#being physically close to men and taking in their aroma its just....

[ladykailolu]

Sorry, I just get so caught up on the fact that men smell sooooooo fucking good when they wear cologne that you can't really smell or notice until you're like....upclose and personal with them in like a slow dance or whatever, and I cant help but say that that delightful and exciting sensory experience fits with my image of Godot.

Yeah I wanna slow dance with Godot and check how he smells. To....check his vibes.

[hes-writer]

Scent

Summary:  harry takes super early showers and y/n just happens to be awake

Warnings: smut!

Word Count: 1703

____

Lavender. Clementine. Cucumber. Tobacco Vanille.

Y/N could name the simple scents with her eyes closed, her nose contracting as she let the fragrance overtake her senses. During the times when Harry had an early start before her--which is almost daily--Y/N had the pleasure of letting the aroma waft through her until it is overtaken by the next product Harry treated himself with.

The morning started with a slow peel back of her lids. The sound of the shower splattering against the tiled walls and only then did Y/N subconsciously let her arm pat over Harry’s side of the bed to find it empty. She sighed slowly, stretching her hands over her head for a satisfying crackle of her bones. Y/N laid flat on her back, staring at the ceiling and blissfully letting herself bathe in the soft simper of Harry’s gorgeous voice seeping through the small gap of the en-suite bathroom door.

It was still raspy from his lack of use and sleep, yet it was the tender type of baritone that vibrated the ache between Y/N’s legs. Something about the way it was low enough to reverberate through her skin and tickle her ears with sensual words and noises made Y/N clench her thighs together underneath the comforter.

The slight thump of the glass shower closed with the magnetic attachment of the door handle, indicating that Harry was now under the stream of water. Hot beads clinging to his skin, something draping off to shape the bumps and imperfection of his body, tapering off his figure and splashing on the tile. His hair curly hair matter on his head, a shaggy sort of look that shielded his eyes that shamefully turned Y/N on because it did a lot in adding mischief in his appearance.

Lavender.

The first scent managed to escape with the help of the steam. It was the spray that Harry spritzed in the open air to help his muscles further relax. He worked too hard sometimes that he forgot to take care of himself. And so, Y/N bought him an aromatherapy spray that calms the tightness in his back even before the water loosened the knots of clumping muscles.

Speaking of, Y/N bit her lip at the visual of Harry’s muscled back contracting as he flipped the wet strands of hair away from his face. The water cascading on the plane of smooth skin littered with various beauty marks. The same back where Y/N dug her fingernails into when Harry was above her, hips shifting with tremor as both of them shook with the building pleasure coiling in their tummies.

The remnants of wild and rough nights etched on his skin through scrapes of red welts. Half-moons indented on his back, resulting in a hiss between his clenched teeth at the feeling of his soft cotton tee rubbing against the broken skin. Yet every time Y/N paused from prodding her nails into him the next time he was on top of her, Harry would only chuckle darkly. With one hand supporting his body, Harry would reach over to guide hers to the place she retracted from, encouraging her to leave more marks on his body because it proved that he was hers.

Y/N closed her eyes, quietly whimpering at the insatiable need to dig her finger into his textured skin once again. However, the valley of her breasts would have to do until he returned to her. Her fingers traced over her neck. Flashing images of Harry’s large hand dipped and wrapped around the fragile area to cut off her breath. The choked moan Y/N gasped out, begging for more yet nothing but whimpers escaped her lips.

She lightly treaded over the tops of her hardened nipples, fingertips grazing her areolas just as a yelp sprouted from the shower and Y/N knew that Harry’s clumsy hands dropped the shampoo bottle from his grip.

“I’m okay!” A muffled explanation resounded from the bathroom. He always did it to ensure that Y/N wasn’t worrying about him.

Y/N laughed at his actions. He may be clumsy elsewhere, but Harry was definitely skilled at playing her body like an instrument. She could just barely feel the ghost of his tongue swirling the hardened bud between his lips, sucking on it with hollow cheeks, pinching at the nerves until she had to tap at his shoulders to pull off.

Clementine.

The scent of tangy tones shifted the mood. It was the subtle scent of his shampoo. The aroma that Y/N was faced with when Harry buried his face at the junction of her neck and shoulders. When the explicable pleasure was too much for him to handle and Harry was way too sensitive from being teased for a longer amount of time; he had a tendency to bury his cock deep insider of her. Barely moving because the feeling of her velvety walls wrapped around him was enough to stimulate the orgasm splintering above his pubic bone.

The times when desperation clawed from his throat to ‘please, fuck me, Y/N’ with a glazed look in his eyes. Thick lashes were damp with his tears as he practically sobbed at the feeling of her shifting her hips in a wave to bounce on his lap.

Y/N sprawled her hand past her tummy, towards the throbbing of her clit. The sensitive nub had become swollen at the thoughts and images that attacked Y/N’s groggy mind. Her finger gave a delicious circle around it, hips jolting at the action.

Y/N laid her cheek on the pillow, head turned to the side. The heat of her body doubling at the memory of Harry enveloping her waist with his forearms, folding her body towards him. Y/N’s breasts were hugging Harry’s face as he sucked hickeys on the soft skin. Her face meeting with the unruly head of clementine-scented hair as she could not do anything except take the harsh thrusts Harry propelled into her pussy.

Cucumber.

It was the scent that surrounded the room when Harry’s physical presence was nowhere to be found.

Harry liked to feel and smell fresh whenever he had a long flight. So, he opted for Dove Men’s Spray to help him feel that way. It was the aroma that had Y/N feeling a little needier than usual, knowing that Harry wasn’t there to take care of her and had to do it herself. Today was no different.

The heavy comforters did little to relieve her of the sweat exuding from her pores. The heat of Y/N’s skin had her seething through her teeth when she dipped a finger into her opening; no surprise at the result of clear, sticky arousal wiped on her inner thighs. She threw the covers off of her, blatantly reminded of lonely nights when Harry was away.

Y/N slipped a nimble finger in her pussy, gradually moaning as her walls contracted around something. The tightness around her finger was mind-numbing to the point where even the slightest movement of her digit scent fireworks rapidly exploding around her body.

She pulled her wrist back, only to push it back in with as much force, hitching her breath and had Y/N arching her back in a curved bow away from the mattress of the bed. “Fuck,”

Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her free hand scrambled to pull herself in a sitting position, huffing in annoyance when her muscles shook. She slipped her fingers out, sucking on the wetness before pushing up so that she could lean her upper back on the headboard; legs spread wide open with her feet planted flat on the bed.

She would’ve felt some sort of shame or embarrassment at the dull reflection of her sopping wet pussy on the large screen TV resting on the adjacent wall. However, Y/N was way too aroused to dwell on that. Pretty soon, her hand founds its way to her core, feeling the heat emulate against her palm.

Y/N sighed Harry’s name at the feeling of two fingers stuffing her up. She watched with hooded eyes at the way her wrists flexed to pump her digits in and out of her. Three fingers rubbed her clit incessantly in tight circles and figure 8’s. At one point, Y/N was positively lifting and thrusting her hips off of the bed to meet her hand.

The sheer desperation of her movements resulted in a perfect prodding against her g-spot. Her fingers were long enough to jab at the ridged wall and Y/N could practically hear nothing but the muted gasps of her bated breath, the audible whimpers between pressed lips and the loud moans when her sensitive spot was treated to a special stimulation.

Tobacco Vanille.

Y/N could smell it so close to her that she was positive Harry had finished his shower. If she opened her eyes, she would see the misty air moving from the bathroom to the open bedroom. If she opened her eyes, Y/N would be able to see Harry’s figure covered in only a white towel draped low on his hips as he took out his clothes for the day.

If she opened her eyes, Y/N would see Harry with a lust-filled expression on his face. Mouth agape to the point where saliva pooled his mouth at the delectable sight in front of him. The erection underneath his tented towel was almost instantaneous.

But she didn’t. Her orgasm throttled at her with full force, making her mind blank out in spaced, blissful ecstasy as she let herself hit her threshold. Her neck strained, thumping her head soft against the cushioned headboard.

Y/N was making the filthiest noises, paired with squelching the damp suction of her palm against her wet pussy. Her free hand was switching between stimulating her budded breasts, heaving with heavy breaths to her pink clit, wet with desire. Her knees knocked together when sensitivity struck her nerves, involuntary holts shifting her every which way.

Harry.

She opened her lids slowly, a small smile gracing her mouth.

“Good morning,”

_____

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[august-bleeds-red]

Texas Heat (Part Three)

Alpha!Tommy x omega!Reader (AFAB). When you find yourself trapped within the Hewitt family’s web of murder, violence and pain, the last thing you expect to do is fall in love.

Warnings: This chapter is almost exclusively dub-con. Also Hoyt being a gross jerk. Bad stuff under the line.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

~

Hoyt sniffs the air appreciatively as your scent is contained within the confines of the basement. The blonde girl is gone, to where and to what end you can only imagine.

 “Set ’er down there, boy,” Hoyt’s toothy grin is frighteningly animalistic – more so than Thomas himself – as you’re deposited on the filthy mattress. The stuffing squelches unpleasantly beneath your weight, and you’re met with a sudden wave of scent – the frightened pheromones of the many poor girls trapped here before. Now it’s your turn.

 “Now, son,” Hoyt lays a hand on his heaving shoulder, his voice lowering to an almost comforting timbre. “This is your first time, and you’re not gonna know what t’do. But I’mma talk you through it.”

 “What?” the horrified squeak escapes you before you can stop it. Strange as it sounds, you were prepared for Thomas to take you as an alpha would, but a redneck cheerleader had not been in the equation.

 Grabbing hold of your hair, Hoyt squats down behind you and holds you in place. “Now, you listen here, omega bitch,” he growls in your ear, and you cringe away from the stench of stale tobacco on his breath, “you’re gonna just take this how I tell you to. I won’t have you ruinin’ this for him, y’hear? Tommy, spread ’er legs nice and wide.”

 Thomas takes hold of your knees and splays them apart, leaning in close to breathe in the saccharine aroma of the slick still fresh on your thighs.

 “Sure smells good, don’t it, boy?” Hoyt reaches down over your shoulder, one large hand pushing past the waistband of your shorts and into your panties. You cry out in disgust as he slips a finger through your folds and pulls it out dripping with sweet-scented slick. He waves it under Thomas’s nose like a dog being baited with a bone.

 “You’ll wanna taste summa this,” he places the moist finger in his own mouth and sucks at the juices with nauseating satisfaction. Thomas rumbles deep in his chest and Hoyt chuckles.

 “Sorry, son, forgot myself there – she’s your little bitch, after all.”

 Settling his hand down to fondle one of your breasts, he secures the other over your mouth.

 “Now just y’all keep quiet, don’t wanna go wakin’ Momma from her beauty rest.”

 You numbly allow Thomas to rip your shorts from your hips, tossing the ruined garment aside into the shadows.

 “Get on in there and get a good taste ’fore you stick it in her,” Hoyt says.  

 Leaning in close, Thomas takes a long, unapologetic inhale of your scent and you see his pupils dilate. With beginner’s caution, he presses the muzzle of his mask against your clit and laps at the delicate pink flesh, the ridge of the leather adding an extra layer of sensation. You curse yourself for the moans that Hoyt’s fingers are stifling, but pressure against your clit married with the attention of his tongue is just too much. You can feel your orgasm already starting to build, like the smallest of waves far from shore. When Thomas pulls back, his mask is shining with your slick, and you see his tongue seeking out droplets from around the muzzle.

 “That’s it, boy,” Hoyt encourages, “now for the main event. You stick your little bitch good, knot her right up.”

 You can’t hold back a whimper at the size of Thomas’s cock when its revealed to you. At least nine inches long, thick as your wrist, the reddish-purple head already leaking precum. You want to be horrified, want to shy away from such a fate, but the urge to be claimed by such a cock as this, to have that cum filling you up ‘til it spills from you is like trying not to breathe.

 “Hold up,” Hoyt removes his hand from your mouth and you flush beet-red with shame at the moisture on his palm. “Well, I’ll be! This bitch is gaggin’ for ya, Tommy!” He fists the back of your hair and pushes you forward. “How’s about we give ‘er somethin’ to really slaver over?”

 The overpowering musk of Thomas’s scent fills your nostrils, and your mouth falls open with almost no help from Hoyt as he rubs your face against the head of Thomas’s cock. You can taste Thomas’s discomfort with the way Hoyt forces your head back and forth, your mouth barely wide enough to accommodate his cock, but it clearly feels far too good for any morals he might have to get in the way. Your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears and you gaze helplessly at the behemoth above you.

 Please, you try to express without words, please, alpha – help me.

 With a growl of frustration, Thomas grips your shoulders and pushes you off of him, his strength more than enough to combat Hoyt’s, who sits back with an accepting shrug.

 “Y’want me to hold ’er down for you?”

 He backs off when Thomas shoots him a sharp look, leaning back on his haunches to watch the alpha at work, a proud grin on his shit-eating face. You whimper helplessly up at Thomas as he cages you in against the mattress, hands splayed either side of your head.

 “That’s it, boy,” Hoyt’s voice is low now, as though deep in concentration. From the corner of your eye, you can see him palming his crotch through his pants. “Show this omega bitch who the real boss is here.”

 Your scream as he enters you is quickly stifled by Hoyt’s hand. You feel yourself stretch impossibly wide around him, searing pain bleeding into intense pleasure as he drives into you with the force of a rutting ram. His undiluted alpha scent washes over you, rendering you utterly helpless to him. You can hear Hoyt as though through water, urging Thomas on, his drawling voice getting rougher and more aggressive as he touches himself to your desperate cries. You’ve never known a pain to cut so deep – the physical toll of such an enormous man as Thomas thrusting into you combined with your omega instincts screaming against such abuse from the alpha you’ve submitted to. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be; once an omega submits to an alpha, that alpha is supposed to take care of them. Your vision swims with tears, and even the warm rush of orgasm can’t soothe the betrayal that bites at your core. Your blood runs cold with hatred for Hoyt, his satisfied grunts as he ejaculates making you feel sick.

 “C’mon, Tommy,” he slaps the damp mattress, the stink of beta cum strong on his hand. “Give her your fuckin’ knot, boy! This bitch is yours – claim her!”

 You’ve never seen a man so torn as Thomas in that moment. His scent is thick with predatory arousal, but his eyes are filled with bewilderment.

 “God damn it, Tommy!” Hoyt’s voice rises in anger. “Don’t go bein’ a pussy on me, now! Fuck her bloody! Be a fuckin’ man!”

 “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT!”

 Both men turn to stare at Luda May standing at the foot of the stairs, a motheaten bathrobe wrapped around her. Fury is etched into the lines of her face, and Thomas recoils from you, retreating into the shadows while tucking himself back into his pants. Your abused pussy feels cold and empty, but you can’t deny your relief at the ordeal’s end.

 “We’re a little busy here, Momma.” Hoyt responds, looking equal parts sheepish and pissed off.

 Satan himself would have flinched from the look Luda gives him. “I tolerate you doin’ whatever wicked things you do on your own time, Charlie,” she says, “but I will NOT stand by and watch you drag my sweet boy down with you.”

 A burst of hysterical, tear-laced laughter escapes you at the description of Thomas as ‘a sweet boy’, but Luda doesn’t look at you. You get the feeling she’s ashamed to.

 “He needs a real man to show him how things’re done,” Hoyt – Charlie? – says.

 “Oh, and you think that’s you, do you? Shut your dang mouth,” she snaps. “Tommy, get over here.”

 Thomas glances at you, for all the world as though he’s imploring you for help. The heady scent of his alpha pheromones is already fading.

 “Now!”

 He jumps and shuffles over to his mother, large boots splashing through the water. He barely moves when she deals him a sharp slap across the face, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

 “Get this poor girl to bed,” she says, unwrapping her robe from around her shoulders and pushing it into his hands. “I don’t want a peep from you ’til mornin’.”

 Despite everything he’s done to you that night, you find you’re more eager to get away from Hoyt than you are from Thomas. You take the robe he drops on the mattress and wrap it round your shoulders, tucking it over your bare legs. You try to stand but your knees give out before you can rise even halfway. You stumble, grabbing on to the nearest thing that can offer you support – which happens to be Thomas’s muscular arms. As easy as one might lift a child, he scoops you up and cradles you against his chest. Too exhausted to be afraid, you simply allow him to carry you up the stairs, leaving Luda and Hoyt’s furious voices behind you.

 The last time you were in these arms, all you knew was fear and dread. The fear still remains, but at least you know the worst.        

~

Comments are greatly appreciated because I’m a needy little trashbag.

[katehuntington]

Title: If The Bunker Had Windows Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x female reader Words: ±5250 words Description: When a Djinn case doesn’t go as planned, not everyone makes it. Dean, who is burdened by guilt, holes himself up alone in his room for days, until Y/N comes in to check on him. Will the girl who was his perfect world be able to pull him back from the darkness? Warnings: Angst/comfort. Mutual pining, some fluff. Description of canon typical violence and supernatural creatures. Mentions of injury, death and alcohol abuse. Depression, refusal to eat, grieving, crying. Satisfying ending. Author’s note: A one shot that will punch you in the feels, according to my betas @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Always grateful for you girls helping me out! And to my readers, I hope you enjoy my reading, thank you for your support.

