’t kidding about that?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

“Jesus, Anna, then what the hell are we waiting around here for?”

He grabbed the handles of both of her suitcases, and she followed him with a laugh, holding tight to her sunflowers in one hand and letting the other rest lightly on the back of his arm. “Sven’s not home, right?”

“Nah, won’t be til after six. He, uh, he’s a bank teller.”

“No way. He has, like, an actual grown-up career?”

Kristoff huffed out a laugh. “Believe me, I ask myself the same thing every day.”

She knew the polite thing to do once they got to his car was help him put her suitcases in the trunk, but that would have meant forgoing the chance to watch the muscles in his arms flex as he lifted them with ease, so instead she stood to the side and admired the view, feeling a little thrill run down to her spine and settle into the beginnings of a flame somewhere deep inside her. The second he’d slammed the trunk door shut, she pulled him down into a kiss again, this time not holding back, bystanders be damned.

Kristoff responded with equal enthusiasm, fisting his hands in the back of her dress and pulling her flush against him. He caught her lower lip between his teeth, and a little moan escaped her; it was only then that he pulled away, slightly out of breath.

“Warn me if you see any police cars on the way, okay?” he asked her, still keeping her pressed against his chest as he kissed her forehead. “Because I’m definitely speeding the whole way there.”

She spent most of the ride to his apartment wishing she’d taken the production company up on their offer of a taxi so she could have spent the trip in the backseat on Kristoff’s lap. By the way a flush was slowly creeping up his neck, he knew exactly what she was thinking about. At a particularly crowded intersection, she yawned, stretching her arms over her head and arching her back; she could feel Kristoff’s gaze on her the whole time and turned to him afterward with a smirk.

“Enjoying the show?”

He didn’t respond, just reached over and set his hand on her leg, just below where the hem of her dress had ridden up. His thumb rubbed maddeningly against the silky skin of her leg, still lingering there as he looked away and started driving again, and now it was her turn to stare.

She’d missed that face; video calls just didn’t do it justice, the way the afternoon sunlight illuminated the gold in his hair and brought out the scattered freckles on his nose. A hint of stubble peppered his jaw; god, she wanted to kiss him there, right at the corner of it, trail her lips down to his pulse point and over his throat and to his collarbone and--

She couldn’t help it. At the next light, she reached down and put her hand over his where it rested on her thigh. Kristoff’s hand tightened around her leg, and a little whimper escaped her.

His eyes slid to meet hers, his thumb circling one last time before he pulled away. She pouted at the loss of contact, and he rolled his eyes affectionately. “Anna, if you don’t stop, I’m going to have to stop this car behind an abandoned warehouse or something.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“Yes. Call me old-fashioned, but I’d rather do this in bed. The first time, at least.”

The first time. She couldn’t help but smile. “God, Kris, you really are romantic about everything, aren’t you?”

“Not everything. Only you.”

Well-- maybe she could hold off a little longer. It wasn’t easy, though; by the time he finally parked at his building Anna had to fight the urge to clamber over the console and straddle his lap. Instead, she scrambled out of the car, not caring about her suitcases, and ran around the front to meet him as he emerged.

Kristoff was laughing at first, but then she tugged him down by the collar and kissed him thoroughly, her tongue flicking over his lower lip before she pulled away, grabbing his hand. “Okay. I think I can make it now.”

“What--”

“Hurry up,” she whined, and he followed after her with a trace of laughter.

He paused as they walked into the lobby, a little frown appearing on his forehead. “Ah, shit, I forgot the elevator’s down."

“Jesus, we’ve got the worst luck. Third floor, though, right? Not too bad.”

She leaned up on her toes, pressing up against him as she kissed him once more, her lips parting with a contented sigh. He groaned from somewhere deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against her, and slid his hands down her back, tugging her even closer against him.

“Anna,” he panted, “you’re going to kill me before we even get upstairs, you know that?”

“God, I hope not. I’m nowhere near finished with you.”

She pulled away from him and darted merrily up the first flight of stairs, pausing only for a moment to peer back and make sure he was following before she continued, because frankly, she’d waited long enough.

Once they were finally on the right floor, she leaned back against his door as he fumbled in his pocket for the key; the moment he was within arms’ reach she slid her hands up under the hem of his shirt, smirking when she felt him suck in a deep breath under her exploratory touch. He leaned down to slant his mouth across hers in an open-mouthed kiss as he pushed the door open; she started to stumble, but he caught her, crushing her against his broad chest.

“Hang on,” he mumbled against her mouth, kicking the door shut behind him, and Anna laced her fingers behind his neck as he lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he started carrying her towards his bedroom.

---

“We’re like, doing that again later, right?” Anna asked with a yawn.“When I’m not jetlagged.”

Kristoff pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want.”

“I promise I’m not going to fall asleep now. I know you’ve got work later, so I’m gonna make the most of it, I just gotta-- gotta--” She yawned again. “Gotta lay here for a minute. That was a workout.”

He threw an arm over her waist, pulling her close against his chest. She went gladly, nestling her face against the warmth of his shoulder. “I took today off.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Traded my shift with someone.”

“You big ol softy,” she mumbled, turning her head to press a kiss against the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t tell Sven.”

“Oh, he knows. We talk about you all the time.”

“....no you don’t. You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you are.”

“Mmmm...no, I don’t think I will tell you.”

He groaned, but she could hear the smile in his voice. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Keep holding me, preferably, while I take a nap. I’ll be fast, I promise.”

“I guess I can do that,” he whispered. “Sweet dreams.”

She was already fast asleep.

---

Anna wasn’t sure what time it was when she woke up again, but she did know that as wonderful as it felt to be wrapped in Kristoff’s arms, she really needed to take a shower. She pressed a drowsy kiss to his cheek and felt him stir against her.

“‘Swrong, baby?” he mumbled, not opening his eyes as he nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

Something warm blossomed in her chest; she pressed another kiss to his jaw. “Can I use your shower?”

“Mhmm.”

When she tried to pull away, though, his arms only tightened around her. “Kris, you have to actually let go of me.”

“Mmf...oh, sorry,” he mumbled, opening his eyes at last as he shifted away from her. “Towels are in there, just don’t use the blue one. Trust me.”

