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seasonal-obsession · 4 years

Text

Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten

Summary: it takes reaching adulthood twice for Jane Seymour to find out she is dyslexic

Can be read on AO3 or down below

She came from a noble family, albeit not a prominent one, but yes, she could've had a formal education even back then. Except Jane never enjoyed her reading and writing lessons, she'd much rather work on her embroidery, and such womanly duties were preferred at the time. A lot has changed since then, and yet Jane, here in the 21st century, still doesn't like reading more than she used too.

Sighing, she drops the book on the kitchen table. She places her hand to the centre of the page. Maybe if her finger follows the lines she'll be able to focus enough to finish this paragraph. Catherine's old writing is full of the complex flourish that was so popular at the time, and the words keep tangling in Jane's head.

“Not quite to your taste?”

As if summoned, Catherine Parr appears at the dining room's door. Jane startles by the sound of her voice and blinks up at her; it's odd to see anyone home so early in the afternoon.

“—Sorry, what?”

Catherine drops her backpack in the chair in front of Jane's and proceeds to take off her coat. Smiling, she answers, “the book. Pretty outdated, I imagine”

Oh, she must have been glaring at The Lamentation of a Sinner a bit too hard then.

“Anna and Catalina seemed to like it anyway” Jane reassuring smile suddenly turns sheepish, “I... haven't gotten far enough to say”

“Do you mind if I join you?” when Jane shakes her head Cathy sits down and pulls out a book from her backpack. After that, they both remain quiet.

Jane finds herself taken aback by the comfortable silence between them. It's a pleasant surprise; after all, they aren't that close. They don't normally spend time together, apart from the shows and the rehearsals (well, at least not alone, sometimes they do hang out with Catalina together). Maybe that's why Jane, despite her unliterary tendencies, decided to read the other queen's book in the first place, to get to know her better. Writing had been an important part of who Catherine was in her past life, which she reminded everyone when she sang on the stage.

…Jane might be the last to take this into account; apparently, the rest of the queens had already read it.

Minutes go by, the silence only broken by the sound of Cathy turning pages. Jane begins to feel a little self-conscious, Catherine is such an avid reader and she still hasn't finished the page she was reading when the other queen arrived. Out of some self-imposed pressure, she tries to read faster. But the more she hurries, the blurrier the words get; letters fussing together beyond recognition, and she has to give up and start that sentence again, and again. A headache is beginning to form behind her eyes. Suddenly, she closes the book and stands up from her seat.

“I'm going to the kitchen to make some tea, do you want anything?”

“I'll have some coffee” Cathy replies, glancing up from her book, “if we still have any”

“It was Anne's turn to do the groceries this week, wasn't it?” Jane says with an amused smile as she puts the kettle on, “where do you guys keep this stuff?”

“Top left cabinet”

“Hmm... I can't see any”

“Let me see", Catherine walks up to the cupboard, "—oh. It’s this other one”, she notes before opening the left cabinet’s door.

Stupid.

“I sort— eh, sorry I… must've not been paying attention”, Jane mumbles, subtly averting her eyes.

“Don't feel like you have to apologize. It's fairly common for people with dyslexia to confuse left and right”, Jane is giving Cathy a perplexed look, so she continues, “Oh, I thought you knew? It happens to you sometimes, like when they teach us new dances or when you're driving and we give you directions”

“But that's just… me, messing up”, Jane replies confused, “because I'm not paying enough attention”

“No, no it's fine” Jane dismisses it quickly, trying to seem nonchalant as she shakes her off. She didn't know all her little slips were that obvious, shit. “I guess I just need to make an effort haha...”

“Jane you're the most dedicated person I ever met, if you're not making an effort then no one is” Catherine states firmly

Jane looks at Cathy's serious expression and gives herself a moment to consider, to really think about it. What if all of it, reading, writing, memorizing; what if it wasn't as difficult for everyone else as it was for her? She thinks of her teachers, of all the times she heard “you are smart Jane, but you need to apply yourself more” or when she would get scolded, how they said that she needed to stop being ditsy or lazy to pass their class; and she always thought they were right, thought “I'm not trying hard enough”. Dyslexia …it makes sense. That's why she makes spelling mistakes no matter how thoughtful she is, why reading takes so long, and sometimes the letters seem to blur. Did she even need her reading glasses? Everything the same and somehow it feels like her whole world shifted, just a little, and at last the picture's properly framed.