     Serenity floats through the halls of the Men of Letters headquarters, like the morning mist on an autumn day. If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone diagonal beams through the glass, warm and welcome, but instead it’s the light from the vintage table lamps that give this home its glow.

     Y/N moves down the hall towards the galley, her sock covered feet softly padding against the marble floors. Despite her stealth approach, Sam is waiting for her to appear in the doorway, his eyes already lifted from the tablet that lays flat on the mahogany table.      “Morning,” he greets, continuing to swipe through news articles, in his search for a case. “Coffee’s brewing.”

     She descends down the two steps and sets foot into the kitchen, the aroma of roasted beans flooding her senses. The night hasn’t been without worries and all the more without sleep, so she can use a good dose of caffeine.      “Thanks,” she returns.

     After pouring herself a generous amount of the dark beverage, her thoughts wander off to the other inhabitant of this oddly cosy concrete structure. Dean’s absence is obnoxiously evident, the air not filled with grumpy mutters before he had his coffee, neither with a lame joke that he found on the back of the cereal box, that only he finds funny.      With a deep sigh, she turns around with her favorite mug in her hand, resting against the counter. “Has he come out of his room yet?”

     Sam’s jaw flexes, the tall giant with a gentle heart glancing over. He doesn’t even have to shake his head for Y/N to know the answer. Shutting her eyes for a few seconds, she takes a sip from her hot drink, burning her tongue, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain she knows Dean is in.

     It’s been three days since the brothers returned from a particularly tough hunt. She remembers Sam’s voice hollering through the bunker, and she instantly realized that something terrible had happened. When she found the Winchesters in the garage, Dean leaning on his sibling and barely able to stay on his feet, the air was stolen from her lungs. His skin was paler than those of the spirits she has faced and he seemed barely conscious. His eyes beheld an emptiness that faded the forest green of his irises, leaving nothing but a shallowness that reminded her of death, even though his heart was still faintly beating.

     A Djinn had gotten to him, and by the time Sam found his brother, strung up to the ceiling of the monster’s den, he was barely alive. It was too late for the young college student who the hunters were hoping to save, her corpse dangling in shackles next to Dean, drained of blood and life. She was all but a grim memoir of their failure, a reminder of the fate that would have befallen the hunter, had the younger Winchester sibling not found him. 

     Back home, Sam and Y/N carried Dean to the infirmary and thankfully got a hold of Castiel, who came to the rescue as fast as he could. The angel might not be at full power, but he was able to pull his friend away from the reaper, who was without a doubt waiting to claim his soul like the vultures that they are. 

     Even though Cas glued the shattered shards back together until Dean was physically whole again, something inside him remains damaged beyond repair. The mighty hunter, who faces his enemies head on and with guns blazing, who laughs Death in the face, is defeated, and there is not much the cosmic being can do to change that. A broken body is much easier to heal than a broken mind.

     Y/N puts her empty coffee mug aside and exhales, coming back to the present. “Did he eat, at least?” she wonders, a desperate hopefulness in her pitch.      Again, Sam shakes his head. “He left dinner by the door without touching it. I’m sorry.”      The younger Winchester doesn’t have to apologize, after all, it’s not his fault that the food was left untouched. Yet, he knows their female companion had put a lot of effort in making Dean his favorite burgers, hoping it would persuade him.     “It’s okay, Sam,” she assures, forcing a smile.

     While the younger Winchester brother returns his attention to his tablet, Y/N takes a moment to collect herself. She then turns to the kitchen counter and crouches down, taking a large frying pan from the lower cabinets. After lighting up the stove and carefully placing a second ceramic pot on the fire, the bunker’s second best cook opens the refrigerator and collects a carton of eggs, milk, bacon and cheese.

     Sam watches her move around the galley, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”      “I’m making Dean breakfast,” she states, matter of factly.      The hunter sighs, pity evident in the soft exhale. “Y/N--”      “I have to try, Sam.” She cuts him off, the tremble in her voice noticeable. 

     Their eyes meet when the woman glances over her shoulder, still stirring the milk and eggs in a bowl. The younger Winchester is well aware that this meal will most likely end in the trash like the others, but he understands why she feels the need to take care of his brother. It’s her way of letting Dean know that she’s not giving up on him, no matter how thick the fog grows in the mind of the tormented hunter. It’s her way of keeping busy and doing something, anything, because watching from the sidelines while someone suffers, is not in her nature. Especially not when that person is Dean, the man who she cares so much for, more than she would like to admit.

     Sam’s lips press into a thin line, the corners reaching up slightly. The crow’s feet by his eyes wrinkle and become a little deeper, despite the brown hair that frames his gentle expression. She and Sam have been friends for a long time and often don’t need words anymore. With just a look, he explained that he sympathizes with her, and that he’s thankful for her efforts. 

     She returns his small smile and focuses on her cooking again, laying out the bacon into the hot frying pan, watching the meat as it starts to sizzle.

     Twenty minutes later, Y/N walks down the hallway towards the dorms, a tray in her hands decked out with scrambled eggs, french toast and a fresh cup of coffee. Before the first room on the right, she halts, staring at the golden ‘11’ on the wooden barrier in front of her. Contemplating if she should leave the warm meal on the threshold or not, she looks down at her feet.      “Dean?” she calls out, hesitant. “Is it alright if I come in?”

     Her question remains unanswered, only fueling her doubt. Is he sleeping? Would she be crossing a line if she enters? Of course she wants to grant him his privacy, but he has been cooped up in there for three days now, without food, without social interaction. There have been many times when she was worried sick about the hunter who has already endured so much, and these past days only add to that count. What is the right approach here? Give him more time? 

     Closing himself off and pushing down the agony is his go-to coping mechanism, and although it isn’t a healthy one, she always respected the space he needed to move past the pain. She’s used to him being quiet, taking the Impala for late night drives, drinking more than usual and sleeping less. But at least he came out of his room, at least he ate. Now, everything is different.

     Before she can reconsider, she balances the tray in one hand, freeing the other to reach for the brass knob. Carefully, she pushes the door ajar, allowing the light from the hallway to bleed into Dean’s room. The state in which she finds the resilient soldier, who courageously charges into battle and has won wars on strength and will alone, almost brings her to tears. He’s in his bed, curled up on the far left of the mattress, leaving the empty space next to him vacant. His back is turned towards her as he lays in a fetal position, the comforter pulled up over his shoulder. The darkness that surrounds him only seems fitting for his frail state of mind.

     Y/N isn’t sure if the older Winchester brother is even awake, since he fails to respond to her presence, but she steps into the shadows nonetheless.      “Dean? I brought breakfast,” she announces, softly enough that if he is sleeping, her words will not wake him.

     The broken form in the bed shifts slightly. She might not realize it, but Dean has heard her, and has done every single time she has brought him something to eat. Her light footfalls passing his room, the hesitation on his doorstep, the soft knocks on the wood, the sigh when she turned away again. A part of him was glad she never came in before, yet at the same time, he was fighting the urge to call out, craving her company, her touch. Anything even remotely close to the way she was with him in his dreams, when held captive.

     “I’m not hungry,” he croaks, his voice failing after not having used it for so long.      “You’ve got to eat something,” she tries again. “It’s been a couple of days.”

     The beaten hunter turns into his pillow, leaving the woman who intends to make him feel better by the door. A shuddering breath falls from her lips, one laced with disappointment and frustration. He should be used to letting people down by now, but it still stings. Struggling to not give in to his own longing, he opens his weary eyes and stares at the empty bottle on his nightstand, the whiskey it once beheld long gone.

     Dean expects her to leave. It would do him justice, because he doesn’t deserve such kindness. But instead, he can hear her shuffle closer. She makes room on the side table, putting the remnants of his self medication down on the floor, the glass thudding softly on the stone surface, and sets down a tray. The smell of bacon fills his nose, and even though his stomach growls in response, he is sure the food would turn to ash in his mouth. Nothing can still the hunger that this perfect dream stirred up. Nothing can fill the hole in his gut that has only grown larger since Sam pulled him away from the world created by the Djinn he was supposed to kill. 

     He gave in to a fairy tale, even though he is well aware they are make-believe. He couldn’t leave that utopia, because for once, he just wanted to be happy. Instead of stepping up and slaying the monster at the end of the book, he was selfish, weak, and a girl died because of it.

     His self-destructive chain of thought is interrupted when the bed dips down, Y/N taking up the small space on the edge of the mattress. Her delicate hand reaches for him, moving his tousled hair from his forehead, running her fingers through his light brown locks. Closing his eyes, he swallows with difficulty, biting down to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t want her to see him in this state, to see the fucked up train wreck that he is. 

     “Talk to me,” she says softly, her whisper breaking the silence, but Dean shakes his head.      “I can’t,” he returns, hoarse. “You should go.”      She stands her ground. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

     The tired hunter doesn’t have the energy to argue, and for a while, they just are. Dean on his side, huddled under the comforter, Y/N right next to him, one leg pulled under her, the other dangling from the edge of the bed. The motions of her gentle caressing almost lulls him to sleep, but he doesn’t allow unconsciousness to take him. The second he drifts off, he will be faced with either the same old horrific nightmares he has gotten used to, or return to the dream that will never be. Waking up from either will be too devastating for him to handle.

     Wishing she could offer him any kind of solace, Y/N allows her thumb to rub his temple, cupping his handsome face gingerly. The action draws his weary eyes to meet hers for the first time this morning. The slight improvement should be a relief, yet it is anything but. The sorrow that swims in his gaze breaks her heart.

     “It isn’t your fault,” she offers, her words so soft, that if the room hadn’t been draped in silence, the hunter would have missed it.      Dean looks away, however, shaking his head slightly, unable to accept her comfort. “It is. I could’ve snapped out of it.”

     The woman by his bedside furrows her brow, her expression soft and sympathetic. Why does he expect the impossible from himself? Why does he have to rescue everyone on this earth? No one can live up to that, not even the hero that he is. It’s a burden too heavy to bear for any being, a responsibility that sets him up to fail, because he can’t save them all. He would always beat himself up, whenever they would lose an innocent during a hunt, but this time there’s more to it. This time he can’t get up.

     “A Djinn put you under. How could you have known it was a dream?” she says, trying to help him see that this blame is not his to take.      “That’s the thing,” he sighs, the air that flows from his lungs substantial with regret and remorse. “I was aware it wasn’t real. I just… I didn’t wanna wake.”

     Without pausing, her gentle touch traces the scruff on his cheek as she analyses his words that raise so many questions. If he knew what he was experiencing was indeed a fantasy, then why didn’t his hunter instincts kick in? Coming back from a coma as such is anything but easy. Yet just like with a vivid nightmare, once one realizes the terrors are nothing but a manifestation of their deepest fears, they can fight their way back to the surface. What could Dean have possibly seen that would keep him from coming home?      “What did you dream about?” she wonders.

     His focus turns in a thousand yard stare, as if he can see it all again. Every reason that made him decide to lay down his weapons when the creature captured him. Every experience that was so tentative, that he was ready to swap that reverie for reality. Every vision, every touch, every smile, every laugh. Every wish come true. It is right there, just out of reach, displayed behind the glass that encases his memories, reminding him of what will never be.

     “Mom, Dad... they were alive,” Dean begins, the recollections causing his eyes to shimmer. “Your parents too. Sammy was married to Jess. She was pregnant.”

     Y/N listens to the fallen hunter breathlessly, trying not to blink, because she knows it would force the tears to fall from her lashes. Slowly, it begins to dawn on her why he couldn’t find his way back. 

     “There were no monsters, we didn’t hunt. Sam was a lawyer, I owned an auto shop. We had family barbecues, dinner during thanksgiving. It was…” he lets out a shuddering breath, drops brewed by bittersweet reminiscence rolling down from the corner of his eye. “It was simple, peaceful, without the constant worry. No sorrow, no regret. And you, the way you were smiling… I’ve never seen you glow like that.” 

     He breaks away from the perfect vision, glancing at the woman who he got to call his in that dream. The woman who he lived with, in a house by a lake, with a back porch looking out over the water. The woman who he married and gave him two beautiful children. The woman who he loves, and in that perfect world he allowed to love him back.

     Dean tries to swallow down the painful lump that obstructs his throat as a hint of a smile tucks at the corner of his mouth. He could tell her all that, but it wouldn’t do her any good. In fact, that illusion might break her, just like it broke him. Instead, he allows a final sentence to fall from his lips, but the emotion that has closed around his airway only allows a whisper.      “We were so happy.”

     Tears find their way down Y/N’s face, leaving shimmering pathways in their wake. Not a word has left her, not even the smallest sound. She doesn’t trust her voice to ease his dreadful affliction. 

      It makes sense now, why he couldn’t bring himself to pop that bubble. What Dean experienced, it sounds perfect. It is the definition of heaven, not just for him, but for all the people he cares about. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that the selfless man only wants what’s best for his family, eliminating his personal desires, but it moves her nonetheless. Their happiness, her happiness, is Dean’s.      It’s only then that his choice of words begins to settle in her conscience.      “We?”

     Confusion adds to all the emotions that pass by in her misty eyes like frames of a silent film. The hunter’s gaze meets hers again, and he’s not sure if he should be terrified or relieved when he sees that puzzlement transition into comprehension. The puckered lines between her brows even out as her mouth opens slightly, her eyes growing larger, boring into his soul.      “We were together,” she realizes.

     Dean doesn’t have to confirm, it wasn’t a question after all. She has figured it out already, and that conclusion now hovers between them, neither of the two knowing what to do with the revelation.      “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually whispers. “It was just a dream.”

     The downhearted conclusion has Y/N tilt her head to the side, watching the man who she has loved ever since she met him. The memory is one she holds dear, the wide grin he flashed after witnessing her taking down two vampires with a machete, before he and his brothers even got the chance to make the kill. She didn’t think she needed saving, but when his emerald greens took her in, she felt a warmth flair in her heart. He did in fact rescue her that day, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Y/N breathes in, because in order to do so, she needs to be brave. 

     Her left hand reaches for his, which is holding onto the pillow under his head. She takes it, unfolding his clenched fist, and laces their fingers together.      “It doesn’t have to be,” she speaks softly.

     For a few seconds Dean beholds their entwinement, astounded by the gesture. Is she doing this because she feels sorry for him? Because she’s worried that her resentment would send him further into the dark? But when he glances up at her, the look she gives him stuns the hunter. There’s no pity, nor desperation. All he sees is a softness in her beautiful eyes, a calmness that tells him that it’s alright, that she knows, and that she feels the same way. 

     “Y/N...” he utters, unable to let go of her hand, but not ready to close her palm in his a little tighter. “We can’t. It’s only gonna end sad and bloody.”      She shrugs at that, running her thumb over his rough skin, the motion soothing them both. “Maybe,” she agrees, “but denying this, not giving in to what we feel, isn’t that worse?”

     His chest rises and falls slowly, his focus now locked on their hands again, while the woman still seated on the side of his bed holds her breath. It’s almost as if he’s too scared to look at her, aware how fragile this moment is. They are at a crossroads, and depending on the direction he decides to take, this instant might remain just that, a jiff, or it might be the start of something new, yet terrifying.

     “I don’t want you to get hurt,” Dean sighs, fresh tears glistening though his long lashes.

     Swallowing with difficulty, Y/N looks down, sniveling. She can feel him slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, every passing second taking the battered hunter further away. But before she loses him all together, she strengthens her hold.      “I know you don’t,” she acknowledges, “but having to look back at some point, realizing we missed our shot and watched that ship sail by, that would cause me so much pain, that I--”

     The whimper that falls from her lips, draws his gaze up to study her expression. She’s crying silently, her mouth firmly closed in a thin line. The woman who goes out her way to make him feel better, is breaking in front of him because of his doing, and it hurts him more than anything he has felt in the past three days. Instinctively, he frees himself from her hold, only to take her small hand in his palm, protectively wrapping his fingers around hers. The reassurance gives her just enough strength to continue her plea.

     “After everything we’ve been through, the losses, the sacrifices. Hell, multiple apocalypses…” she begins, barely able to grasp how many battles they have survived. “We deserve this.”

     There is not a doubt in the hunter’s mind that Y/N has earned all the happiness the universe can offer, but him? No, he hasn’t. People have died because of him, lives ruined, families torn apart. He has made too many mistakes, and no amount of good deeds could set the record straight.      “Why would you wanna be with me?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess...”

     Y/N takes him in, the man who has never believed he was good enough for anything. There is not a monster on this planet that could hate Dean more than he hates himself. If only he could see how Sam looks up to his big brother, how proud he would have made his parents, if they had still been alive. If only he could see her, and know how much she loves him.