She slid out of bed and pulled her dress on just in case Sven had come home while they’d been sleeping. “Why are you this tired?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night. Too excited.”

The warmth in her chest was only growing. She’d been halfway out the door, but at his words she turned back and leaned down to kiss him as he sat up.

“Need help in the shower?” he asked with a grin, and she laughed.

“No, I actually seriously need to wash my hair. Go back to sleep, okay?”

He yawned and looked so sweet doing it she couldn’t help but kiss his forehead one last time. “If you insist.”

She tiptoed quietly down the hallway, letting out a sigh of relief when she caught sight of the clock in the kitchen and saw it was just after one. The bathroom was sparse, as she’d expected, but they did at least have shampoo and bodywash, and when she picked up a bottle and caught a whiff of the scent she was quickly coming to associate with Kristoff, she grinned and used it, wondering if he would notice.

When she’d finished and darted back out into the hall in her towel, she could hear him banging around in the kitchen; she slipped back into his bedroom and realized suddenly that they’d left both of her suitcases in the car. She spotted a half-open drawer in his wardrobe and went over with a smile, taking out one of his old college t-shirts and pulling it on over her head. It went nearly down to her knees; she was tempted to go out wearing nothing else but instead slipped back into the shorts she’d worn under the sundress, letting her hair hang damp and loose over her shoulders.

Kristoff was too focused on whatever was on the stove to notice when she came in, so she hopped up to sit on the counter top and sidled into his field of vision, feeling a little flutter in her chest when she noticed he was wearing his glasses again and another when she realized he’d gone back out to the car and brought in the sunflowers for her and put them in a cup of water. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said with a little smile that quickly turned into a stunned expression when he actually turned and looked at her.

Anna bit her lip, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “You don’t mind that I borrowed this, right? It’s just my clothes are still--”

He came over, placing his arms on either side of the counter around her, and leaned in to kiss her, so fiercely she thought she might melt away then and there. After a moment he pulled away, a glazed look in his eyes, and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

“Anna?”

“Hmm?” she asked, combing her fingers gently through his hair.

“Did you use my soap, too?”

“Mmhmm,” she whispered, and he groaned against her collarbone before pressing an open-mouthed kiss there, his teeth scraping lightly over her skin.

It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Kris-- whatever you’re cooking-- it’s going to burn,” she managed to gasp out.

“Goddammit. And I used my good cheese in those, too.”

He pulled away with a sorrowful look in his eye to flip the sandwiches in the pan, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got all afternoon, and the day after that, and after that--”

He glanced back at her, looking suddenly pensive. “We do, don’t we?”

She nodded. “So...what’s next?”

“Well, I still have a few more scenes to film in the studio here...and then interviews...and then more auditions...and then TV spots...and then maybe awards shows…”

A little smile had started to appear on his face when he realized she was teasing him, and it grew with each word.

“But more importantly, I’m going to spend so much time with my boyfriend he’s going to get sick of me--”

“Not likely.”

Anna smiled and held her arms out to him. He came to her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist once more, and she pressed a kiss into his hair. “And then we’ll make up the rest of it as we go along.”

#YALL ARE WELCOME!!!!!!!!!#the smuttiest thing ive ever done (its still not quite smut but w/e)#my fics #drtlp

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penguin-writes-books · 5 years

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Little White Lies - Chapter 6

TJ woke to the loud, angry tone of his alarm for the first time since the morning of Molly's death, his head immediately throbbing as he sat up. Amber was sleeping next to him, as she had on occasion since the day they came home from the hospital. "Ambs, wake up," he mumbled, shaking her awake. "I hate you." "Mhm, I know. We have school today, though. In...two hours." "Fuck," Amber grumbled, mostly to herself. "Why did we choose today?" "...It- it's Monday?" TJ offered. "And we have to get back to school, Ambs." "I know, I know. But I started my period like two days ago and we just ran out of pads and tampons," she huffed, burying her face back in her pillow. "Listen, I'll run to the store. You get ready, alright?" TJ offered, grabbing Amber and his set of car keys and turning to his bedroom door. "Thanks, Teej," she said, reluctantly pushing the covers off of herself and starting down the hall to get dressed. "Eh, don't mention it. You're the one just casually bleeding out every damn month," TJ responded, jogging outside with a quick call over his shoulder to their mom.

TJ stepped through the automatic doors of the supermarket, pausing for a moment to glance in both directions as his eyes adjusted to the fluorescent lighting overhead. He took a right, before turning into his aisle. He was halfway through doing his damnedest to calculate the best deal when someone said his name, startling him from his reverie of numbers and long division symbols. "TJ?" He glanced up to find Andi Mack, of all the people in the world. "Oh, hey," he greeted, chuckling to himself at the awkward nature of the situation. "Nice to see you again?" "Yeah," Andi laughed slightly, stepping into the aisle. "May I ask why you're... here, specifically?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to what was effectively a wall of period products in front of TJ. "Amber needed pads," he laughed, quickly deciding on and grabbing a box, 99% sure it was the same one they always had at their house. "Ah. And here I am trying to convince Bex that she really doesn't need more fabric softener. We literally have four bottles of it at our apartment." "Hey, you never know! Maybe she likes really, really soft clothes?" TJ defended. "Listen, I've been meaning to talk to you, do you have a minute?" "Y-yeah, of course. As long as I catch Mom before she walks out of here with a lifetime supply of fabric softener, one less deed to a business, and a date at bankruptcy court." "I wanted to thank you for being there for Amber at the funeral," he said. "And I- I wanted to tell you that I think you should tell her." "Tell her what?" "Tell her you're in love with her," TJ said. "Yeah okay, like it's that simple," Andi scoffed. "I know, I know. I just- I think you should tell her." "Does she even like me? Or girls in general?" Andi asked skeptically. "I don't know?" TJ bluffed. "You are literally her twin brother, of course you know." "No, I think you don't understand. I literally have no idea, Andi. That girl is an enigma and a half. Just talk to her, alright?" "Fine, I will. But I have to get going." Andi nodded goodbye to TJ, before turning to walk away. She stopped just before rounding the corner, turning to face TJ. "You and Amber come back to school today, don't you?" "Yeah, we do. I'll see you there?" "As long as I can still afford not to have a job after Mom's fabric softener spree." "Jesus, I sincerely hope you're exaggerating for the sake of comedy."