The noise of the boiling kettle breaks her out of her thoughts. She finally answers, voice barely above a breath, “…is it not meant to be that hard?”

Catherine shakes her head; she's staring at her with sympathetic eyes. Oh, she must look like a mess and over such a little thing.

“Were you never diagnosed?”

“No, I mean, I always… struggled with it but I thought it was normal, you know? So I never said anything”, Jane rambles, trying to explain. And even though she thinks she's not making any sense, she doesn't feel foolish at all because Cathy's there, leaning against the kitchen counter, listening attentively and nodding along like she knows exactly what Jane means, “how did you notice?”

“Your handwriting was a bit of a giveaway.” Jane slaps Cathy's shoulder lightly and they both giggle.

They make themselves their drinks and move back to the kitchen table. Sipping her coffee, Catherine stretches her arm across the table; she absentmindedly traces one of the edges of the book's cover with her fingertips. It’s an old edition, not from way back when she wrote it, but close. She wonders if they kept all her words intact or if she would even be able to tell if they changed them, after all this time.

“I think I want to read this.”

Jane puts down her teacup and moves to hand her the book, “Oh sure, here let me—”

“Do you mind if I start back from the beginning? I know you said you were only a few pages in, but I’d like to reread the entire thing”

"I don't…? —Cathy, you don't have to", Jane stutters a bit ashamed.

"I want to."

And Jane can't help but believe Cathy's being sincere, because her voice is warm and she's looking at her with kind eyes. Trying not to feel overwhelmed, she answers with a small tentative smile, "I guess it will be just like listening to an audiobook?"

Cathy returns her smile fully, "and with the author's exclusive comments too."

Then she turns to the page and starts reading aloud.

#jane seymour #catherine parr #six fanfic #six the musical #six the musical fanfic

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psyleedee · 5 years

Text

Lazy Kisses.

Pairing: Dean×Castiel.

Words: 1144.

by psyleedee.

Dean knows what's going on. Sam and Cas are talking about a witch hunt. Where's Jack? Oh right, he went to go buy ice-cream some time ago. The couch is large, so large it can fit almost 4 people easily, but small enough when Dean and Cas sit down together, thighs pressed, hands brushing, breaths mixing whenever Cas turns to him.

On any other given day, Dean would love to sit down and talk with his brother and best friend about monsters and hunting, but right now, his eyes are burning, he can barely keep his eyelids open without blinking hard and every silent second draws him closer to doze off. He is tired, hands aching and body weak since they returned from Colarado, after 4 hunts in a row.

He glances at the wall clock, 2.15 a.m. and then yawns silently. Sam and Cas are deep in conversation, apparently Cas found the Salem Witch Trials quite intriguing, and he has some good information, but Dean couldn't care less. Screw it. He thinks, and lays his head back, letting his palms fall open. His vision is getting blurrier, the voices around him getting muffled and the last thing he registers before feeling the gentle gust of sleep is his head lolling against something firm, and then its all peace and quiet for him.

•~••~•

Dean doesn't know why or how, but he finds himself returning to his senses. The blanket of sleep has been pulled off of him, and he can hear Sam's voice, followed by Jack's, but its much more softer now.

"...He needs it, poor guys been chasing things all week..."

"I know, especially after Michael gone, I want nothing more than for him to be well rested."

"I know how it feels man, I guess everyone here except Jack knows how rough it is to have an archangel mess with your mind."

"Hey- Michael messed with me too, in the other world."

"Oh right, shit we forgot about that."

There's faint chuckling noises, then silence, then the sound of bottles clinking on the table.

His eyes are still closed, that much he knows, but now he can sense a warm weight over his shoulder that wasn't there before. An arm? He takes a deep breath and shifts a little. His legs feel comfortable, his back doesn't hurt and his neck isn't aching. What? That's usually the opposite of what happens when you doze off on a couch.