     Taking a bold step, she begins to lower herself, leaning towards him. The action is rushed, afraid that the coward inside of her might alter the course, but once her lips meet Dean’s, she stills. She can sense him freezing against her and panic jolts through her body, the fear of rejection almost having Y/N pull back herself. But then he eases, his mouth moving with hers. The kiss is short and light. Neither of them intends to deepen the touch, the gesture adding enough depth to the situation as it is.

     When she opens her eyes, his are still closed. Almost as if he was still in the Djinn’s hold, and can’t let go of the bliss that surrounds him. A small smile adorns her soft features as she waits for him to look at her, which he only does when she lovingly brushes her nose against his.

     While his focus bounces over her features, taking in every perfect imperfection that makes the woman before him so unmistakably her, he mirrors her smile. No one wants to disturb this precious moment, but Dean has to let out the breath he was holding for some time. He shifts his head against the pillow, watching how Y/N pulls his hand closer, pressing her lips to the knuckles, lovingly. 

     “I’m a mess too,” she admits. “I’m just as scared, Dean. But, together it might just get a little more bearable. I know I’m just a fraction of that dream--”      “- Y/N.” The hunter stops her then and there, pushing himself off the mattress on his elbow. He might not think of himself as worthy, but he will not stand for her effacing her own purpose. The interruption silences her instantly, her wondering eyes still glossed over with emotion, awaiting. Now it’s his time to be brave. 

     He doesn’t let go of her hand, nor of her gaze. He doesn’t let go of the woman he wants to spend his remaining days with, no matter how many or how few.      “You are so much more than a fraction,” he expresses, heartfelt.

     Having made up his mind, Dean sits up and reaches for her, the warm shade of green only hooded by closing lids when his mouth finds hers. He allows himself to graze over her soft lips, drinking in the one person who he has longed for, but never expected to be with. The sensation that erupts in his stomach once the kiss intensifies is the equivalent to a firework show, the bright colors and sparks lighting up the black skies. Euphoria overwhelms him, the same sense that flooded his conscience when the Djinn lured the hunter into that heavenly hallucination. This is a dream too, and yet it isn’t, because this, this is real.

     The kiss leaves Y/N breathless, yet she is able to sense his warm hand coming up her side and sliding around her back to settle between her shoulder blades, hugging her tight without ever removing his lips from hers. Finally, they are here. After months, years of denial, they are ready to give themselves to each other. Sometimes you need to lose all that isn’t, to appreciate what is. 

     She has to pull every string not to cry in elation, but can’t stop the drops of emotion from rolling down. When Dean feels the wetness against his own cheeks, he reluctantly breaks the connection, cupping her face worriedly.      “Hey…” he hushes.      She shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and laughs through the tears. “I’m okay. I’m just - I’m so happy right now, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

     A twinkle reaches her eyes, making it impossible for Dean to look away. He never thought he would be able to witness her so content, let alone have her admit it out loud. Not in this world, anyway. An image of the custom made dream forged by the Djinn pushes itself to the forefront, Y/N on the porch of their house, comfortable in his arms, absolutely beaming. When he awoke from that coma, he thought that the illusion couldn’t be further from reality, but he was wrong.      “I’ve seen that smile before,” he says warmly.

     Y/N grin grows even wider at that, but before she can ask what the man who she just revealed her affections to means, a rumble rises from Dean’s stomach, causing them both to drop their gaze to where the sound is coming from. Once she realizes what caused it, she giggles, and it’s the greatest harmony Dean has ever heard. 

    “You must be starving,” she comments while wiping her tears, hoping he will finally take in some food after having gone three days without it.     “I could eat,” he admits with a chuckle.      “Well, it’s a good thing I made you scrambled eggs with cheese and extra bacon then.” She straightens her back and shifts to the edge of the bed, taking the tray with both hands. “Scoot.”

     Dean pushes himself up further and sits back against the headboard, his mouth watering when Y/N sets the platter over his lap. Only now does he realize how hungry he truly is. He picks up the cutlery and cuts off some toast, overloading it with egg before he has a mouthful, the delicious meal still warm on his tongue.      “Take it easy, okay? Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” she says kindly, reaching for him and rubbing her thumb over his stubble.      He looks up at here before taking a bite of the strip of meat, his eyes having gained some of that boyish sparkle again. Relieved by the sight, Y/N watches him, glad that she finally managed to get his spirits up. 

     “You want some?” Dean checks with his mouth full, pushing the plate of bacon in her direction.      She frowns at that. “Since when do you share food?”      “Since now, and only with you,” he admits. “Don’t tell Sam.”

     They share a laugh and continue to eat in silence until the dishes are so clean, they barely need washing. The pair leave the darkness of room ‘11’, Dean heading for the showers, Y/N turning the corner towards the kitchen. With a spring in her step, the giddy woman makes her way through the hallways of the enormous building. The tray in her hands feels much lighter, and not just because of the cleared plates she’s carrying. 

     With a smirk on her lips, she hops down the steps into the galley, finding Sam by the fridge, who is restocking it with the groceries he just picked up. It’s not until he notices the empty dishes which she sets down on the counter, that his gaze shoots up to their female companion’s joyful eyes.     “He ate?” he asks, hopeful.     “He did,” Y/N smiles, dropping the plates in the sink. “He’s feeling much better, he’s freshening up now.”      The younger Winchester continues to stare at her in awe, stammering something intellectual, before he pauses and blinks a couple of times.      “What happened?” he can’t help but wonder, surprised by his brother’s improvement.

     She remains silent for a few seconds while she runs the tap and adds dish soap to the hot water. What took place in his room is hard to explain. It required a long list of events, building up to this disclosure. It involved Dean opening up about what he went through, comfortable enough to share his grief and let it out. It included them both being fearless after being scared for so long. It comprehended two individuals, growing together, taking a leap to cross a gap that seemed impossible to overcome. 

     “He let the light in,” she states simply, meeting Sam with a meaningful smile.

     Grateful, the tall hunter huffs in astonishment, before he closes her in a hug and presses a kiss on her hair, not needing words to tell just how appreciative he is of her presence. He  assists her and takes up the task of drying the dishes, the two friends working side by side to finish the chore. They are storing away the plates, the noise of the china being stacked in the cupboards allowing Dean to wait in the doorway without being spotted just yet. He’s freshly showered, wearing his dark grey robe over comfortable clothes, leaning against the post and taking in the woman who has turned his life around. 

     If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone brightly. The late morning rays would come in through the portals to the outside world, illuminating their home. The beams would have been warm and healing, burning away sadness and discomfort, like it would melt the snow on the last days of winter. 

     But the bunker doesn’t need windows.      The bunker has her.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

[onyourzeus]

7:04 am | youngk

airport drabble with kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & f!reader. 2.4k words, fluff, requested by anon (thank you)

requests closed

the air is clean, and the floors pristine white. you rub remnants of sleep from your eyes as a yawn sneaks its way out of your lips. seated at the bench in the corner, you lazily watch people walk past, their faces contorted in different expressions of similar sleepiness, enthusiasm, or downright frustration for being up so early away from their beds (most likely). clasped in your other hand is a rectangular piece of slightly thicker paper, some words bolded and numbers imprinted on the side lengthwise. you’re careful not to wrinkle it too much, knowing that it already has a spot in your journal once the trip has ceased. 

you shift your focus from people watching to the hallway right across from you, two openings on either side. due to your consciousness still not at its one hundred percent, you don’t quite remember which side was the men’s restroom— or if both were gender neutral to begin with. either way, it felt like an eternity waiting for younghyun to come out of there, your feet tapping impatiently on the floor.

you have an unlikely relationship with airports— sometimes the thought of being in one excites you, and others you absolutely abhor it. for completely different reasons. however, right now, you feel excited, maybe a little anxious — but that rarely leaves your system when you’re trying to follow a tight schedule like your boarding time. 

finally, you spot him coming out of the right side— hair still fluffy and all-around messy, his white and brown fleece jacket hugging his upper body making him look like a tall, giant teddy bear. a smile naturally paints on your face, feet staying still but yourself buzzing with anticipation. he has that effect on you, a lot of times. 

“did i take long?” younghyun chuckles at the sight of you, jumping out of the bench while rolling the balls of your feet on the tiled flooring. he looks a lot more awake now compared to the cab ride here, droplets of water streaking his temples. you grin wider, taking his damp hand in yours as you drag your feet towards your assigned gate. 

“no, but let’s hurry!”

“okay, okay— whoa, easy there. do you know what time it is?” 

“time for us to wait by the boarding gate before everyone else does!” you look back at him expectantly, missing the kid running past you in a narrow direction. for some reason, this alerts younghyun’s senses and catches you by the waist, the soft, wool-like material of his jacket rubbing against your thin long sleeves. you feel a sudden warmth on your cheeks, but dismiss the childish reaction as you witness younghyun’s playful smirk. 

“don’t want to get hurt before we meet the parents now, do we?” 

“n-no…” you continue blushing, his hand releasing his hold on your side but continues to intertwine it with your fingers. this time, he leads you forward as you recover from flushed cheeks and the impending realization you’ve been avoiding in your mind since packing up for this very trip last night. 

“it’s not like it’s the first time you guys have seen each other in person,” he reassures you. “and the last time we visited, they absolutely adored you.” 

“that was almost a year ago, younghyun,” you protest, pouting at the thought of his parents expecting even more from you since then. you have had the occasional small talk with his mom over messages and emails, sometimes getting to talk to his dad for a few minutes when younghyun is on the phone with him. 

“what if they expect me to own a multi-million company by myself at this point in my life?” the harrowing thought seemed silly, but knowing how independent and, not to mention, successful the kang household is dating back from his great grandparents… maybe it’s just the minimum effort they would want to see in you. 

the one and only son of mr and mrs kang, however, doesn’t seem to agree. 

younghyun halts right in front of the airport employee verifying tickets and id, and turns directly towards you. the light from the high windows up to the ceiling shone through the glass, shining a streak of brightness over your boyfriend’s face. he peers through the sunlight with narrow eyes, but you only laugh at his sorry attempt not to get blinded.

and yet, he looks absolutely perfect. and it’s not even eight in the morning yet. 

“love, i don’t even own a company, let alone have a million dollars in my wallet.”

“debatable.”

“i— what?” taken aback by your response, younghyun’s eyes gleam and the miniscule wrinkles on either side of his eyes turn at his laugh. “you’re overthinking this. you’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. besides, it’s my birthday in a few days— i expect them to be extra nice to me when we get there.” 

which is about two days from now, and the flight to canada takes approximately eleven hours. 

there he goes again, master of quelling any and all dubious content found in the crevices of your mind, the worry center of your brain always challenged by his sure confidence and practical look at reality. it fits, wildly enough, how you balance each other’s perception of the things that happen to you both in life. 

after showing both of your tickets, and being ushered further into the airport, you finally heave a sigh of relief. the gate isn’t too far from your current location, just a simple turn to the right and you’ll see the number 08 and a sign signifying your flight to canada. 

with your luggages checked in at the front, you only have a backpack slung around your shoulders, filled with some necessities for the long airtime. although, due to guidelines having to prohibit possession of liquids, you were feeling quite parched. and another yawn escapes out of your lips once more. younghyun follows suit, looking around the vicinity for a small shop.

“oh, i see a coffee stand over there. let’s go?” 

“yes, please,” you comply, letting him lead the way. the smell of roasted coffee beans and milk gets stronger as you close into the queue, only three people before you. you stand in front of younghyun, looking up at the menu behind the register. suddenly, arms covered in snowy fleece wrap themselves around you, your backpack getting squished in between. it wasn’t as uncomfortable to you as it probably was for younghyun, but his chin resting on your shoulder and a quick, fleeting kiss on your cheek whips your mind elsewhere. 

with your hands awkwardly on your sides, you put them over his. the coffee aroma surrounding you had awaken you just a tad bit, but having younghyun almost rubbing his cheeks repeatedly against yours was more than enough for you to be aware of the pda. 

the line moves, and you assumed younghyun would release you by now but as you take a step forward, he mirrors your movement. his grip on your waist tightens, and his nose grazes against your skin. it tickles your ear, goosebumps running along your arms all of a sudden which he noticed. 

“cold?” he jokes, eyes all on you. for some reason, it’s hard for you to look back— as there’s only a few inches, one deep breath, until your lips meet. you don’t know what’s gotten into younghyun this morning, but you have a feeling it has to do with the missed opportunity of extra cuddles in bed as the alarm blared at your ears at five forty-five am, and maybe he can still read the anxiety hidden in your visage. 

“clingy,” you retaliate, sticking your tongue out shortly. you hear the barista up front call in the next guest, an the two fo you would be there soon so you tap his arm, signaling your request for him to release you. it’s not that you were uncomfortable, surprised (and secretly delighted) would be a more accurate description. 

“grumpy,” he states, eyebrows raised at your confused ones. he relents three seconds later but not before giving your lips a kiss that lasted shorter than you had wanted. you’ve kissed him this morning, maybe too many times before needing to call a cab— but something about him meeting your pursed lips in a short but sweet moment, out in public only highlights the feelings tumbling in your stomach. 

“hello, good morning!” as if on cue, younghyun steps aside to let you order first. with warmer cheeks, you wring your hands to calm your beating heart down, and recite your drink of choice out of habit (didn’t have enough time to choose, honestly).

“and an iced americano too, please. all to go,” you tell the barista, seeing younghyun’s shy smile in the corner of your eye. it wasn’t as if his go-to was hard to remember at all, he basically runs on the stuff non-stop. 

your drinks get made soon enough, and you cup your with both hands to wait for the matcha latte to cool down. 

“how’s your americano?’ you ask younghyun, the two of you walking side by side. 

he takes a sip before answering, “bitter. and watery. it’s basically bitter water.” 

you cringe at the imagined taste, blowing on your own drink at the same time. “sounds amazing.” younghyun chuckles, unabashed by your reaction as he’s used to your constant slander towards his coffee of choice. 

your eyes find the only sign that says ‘flight to canada’ in mere minutes, feeling great accomplishment at the unoccupied seats near the gate. 

“why do you look so surprised? we literally have an hour and a half before boarding,” younghyun questions your marvelling. “people on our flight are probably just waking up right now.”

“so what? gives us more time to ourselves here,” you counter, walking around the empty seats and picking the ones not too close to the gate, but not too far from where they’d be asking passengers to line up. right in the middle.

“we could have used this time to sleep in just a little bit,” younghyun sits next to you, stretching his legs with a deep sigh. “or, you know, other things,” he adds, the glint in his eyes not missing a beat.  you slap his shoulder playfully, unprepared for the innuendos and physical affection he has been showering you today. 

“what’s gotten into you, younghyun?” you ask jokingly, half expecting him to shrug it off as you bury yourself in the goodness of your steaming hot matcha latte. he shakes his head dismissively, watching you take tiny sips from the rim of the open lid. the smile on his smooth, soft face permanently painted on there. 

“just want you to feel as comfortable as possible. it’s gonna be a long flight.”

“remind me again who falls asleep first during long travels? road trip to jeju? even just a thirty minute traffic jam in seoul a couple of times?” 

younghyun pouts, your winning smirk overtaking his confidence for a little bit. he huffs, almost finishing the america sloshing around crushed ice in his cup. “no fair, i was really tired then, okay?” 

“i don’t mind you sleeping during the flight, younghyun. really,” you reassure him, knowing that you won’t get a wink of sleep at all. the bubbling nerves are rising again, the more that you shove it to the side. 

“what are you going to do for eleven hours?” 

“dunno. think about life, create an unnecessary existential crisis in my mind, and possibly decide upon flinging myself off the plane entirely.” 

your dry humor is something younghyun can never understand a lot of the times, eyes blinking back at you rapidly, mouth hanging wide open from the straw of his drink. you continue to humor his incredulous expression targeted at you, tilting your head for maximum nonchalance. 

“babe…”

“hm?”

“you’re insane. absolutely insane,” he finally says, ruffling your hair in the process. you’d be more annoyed but there wasn’t really any effort put into your hair today. if anything, maybe he fixed it for you. either way, you tuck the stray bangs behind your ears and cross your arms, careful not to spill your drink. “you love me for it.”

“i absolutely do, although i have to admit you scare me sometimes.”

“i was kidding, younghyun!”

“yes i know, love, but— don’t say that in front of mom and dad,” he asks of you, gulping, “please?” 

you scoff at the idea, but his pleading eyes make you roll yours lightheartedly as you promise, “i won’t let your parents know about my acquired sense of humor so that they don’t worry about me or you, for that matter.” 

“thank you,” younghyun nods his head dramatically, looking serious but you know he’s itching to crack a smile as well. your heart feels full, in his odd ways younghyun has yet again quenched the anxiety trying to cough itself out of your throat. you think back to the times you’ve been in the same room as his parents. every time younghyun has been there, a guiding hand in the small of your back, or even a bold kiss on the side of your lips whenever one his parents ask you about your relationship.

really, this time shouldn’t be any different. your love for younghyun is still there, possibly having multiplied in ways you couldn’t have imagined upon meeting him years ago. there shouldn’t be a need for worries or unfounded assumptions of his parents disliking you for his son because you’re sure they’ve seen the way you look at him — with knowing eyes and a grateful smile for his existence in your life. and when you stand in the same space, the same house again in eleven hours, you’d be looking at younghyun just the same. 

in fifteen minutes, you end up falling asleep on younghyun’s shoulder waiting for the announcement of your boarding. he keeps your head comfortably cradled on him (as much as he can), patting the side of your cheek and humming a soft lullaby that hopefully transcends to the sweet dream you were having. 

he couldn’t think of a better place to be at this moment. as more passengers sit in the waiting area, their chit chatters growing louder, fighting away with the many announcements from the speaker, younghyun finds peace right beside you. anywhere that may be.