TJ took a deep breath, fiddling with the bottom of his hoodie. He and Amber were wearing similar things, both having chosen primarily black outfits. If asked why, they'd mumble something or other about their clothing choices relying simply on whatever it was that tumbled from their closets that morning. However, both knew that their sudden affinity for dark, muted clothing revolved around their wish to blend into the rest of the world today, to melt away from everyone else and bleed into near invisible blurs of black fabric and blonde hair. "Okay?" Amber asked, glancing at her brother. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just- get this over with?" Amber nodded, taking a step toward the front doors. The twins' first synchronized footstep into the hallway fell heavily against the shiny linoleum like a textbook being dropped to the ground from the arms of a clumsy student, drawing all eyes in the hallway to them. A quiet murmur spread through the hall as they felt a hundred pairs of eyes resting on them, the sympathy surrounding them nearly tangible as they walked. "I hate this so much. Why can't they just leave us alone?" TJ whispered to Amber. "Me too," she agreed, turning toward her locker. TJ opened his next to her, silently putting his books in his bag. He pulled the tall stack of homework he'd done out of the severely worn backpack, rifling through it and putting the homework for his afternoon classes back in his locker before swinging it shut with a satisfying clang. "I've gotta go to class," TJ mumbled, training his eyes on the ground to avoid students' gazes.

TJ and Cyrus walked side by side toward Mrs. Bailey's room, Cyrus doing his best to shoo people's gazes away from them as they walked. When TJ glanced up to find Cyrus angrily mouthing something about 'leaving him alone' to a freshman, he stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face everyone in the hallway. "Hi, can I have your attention for a second? Yes, my sister is dead. Yes, she died almost a month ago in the hospital. I know, I was there. Now, if you could all stop boring me with sympathy that I know you do not intend sincerely, that'd be lovely." With that, he pivoted on his heel, turning down the hall. "I'm sorry, Teej. I tried to get them to stop spreading rumors and stuff," Cyrus apologized, following him into Mrs. Bailey's room. "It's fine, Underdog. You didn't do anything wrong." TJ responded, taking his seat alongside his best friend as the final bell rang loudly through the room. "Alright, class!" Mrs. Bailey called for the attention of the class. "This class period is going to be dedicated to your projects. Today, we're going to write a quick reflection on your projects thus far. Those interviewing partners, write a short summary of what you've found about your partners. And those being interviewed, reflect upon your experience. In fifteen minutes, turn them in and keep working on asking questions." Cyrus quickly got to work, writing out a string of blatantly emotionless adjectives describing TJ. He desperately wanted to avoid writing anything too personal about him. When fifteen minutes was up, he turned it in with a sigh, thoroughly unimpressed with his work. He turned back to talk to TJ, sitting next to him and opening his computer. "Alright, Teej. Where is your favorite place on Earth?" "Hmm... I don't really know. I guess, there's this tree in the woods behind my house. It's pretty, and you can see the whole city from the top." "I wanna see it sometime!" Cyrus exclaimed. "Okay, Underdog. Whatever you say," TJ winked, smiling slightly. "Cyrus, can I talk to you for a second?" Mrs. Bailey asked from her desk behind them. "Yeah of course, what's up?" Cyrus asked, standing up and stepping toward her desk. "This." She held up Cyrus's work. "Is not good enough. I want it done again by the end of the period. And I want it to be done right this time, or you and TJ both get zeroes, no matter what his essay says." "But he just got back from bereavement leave!" "I know, Cyrus. But I also know you can do better than some adjectives and a full name." "...Fine."

At the end of class, Cyrus was handed back his newly written paper with a bright red 100 at the top, circled multiple times. "Oooh, can I read it now?" TJ asked excitedly. Cyrus held it away from him, shaking his head in disapproval. "No!" he exclaimed. "It's not like you don't already know everything I wrote in here!" "Not true! I wanna know what you wrote about me!" TJ huffed, lunging forward and pulling the paper from his hands as the bell rang, allowing students to file out of the classroom. TJ, however, stayed back with Cyrus, leaning back against their table and reading down the paper.

Timothy James Kippen's favorite color is blue. If you were to ask him why, he'd say it's because blue is the color of the sky and of the ocean, of possibility and languid happiness. But he won't tell you that blue is laced into his mother's eyes. That the first gift she ever gave her daughters lay in the clear blue shining in their eyes. He won't tell you that he's spent years wishing for the crystal blue eyes he wasn't given. Instead, he fell into green. Timothy James Kippen's least favorite color is green. He'll never tell you why, but he knows it's because the very green he holds in his eyes was a gift from the one person he's never wanted a gift from. The one gift he could never return, etched permanently into his eyes. TJ is woven out of threads made of midnight walks in the dark, 11:11 wishes, movie ticket stubs, and the few pages precious enough to have been torn from the spines of their journals. He is shelves upon shelves of books, all adorned with notes in black ink along the margins, and countless weathered atlases and world maps, each marked with places he wants to go, things he wants to see, people he wants to meet. He is warm, gentle, blue cotton. But he's been dyed green. The dye has stiffened him, tangled the threads that weave through him. He's slowly washing the green away, softening again. But with time, maybe the dye will fade completely. Maybe he'll be warm and kind and loving again. Maybe he'll be blue again. But for now, he's settled for teal.

#andi mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #little white lies fic

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scripted-dalliances · 5 years

Text

Rest In Peace: Chapter Twelve

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 12

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“She knew herself, how she had slowly, over years, become a cat, a wolf, a snake, anything but a girl. How she had wrung out her girlhood like death.” -Catherynne M. Valente

Laura has learned not to carry expectations when it comes to Gods.

Odin was just some old drifter, Ostara looks like she could beat Martha Stewart in a home decorating contest any day of the week and Mad Sweeney is six foot and five inches tall leprechaun. Clearly, it wasn't text book mythology rules.

Still, Isis surprises her. Laura had vaguely assumed she would look like an older Nephthys. Just as high cheeked and blessed with model perfected features. No doubt blessed with a matching leg length, to work a powerful goddess stride.

Instead Isis is cute.

Isis is nearly as short as Laura herself, curvy with a heart shaped face. Making her plush lips and large eyes look all that more beautiful. She looks young.