Thats when he feels the pillow, no, no, wait. Its wider, and softer. He presses his head back a little, and tries to open his eyes. A soft voice croons in his ears.

"Dean?"

When Dean can finally blink his eyes open, the first thing he sees is beige, then skin, then fluffy black hair.

"Cas..."

He groans, and the weight on his shoulder vanishes, instead, there are slender fingers running through his hair, gliding swiftly over the nape of his neck and then behind his ears.

"Go back to sleep... I'm right here..."

Dean hums in reply, reaches out to touch those wonderful fingers running through his hair and entwines his fingers with Castiel's, pulling their arms down and resting them on his chest.

He's still sleepy, and he wants to fall into that peaceful void once again, but being awake is so worth this warm feeling. He doesn't remember the last time he fell asleep on someone's lap, or someone stroked his hair, whispered softly to him, or made him feel these butterflies in his stomach.

He opens his eyes slightly, every sliver of sleep disappering, only to see Castiel's stomach and his white shirt. Thats what's so soft. He squeezes Cas's palm, and turns his head facing upwards. His eyes meet Cas's and a fuzzy feeling unravels within himself as he pulls his hand out of Cas's hands, cradles his jaw and leans upward to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

The whole atmosphere becomes warmer and quieter, as Cas's fingers wrap around Dean's wrist, rubbing softly against his pulse point.

The kiss is calm and pure, nothing like Dean thought it would be. He used to believe it would be all fireworks and sparks, maybe after a rough hunt, when they were all getting drunk and nobody would remember anything.

But this is different and much better.

There's heat spreading all over his neck and chest, ecstacy flourishing through him, as he glides his fingers further, curling them around Cas's warm neck, and oh, it feel surreal. Their lips aren't parting yet, sucking and tasting eachother, and just when Dean slips his tongue inside Cas's mouth, the noise of a throat being cleared draws their attention. Cas pulls away slightly, only enough to part their lips, but their hands still remain where they are. Dean opens his eyes, and gazes at Cas whose breathing has become shallow, eyes closed and eyebrows knit together. His lips are shiny and a bit swollen, his untamed hair making things a little more rousing than Dean expected, his fingers fisted in the lapels of Dean's flannel shirt.

When Cas opens his eyes, Dean stares at him for a moment, mesmerised, because hey, this devastatingly beautiful man just kissed him with every inch of passion inside him and Dean can't believe he's in love with someone as extraordinary as Castiel, who is currently staring back at him with just as much fondness.

Dean raises his eyebrow playfully, making Cas flush red in the cheeks, and he looks away, suddenly finding the armrest of the couch quite interesting.

Dean licks his lips, grunts and sits upright, turning to face the room and the varied reactions every one's wearing on their faces.

"Sorry, but uhm, I had to interfere before it got PG13, ya know-"

Sam shrugged, tipping his head towards Jack.

"Yeah, no, that's uh, cool, um whatever..."

Dean's voice subdues and vanishes into the silence. Nobody speaks a word, but when Cas's palm slides deftly into Dean's, pressing like its been made to fit their perfectly, Dean looks up. Cas gives him a shy, assuring smile, and Dean smiles back, pulling Cas's hand up to his lips and placing a small kiss on the back of his palm.

Sam takes a deep breath, and leans back in his chair.

"Hey Jack? Write this down- 12th March, 2019, Dean and Cas finally get their heads outta their asses after 10 friggin years."

He pauses and chuckles then smiles at Jack, who seems just as relieved and happy as Sam.

Dean rolls his eyes, and moves into Cas's personal space, stealing a kiss from his lips, why? Because he can. He can do that now. He can do a lot of other things now too. He rests his head on Cas's chest and sighs.

"Okay then, who's getting me my ice-cream?"

#destiel #castiel #dean winchester #love #supernatural #casdean #spn #first kiss #spn s14 #jack #sam winchester #romance #destiel fluff #destiel fandom #destiel fanfic

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