[quixotic-writer]

Lustful Hunger

Request: for my darling @birdgirl1772 <3

Summary: You have never been satisfied with anything. Socially, romantically, physically, you name it. Q has always tried to prove himself, but you always pushed him away. At a wrap party however, you finally give him the chance to see if he can satisfy your cravings.

warning: smut ahead!

A/N: Haha! Suki is back in action! Thanks for being so patient guys, I have so many pieces, one shots, and chapters that will be released soon now that school has calmed down a bit ;)

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Another season wrapped up just like that and the after party was in full swing. Producers, camera men, comedy producers all had a drink of sorts in their hand as they all smiled and clamored over each other talking about the success of filming. Yet again, I was off alone on the side with a can of soda in hand unsatisfied once more with everything. Building such high standards for myself has proven to be far beyond damaging, conversations seem fruitless with others, friendships come and go like seasons, romantic relationships always seemed to fizzle like a match. I'm just…

“All by your lonesome again I see.” I turn and see Q taking a seat next to me with a can of beer in his hand and a smirk on his face. He readjusts the familiar hat atop his head and brushes stray hairs off to the side, “You’re a strange bird you know darling. You always seem so sociable one moment, and so distant the next.” I took a sip from my can and felt a cool draft graze my skin as he said the word ‘darling’ which caused the hairs on my arm to stand on end.

“Not feeling social I guess.”

“Not social? Or not satisfied?” My movements came to a halt and I felt my spine tense. He knew he had me trapped in the spider's web, open and exposed like a patient on a surgical table, I could see it in the way he smiled and the way his eyebrow flicked upwards. He tapped the side of his now empty can with the ring band on his middle finger, the sound was so quiet yet it seemed to overwhelm and intimidate me.

“And what makes you question something like that Quinn?” He lassod my interest, I turned my body to face him. It was my turn to pick at his brain just as he did with mine.

“They say the eyes are the window to the soul. You, my dear, rarely ever have a spark in your eyes. When you talk to others, I can see the gears turning in your head questioning whether the conversation is worth taking any further. You have judging, hungry eyes. Always searching for something better, perfection, but never being able to quite find what you’re looking for. You don’t have a consistent friend group at all, or friends for that matter it seems. And tell me if i’m overstepping, but lovers seem to come and go like the wind and I know it’s not them breaking it off.” He leans in a little closer and a sensation sends a fiery desire through my chest and a radiating pulse in my parietal lobe.

“What makes you so knowledgeable on my psychology? Sounds like someone’s a little too familiar with the scenario than he could be letting on.” I lean in just as he had, and before me were his deep brown eyes. I began recollecting all that I could on the man before me and began to see a pattern in the memories that I played in my head. “Tell me Quinn, could you be like me?” All he did was chuckle.

“Why do you think I love talking to you so much?” My smile fades and I grow slightly flustered. Everyone always made an effort to talk to me, but I guess out of all the guys and the crew, Q was the one I seemed to talk to the most. He always talked to me whenever he could. Whenever I made a judgement in my head and pushed people away, they usually would give up after two or maybe even three tries. Not Q, though. He seemed relentless and up for the challenge. He didn’t treat me like a prize to be won, he just kept talking to me in the most genuine matter as though his one true goal truly was just to get to know me. In return, I would do the same with him, and to my surprise got the same act thrown right back. It was like a taste of my own medicine and I never realized it, but I found myself subconsciously chasing Q just as he was chasing me. “Tell me, what does it take to satisfy a girl like you then?” He said it in a low tone, it seemed like a command to tell him rather than a question. I swallow hard, I haven’t had any alcohol tonight but he has me feeling as though i’ve had more than enough to drink.

“What’s it to you, Quinn?”

“A question isn’t an answer darling.” The way he dominated the conversation made my thoughts wander to what else he had in store for me tonight. The tension was thick between us, you could cut it with a knife. I bit my lip not knowing whether I should give him the fulfillment of all of my flesh driven desires. What did I have to lose?

“As far as friends go, I like honesty and depth. It’s not easy finding that when all people do is use you to get to the people you work with. So I keep my distance. My family and you guys are my friends, don’t need much beyond that.” I smile at him and look at all the crew members paying no mind to myself and Q. It felt as though this conversation should be kept away from nearby ears, so I planned to keep it that way. “Relationship wise, many boys have come and gone in my life as you can see. But that was the problem, they were boys, not men. Sure, they could grace me with a promising conversation, treat me with respect as anyone should, give me physical intimacy. I could give them the same because in a relationship it’s like teamwork, you build each other up in ways you can. But when I wanted more, I noticed more and more that they wouldn’t be able to satiate my needs. They grew selfish with their love, they only cared about their own satisfaction and happiness, so I would leave.” I played around with my empty soda can on the counter, tracing the rim of it with my fingertip and tapping on it with my nails as I spoke.

“Absolute man eater, left a string of broken hearts behind you.”

“You got quite the track record yourself. Don’t act so innocent.” A guilty and sinister smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Q was always seen with some new girl every so often. As soon as they popped into his life, they seemed to disappear just as fast like it never even happened.

“Guess I've had my fair share of rounds. Have an insatiable hunger myself that some just couldn’t quite appease. Broke a few hearts along the way and had mine broken a few times, but I pick myself up and keep moving forward.” He raises a can as a means to toast his own statement as he brings it to his mouth for a sip, tilting his head back to get each drop in. There was something in that action that made me salivate slightly, the way I caught a glimpse of his adams apple bouncing as he drank, the tendons in his neck so clearly visible. My eyes diverted over to his arm, his ‘quixotic’ tattoo just barely visible and half covered by the sleeve of his t-shirt, his bicep slightly flexed just enough to allow filthy visuals to flow in my head. He slams the can down onto the counter top and lets out a refreshed exhale past his lips.

“How hungry are you, Quinn?” Our chairs seemed like magnets, we kept getting closer to each other. I felt the passion ignite inside, a desire to challenge the willingness of the man that was sitting before me. Our faces were inches, no, centimeters away from each other as we began leaning in close to each other. I could smell the beer on his lips. I took a plunge into the pool of lava that coaxed me into the deep end. Our lips were connected, and he tasted like the stinging electricity of promise with the lingering aroma of alcohol. With an arrogant smile on his face and a look of passion in his eyes, I knew this was only the beginning. “Wanna ditch this party?”

“Only if you give me the pleasure of finally showing you what satisfaction feels like.” I didn’t need to say much else, we made our stealthy exit and decided on his place as our final destination. I couldn’t tell if he always drove as though he was in a terribly fired rush, or he just couldn’t wait any longer and I managed to flip a switch inside of him. I already felt myself grow wetter as the seconds passed, the unpredictability of Q left my imagination working over time to create an endless web of scenarios that could play out. He guided me through the front door and once he had the door closed behind him, he had me pinned against the wall and our mouths collided. Our lips moved in sync and I felt his tongue slowly protrude into my mouth, I willingly allowed its entrance and allowed my tongue to snake around his. My hand wandered to the zipper of his jeans, I rubbed an open palm against him and felt the bulge in his pants. Instinctively, his hips jerked into my hand and a moan exudes from him.

When he pulled away, I attached my lips to a new area of flesh. His neck. I sucked hickeys onto the skin as he slowly guided me to his bedroom, stumbling against walls humming at each new sensation that felt like an intense wave of pleasure. When we finally made it to the bed, I fell onto my back and sank into the soft cushion of the mattress, there he was with lust glazing his eyes and swollen lips in a devilish smile. I help him take his shirt off and I gently rub my hands against his now bare chest. His hand slips carefully up my shirt, cold fingertips dragging up the warm skin of my stomach as he smothers into the crook of my neck, my back arches up aching to feel more of him against me. All our clothes were discarded off to the side without a second thought until we were left in nothing but our underwear, his boxers were tented, and my panties were soaking wet.

“Brian. Please, touch me more.” I sat up against the pillows and he was between my thighs, leaving dark hickeys all over my abdomen. He pulled away and smiled with a darkness in his eyes.

“I want you to pleasure yourself for me.” My eyes open up and I look down to him confused. “I want to see what makes you feel good.” He repositions himself on the bed to lay right next to me. For his odd request, I was determined to put on a show just for him.

I look down at my bare body and trace my hands carefully along my thighs and let out a shaky sigh at the feeling. My hand dips into my panties and I drag my middle finger into my soaking wet folds and hum at the slow, trained movement. I bring my middle and ring fingers to my lips and generously coat them, tasting my own juices on them as I moan and bring them back down to my entrance and slowly push them in. My eyes close and I start off slowly, carefully sliding my fingers in and out of myself.

“Tell me what you’re thinking of darling. What in your filthy mind are you imagining that’s making you so wet?” His voice is low and his breath was hot against my ear. When he spoke, there was a baritone rumble that scratched against his throat in the most breathtaking way.

“Thinking of what you’d do to me if it wasn’t my fingers making me feel so good.” I gasp and take my lower lip between my teeth. I hear shakily breath next to me and he kisses along the side of my neck and I loll my head to the side to grant him more access.

“Are you thinking about what it’d feel like if it were my thick fingers pumping in and out of your soaking wet pussy. I can imagine already how you would tighten around them when I curl them just the right way and hit the spot that would force whimpers out of you.” As he spoke, I began to imagine it all. The way I know they would slip right into me because of how wet I was, I could feel how filling they would be and stretch me in ways my own dainty hands couldn’t. “You’re so fucking beautful like this, I can’t wait to see more.” My hands wander all over my skin that was igniting, I felt myself burning from the inside out as his words drew me in closer to my climax. “I can’t wait to just get a taste of you and have my tongue discovering each and every inch of you, fucking you with it until you release all over my face and I have nothing left to do but clean it up as you buck your hips as your climax fades away. I bet you taste as good as you look.” My fingers are working faster and my free hand finds its way down to my clit and I begin rubbing circles. My feet are planted onto the sheets of the bed as I feel my hips slowly begin to lift off the bed in desperation for more. “Then I can’t wait to just shove my throbbing cock into your tight little cunt, finally show you what a good fucking feels like, give to you pleasure no other man could ever get you to experience. Pure euphoria, and it will all be because of me.” I’m gasping and whimpering as I finally fall down into the pool of euphoria, a strangled moan frees itself from my throat as my hips buck into my hand.

“Holy shit…” I gasp as I finally come down from my high and open my eyes to see him sitting next to me with a satisfied look on his face. He grabs my face in his hands and kisses me rough and deep, I almost thought he was going to suck the soul out of me. He begins to trail down and down until he’s back between my legs and tugging at my panties. “Bri, what about you?” I say as I look at the painfully visible hard on in his underwear. He presses a finger to my lips and hushes me.

“No darling, tonight is all about you. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” He throws my underwear with all the other loose miscellaneous clothing articles and looks almost hypnotized by my bare core displayed before him. “Gorgeous,” was the last thing I heard from him before he planted a few kisses onto my clit, then he took his tongue and took a few long strokes from the bottom to the top very, very slowly.

“Oh fuck. More Brian. Please I want more!” I felt him smile against me as his tongue became more pointed, tracing all about my folds then sucking hard on my clit making me pulsate hard. His arms were wrapped around my thighs and pulling me in closer and tighter to his face. “God your mouth feels so fucking good on me Bri, you’re gonna make me cum again.” My eyes were rolled back into my head as I felt the heat building in my navel as Q focused in on my clit, lapping, sucking, and swirling his tongue all around it until I released all over his face. He finally pulled away, licking his lips, the scruff on his face was damp with my liquid ecstasy and it turned me on more.

“You’re so beautiful when you cum darling, the way your jaw hangs open, your pretty little whines, and watching your eyes roll back in your head is enough to make me almost blow in my boxers baby.” He crawls up to me and captures my lips, giving me just a subtle taste of myself. I finally unclasp my bra and it’s tossed aside just like everything else, it felt like a wave of relief. “Now, let’s get something inside of you sweetheart.” His fingers were now rubbing against my entrance and slowly he slid a thick finger into me.

“Oh shit.” I huff at the sensation. His fingers were without a doubt thicker than mine, and god did they feel so good. He watched each of my reactions carefulle, observing as my chest rose and fell with each movement of his hand. His head craned down and attached his lips to one of my nipples, swirling his tongue around it and taking my nipple between his teeth and gently biting it. “Oh my god Brian, you make me feel so fucking good, faster please, I need more.” My hips buck into his hand, he smiles and happily obliges and watches as his now slick fingers slip in and out of me at a faster rate.

“Baby, I can’t wait to fuck you until your legs are shaking and you can’t walk, can’t wait to feel your juices dripping down your thighs all because of me, can’t wait until I fuck you until you can’t speak anymore.” His lust filled words served only to push me further to another climax, being as sensitive as I was, it wasn’t all that hard. His fingers worked magically within me, hitting each spot that made my arch back and my lungs expel heated breaths of excitement. Words were slowly becoming hard to form as I was tipped over the edge without so much as a warning, only whines and moans were the only noise I could get out of me. As he helped me ride through another high, he roughly kisses me and grinds himself against my thigh, I smile against his lips and rub my hand against the tent in his boxers and feel a wet spot where the tip of his cock was. He groans and I see a wave of slight embarrassment wash over him as he sees that I know he came in his boxers.

“That’s so fucking hot Bri.” He lights up and smiles, I pull my lips close to his ear, “Now, I want to give you some relief. I want you to keep that promise and fuck me til’ i’m shaking.” I climb on top of him and grind my hips against his. His hands grab at my hips and his head falls back at the sensation.

“Your wish is my command, lovely.” He rustles through his night stand and grabs out a condom as I pull his boxers off his body and his erection springs to life outside of the confines of his underwear. He slips it on and lines himself up. I rub my entrance against the head of his cock and take my lip between my teeth in anticipation. “Sink down baby.” And I do. I slowly lower myself and feel as he stretches me wider and wider the deeper down I go. I feel tears forming in my eyes because this is all slowly becoming too much for me to handle, but I love it so much. “I can feel you dripping on my thighs already, you’re so wet, so tight, so perfect.” His hands smooth over the sides of my body and stop at my hips and give them a little squeeze. With a gasp, I begin to rise and fall atop of Q, feeling as he slips in and out of me in the most delicious way. My hands reach back to his thighs so I keep my balance as my hips work faster daring to reach another high.

“Q… Bri… Feels. So good… Fuck.” I gasp out as my eyes screw shut taking in the sensation of the sweat beading on my forehead and upper lip, the burning sensation in my thighs from cumming over and over, Q’s hands that keep wandering all over my naked body sending shockwaves through my nerves, and the feeling of his now slick cock inside of me. “I’m… So sensitive… Gonna…” My hips drop down as my legs begin to tremble as I cum once again, a strained whine being the only noise I feel capable of making. I feel my body begin to slow down and Q flips us over, laying me back on the bed and him hovering above me.

“One more time baby, just one more time. For me please.” He starts thrusting harshly into me, exuding a string of incoherent moans and whines as he sought to chase his own high. His hair was pressed against his forehead and face contorted in pleasure. Picturesque and beautiful. I had my hands placed on his shoulders and I felt as his muscles tensed with each groan. “Please baby girl i’m so close, look at what you do to me. I’m such a mess for you. God you feel so good. Just for me. All because of me. I’m gonna–” His rambles came to an end with a final thrust into me, it was enough to send me over the edge one last time and we both collapsed onto the bed, the cushioning of it cradling our now sore bodies. Heat radiated off of our skin, the steam of our body creating a sheen of sweat that coated both of us. My body felt spent beyond belief and it was a sensation I had never before experienced. Satisfaction. I look down and see him lying on top of me, head resting on my sternum, panting and smirking, neck and chest littered with an array of beautiful hickeys left by yours truly. I caught a glimpse of my own body and saw a similar display and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I think I can confidently say I have never experienced anything like that before.” I rake my fingers through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead and petting him like a sweet puppy. His fingers danced across my skin, giving me goosebumps.

“Would you say that your lustful thirst has been quenched my darling?” He asked in a hoarse voice. I hum in response with a smirk. “Good. It’s what you deserve… You know, I have never blown a load in my pants like that. Not since high school at least.” His eyes met mine and I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest.

“Guess tonight was just a night of firsts for us, huh?” We both laugh together and he leans up and captures my lips in a sweet kiss, but I push things a little further as I slip my tongue into his mouth. He quickly pulls away, cocks his eyebrow, and his lips curve into a smile.

“Are you trying to hint at something?”