Everything about her seems to glow, but less like something other worldly and more like joy. She smiles brightly at sister and son, bubbling with soft laughter as they talk. Nothing about her movements is overly graceful, she is frantically eager and emotional. In this moment, she is not elegant and stately. Nor is she trying to pretend to like so many other gods and goddesses have tried.

Laura can't help but stare, trying vainly to find the line where goddess and woman meet but in Isis she realizes maybe there isn't one.

In midst her staring, the small goddess finally calms down and cuts the distance between them. The laser focus she once had for her son, now locks on to Laura as if she physically marked a target on the dead girl. Who can do nothing but freeze and accept the woman's space budding onto her own.

“You and I are long over due for a talk.”

Laura pulls back her lips into a dry, tight smile.

“You could say, I've been waiting a life time.”

Isis’s eyes glitter with amusement even when behind them Mad Sweeney groans in mock pain at her line. With a gentle touch, Isis moves her aside to look the leprechaun up and down. Her expression a cross between unimpressed and curiosity.

“Let me guess, Mad Sweeney?”

Laura gets some sick satisfaction seeing him go pale and nervous. He even takes his hands out of his pockets and attempts to look polite.

She wants to tell him that particular endeavor is hopeless.

“Aye.”

Isis nods, “Well, you can go now.”

“What?” Laura surprises herself by asking, not even sure why her voice sounds mad. Fuck, not even the idiot himself questions the goddess. He just stands there looking at the pair of them. “Go where?”

“Away?” Isis answers bluntly. “The conversation we need to have should be a private one, don't you think? At the very least, I assumed you wouldn't want your killer to take part in.” -and before Laura can get a word in to question that, she answers, “And yes, we know that too. Odin’s ravens were not the only things watching that night.”

“She's got a point dead girl…I should go.” He adds.

Laura glares at his stupid sad face, “Shut the fuck up. I did not suffer your presence all this time for you to just leave. Let alone to be dismissed like some serving boy.” Though some private part of her knows this is illogical. That if she finds him so annoying, she should want him gone. But she is a possessive dead girl these days, and she doesn't have much but him and a coin to call her own.

(She refuses to look too deeply into that fact she claims him at all)

Instead she turns her attention back to Isis, “Look, no offense but if anyone is going to tell him to fuck off its me. And I didn't, so he stays, okay?”

Isis’s soft smile blooms into a wider, altogether more wicked one. Like she is utterly pleased by Laura's response, and its only when Nephthys starts to laugh does she remember that Isis loves a good trick.

Shit.

If she had any hot blood in her, it would be rising to her cheeks. Maybe even her ears. Right now, if she were alive. She would be flushed with embarrassment.

But she's dead and thank god for that.

Ha.

In the end, Mad Sweeney and Laura join Isis at a small seating area in her office. Nephthys and Horus leave them, saying cheerful goodbyes that don't seem like such, as if one day soon their paths will cross again and soon.

“Do you want anything?” Isis asks, as she pours herself a glass of red wine from a near by table of assorted drinks. Mad Sweeney approaches cautiously but once he knows this isn't a trick question of sorts, points to the southern comfort bottle. She hands the bottle to him and goes to hand him a glass too but he takes the offered bottle and runs. Choosing to put as much physical distance as he can between him and the goddess without actually leaving the room.

“Am I really that scary?” She asks the dead woman, taking the empty glass with her as she sits down to hand to Laura. Who promptly shoves it under his nose. With a gruff sound of annoyance he pops the bottle open and fills her glass.

Isis watches.

Under her stare Mad Sweeney bristles, wants to tell her “Yes, Jesus fucking Christ, yes! YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING. AND THIS IS EXAMPLE FUCKING ONE” -but instead he finds his voice and says, “I already have one small overly strong bitch who has my balls in her pocket. Not really in the market for another.”

(Never forget he has a death wish)

Isis chuckles and lets his insult slide, “She has more than just your balls.” She says it with such knowing that it freezes his blood. Like she has reached in with clever hands and stolen a secret he wasn't aware could so easily been taken. “Don't look so surprised.”

Mad Sweeney attempts to keep his shit together, gently coughs and looks at the goddess, “Not surprised, more like mystified.”

“Its common knowledge by now that she is only walking because of your coin. Your luck.”

Do not sigh in relief. He tells himself while taking a long gulp straight from the bottle. Mostly to buy himself an ounce of time and the chance to look away from her iron gaze. It’s easier to breath when he isn’t.

“Is it now? Wasn't aware that Grimnir and you were so close.”

Just like that, the warmth of the room vanishes and Isis's good mood with it. Replacing her joy with fury. She doesn't hide it, the rage is in her like a storm, radiating from her eyes. In her voice.

“I am no friend of your former employee. If I could smear his name from my memory I would. Just as I would burn him to ash. To let my sons consume him whole. If there is a punishment too cruel to name, I want him to experience it a thousand times.” Isis promises this with venom, spits it out like a rattle snake, forcing Sweeney physically leans away from her.

“Aye, alright. So you didn't hear it from him. Am I allowed to ask how you did?”

The goddess visibly cools her anger and shrugs, “Well, the coin is technically one of mine isn't it? Or rather of an Isis.”

Mad Sweeney and Laura both balk, but he more than her as he quickly forgets his place, “No, it ain't. It's mine. Always has been.”

“Always?”

“YES ALWAYS.” He shouts only to promptly remember…not always. He didn't make it after all, he was no black smith. “It was given to me as a gift when I was a king.”

The petite goddess doesn't smile, but her gaze softens. “Like any good coin, it was made to be used. Not locked up in some vault, to collect dust. I am not mad it fell into your hands, I'm sure it was meant to.” From no where, she plucks a similar gold coin into existence. So much like his own ability that for half a second he feels disjointed. Jealous.

“Now, my coins, here and now. Those are just shades of magic I have left to spare to the occasional customer who spends it here. What you have Laura, is a piece of the original Isis's magic. Meant not just to bring luck, but justice. Strength to obtain it. Maybe it was placed on your grave without intent, but I have a funny feeling it would just as easily been rolled out of a pocket. The wind would have carried it out, a stray crow or cat would have helped it along.”

“It's meant for a king.” Sweeney tries again, refusing the idea that this is the part of the story always meant to be told. That she was always meant to have it, because if that is true, it means he was always meant to kill her.

And that is too fucked up for him to take.

Isis chuckles warmly at his indignation, “Is it such a strange thought that a king is sometimes a woman?”

Mad Sweeney bites his tongue is muted anger; he’s not good at it, he knows he looks pissed and he can’t stop tapping his foot, but there isn’t a damn thing he can say or do. Isis isn’t wrong, and nor will she allow herself to be to the likes of him.

He has no power here, no strength and no fucking clue.

“I am not a king,” Laura says in Mad Sweeney’s silence.

Just short of outraged since this isn't answering anything. In fact, it's just drawing in more questions. “I was just a normal, if really shitty and depressed chick who made some terrible choices. So, you’ve got the wrong dead girl, sorry.”

“A king isn’t just someone with a crown, or a throne, sometimes it is earned. You need the right spirit, to be strong enough to handle that kind of power.” Isis explains, taking a sip of her wine before placing it down.

“And who says I have that?” Laura digs, this is starting to hurt. She wanted answers, she wanted to find a way back to life. Not to peel back the pages of her dirty end, she knew that part of the story. She was there, wasn't she?

She knew what fueled her, the sick and overwhelming emptiness that demanded anything and anyone to fill it; of what mistakes came from that sickness, how she had hurt everyone who ever knew her name. She knows all the players involved, of Odin and Sweeney, of Shadow and the ravens who watched.

Just as she knows that part of the story won't change. It's not a rotted tooth she can remove and get away with. It's bone disease, infecting the whole jaw. It's cognitive heart disease. It's apart of her, and it was always going to kill her, one way or another. There is not enough black ink and faith in the world to erase it.

“I know Shadow didn't mean to give me the coin, that I’m only getting this chance because numb nuts over there made a mistake...that even in death, I’m still massively screwing up. I don’t know what am I doing, like at all.” She gives a hysterical chuckle, “I kicked a dude's balls right through his mouth because I didn't know my own strength. I nearly gave my best friend a heart attack because I forgot for one second what I am. I kidnapped a cute little Salim-not Salim for his car, before I knew how much I was getting in the way of his love story. I killed Odin without knowing what that would even mean in the long run. I let Shadow go like it didn't even matter. Even now, I haven't learned anything from this whole mess, haven't found one damn thing that makes sense. Actually, it's been pretty much the exact opposite. I feel like I'm learning less, because now I have to worry about who will eat me because I'm dead or how fucked I am if I’m glued to Lucky Charms over here, and what that means.”

“Oi!” Sweeney hisses, but she ignores him and continues.

“It's obvious at this point, I am doing whatever the fuck I can to keep myself literally together. And yes, I know it's not going well. I know an old Mcdonald's french fry has a better chance of coming back than I do. I am not a fool, you don't have to pretend with me, okay? I don't have the strength of spirit, just like I don't have a light heart. I am not a king or a queen, I am a dead girl who wants something more than nothing.” Laura's voice trembles out of her, and she realizes slowly that Odin hadn't managed to spill all her secrets.

She still has one left.

“And...and if that's not possible. If I can't get it from you or anyone else, fucking tell me now, because I am tired. I am so tired. Of rotting away and shoving air fresheners down my shirt just so ginger bitch over there doesn't puke all day. I am tired of being followed by every fly and insect, of spitting out maggots and embalming fluid. Of feeling my skin tear, of my nails dropping off and my teeth rattling around in my skull.” The truth pours out of her now, as if the stitching on her chest has come undone, “Of sewing myself up, alone in the dark. Like the world’s saddest Frankenstein girl.”

There's silence and then a clack and a clang, a loud ringing after her confession. Someone downstairs has won big time.

Laura wonders if there was a word for suicidal for the already dead.

She refuses to look at Sweeney when she's done speaking. He's been with her all this time; has seen more sides of herself than she would ever be comfortable with from anyone else. Fuck, he might be her last real tie to the world, might be the last thing she believes in but she never ever wanted him to hear this.

Admitting it feels too much like confession.

He has been an unwilling witness to her so many of her failures and some small petty thing in her really wishes she could tell him to fuck off for good.

-but then she would be alone, truly alone.

He's done more for her, bitching aside, than anyone has ever done for her. Maybe she'd never forgive him for his part to play in her death, but worse things have happened to her since then and in the grand scheme of things, she knows he's low on the list of villains.

Unlike anyone else, at least he's been trying, and she has noticed. Not grateful, never fucking grateful, but she's noticed.

Sad truth is, if she can't be brought to life, if this whole journey has been for nothing and her getting the coin at all has just been some cosmic joke -she’s ready for it to be over. Laura is done, and the only reason she’s even trying now is the small hope she has that it isn’t. Not because she deserves it, but because now it’s not just her at stake.

-he is too.

(She is tired enough to admit, that she really doesn't want him gone.)

#mad wife #Madwife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #laura x sweeney #madwife fic

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the-awkward-writer · 7 years

Text

When I Die Young

Pairings: Dean x Reader, Mentions of Sam, Cas and Crowley

Word Count: 3.5k (including lyrics) whoops. this one got away from me. i’m so sorry.

Warnings: Death of a major character, all the angst, this is my first fic, some fluff

Based off of: If I Die Young: The Band Perry

A/N: This is my entry for @latinenglishfandomblog‘s 15 Song Fic Challenge. This is my first fic, and I thought a challenge would be a good way to jump right in and get some feedback. Enjoy!

If I die young bury me in satin Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in the river at dawn Send me away with the words of a love song

January 7, 2017

3:23 a.m

Dean stood in your doorway. He and Sam had just gotten back from a hunt, a bad one.

It wasn’t supposed to end the way it did. He’d be damned if it stayed that way.

You were killed.

And it was all Dean’s fault.

January 6, 2017

8:15 a.m

It was a simple hunt. Salt and burn. Two man job at most. Sam and Dean decided that they would be the ones to go while you stayed back for any emergency research.

Just as they were heading out the door, you jumped up, demanding to go along.

Dean had learned over the years of dating you to let you come with. You were one stubborn son of a bitch, and you were going to get your way whether Sam and Dean liked it or not.

Arriving in the small town, the three of you quickly narrowed it down to a vengeful spirit attacking the current owners of the house she died in.