“And what if I am? Can’t keep up Quinn?”

“At least take me to dinner first!” He says in an exaggerated tone and a hand against his chest.

“That can be arranged. I’d love that actually. For now, round two. It’s my turn to torment you though.” I say pumping his cock back to life with a devilish smirk.

“You’re on.”

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON -CHAPTER 20 - PERMANENCE

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 20

Permanence

Hello all, Here is chapter 20 of Edinburgh to Boston. There are several things that you need to know when you read this. It begins directly after the King’s Gambit. In fact it is the same day. We pick up after Jamie teased Claire in bed. The chapter encompasses several days. It starts on a Tuesday and ends on Sunday night before they return to work on Monday morning. There is some concern that readers could get lost because of the changing days, so I just labeled each section with the day of the week for convenience.

I want to thank scubalass as always for her work as the beta, which is not an easy task. I can be pigheaded at times.

I give you Edinburgh to Boston, Chapter 20, Permanence. For better or worse, here goes nothing.

Tuesday afternoon:

“Come here mo chridhe, ” he beamed holding open his arms to her.

Claire eyed him suspiciously, “What are you planning to do?”

“I want tae kiss ye, ” he chuckled.

“Oh no, you don't. You're not going to get me all riled up again and not finish the job. I'm no fool you know.”

“Never thought ye were. I just thought we could start at the beginning and see where it takes us,” he proposed as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Sound like a plan?”

Claire launched herself into his arms, ”Aye, that sounds wonderful.”

They were entwined in each other’s arms luxuriating in the closeness. He stroked her with a practiced hand. Caressing her. Adoring her.  Whispering words of love in her ear.  They kissed and ignited an inferno. They burned bright and hot becoming blazing twin suns. He moved over her covering her body, He wanted to possess her body and soul. 

“Ye are mine, Sassenach. Now and forever. Body and soul. Whether ye will it or no’. Mine.”

“Yours,” she whimpered.

And loved her tenderly, then furiously until they were sated and sleepy.

Claire yawned contentedly, “I never knew playing chess could make you so tired.” 

Jamie chuckled, “‘Tis a verra rigorous game.” He pulled her against his chest wrapping his arms around her. They closed their eyes and  fell into a blissful sleep.

The bedroom door opened without a sound. Claire crept into the room, careful to not wake a sleeping Jamie. He was still napping after their  “chess game”. Quietly, she pulled the drapes closed muting the vibrant mid-afternoon sunlight so not to disturb his slumber.

She brought a cup of tea with her and placed it on the bedside table. After arranging pillows against the headboard to lean on, she eased herself onto the bed making herself comfortable sitting with one leg tucked under the other.  Normally, she would drink her tea in the kitchen or sitting room, but today was Saturday. This was her last full day with Jamie before returning to her flat, and she didn’t want to miss a single second with him. She shook her head admitting that thought was utter rubbish.  After all, she would be seeing him every day at the hospital. But she would be spending time with him as a professional colleague and not on the intimate level they shared this week. 

Fragrant tendrils of steam rose around her as she inhaled the familiar bouquet. Oolong.  She was pleased that Jamie liked it too. She sipped the tea savoring the taste. It was slightly sweet, fruity, with a honey aroma. What could be better than drinking your favorite tea in bed and watching your lover sleep? And she did love to watch him whether asleep or awake.

She turned to see him asleep on his back, arms crossed over his chest looking like one of the carved figures on the sarcophagi she had seen in Egypt with Lamb. His full lips were slightly parted as he breathed softly through his mouth.

Suddenly, he became restless, muttering something in Gàidhlig. A tender look crossed Claire’s face as she brushed away the curls that fell over his forehead. 

“Shhh, I’m here,” she comforted.

Jamie calmed; a smile crossed his face for the briefest of moments, then vanished.  His breathing evened and his face relaxed as he descended into a deeper slumber. Her forehead crinkled in fascination as she stroked his hair once more only to watch his smile reappear then disappear as it had before. 

“I love you, Jamie Fraser,” she whispered. “I knew from the moment you were introduced during the staff meeting that you would carry my heart in your hands.”

 The conference room had several areas that one could hide in and not be seen. Claire took her usual spot where she could work on her messages without being observed. Another useless weekly faculty meeting. The Chief droned on about creating the preeminent  Cardiothoracic Service in the entire U. K.  To this end he hired an up and coming surgeon to join the team. He would bring new energy to the stalled department. The Chief extolled the accomplishments, awards, and research activities of the new team member.

There had been many applicants for the position. Claire wondered who he had chosen. It certainly wasn’t the woman she had suggested.

“I would like to introduce you to Dr. James Fraser. Come up here dear boy.”

A giant of a man rose from his seat in the audience gracefully striding toward the podium. 

The two men shook hands exchanging general pleasantries. 

“On behalf of the department, I extend our warmest welcome and wish you much success,” droned the Chief. “I’m turning the microphone over to Dr. Fraser for a few words.”

The first thing Claire noticed was his voice. It was deep, smooth, luxurious, and warm. It flowed over her wrapping around her like a favorite blanket. She noticed a definite burr to it that vibrated with command. 

She couldn't see from her vantage point causing her to shift her position a few chairs over. 

Claire looked up and saw the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall with fiery red hair and the deepest blue eyes. He was engaging, serious when it called for it, and charming. The audience was enthralled. 

After he finished speaking Dr. Sandringham returned to the podium. 

“You may have heard, the hospital has decided on a trial of pairing surgeons together as a measure to improve quality care in a cost effective manner. In our department two surgeons have been chosen to pilot this new program based on my recommendations.  The two surgeons designated to lead this programme are Dr. Fraser and Dr. Beauchamp. Claire, where are you, my dear? Come and meet Dr. Fraser.”

Claire’s mouth hung open like a landed fish unable to believe what she heard. She had overheard the rumors about some trial programme partnering surgeons together. “Sandringham! Up to his old tricks,” she thought. “Well, he would not get away with this one. He thought he could stick the newbie on her, but she already was overworked. Why not have MacPherson do it? He sits all day watching the Scottish stock market while she’s busy operating, doing the consults, or running a clinic. Claire decided she wouldn’t let the Chief get away with it this time. She would tell him to bloody well find someone else to hold hands with Fraser, was it?” Closing her mouth she slowly stood.  Her hands flew to her hair, trying to smooth it into place but knew it was useless to try. 

She walked up to Fraser and immediately got lost in his blue eyes. Claire made a little gasping noise then extended her hand, “Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I guess you’re stuck with me.” She blushed crimson red. Something she hadn't done since her youth. 

He took her hand in his massive ones tipping his head toward her, “James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser. At your service and I assure you the pleasure is all mine.” 

At that moment, something passed between them. The attraction between them was magnetic. It pulled at them speaking of a time yet to come, of words yet unsaid, and of things yet to happen.  The force drew them as if they were pieces of lodestone being pushed together. They gazed at each other wondering if the other felt it too.

Dr. Fraser reluctantly let go of her hand, gave her a lopsided smile, “I look forward to our first case together, Dr. Beauchamp.”

Claire never did have that conservation with Sandringham. It was the best thing she never did. She smiled at the recollection of their meeting and slid down to curl into his side. Her head came to rest on his chest while her leg found its way over his.  She found contentment and peace lying next to Jamie. She felt at home. Home. Now that was a strange concept to her. She and Lamb lived life like a pair of gypsies, never having the opportunity to put down roots. She enjoyed her travels with Lamb. It was fun and fascinating like being on perpetual vacation. There was, however, something missing in her life. A place to call her own.  A place where she could leave her imprint. Like owning that blue and white vase she had seen during her travels years ago. If she only had a home to display it in. It would say, ‘Claire lives here.’ The idealization of home represented a place where she could feel safe, secure, and happy. She had hoped that she could have made that a reality with Frank, but that was not to be.

Jamie grunted then turned to his side pulling Claire into the refuge of his arms. 

Then it struck her. Safe, secure, and happy within his arms.  Home did not have to be only a physical place or structure. It could be a person too. Smiling broadly, she realized that she could wander the face of the earth with Jamie for the rest of her life and still be home. He was her home now. She basked in the warmth of his embrace, knowing she truly had found her home at last.

Looking at her suitcase in the corner, Claire thought it probably a good idea to leave a few things here since she would stay here on occasion. She mentally reviewed its contents deciding on what she should keep here. 

Her thoughts drifted toward her flat. It was “home” but the space seemed rather plain and utilitarian. Just a place for her to eat, keep her clothes, and sleep. She had little interest in decorating the place since she never had company. To be honest, she never wanted company or invited anyone over. Claire had been content living her solitary life with Ginger, but now everything has changed. Ought she spruce the place up? What about new drapes for more privacy? At least new bed linens, towels for the bathroom. Maybe a throw rug and a few pillows would be nice. She didn’t want Jamie to think she lived like some cloistered nun. 

Claire froze. Perhaps she should reciprocate and make room for him if he wanted to leave some things there. Would he even want to come over to her place? She began to bite her lip with worry. God, this was all so new and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Mo neighan donn, yer thinking so hard I can hear ye.”

Claire startled at his voice, “I’m sorry did I wake you?” She turned to face Jamie looking directly into his sapphire eyes.

“Nah, ye dinna wake me, but are ye alright?”

“Oh, I’m fine, just lost in thought.”

“About what, my own? ‘Tis it serious?” 

“No, no, no. Just deciding on what to leave here. And reciprocating for you at my place. If you would want to stay that is,” she asked shyly.

“Is yer bed big enough? Ye ken I need a lot of room,” he smirked, giving her a lustful look.

“Was he asking if it was big enough to fit him or was he asked about something else, Claire wondered.”

“I do believe... I’m sure it’s... Fine. Yes,it’s fine. Um, what are we talking about?”

“Yer bed, Sassenach. I wanted to know if it’s big.” He pulled her into his embrace, pressing his hips against her belly.

Claire felt the length of his arousal. “I think it will be more than satisfactory.”

“I would be delighted to spend the night at yer place anytime yer willing to have me,” he smoldered at her.

“Good, very good,” she babbled into his lips.

“Aye, ‘tis good indeed.”

They snuggled together enjoying the quiet and the feel of each other. 

Jamie leaned down to place a kiss on Claire’s brow. It was creased and furrowed. He felt her tense for a moment then relax.

“Claire.”

“Hm?”

“What else is on yer mind? Ye canna hide it, something else is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.” His finger traced a line over her cheek trying to soothe her.

Claire tipped her head forward and her hair slid across her face like a veil protecting her from his scrutiny, “You know what the rule of thumb is with sexual partners? You not only slept with your partner but with everyone they previously slept with.” Her eyes shied away unable to settle on him. Swallowing the lump in her throat she continued, “As you recall I went to Lamb’s after Frank raped me,” she stopped and took a deep breath to gather her strength again.  “Lamb convinced me to go to the hospital. I told the examining doctor that I had evidence that Frank had multiple partners. So, I was tested for every conceivable STD, and by some miracle, everything turned up negative,” she exhaled. “I had them all repeated when I got back to Scotland after the divorce. Again, everything was negative. I just wanted you to know that I am clean. I should have told this sooner, Jamie. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

She searched his placid blue eyes hoping to find understanding. 

The look of him described his mood, eyebrows pulled down together and his lips narrowed forming thin lines. The very picture of anger. Not because of what she told him. But because he hoped they left the ugliness of Frank behind them. But he should have realized that after her past and current trauma more revelations would arise over time. All he could do was be there for her to support her. And he would for as long as she needed him to.

He cleared his throat, “Since we are talking of such things, ye may as well know that I have been tested too. All negative. And I havenae been with anyone else since I have been tested.”

Jamie stopped and looked at Claire. She still had a troubled look about her.

“Do ye have something else ye want to tell me?”

She gave him a sidelong look, “I brought this up because we have not practiced safe sex.” She paused waiting to see if anything registered with him.

“Aye, ‘tis so and...”

“I have an IUD Jamie. I didn’t want to have children with Frank. Things became more and more unsettled between us and I didn’t want to bring a child into that relationship. My residency, my fellowship. It all seemed too much. So we don’t have to worry about birth control either.”

Jamie went a pale, ashy color. Christ, he didn’t think. He really didn’t think. He lusted after her just like a stag during the rut. No thought of the consequences for her. No, he only thought about himself and wanting her. He felt ashamed. 

“Claire, I’m sorry. I dinna think. I just wanted ye so bad.  And me a doctor. I should have…”

Claire raised a finger to his lips to silence him. “It’s alright. And I wanted you too. I don’t know if I could have stopped myself either  Truthfully, we both share the blame. We should have spoken about this beforehand. I should have told you sooner about the IUD.” 

She quieted allowing a few moments to pass before speaking again, “There is nothing to worry about. We’re both young and healthy. Except for your penchant for getting injured,” she quipped giving him a sly look. 

“Then ‘tis a good thing I’m in love with a doctor so ye can tend my wounds,” he smirked giving her a crooked smile.

“Is that why you want me? So I can tend your wounds.”

“Nay Sassenach. I want ye because I love ye. Now enough talk, just let me hold ye,” as he pulled her closer to his chest.

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

Time is an ethereal thing. It flies swiftly as if borne on the wings of Mercury. Try to grasp it and it will slide through your fingers like grains of sand. For lovers, time is but an enemy. Always pushing the present into the past making the now just a sweet memory.

Wednesday morning broke clear and sunny, but a dark cloud hovered over Jamie. Four more days. That’s all that he had left with his Sassenach. Four days. Then Claire would return to her own flat on Sunday. Time took on a sense of urgency for Jamie Fraser. He was sorry about what happened in Boston, but it worked out, in his point of view, for the best. Leaving Boston early gave him these four days with her all to himself. And he would not waste a single second of this precious time with his Claire.

Beauchamp had always been something of a recluse, never socializing with other staff members. He knew her habits and wants intimately in the operating room, but privately not very well. He knew how she liked her coffee, which scones were her favorite, and she ate whatever she liked without gaining an ounce. She liked to sleep on the left side of the bed. There were, however, a myriad of other things he did not know about her. If he wanted to take care of her, and he did, he would need to know more about her. Uncovering the mystery of Claire Beauchamp would become his life’s mission. He decided they would spend their remaining time together doing as new lovers do, learning the ways of each other. 

Each day for their remaining time, the couple did everything together. 

The mornings were spent together making breakfast. Claire would bake a batch of scones. Jamie would scramble the eggs while the requisite parritach bubbled and burped in its pot. They teased each other, stealing glances, and small touches as they worked together. It made for a thoroughly enjoyable way to start the day. 

They spent their days talking about their lives, family, and adventures. Jamie told Claire tales of the highlands acting out parts of the story, making her laugh until her sides would ache and tears streamed down her face. Hearing that Claire had never read The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings Jamie took it upon himself to rectify this breach in her knowledge of fine literature. He would read to her, complete with the required sound effects and character voices, as she laid on the settee with her head in his lap. Claire pronounced the book as their book. They watched the telly poking fun at each other's choice of programmes. And they played chess over, and over, and over again never managing to finish a single game.

That was the way of it until Saturday morning arrived…

Jamie rose before Claire deciding they would do something a little different today. It was something he wanted to do for her and he hoped it would please her.

Claire awoke to feel quite refreshed as she stretched luxuriously. The duvet slid from her body exposing her breasts to the chilled air of the room and her nipples instantly hardened.  She chuckled to herself debating the value of leaving a nightgown and pyjamas here since she always ends up sleeping naked next to Jamie. Going to the en-suite, she quickly showered then brushed her teeth. Sneaking a peek at her hair, she sighed then wrestled it into submission.  She put on one of Jamie’s old tee-shirts (which she knew she would take home with her) and padded out into the kitchen. Jamie was not there and breakfast had not been prepared.

“Jamie?”

“In here, Sassenach.”    

Claire followed the sound of his voice finding him sitting on the settee fully dressed in jeans, jumper, and boots. His jacket, scarf, and cap were draped over a chair waiting for him.

“Are you going somewhere,” she inquired.

“We,” he emphasized, “are going somewhere. We have been in this flat since we arrived back in Edinburgh on Monday and I thought it would be nice tae take a walk. Besides that, I have some things that I need tae attend tae. I made ye yer coffee. Drink it as ye get dressed, aye?”

She grabbed her coffee and took a drink of the dark rich brew as she hurried off to get dressed all while wondering what Jamie had on his mind. She dressed quickly pulling on her skinny jeans, a jumper, and her boots. Claire did not remember packing these jeans but happy that she did. She turned to look in the mirror observing her bum and she liked what she saw. She smiled smugly and knew Jamie would like it too. She stuffed her hair up into her hat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, then grabbed her coat.

After depositing her cup in the sink, Claire found Jamie standing at the door with his coat on. She twirled for him, “Do I look alright for our day out?”

He looked at her, admiring how her jeans fit over that magnificent arse wondering if going out was truly a good idea or not.

Jamie swallowed hard, “Aye, ye look verra bonnie.” He held open the door bowing to Claire,” Come along Sassenach the day awaits us,” he urged her out the door before he changed his mind.