Four hours later, Sam researched the house’s history, you and Dean exhumed her body, set it on fire, and the case was closed.

Later that night, all hell broke loose.

Dean had you wrapped in his arms in a dingy motel bed with your head nestled in the crook of his neck.

“You know I love you more than life itself, right?” you said in his ear.

Dean chuckled, “I love you too, princess,” he leaned back to kiss your forehead when he noticed the tears falling down your face.

Dean sat up some to see you properly, “Why are you crying sweetheart?”

You shook your head, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Nuh-uh. I’ve only seen you cry three times in the years I’ve known you. Once when that wendigo killed those kids in ‘09, once more when I came back, and when we saw Marley and Me,” he earned a slight chuckle from you. “You’re really torn up about something, and I need you to tell me what it is.”

“You remember when you almost died all those years ago in that car accident?”

Dean nodded as he wiped the tears off your face.

“Baby, your dad didn’t make that deal. I did.”

That was the moment that Dean felt his entire world crumble.

“But my dad. He... he said,” Dean couldn’t form complete sentences.

“Your dad didn’t make the deal with Azazel. He knew he was going to die, so he took the fall for me.”

“Why did you do that?!” Dean shot up from the bed, nearly making you fall off of it.

“Because I love you Dean! I didn’t want you to die! People need you to save them! They don’t need me,” you could feel tears stinging the back of your eyes.

You willed your tears away, wanting to stay strong for Dean

Dean ran a hand down his face, “Dammit Y/N, I need you!”

If you weren’t crying before, you sure as hell were crying now.

“No you don’t. You are strong enough to continue on without me. I know you can.”

“No, I can’t!”

You had never seen Dean as angry as he is now.

Sam finally shot up from his bed, “What the hell guys?”

“Stay out of this, Sammy,” both you and Dean snapped at the same time.

Sam raised his hands in surrender, “Jesus. Sorry.”

“How much longer do you have?”

The tears fell down at an even faster rate, “Babe, please,”

“How much longer do you have?” Dean reiterated, louder than before.

You sniffed and looked at the clock, “An hour.”

In a fit of rage, Dean grabbed the nearest lamp and threw it at the wall. “What the fuck?!”

“Dean!” Sam shot up from the bed, standing between the two of you, “Calm down!”

You are full on bawling now as you watched him in this state. Tears are pouring down his face with his hair was sticking up at all angles. He looked miserable.

“No, Sam! She made a deal with Azazel, and now she has an hour left!”

Sam spun around to face you, the same anger that filled Dean’s features now filled his. “What?”

“Back in ‘06, when Dean was dying, I made a deal with Azazel, and your dad took the fall for it.”

“How come he’s coming for you now?” Sam asked.

“It was part of the deal. He got the Colt and me if he saved Dean. I told him I’d be more valuable in ten years, so he agreed. He said he’d send the hell hounds out for me when the time comes.”

There were tears in Sam’s eyes as he rushed forward and wrapped you in his giant frame. You could feel his tears on the back of your neck as he cried, and you cried into his chest. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

You nodded against his shirt, “I know.”

Sam took a step back and turned to Dean, “Hug your girlfriend, you imbecile.”

“Ooh, that’s a big word Sammy, are you sure you’re eligible to use it?”

No one laughed.

“Dean?” You took a step closer to him.

He ran his hand down his face before reaching out to grab your hand and yanking your body flush against his.

For the next forty five minutes, you and Dean laid in the ratty motel bed.

You hugged, kissed, and said your final goodbyes.

“I love you. With everything I have,” Dean said many times.

“I love you too,” you replied every time.

At 10:55, five minutes before the hell hounds were going to come for you, you wriggled out of Dean’s grasp.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m going into the woods. You don’t need to watch me get dragged to hell.”“

“No. You are going to stay here, with me, until the very end.”

The look on Dean’s face was too much to bear, so you stayed.

You kissed him one last time as you heard the hell hound’s barking draw nearer.

“I love you, Dean,” you could taste the salt on his lips from his tears.

“I love you too. I will bring you back. I promise.”

You didn’t have time to tell him that you don’t want to be brought back before the door burst open.

Dean instinctively lunged for you, trying to keep you out of harm’s way.

You pushed him off of you as the first hound’s incisors sunk into your leg.

Sam had to restrain Dean as the hound’s dragged you kicking and screaming from the motel room.

There was a moment of hesitation when Sam almost let go of Dean.

For a split second he hoped his older brother could hold the hounds off for just a little bit longer so he could say one last goodbye to his best friend.

Dean stepped inside the room. Damn, it smelled like you.

You and Dean had been sharing a room for almost nine years, but the scent of your favorite perfume still lingered.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed. On the nightstand stood an old picture of you and him, and an old notebook that he had never seen before.

It wasn’t your hunting journal, he knew that much.

Without thinking, he opened it to the very first page and started reading.

Wednesday, January 6, 2016

I have exactly one year left. One year to save as many people as I can. One year to love Dean with all I have. One year to research with Sammy. One more year to nerd-out with Charlie. One more year of life.

Dean, I know you eventually find this journal. I hope you do before you do something reckless. I don’t want a hunter’s burial. I want a real funeral, even though my body won’t be in the casket. I want you to invite my mom, and the rest of my family. I want a real service with roses and satin. I want to be buried in the cemetery by the river. You know the one. I want it at dawn. Just as a new day is beginning. I want everyone, especially you Dean, to know that life goes on. The sun will rise again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, and the next. I want you to wear an actual suit, and not the cheap old one you wear when posing as the FBI. I want Sam to wear a new suit too. I want that “ugly” pearl necklace you hate to be in the casket. I want the cheesiest love song you can find to be played. No classic rock or whatever the hell it is that Sam listens to. And most of all, I want you to know that I love you, Dean. I always will. I’ve said it a million times before, but I don’t think you ever really listened. You will not blame yourself for my death, Dean. You need to promise me this. I made that deal on my own. People need you Dean, they don’t need me. Which is why you can’t bring me back. Let me stay dead. I don’t care where I end up, I’ve made my peace with it. Please do not remember the good things about me. Please. Remember my flaws; I was never perfect. Take care of my mother for me. She’s getting up there in age. I don’t want her in heaven for a bit longer, assuming she’s going there. Take care of yourself, Dean. I love you. Always have, always will.

- Y/N

Dean threw your journal across the room. Like hell he was going to just sit there and be useless while you’re in hell.

Dean knows how painful it was down there. He knows how every second felt like an eternity. How the pain was worse than any he’d felt before. Dean always thought he’d be damned before you felt that kind of pain.

He was going to get you back, no matter the consequences.

Lord make me a rainbow, I’ll shine down on my mother She’ll know I’m safe with you when She stands under my colors, oh and Life ain’t always what you think it oughta be, no Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby

January 10, 2017

7:48 a.m.

Linda Morganstern is her name.

Your mother watched from the very front row as your casket was lowered into the ground. Everyone was gone, Dean the first one to leave, and Sam the last after checking that Linda was okay.

Linda looked at the gaping hole in the earth. It wasn’t six feet deep, a strange request from Dean. He said it was your wish.

Linda isn’t an idiot. She knows what goes bump in the night. She knows what you do for a living.

She knew that Dean was going to bring you back and you don’t want that.

Your brothers and sisters are oblivious to it all. Linda only found out after finding your hunting journal in your childhood room.

Linda looked up at the sky and wished the weather would reflect her mood. The sun was shining bright, and as she looked over the river, she saw a rainbow.

You loved rainbows when you were a child. Whenever you saw one, you would stop. No matter where you were. If you were in the middle of the road, you’d stop and admire it for a while.

It was at that moment that Linda knew everything would be okay. You would come back and her heart would be full once more.

And I’ll be wearing white when I come into your kingdom I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger I’ve never known the lovin’ of a man But it sure felt nice when he was holding my hand

December 3, 2005

1:16 p.m

Dean noticed you as soon as he and Sam walked though the diner doors.

You were wearing a white dress, a little unconventional for a waitress, but Dean wasn’t complaining.

Sam and Dean sat down at a nearby table for two. “What can I get y’all?” your slight country accent was invigorating for Dean.

You had an emerald green ring on your left hand ring finger. Disappointment and jealousy flooded Dean’s veins.

“I’ll take a salad,” Sam started. Upon seeing his brother’s big doe eyes he continued, “And this big oaf will have a bacon cheeseburger.”

You smiled and wrote down their order before leaving to give it to the cook.

Sam laughed as he looked at Dean. Hearts were practically pouring out of his eyes as he watched you walk away.

You brought their meals out minutes later and Dean stared at you a little too long before turning to his food.

Sam huffed a laugh multiple times throughout the time they were in the diner because Dean wouldn’t stop looking at you.

The boys were in town on a case, of course. A few rampant vampires. Once the case was over with, they’d have to skip town.

But Sam didn’t know if Dean would actually be able to do it.

What they didn’t know was that you were also on the case. You were new to hunting, so they didn’t know you, and you didn’t know them.

You knew what the creatures were as soon as you heard the signs. It was exactly what had happened ten years ago when they took your best friend, and you’d be damned if they got away.

December 6, 2005

10:34 p.m

It was three days later when Sam and Dean finally found the vampire’s nest.

Upon entering the house with their machetes raised, they noticed things were quiet, too quiet.

The boys were on red alert, ready to swing at anything that crossed their paths.

Creeping around a corner, Dean stuck his head around slightly.

A total of three dead vamps in the room.

He stepped out from around the corner, “Someone’s already taken care of it Sammy,” he said.

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you stepped out from the shadows.

Dean jumped and raised his machete.

“Whoa there tiger. I’m human, trust me,” you said with your hands raised in surrender.

Dean looked at you, seeing the blood soaking your clothes, he lowered his machete, “You did this?”

“Why the tone of surprise?”

“I didn’t know any other hunters were in this town, that’s all.”

“I only just started, haven’t built up my name yet,” you said.

Dean looked highly impressed. “Dean Winchester, this is my brother Sam,” he stuck his hand out.

You wiped the vampire blood on your jeans before grasping his hand, “Y/N.”

That was the moment Dean fell in love with you.

December 7, 2005

The next day, you walked the Winchester boys to the Impala as they left the diner.

“Thank you for finishing the hunt,” Dean said.

“It was no big deal, really,” you looked down at your feet.

“Shit. I think I let my laptop in the diner,” Sam said suddenly before scurrying off toward the entrance.

“Well, you should get back to your husband,” Dean said as he nervously fiddled with his keys.

The laugh that bubbled out of your mouth was music to Dean’s ears.

“I’m not married. The ring was my grandmother’s. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”

Dean would be lying if he said happiness didn’t flood through him.

“Then you wouldn’t be offended if I asked you out sometime?”

You laughed again and grabbed your pen and notebook from your apron. You scribbled down your number and placed t in Dean’s hand. “Call me when you have a place. I’ll meet you there.”

With that being said, you wrapped your hands around his neck in a quick hug before walking back towards the diner.

You met Sam halfway there, “You knew he was going to ask me out, didn’t you?”

Sam looked down at his feet with a small chuckle. “I was hoping to push him in the right direction.”

“Well thanks, Sam,” you gave the younger Winchester a hug too before finally walking back into the diner.

Three days later, you went on your first official date with Dean Winchester.

The ballad of a dove Go with peace and love Gather up your tears, keep 'em in your pocket Save 'em for a time when you’re really gonna need 'em oh The sharp knife of a short life, Well I've had just enough time So put on your best boys, and I'll wear my pearls

January 10, 2017

6:15 a.m

He had done as you requested. Here he is, standing in an actual suit, and not the one he wore for FBI cases.

Sam was standing next to him, yet he felt alone

Dean stood by the side of your empty coffin. There was no body to put in the coffin.

In order to respect your wishes, invite all your family and hold an actual funeral, they had to bury an empty coffin.

Well, a mostly empty coffin. Your favorite pearl necklace and your grandmother’s ring were inside.

Dean was amazed at how many people showed up. He knew how great you were, but he forgot that other people once knew you as well.

Your mother, siblings, friends from your hometown, hell even Crowley showed up.

The tears that Dean hadn’t stopped crying only intensified as he looked around and saw how loved you were.

The priest had only been talking for a total of five minutes before Dean stood from his seat in the back and walked away from the ceremony.

Everyone was long gone before Dean even attempted to walk back to your grave.