For a winter day in Edinburgh, it seemed rather warm. Still, the air had a deliciously crisp and refreshing feel. Jamie reached out, took hold of Claire’s hand, and knitted their fingers together.

Dr. Fraser was well known in the neighbourhood. People, shopkeepers called out to wish him good-day. Heads bent low chattering away like a clan of sparrows that the good doctor had a lady. Jamie smiled knowing full well what the gossips whispered in hushed tones. He grinned as he took his arm and wrapped it around Claire’s shoulder pulling her into his side as close as possible. Let’s give the old bletherskates something to talk about, he thought. And he bent, placing a kiss on Claire’s crown. Mine, he thought and he wanted the whole world to know it.

Claire looked up at him as she snuggled closer to his side.

They stopped in different shops along the street, picking and choosing things they liked. Jamie bought another book to also become their book. Chess had already become their game, but adding another wouldn’t hurt. Or two or three. Jamie smirked wondering how they could get creative with the new games. So the day went, they walked from shop to shop choosing things that they both liked destined to become theirs.

 “Dr. Fraser! Dr. Beauchamp!” they heard a voice call out.

They turned in the direction of the voice. Jamie on seeing the man broke out into a broad smile. 

“A charaid!” he returned the call. “Come, Claire,” he urged tugging at her hand.

A tall balding man of slim wiry build and merry blue eyes stood outside a florist shop waving excitedly at them.

Jamie and the man clasped each other’s hands engaging in a rapid handshake and back-slapping in the manner of old friends.

“Claire, ye remember Ewan MacDonald, do ye no’? We operated on his Da, Graeme, last year. ‘Twas a triple bypass if I recall correctly.”

“Why yes, I do recall. How are you Ewan and your father, how is he doing?” Claire inquired as she took hold of his hand.

“Ach, he’s braw Dr. Beauchamp, just braw, thanks tae ye and Dr. Fraser. Some days we need tae remind him that he’s 80. Always on the go. ‘Tis a sight tae behold,” he grinned. “Where are me manners? Why do ye no come into me shop for a bit and warm-up?” Ewan offered.

“Tapadh leibh,” Jamie smiled. He placed his hand on the small of Claire’s back encouraging her to go forward.

It was like being magically transported from the chill of winter to the warmth and beauty of summer. The shop was perfumed with the scent of fresh-cut flowers, flowers growing in pots, small and large potted foliage plants, dish gardens, and terrariums. An assortment of plain clay pots as well as hand-painted terra cotta planters were scattered around the workbench. In an out of the way corner of the shop exquisite vases could be found for sale.

Claire spied a young woman caring for seedlings sprouting under grow-lights. “If you gentlemen would not mind, I would like to look around,” she said happily.

“Of course, Dr. Beauchamp. Enjoy yerself,” replied Ewan. 

Jamie called to her as she turned to walk away, “Claire, I dinna ken what yer favorite flower is. Could ye tell me?”

“Well, I love all flowers. But, you will think me silly if I told you what my favorite flower is.”

“Yer no’ a silly woman, Beauchamp. Tell me.”

“It’s forget-me-nots.”

“Forget-me-nots? No’ a rose or an orchid or something like that?” Jamie looked puzzled.

“No, forget-me-nots. I planted them on my parents and Uncle Lamb’s graves. The flowers mean remembrance when people are parted or after death,” her face and voice becoming solemn. After a moment, Claire added, “But, they also represent a growing affection between two people, as well as true and undying love.” She looked into his eyes, as blue as the forget-me-nots she spoke of. “So, my favorite flower is the forget-me-not, ” Claire smiled and turned away to join the woman working with the seedlings.

Silent communication crossed between the two men. Jamie raised his eyebrows in question while Ewan vehemently shook his head no. Jamie glared at him, his lips becoming thin. He would not take no for an answer. 

 “‘Tis winter,” Ewan hissed. 

“Aye, ‘tis winter for sure,” Jamie confirmed.

“I dinna ken where I can find any!”

Both men turned their gaze toward her. Claire glowed with happiness. As she spoke, her graceful hands fluttered animatedly as she described something to the woman. 

Ewan turned to look at Jamie and saw his love for her written all over his face as he watched her.

“Ye love her!” Ewan exclaimed in a soft low voice.

“Does it show much?” 

“That it does, mo charaid, that it does,” he chuckled while shaking his head. “And the ladies of the neighbourhood thought ye to be a lifelong bachelor,” he snorted. Ewan sighed heavily, rolled his eyes toward heaven then shook his head yes. “Fer ye and Dr. Beauchamp, aye, I’ll make it happen. I ken a man, a horticulturist by the name of John Bartram, who may have what ye want.” Ewan paused, “He’ll have tae overnight them. It can be pricey, ye ken?”

Jamie nodded in agreement and clapped the man on the shoulder, “For Monday morning, aye? ‘Tis our first day back tae work and I’d like tae have a wee posy tae leave on her desk. ”

“Aye Dr. Fraser. Monday ‘tis.” 

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp was a woman of science and did not believe in luck, chance, or coincidence. If such things existed, they didn’t apply to her. It was odd that only this morning she thought of the blue and white Chinese vase she wanted to buy all those years ago. How was it that by some strange twist of fate its twin is sitting on the upper shelf of a florist shop in Edinburgh? She gravitated over to where the vases were for a closer look. Could some serendipitous force have led her and Jamie to this shop today?  Perhaps today if luck did exist it would favour her after all.  Maybe this was a second chance to have it and this time it would not slip through her fingers. 

Jamie saw Claire looking at the vase covetously. He drew Ewan’s attention to the vase pointing at it with his chin. Whispering to him, “Put it in a bag for me will ye?”   

“Aye, Dr. Fraser.”

“Claire,” Jamie called to her. “‘Tis time for lunch. My wame is empty.”

“I’d like to speak to Ewan before we go, alright?”

“Ewan, that blue and white vase you have on the second shelf I’d like to buy it.”

“Oh, Dr. Beauchamp, I am sae sorry. It should not be there. Someone else purchased it. I just forgot tae take it down. In fact, the person is coming today tae pick it up,” Ewan said as he reached to take it down. “Siusan, would ye be sae kind as tae wrap this up.”

A look of pained disappointment slipped across Claire’s features at the news.

“I dinna ken ye sold this vase, Ewan.”

Ewan scowled at his shop girl. “I just did tae Dr. Fraser. ‘Tis a gift,” he whispered as he tipped his head toward Claire.

Siusan turned to look at the couple then smiled, “Ach, aye,” she whispered back. “I’ll tend tae this immediately.”

“I shall keep an eye out for another one like it, Dr. Beauchamp. If I find one, I’ll let ye know,” Ewan took her hand and gave her a gentlemanly bow pressing a kiss to her hand.

He smirked as he heard Jamie growl with annoyance.

“Ye ready, Claire?” Jamie questioned as he grabbed hold of their packages.

“Yes, quite ready. I did so enjoy visiting your lovely shop. I do hope to see you again soon. Please give my regards to your father.”

After shaking Ewan’s hand, Jamie took hold of Claire’s hand guiding her toward his favorite cafe for lunch.

After seating, Jamie ordered a soup, sandwich, and chips. Claire opted for the soup and a salad.

Claire was uncharacteristically quiet during lunch. She left her soup untouched and glumly pushed and poked at the greens on the plate. 

Jamie gently raised her chin up trying to read her face without much success. “Sassenach, can ye tell me what’s on your mind?”

Claire gave him a sad little smile. “I’m not upset, truly, it’s...well, more reminiscing about something that happened a long time ago,” she replied as her hand reached to snatch a chip from his plate.

“I’d like to hear about it,” he encouraged.

She munched on Jamie’s chips one after another as she contemplated the telling of her story.

Jamie frowned as he watched his chips disappear little by little into Claire’s waiting mouth. He signaled the server, pointed to his plate of missing chips ordering two more.

 “It happened when Lamb and I were in China for one of his excavations. I had gone to the market to buy supplies when I spotted this beautiful blue and white vase in a little store. Every day I would stop to admire it. I really wanted it, but I didn’t have a place to keep it,’ she said while snatching away another chip. “It didn’t seem practical to carry it around the world with me so I settled for admiring it in the window. One day I went back to look at it and it was gone. The shopkeeper told me someone bought it.  When I saw the one in Ewan’s shop, it looked so much like the one in China. I thought I had a second chance to buy the vase, but I guess it wasn’t meant for me to have,” she said dejectedly.

Jamie leaned over and rummaged in the bags. “Do ye mean this one?” He placed the blue and white vase on the table in front of Claire. “I meant to give this to ye after dinner, but ye look so sad now, I couldna wait.”

Claire gasped in shock as she took in the vase sitting on the table in front of her. It took several serviettes to remove the chip grease from her fingers. With a shaking hand, she reached out and stroked the vase proving to herself that it was indeed real.

Claire looked from the vase to Jamie then back to the vase. “You bought this for me?” her voice filled with emotion.

“Aye, I saw how much ye wanted it so I bought it for ye.” 

She got up and launched herself at Jamie taking his mouth in a fierce kiss. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.” Two fat tears broke free and rolled down her cheek.

He cradled her face in his large warm hands and used his thumbs to gently erase each tear away.  

“Sassenach, dinna cry. ‘Tis only a vase.”

Her face sprang up abruptly. “Only a vase, only a vase! You couldn’t be more wrong, Fraser. It’s not just a vase, it’s-it’s-it’s just everything,” she stuttered.

It didn’t matter to Jamie that they were in a cafe, he pulled Claire closer to his chest, offering her the comfort of his body. His hand ran across her face as he whispered into her hair,  “Claire, why don’t ye tell me all about it then.”

For Chrissakes, Beauchamp, you’re in a public place. What do you think you’re doing making a spectacle of yourself? Claire moved to get up and return to her seat, but Jamie held her fast.

“No. Stay where you are. I dinna care who sees us and neither should ye. Now, if ye dinna mind I’d like to hear ye story.”

She nodded her head, then wrapped her arms around his neck wondering how to explain this to him. 

“I envy you, Jamie,” she began. “You had everything that I have ever wanted. Parents who loved you. Siblings who loved you, played with you, even fought with you. Friends, school mates. A regular school you went to every day. Sporting activities. Even your damn chess club,” she glared at him.  “And, of course, there was Lallybroch. Every day you went to your home, to your room where you could study, daydream, and sleep in your bed.”

“Among other things,” he mumbled.

“Beg your pardon. I didn’t hear that.”

“‘Tis nothing,” he blushed, “Please continue.”

“When I saw the vase, I thought it signified home, my home,” she emphasized. It meant I lived there. It would be a place I would go to every day. To me, that vase represented everything I had ever wanted, had hoped for. The vase meant safety, security, permanence, stability.” She searched his face to see if he understood what she meant and she saw the dawning of understanding. “Mind, I don’t regret my childhood at all. It was magical, a wonderful opportunity most children will never have. And I loved Lamb, so very much. But, sometimes I just wanted…”

“Tae be like every other bairn, aye?”

“Yes. Normal. Not always on the move.”  

“I see.” He paused, letting what she said sink in. “Do ye ken, Claire this is what I had in mind today. I wanted ye tae have things at the flat that would make ye comfortable, so ye would ken ye belonged there. No’ a guest. I wanted ye tae ken ye belonged there just as much as I do. That ‘tis your home if ye want.  Anytime ye want, whenever ye want. I was worried that ye might think this too fast or too soon tae be talking like this, but maybe no’.” He looked at her with a look of sincerity causing her to become overwhelmed by his statement. 

Claire leaned forward resting her forehead against his. “Thank you,” she whispered to him.

“For what, a leannan ? I just want ye tae be happy and I want tae be the one tae make ye happy.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her fingers.  

Her lips parted as though to say something. She changed her mind and bent forward giving him a passionate kiss. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist pulling Claire in to deepen the kiss. 

The sound of dishes and cutlery crashing to the floor caught their attention ending the kiss. All eyes were centered on them. Customers gaped with eyes bulging, and mouths agape. The young waitress, with a serious crush on Jamie, had dropped the plates she was about to serve. Claire’s cheeks flushed pink from the heat of the kiss. 

“I think we have worn out our welcome.” 

“From the looks of things, I’d say yer right,” he agreed.

Claire stood, her chin held high as she brushed away imaginary wrinkles from her jumper. She put on her scarf and coat while Jamie did the same. He left money on the table with a rather sizable tip and gathered up their belongings. The shaken waitress came toward the table as Claire grabbed another crisp. 

“Best crisps in all of Edinburgh,” she declared. And they walked with dignity out the door.

He grabbed her hand, each looking at the other as they strode off cackling like two loons. 

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

The weather changed during the day as the sun disappeared behind a mass of gray clouds. A cold, piercing wind blew biting cheeks and noses turning them cherry red. By the time they arrived back at Jamie’s flat in late evening, they were cold and hungry.  Completing all the errands had taken a considerable amount of time. They warmed their fingers and toes in front of the fire Jamie started in the fireplace. They spread their purchases out on the floor while they discussed the proper place for each item.

“I’ll leave ye to it mo chridhe, while I heat up dinner for us,” Jamie said as he walked into the kitchen.

 Claire nodded in agreement as she set about her task. She picked up the last bag and brought it with her to the sofa. It contained the vase. Carefully, she took the vase out and unwrapped it. She turned it around admiring it. It did look like the one that got away. Claire studied the room and finally came to a decision. A credenza, that Jamie used as a bar, stood off to the side displaying glassware on the left and the right. But the center was empty as if waiting for something special to claim the space. Carefully, she placed the vase centering it between the stemware. Stepping back Claire gave it a critical look. She broke out into a broad smile pleased with her decision.

Such a simple ordinary thing, a vase. To Claire, this homey object had been the symbol of the home she longed for and it needed to be shared. Shared with the man who held her heart and had become her home.

“Now it feels like home,” she murmured.

Jamie entered the room silently walking quickly toward Claire. He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her against him, placing a tender kiss to her temple.

“What are ye about, mo nighean donn? Are ye no’ taking yer vase home with ye?”

Claire turned in his arms resting her cheek against his chest listening to the strong steady thrum of his heart. She stood on tiptoe gently kissing his lips murmuring, “It is home here with you.”

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

It was Sunday already. Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire wondered how time had disappeared so quickly. She felt the spectre of loneliness try to creep back grabbing at her heart and soul with its icy fingers trying to reclaim them. This time she would not allow it. There was love in her life now. Jamie had turned her life around. He filled her life with love, laughter, and tenderness. He banished her pain and emptiness and she felt alive again. Loneliness would never have a chance to possess her again. And the once ever-present shadow vanished like the early mountain mist with the coming of the bright morning sunlight. 

Claire stood staring into Jamie’s closet. She had taken up his offer to leave a few of her things there. She left her favorite little black dress, a pair of heels, some work-appropriate skirts and blouses, and a new lab coat. Her hand ran over his clothes and began to conjure an image of him dressed in them. Inhaling deeply she smelled his garments. Masculine. Pure unadulterated Jamie untainted by anything else. There was no other way to describe it. The scent would comfort her during the nights away from him. Besides, she stole his tee-shirt. The one she would wear to bed and imagine his arms wrapped around her while she slept.

Then there was the bed. The bed they had made love in, discovered each other in. Closing her eyes, Claire remembered what they had done throughout the week. The touches, lips grazing, moans of fulfillment. Last night and this morning were different. Their love-making became more desperate. An attempt to fend off the impending separation. Never had she felt such love, joy, and sadness. It would have to last, to be enough until they could be together again.

“Are ye ready Claire?” Jamie called from the sitting room.

“Yes, I’m coming.”

He drove her home and carried her bags up to her flat.

“I can take it from here,” Claire said in a hushed voice.

They stood there for what may have been a second or an hour. Neither wanting to be the one to say goodbye.

Jamie placed his hands on her hips pulling Claire against him, his head resting on top of hers. The warmth of his body calmed her and she relaxed into him.  

“Jamie, I don’t…,” Claire sniffled.

“Hush, mo ghràdh, I’ll see ye tomorrow. Naught more than twelve hours,” he soothed.

“Do ye need me to pick up yer wee beast for ye?” he asked.

“No, the Bugs will be over with her in about an hour.”

“Then I guess I should be on my way and let ye get settled in. It will be a long day tomorrow for both of us.

“I guess so,” she mumbled as she looked up at him. 

Wordlessly, Jamie  brought his lips down to hers, kissing her tenderly.

“Sleep well, m'eudail. I love ye.”

Jamie hesitated then turned and left looking as if he had just lost his best friend.

Claire stood rooted to the spot watching him as he walked away wanting him to stay here with her.

I didn’t tell him I loved him back.  Panic ensued. She raced outside just in time to  see Jamie drive away. 

Dismayed, she trudged back into her flat. Fuck! She swore, annoyed that she didn’t tell him and that she missed him before he drove off. I’ll call him. No, I’ll text him. Better yet, I’ll do both as soon as he gets home. 

Claire took hold of her luggage and wheeled it into her bedroom.  She hoisted it up on her bed, opened the case, and started to remove her things. There was a rap at the door along with the doorbell ringing.

“Hallo?”

“Claire, ma dearie, we brought yer lass home,” answered Murdina Bug.

Claire opened the door and Ginger bolted into the room almost knocking Claire over in the process. The dog spun around in excited circles, yipping a greeting to her mama. Claire squatted down to the dog’s level stroking her soft fur.

“How’s my girl then?” she laughed. The dog rolled over demanding belly rubs which were promptly given.

Oh, here is the soup, I promised ye. I dinna think ye would have the time to make dinner.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Bug you didn’t have to do this.” The soup was still warm and had a wonderfully rich aroma making Claire’s mouth water.

“‘Twas naught. Arch and I needta be leaving ye,” she said as she thrust the container of soup in Claire’s hands. “We’re on a date,” she beamed as she looked up at her husband. “The lass has been fed and had a good walk so there is naught for ye tae do. Ye’ll bring her before ye go tae work? She’s a good helper with those rascals. Keeps them in line, ye ken?”

“Yes, you’ve told me what a great help she is to you. We’ll be there in the morning. Enjoy your evening.”

Ginger sat at attention, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She nosed Claire’s hand looking for a scratch behind the ear. She sneezed. There was something wrong with her mama’s smell. It was different. Ginger licked her mama’s hand. That was fine, she tastes normal. A cold wet nose sniffed at Claire, her ear, hands, arms, eventually finding its way to her legs. The smell was strongest here. The dog inhaled deeply and let out a powerful sneeze. 

“My sweet girl, are you sick?” Claire began to fret. She ran her hands over the dog checking her as best as she could. Her eyes were clear, nose cold and wet, nothing dripping from it. Her breathing did not seem labored. Claire dismissed the sneezing to a dusty room.

“We must clean up. It won’t do to have you sneezing. But first things, first,” she winked at the dog.

Claire reached for her purse taking out her cell. Quickly she sent off her text to Jamie. Before she had a chance to call him, her phone rang. It was Jamie. She smiled answering his call.

Ginger was perplexed by the change in her mama. She raised her nose high in the air turning her head in different directions, sniffing. She followed her nose to the bedroom. The smell was stronger there. Whatever it was it seemed to be coming from her bed. Walking over to the bed, she stood on her hind legs so she could smell Claire’s open suitcase. It positively reeked! Ginger didn’t know what kind of animal her mama had been with while she was away, but she did not like it. Not one bit. The dog jumped up on the bed, took Claire’s clothes out the suitcase scattering them over the bed. She pawed at the clothing until she found what she was looking for. Found it, Ginger thought. The odor was strongest on a shirt and on some of her mama’s clothes. The small clothes that mama wore covering her between her legs. She used her nails to scratch at the shirt trying to tear it to pieces. When that didn’t work she chewed it. The shirt was a soggy mess lying limp like an old rag doll by the time she was done.  For good measure, she rolled over the clothing wanting to eradicate the scent. Mine, the dog thought. This is my mama and I will not share. After she removed the odor from the intruder, and thoroughly covered the garments with her fur, she left the bedroom. 

She settled in her bed knowing that she would get a scolding for what she did. Ginger didn’t care. After all, she was protecting her mama and that was her job. She knew her mama would not see it that way. 

The dog watched Claire walk into the bedroom. Wait for it, wait for it.

“GINGER! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!,” came the bellow.

Claire charged into the sitting room waving Jamie’s sodden shirt. It was covered in dog hair as well.

“What have you done young lady?  Hmm? I was going to sleep in this tonight. And all my other clothes need a good washing too,” Claire frowned holding up her fur covered panties.

The dog looked up at her with large soft chocolate brown eyes full of remorse. She covered her face with her paws as an act of contrition. 

“Oh, all right. You did that because I was gone so long and you missed me,” Claire sighed. She patted the dog on the head in forgiveness. “Just don’t ever do that again. OK?”

She woofed happily, madly wagging her tail.

Two hours later saw the laundry completed. Claire sniffed Jamie’s shirt. The scent may not be as strong as before, but it definitely lingered. It seemed as if his smell permanently embedded itself in the fibers. Deciding to make it an early night Claire completed her nightly ritual, pulling on the tee-shirt marveling at its softness. As it skimmed over her body, it reminded her of Jamie’s loving caresses. 

Jamie. She missed him already. Badly. Only eight more hours before I see him again, she consoled herself. 

After plumping the pillows and pulling back the duvet, Claire snuggled in the bed. The room was dark with only the faintest light from the moon cast shadows along the floor.

Claire tossed and turned. Turning with such regularity the sheets twisted until it resembled a coiled snake. A car drove past. A siren's wail.The creaks and groans of the flat settling. All the noises of the night creating an unwanted symphony determined to keep her awake. At one  point, Claire looked at the opposite side of the bed and imagined Jamie lying next to her. It was so real her hand reached out to touch him. But he was nothing more than illusion.  It was no use. Sleep continued to elude her. The reason she knew was she missed Jamie.

Her phone began to vibrate. Claire wondered who would be calling at that late hour. Jamie’s name blazed across her phone. 

“Hi.”

“I dinna wake ye, did I?” 

“No. I was staring at the ceiling if you must know.”

“Aye, me too.” Jamie hesitated for a moment, “I canna sleep. I...I miss ye. The bed is empty without ye in it.” 

Claire exhaled softly. “I miss you too. The bed seems too big, too lonely without you in it. What are we going to do?”

“Maybe, ye can, if ye dinna have plans, maybe ye can spend the weekend with me?”

She chuckled softly, “No. I don’t have any plans. It’s a date. I’ll make the arrangements for Ginger.”

“That’s great, Sassenach.” He hesitated not wanting to end the call, but knew he should, “Claire, ye need yer sleep. Ye have a big day ahead of ye. Try and get some sleep. I’ll see ye in the morning.”

“You’re right. Get some sleep too. You’ll need to be on your toes with the students trailing you about.”

“Aye, yer right,” he laughed. “They always have a lot of questions.”

“Jamie?”

“Aye?”

“I love you.”

“As I do ye. Good night Claire.” Jamie turned on his side, grasped Claire’s pillow,wrapping his arms around it pretending he was holding Claire. He buried his face inhaling her fragrance and promptly fell asleep.

Sighing, Claire turned on her side and buried her nose inside Jamie’s shirt, breathing in the subtle scent of him. Comforted, she fell asleep too.

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

STD - Sexually transmitted diseases

bletherskates  - gossips, nosy-bodies.

Tapadh leibh, - Thank you. I used the formal expression because Ewan is older than Jamie.

a charaid - Friend

Siusan - no this is not misspelled. It is the Scottish spelling for Susan according to my references and it means lily.

a leannan; m'eudail.  - darling

mo chridhe  - my heart.

If there is any questions, suggestions, comments or gentle criticisms, please don’t hesitate to leave it. I love hearing from you. I hope you enjoyed this.

[crystalgirl259]

The Flame and the Dragon Chapter 27

Chapter 27: The Awakening

Cole woke up groggily, unsure if he had even slept at all. The previous night had been rougher than he thought. He froze when he felt an abrupt shift from the body next to him. The brush of bare skin made him groan until he shifted his position to get a good look at the condition of his sleeping partner. Kai was still unconscious, but his eyes weren't shut as tightly. His breathing wasn't as raspy and heavy as it had been the previous night. A small smile graced his lips in between breathing, but the flush of fever still danced across his face.

Carefully, Cole leaned over and pressed his lips to Kai's forehead while the back of his claws ran down the boy's chest and stomach.

He frowned slightly at the warmth of his forehead but smiled when the frosty touch of the boy's skin had faded back to its core temperature. Cole expelled a breath of relief and fished around for a robe or something to quickly throw on. He refused to embarrass his staff when Neuro or someone else returned to check on Kai's health. He found a large, black robe with two slits in the back sitting on the dresser with a note from Harumi. He donned it, making a mental note to thank the seamstress later, and lied down on the bed pulling Kai's shivering form closer to him.

He didn't have long to wait before Neuro and a satyr named Bolobo arrived.

Without a word, Cole let his precious flame go and let them work.

"His core temperature is back up, but it's too early to relax just yet," Bolobo explained feeling Kai's forehead, his chest, and torso and moving outwards his arms and legs. "My prime concern is that fever." He added as her hard brown eyes fell on the heavy red staining Kai's face when he rolled the boy onto his back.

"Is there anything you can give him?" Cole asked the satyr, crossing his arms tightly, his wings twitched with nervous impatience. Neuro looked from Kai to his basket and bit his lip.

"It's too dangerous to give him something while he's unconscious, but I might be able to make something external to reduce the fever." He replied as he dug through his basket and pulled out a corked bottle of pale pinkish-yellow fluid. He carefully uncorked the bottle, filling the room with a thick, woody odor. He set the basket on the floor, poured a few drops on his palm and fingers. He pulled the blankets down with his free hand flinching when Kai started to shiver again and gently rubbed the oil over Kai's chest in smooth circles.

The teen started to inhale deeply then started to calm down.

Neuro repeated the process once more when Kai's skin absorbed the oil, then wiped his hand on a washcloth and recorked the bottle.

"Any more is too risky," He answered before Cole could ask. "Bolobo and Shade will brew up a tonic for when he wakes up, but for now I think it's best to keep him warm and keep getting his body temperature up, he still has the chill in him."

"How long?" Cole asked with grave eyes. Bolobo and Neuro exchanged soulful glances then sighed.

"I'd give him another day or two, but if the hypothermia isn't out of him by then, then there isn't much else we can do," Bolobo replied. Cole nodded and bowed his head back to his slumbering captive. The two left without another word, leaving the two men alone. Kai's breathing was still a bit heavy and his face still flushed but the chill of hypothermia made itself clear each time he shivered. Worry clouded his eyes. Kai had been fine before so why was he shivering now?

Obviousness smacked him in the head like a blunt object.

Kai had his warmth then, being away from it for so long had caused him to relapse. Cole growled and without a second thought began removing his robe. He slid back under the thick blankets and began piling them over Kai's bare arms and shoulders. His wings wrapped around the teen and he pulled Kai closer. He gently rubbed his back in hopes of soothing him. The paste Neuro had used left a sharp, pungent stench in Cole's nostrils, but the aroma seemed to calm Kai a little.

A deeper sigh left Cole when Kai's shivering started to lessen and finally stop.

He smiled graciously when he felt Kai snuggle deeper into his warmth and felt him smile against his skin. He placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. Still too warm, but at least his body wasn't as cold. Shifting closer to the body, he gently stroked Kai's cheek taking in the sweet smile and the faint rosy color in his cheeks. His claws tenderly brushed over the soft, warm lips and traced the sloping curves of Kai's cheekbone. He jumped suddenly when he felt Kai burrow deeper into his warmth.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

Kai was the last person he would expect to be a cuddly person, but Cole wasn't one to complain. He gently brushed the spikey brown hair with his claws, smiling as the silk strands wove around his claws. His tail carefully moved under the blankets and coiled over Kai's hip and side like a snake. Anything to draw life back into Kai's body. For the first time in his life, he was grateful for this dragon body. The cursed form he had always hated was now the prime thing keeping Kai alive.

Even now he could feel his body heating up to combat the cold it felt when Kai pressed against it, and he held him tighter to force the warmth back to its source.

Never before did Cole not feel like a monster. Despite his staff's encouragement and Kai all but forcing him to see the truth, a small sliver of doubt kept a leech-like grip on his heart. The reminder that no matter how much Kai cared for him, Cole could never have such a precious gem in his arms as his own. The fact that he was, physically, still a monster was more than enough to shatter the fragile hope he had been building. Never did he consider himself more than what he was.

A man imprisoned in the form of a dragon.

Neither one nor the other but something dismal in between. He never dared to see the beauty of his form. He never thought to experience the gift of flying blessed upon a winged creature. Or realize the effortlessness it took to save another's life or the possibility that his form could do more than hurt, let alone give life. Yet somehow, Kai did. He never looked at Cole with fear or disgust. It was strange, to say the least. Even stranger to daring to hope that the emotions stirring within him were more than simple care.

That maybe, just maybe, the walls be built around himself had faded without his knowledge and that he had begun to do the one thing he knew was impossible, fall in love.

How or why or even when it happened no longer mattered. Cole had found the one person in the world who could understand him. He was sure of that now. However, the danger still remained. Even now, in Cole's arms, Kai was far from safe. Even if his flame woke up, did he admit his feelings? What if these emotions were simply concern or gratification? Would they vanish once Kai regained his health? No, he couldn't take such a risk. Not unless he was positive of himself as well as his heart.

Kai deserved that, at least.

That way, even if Kai didn't feel the same, Cole could die knowing he had found the one thing he desired most. Again, he kissed Kai's forehead and settled back into the comforting embrace of his presence, memorizing as much of the peaceful moment as he could, and believing, for once, that it would last...

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

Kai hummed as he dreamed of his sanctuary. He found himself lying in a field of sparkling roses, glowing like jewels against the thick, lush, comfy grass. Above him, he could make out the castle. It shimmered against the clear sky as the stained glass windows sparkled like jewels. In the field, he could see Jay chasing Echo across the field with Nelson not too far behind, under the watchful eye of Zane. Ronin and Tox leaned against Bolobo under the shade of a tree.

Shade and Neuro sat on a picnic blanket making daisy chains.

On another blanket, Harumi laid with her head on her wife's lap while Ultra Violet twirled her bangs around her fingers, and Griffin laughed. Kai watched from the hillside, where he lied back against the roses. Except that he wasn't alone this time. Kai wove his fingers with his dream lover's claws, feeling a cool tingle running through them. For a moment they just lied there among the roses, their hands intertwined. Their heads turned and bright amber eyes met brilliant green.

Kai didn't need to see to know who his savior was.

His dream lover. His Dragon Lord. How could he have missed it before? It all made such perfect sense in retrospect. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was what was happening now.

"Come to me, my Flame..." He purred and Kai's eyes widened when his lover began to sing the words of his mother's lullaby in a deep soothing chime. Kai had almost forgotten about it. Even though he had sung the words himself for Lloyd and sometimes Nya when she got too stressed, they sounded so familiar, yet so different. Kai rolled onto his side met his lover's warm eyes with a smile and answered.

"I'm already here, exactly where I want to be." He smiled as he leaned closer so he and his Dragon Lord were only a few inches apart. He hummed when the Dragon Lord began stroking his hair. His eyes fluttered closed, soothed by the tender touch and the crystal chimes in the air. Words filled his mind as the music hummed in his ears.

"Come to me, my Flame..." The dragon repeated. Kai chuckled to himself and leaned a bit closer into his lover's embrace so his head was resting on his folded hands. He heard a low rush of wind then felt cool shade wrap over him.

"I told you, I'm already here." He sighed and his Dragon Lord chuckled, lightly.

"That wasn't what I meant." He spoke in a rich voice with a sultry rasp. Then he began to sing again. Kai could hear him move, and when he opened his eyes, he found his Dragon Lord leaning over him. Kai blinked in surprise and couldn't help but flush at the fact he was sprawled out beneath the Dragon Lord, but his savior just gave him a small smile and whispered.

"Will you be my key, Kai? Will you set me free?" he asked softly. At first, he couldn't answer. The concept sounded foreign but familiar all at once. When he did remember he mentally slapped himself for forgetting. The key to breaking the Dragon Lord's curse. The key to freeing his lover and all the people been nothing but kind to him. Kai smiled at the prince, no doubt or hesitation cloud his voice.

"Yes, Cole, I want to be your key." He promised as he leaned up to meet his lover's lips. Outside his dream world, Kai smiled in his sleep. But his lover didn't kiss him back. Instead, he turned his head, as if startled by a strange noise. Kai blinked and looked at his companion bewildered, even more so when his companion stood up hastily. His eyes focused on something foreign in the distance. Before Kai could ask what was wrong his savior broke into a run.

"Wait! Come back!" Kai called and chased after him, determined not to lose him. The hillside vanished and before he knew it he was chasing the Dragon Lord through a field covered in long grass and speckled in flowers that curled and blackened as they died. He wasn't sure how long they continued to run, but Kai refused to let the distance between them increase. Finally, his Dragon Lord leaped off the hill and vanished behind it. Kai could see his wings and head peeking over the greenery.

The Dragon Lord had stopped in a small clearing, his back still towards Kai, but his wings had fallen limp behind him.

Kai felt a surge of relief when he made it to the hillside and made to call to Cole, but the words were quickly replaced by a scream. At the base of the small hill lied the corpses of all the members of the castle. Red splotched their bodies and their glassy eyes were all frozen open. Thorny rose vines with withered, blackened blooms contorted around their spread arms and bodies. The corpses of roses and vines littered the area like thorny green skeletons speckled with blood shining like scattered rubies against the black ground.

In the center, where the ring of thorns and dead roses died was a circle of scorched earth, vacant of vegetation.