The earth was slightly raised, the chairs were still set up around your gravestone.

Dean sat in the middle of the front row and stared at your grave.

“This is all my fault,” was all he managed to choke out before he faded into himself yet again.

February 14, 2017

9:57 p.m

Dean sat alone on your bed, a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand, the necklace he gave you for your one-year anniversary in his other.

He could feel your presence in the room with him, so he started talking to you.

“I miss you so much, sweetheart.” He wiped the tears off his face with his sleeve. “I’ve been trying so hard to bring you back.”

Truth is, the boys and Cas had been working around the clock for the last few weeks to bring you back. Cas was able to drag your soul out of hell, but he didn’t have enough grace to bring it back to your body.

So you were stuck in the limbo, had been watching Dean since you were placed there, and now you were pissed.

“Dean fucking Winchester,” you seethed as you willed yourself to appear.

“Y/N,” he breathed, but didn’t look up at you.

“You need to burn that necklace. Now.”

“I can’t do that, baby,” a fresh round of tears started pouring down his face. “It’s the only thing keeping you here.”

“Dean, I’ve had enough time in this world. You need to stop crying over me. People need you to save them, Dean”

Dean seemed to ignore you because he continued talking, “I was going to propose to you tonight. I had this whole thing planned out. I was going to take you out on an actual date. Take you to your favorite restaurant and then bring you back here. I was going to propose in my room. I know how much you hate crowds and being the center of attention. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I still do.”

You may have been on your way to becoming a vengeful spirit, but seeing Dean confess something like that broke your heart.

You knelt down to his level, your hands cupping his face, “Dean, love, I need you to look at me.”

Dean shook his head vigorously, “No, no, no. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Dean sniffed as he completely broke down, “Because if I look at you, I won’t want to look away. I’ll convince myself that you’re real, and then you’ll disappear into thin air. And you’ll be gone again,” he dropped his head down even further, his chin nearly resting on his chest.

“Look at me, baby.”

You saw Dean’s eyes move from his lap, to yours, to your stomach, then sternum, then chin.

Once his eyes met yours, you could see the pain, no. The complete and utter agony behind them.

“Burn the necklace. Please.”

Dean kept his eyes on yours for a few more minutes.

For a moment, you thought he would say yes.

“No. I am going to bring you back. I promised I would, and I will.”

#15songschallenge #dean x reader #deanxreader #first fic #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #reader insert #oh god i'm terrified #squirell #when i die young #my writing

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sylvesterlestermanchester · 3 years

Text

Fearfully and Wonderfully

Word Count: 12401

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. All mixed together. Fun times!

Warnings: Conversion therapy, homophobia, brief allusions to sex and genitals. One puke joke?

A/N: Reuploaded bc Tumblr decided not to let this be visible in the tags lol. This is my first ever published fic-I’ve been writing for literally years little bits and pieces, but COVID has me going crazy and I just wanted to put some effort into an actual thing. Thanks for reading!

What he isn’t expecting is to have an eight-year-old girl bodyslam herself into his legs, followed by a loud groan and a sharp voice scolding “Suzanne, we told you to stop running!”

This must be the Philip Lester on his room assignment form. “Sorry. My family is kind of, erm, excited.” He says with a small, nervous laugh and sets the girl aside before sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Phil! You must be, um...Daniel, right?”

Dan takes a second to readjust the bags in his arms to shake Phil’s hand awkwardly, trying not to look too overwhelmed at the scene in front of him. “Dan’s fine.”

“You’re rooming with an absolute freak,” Adrian mumbles in his ear with a small smirk. “Karma is a bitch, huh?”

“Shut up.” Dan hisses back through his teeth, trying to look as interested as possible as Phil’s mum keeps talking.

“We saw cows!” One of the kids butts in, and suddenly they’re all talking, any nervousness they had around the strangers suddenly vanishing.

“And horses!”

“We got hamburgers, and there was this huge truck-it had to have, like, forty wheels-”

Phil seems to take after his dad, quietly but quickly unpacking since his siblings have seemingly given up on it in favor of telling Dan’s family every detail of the six-hour car ride. At one point he makes eye contact with Phil, who gives him an apologetic look, his cheeks flushed and an embarrassed grin on his face as the kids chatter along excitedly like they’ve never talked to another person before.

The small space suddenly feels vast and empty, and the silence is almost tangible.

“Well. They seemed...friendly.” Dan’s mum says after a few moments, his dad snorting.

“You’re in for quite a year, huh, kid?” He jokes. Dan laughs weakly, but in all honesty, it doesn’t seem that funny.

Just what did he get himself into?

It’s strange, he finds. But then again, Phil’s pretty strange, after all.

“Oh, I didn’t go to school.” Phil says with a bright smile, before quickly adding “I mean-I was homeschooled. So I just kinda did the work when I wanted to.”

Phil’s last comment was clearly meant to lighten up the mood, but it’s obvious that the subject matter was making the group a little uncomfortable, considering they all just met. Dan’s mentally running through Phil’s belongings in their dorm-were all those books Bibles? Was he going to start hanging crosses everywhere? Or make him wake up early on Sundays?

“Were you allowed...TV?” PJ asks slowly, eyes widening when Phil shook his head.

“Not cable. We could watch DVDs, but they had to be approved, so it was usually educational. I know a lot of animal facts, actually. Did you know hippo-”

“What about the internet?” Louise cuts him off.

“No Harry Potter?” “Promotes witchcraft. Apparently. I haven’t read it for myself, but-”

“Dating?”

“Not without serious intention to marry-and I’m not exactly ready for that, so-”

“Running water?”

“You know what’s funny?” Phil says, giggling a bit and bringing his knees loosely to his chest. “You guys think I’m weird, which is totally understandable. But your guys’ lives before this sound weird to me, too. Like-Chris, you got to play video games as a kid, right? And I was taught that those would turn me into some homicidal maniac. Dan, I saw you have a horoscope app-that’s the occult, so that’s a huge no-no.”

Wow, okay. Before Dan could feel too offended, though, and Chris could jump in, Phil keeps going. “But, like, I get that you’re not a witch, or Chris, you’re not gonna chop me up into little pieces when I’m sleeping. There’s gotta be some middle ground here, right? So...you guys could show me how to live more like you, and maybe you guys would be more interested in what I’m into?”