It was as if life knew better than to dare accumulate in that circle. That was where he found his Dragon Lord shaking and collapsed to his knees as if every movement hurt him. His beautiful wings, reduced to tattered strips of bleached leather, his clothes ripped to shreds and blood speckling the visible skin and scales. He turned to Kai with sad, pleading eyes, as if begging him for help. He was either forbidden to speak or didn't have the strength to.

It was then he heard a laugh like ice cracking on a frozen lake.

Kai's blood froze in his veins. He knew that laugh he followed the crackling sound to the man standing in front of his weakened lover.

"Get away from him!" Kai yelled, entering the clearing. There, he saw the same wine and amethyst-colored clothing and soulless eyes of the man who tried to kill him. Rage boiled in his blood as he suddenly recognized who he was. "You're behind all this!" Kai screamed in fury. The man said nothing. He just smiled a curled, mocking smile that set Kai's blood ablaze. His natural protective instincts and anger took over. Sparks crackled to life in his hands forming flames around his fists.

"Ah, so you've discovered your power, too bad it won't do you any good," He mocked the teenager and Kai saw red.

"I said get away from him!" He screamed throwing his hands forward, palms open and bright hot flames burst from his hands, roaring at their victim. But the man didn't flinch. His smile never faltered. Then he threw back his cape and raised a hand, sending a blast of purple fire back at Kai. The flames collided and he blocked the attack with ease. Kai's eyes bulged out of his skull and the man just laughed. When he brought his hand down again the flames and sparks retracted, forming a giant spell that bounced back towards its source.

Kai barely had time to scream before he was thrown backward with such force he skidded against the ground.

He coughed and groaned, aching from the force of his own attack.

"You can't save them!" The man's voice echoed dramatically around from everywhere. Kai shot up and turned to the closest corpse. Echo was lying only a few inches from Jay with their fingers just shy of touching. He got to his feet and crawled over to the boy's body and gently reached to touch it. He retracted his hand when Cole screamed, falling over and clawing at the ground until his wails transformed into a dragon's cry of agony. Lights clustered together above the victims spiraling into single orbs then blazed through the air all spiraling towards a single center.

Above the screaming and writhing Dragon Lord.

His limbs and back contorted. His spine cracked and the scales of his arms, legs, and back began to spread until they covered his entire form. He was no longer a man, but a dragon. Kai rushed to him, but streaming lights stopped him. The Sorcerer crackled like a madman, his laughter increased in volume as all of the lights came together in his hand. Around him Kai could see the ghost of each victim kneeling over their own corpses, weeping bitterly.

Some of them shrieked from despair, others just looked at him with dead, glassy eyes vacant of all emotion.

"I told you, boy, you can't save them," The Sorcerer chided, mockingly. When the lights died away it revealed the object in his hand. A crimson red wax candle with a bright, flickering purple flame. Kai's heart stopped in his chest when he saw it. His eyes fell on the dragon, writing on the ground. He groaned as he moved until their eyes met. The Dragon Lord's eyes were the only thing that was still human. They pleaded for him to run and save himself.

"He'll never be yours, you know." The Sorcerer said as he walked towards him. Kai took a shaky step away from him suddenly overcome by a nameless fear. The Sorcerer's smirk widened as he stepped closer, his intent naked in his eyes. Kai took another step back and stumbled over his own feet and landed on his butt but he continued to back away from the man. The Sorcerer laughed at his efforts and leaned closer so his eyes burned straight into Kai's.

"Even if you give him your mind and body and soul, he can give you his heart, he can give you his body." He smirked as he gestured with his arm to the ring of corpses, his grip on the candle dangerously tight. "But his soul and theirs belong to me!" He roared and suddenly crushed the candle in his hand...

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

Electric fear shocked his heart and mind to life and Kai shot up panting. Only when he confirmed he was back in his room, and that the contents of his subconscious experience hadn't actually happened did he calm down. He concluded that it was a dream, running a nervous hand through his damp bangs. Or was it a disturbing premonition? He prayed it was the former and not the latter. Just the thought of it coming true sent a shiver of horror through his spine.

However, when he shivered again, he realized it was from cold.

His hands immediately flew to his shoulders and began rubbing his chest, hoping to bring warmth back to his form. He felt nothing between himself and the blankets confirming his suspicions that he was naked. A jolt of alert brought his senses into focus when he felt something wrapped around his torso and a leathery texture pressed against his back and sides. He had never been modest, but the sudden lover-like embrace sent a blush of embarrassment and fear surging through him.

He couldn't remember how he had to be gotten there.

He knew he had been sick, he still felt the weakness in his limbs and his weary body was abnormally pale. Unfortunately, his last clear memory was falling through the ice when he had been skating with the others, the rest were hazy recollections. He heard a light purring next to him, reminding him that he wasn't alone in the bed. Fear of what he might have done compelled him to simply slip away, but the desire to know compelled him to accept his actions.

Slowly, unwillingly, he turned around and looked down and found himself wrapped in the arms and wings of the slumbering Dragon Lord.

Unable to contain himself any longer, a loud, mortified shriek tore itself from his lungs. The sudden scream zapped Cole to life. He tried to take a battle stance but found the bed he was in too small for his massive form and instead he stumbled and collapsed in a mass on the floor. He swore as he got up, forgetting his lack of dress. He yelped and leaped into the air when his upper back and head were attacked. He whirled around and braced himself for a fight only to discover his assailant was a pillow.

Confused, he followed the source and resisted the urge to laugh when he found Kai bunched up, back pressed against the headboard on the other side of the bed.

He clutched the remaining comforter in his fist and held it to his chest like he was trying to merge the cloth with his skin. His free hand clutched braced himself against the mattress, clutching the sheets so tightly they started to rip. His eyes were narrow in embarrassed rage, his jaw twisted to grit and his face was bright scarlet from shame.

"What the hell are you doing here!" He demanded turning redder when the comforter shifted, revealing some of his skin. He used his free hand to cover it up, still blushing glaring. "Why am I naked? Or a better question is why are you naked? And in my room? In my bed!" Kai shrieked, positive he had a permanent blush on his face by now. Cole didn't answer. He had a blank look on his face, like was he momentarily stunned.

"What?" He questioned then looked down at himself. He grimaced at his own stupidity, scooped his robe off the floor, slid his wings through the slits, and clumsily tied it closed as he walked. It did little to cover him. Kai's heart rate doubled in speed watching the near-naked dragon came closer. Questions that needed answers swam in his mind like fish trapped in a net and Cole's silence only increased his panic. Instinctively, he inched away as the Dragon Lord came closer.

Finally, he backed up too far and he fell straight off his bed and landed on his back, only adding to his humiliation.

Cole paused, waiting for him to get up. When he saw this, Kai scampered to his feet as he took the comforter with him and backed away. He cursed when his back hit the wall. He stuttered an order and pointed at his assailant.

"What are you doing?" He demanded but Cole still didn't answer. His face was still vacant of emotion except for shock. He leaned closer and gently grabbed one of Kai's arms and held him steady despite Kai's yelps and stammering protests. "W-W-Wait! Stop!" He cried as he closed his eyes tightly, and struggled in the prince's grip until he felt the gentle touch of lips against his forehead. His eyes flew open and a small blush dusted his cheeks, but for a different reason.

Before he could question the action, Cole removed his lips and replaced them with the back of his hand.

"Your fever's gone." Cole breathed, still in shock. He double-checked, taking into consideration the temperature differences between them. "You're still a bit warm, but it's definitely gone." He added as the realization suddenly brought another concern to light. "You're awake!" Cole exclaimed as he jumped for joy. Kai's eye twitched in frustration.

"Of course, I'm awake! Why wouldn't I be? Now for the last time, Cole what the hell is going on?!" He growled but once again he never got an answer. Cole suddenly grasped his shoulders and pulling him into a tight, loving embrace like Kai would disappear if Cole loosened his grip. Kai was even more confused now. Cole released him and smiled at the confused boy. "What's going on?" Kai asked again, bewilderment all over his face. Cole stared at him like he was insane.

"You... you don't remember?" He frowned, then he pinched the top of his nose. "Of course, Kai, what's the last thing you remember?" He asked but Kai struggled to remember.

"I was skating with the boys and the ice broke, I think I fell in and, then it was all a blur; I remember a shadow, a light, music, and something... a voice calling out to me, but... I don't know if that was real or if I was dreaming... what does this have to do with anything?"

"Kai, you had hypothermia, you've been asleep for three days." Cole sighed with a grave look. Kai was glad Cole was holding him since if he hadn't been Kai was sure he would have collapsed from shock. "You were unconscious and freezing; everyone was worried sick, but thankfully, my body heat managed to get your core temperature back up." He smiled weakly but one look from Kai cut him off.

"Cole, what happened?" He asked. The sharpness in the boy's eyes and the gravity in his voice demanded the truth. Cole frowned but didn't look away. His face was conflicted. As if it was torn between two decisions that both promised a negative end.

"I dove in to save you, but I thought you were trying to leave so I threw you in the dungeon." He admitted in shame and Kai's eyes widened. "But after reading your gift, I realized how stupid I was and freed you but..."

"But what?" Kai asked, but Cole was hesitant.

"Nothing." He muttered, but Kai wasn't stupid.

"Cole, you saw him, didn't you? The man with the red cloak?" He asked, but it was clearly a statement.

"How do- How do you know?" He stuttered in disbelief.

"The night I... ran away, he... well, he made it obvious what he wanted, when I escaped him he sent that beast on me, didn't he? That's why you came to save me, wasn't it? You knew it was him? He did something again, didn't he? With that monster in the lake?" He explained with a frown like he had been keeping a terrible secret and had no choice but to reveal it to prevent devastation. Cole's hands fell limp at his sides and stumbled backward until he was sitting on the mattress.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound would come out.

The words died in his throat. Kai's expression hadn't changed. Instead, he leaned over and put a hand on Cole's knee so they were face to face.

"Cole, I need to ask you something, and I need you to tell me the truth alright?" He said as the gravity in his voice was rivaled only his. Cole nodded. He said nothing but his eyes promised Kai the world. "That night, you and I saved each other, tell me... did I kill that monster with fire magic?"

"Yes, you did," Cole answered, sensing the desperation in his plea. Kai didn't look surprised. Instead, he fell to his knees, his arms at his sides, allowing the comforter to pull around his hips. His hair shadowed his eyes, but Cole caught the smile on his face. Cole knelt down in front of him, his wings braced to comfort him, but Kai just chuckled darkly. "So it did happen, that explains it."

"Explains what?" Cole asked confused, gently tilting Kai's chin so their eyes were even. He gasped in surprise when he saw the tears glistening at the base of Kai's lashes, but his twisted smile hadn't faltered.

"Everything," He retorted but regretted it when he saw the worry on the prince's eyes. Kai pulled away from him and pulled himself back so he was leaning against the wall. Feeling cold returning, he pulled the comforter up and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"It was you, Cole, I'd been dreaming about you." He growled as his hands started shaking and he looked at the floor, unable to look Cole in the eye. "After I arrived here, they started becoming clearer and clearer; now... now, I'm convinced somehow they're real, my dreams, my magic," He muttered as he looked at his shaking hands, remembering how it felt when sparks flew between them. "Now, I'm convinced something terrible will happen, and the worst part is that I don't think I can stop it."

Cole couldn't take anymore and rushed to the teen's side.

He gently ceased Kai's shoulders and pulled him closer. He hadn't failed to notice the tears abandoning his face.

"Kai, shush, don't worry about that, they're just dreams." He soothed, stroking Kai's bangs away from his face and gently running the smooth backs of his claws over his cheek to brush away the tears. Kai shook his head and whipped his eyes with his arms, angry at himself for his lack of control, but the tears of fear and sheer helplessness refused to stop.

"They're not dreams, Cole! I was naïve to think they were!" He shouted. The volume and intensity, caused Cole to fall back from shock. Kai's fist shook in rage next to him and his wild eyes were bright with unrivaled certainty. "I know about the curse, Cole," He whispered, trying to look away, but found he couldn't. "I pretended not to because no one likes to talk about it, but I know, and I know him... that man, sorcerer, whoever he is he's behind it, isn't he? If you don't break the curse by spring he's going to take your soul, right!? Tell me!"

Cole said nothing, but his neutral mask spoke more than a thousand words.

"I know no one can reveal the details of the curse or how to break it, even you, but that doesn't matter, I'll find a way." He promised as he shifted his position so he and Cole were face to face. Tears glittered on Kai's eyelashes, but he was smiling, happily, making Cole more confused. "Cole, I don't regret coming here, or choosing to stay; being here with you, the boys, everyone... I've never been happier than I am when I'm here, everyone here is so wonderful; no one's treated me like an outcast."

He paused for a moment, but no doubt or hesitation clouded his voice when he spoke next.

"Whenever I'm with you, I can't explain it but... I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life." Kai smiled brightly, gently whipping aside a joyful tear. Reading the bewildered and almost blank look on Cole's face the entire time he spoke, Kai didn't know how Cole would react to his declaration. The moment Kai finished his sentence Cole pulled him into his arms and rested his chin on Kai's shoulder. At first, the sudden embrace surprised him, but Kai could feel the warmth and the passion behind it radiating against their bare skin.

"Cole?" Kai questioned, but it was more a statement of happiness than a voice of concern.

"I don't care about that stupid curse," He whispered against Kai's skin. He blinked and gently pulled away, confused. Cole just smiled at him and wrapped his arm around Kai's still covered waist and stroked his cheek. "I mean it, even if I lose my soul; even if I spend the rest of eternity in hell, I don't care! That bastard can do whatever he wants to me, it won't change anything, and do you know why?" He asked, but Kai didn't and Cole smiled again.

"Because I'll always be able to take this with me." He declared and Kai's widened at what the man was implying and a slight pink color rose in his cheeks. Cole chuckled and hugged him tighter. "You've made me happier too, Kai, happier than I'd ever thought possible, I'd given up hope that I'd ever been happy again." He said as he pulled away to look Kai in the eye and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm not going to lose that or throw it away for anything so I promise you, no matter what gets thrown in my way or who stands in front of me, I promise I'll protect you with every fiber of my being, nothing is going to take you away from me, my flame."

Kai didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Tears burst from his eyes and laughter exploded from his mouth.

He threw his arms around Cole's neck and hugged him with such force he was taken off guard and his scaled spine and wings crashed against the bed frame. They both laughed at the action, but when their eyes opened and locked once more, they wasted no time and closed the distance between them. Lips molded perfectly over the other, Kai's arms wrapped tightly around Cole's neck and shoulders. Cole's wrapped around Kai's waist pressing the blanket still wrapped around Kai's hips and torso, closer to his flesh.

One hand stroked up Kai's upper back as his tail twitched at his side.

The kiss slowly turned deeper. His body moving on its own, Cole kept one arm around Kai's waist and the other clutched the bed and hoisted himself up. His arm repositioned Kai so he was holding him bridal style with one arm. Kai's arms tightened their hold on Cole, not wanting to break away just yet. They finally paused to breathe when they fell back against the mattress. Cole took notice at how lovely Kai looked sprawled out beneath him on the bed.

Face flush, one arm level with his head the other at his side, eyes half-lidded with passion, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

Seeing that the dragon hybrid above him wasn't moving, Kai leaned forward and kissed Cole passionately. He pulled him closer against him, urging him to move, and Cole obeyed. His body was now flush against Kai's as their arms wrapped around the other. The loose knot of his robe had come undone long ago. The comforter, the only thing separating them, slipped further down Kai's waist until it finally settled just above his hips.

"Rise and Shine you too! Shade made tea!" Neuro suddenly shouted as he burst through the door, balancing a tray with a large steaming teapot and several teacups in one hand and used the other to pry Echo, Nelson, and Jay off his waist. Harumi suddenly shoved the articles she had been holding into Ronin's arms and tried to help pry the servants off Neuro. The sudden commotion brought the two men back to reality. Their eyes flew to the spectacle, which froze the instant it turned its attention to the two on the bed.

All of their eyes flew open at the sight of their Master, robe opened and sprawled on top of their guest, who was in nothing but a bedsheet.

Amber and emerald eyes widened in horror. The servants just stared, too shocked to do anything else. Suddenly, the entire East Wing erupted in eight different, horrifying screams. No one noticed the red eyes peeking through the crack in the curtains...

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 19: Dragon Rising (part 3)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 19: Dragon Rising (part 3) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read, Alternate Universe - Skyrim Fusion, Modded Skyrim, Skyrim Spoilers, Tim Drake is Dragonborn | Dovahkiin, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Tim Drake-centric

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Summary:

After the battle with the dragon at the Watchtower, Tim wakes up in the Temple of Kynareth for the start of his healing process.

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"...Dovahkiin..."

"...Dragonborn..."

"...Motaad sizaan sil..."

"...Tremble lost soul..."

"...Thuri du hin sil ko Sovngarde..."

"...My overlord will devour your soul in Sovngarde..."

"...Draal fah dinok..."

"...Pray for death..."

***

Tim's eyes snapped open as he woke with a gasp to escape the nightmare of draconic voices whispering horrible things to him from the darkness. As his sleep blurred vision began to clear and the echos of his nightmare drifted out of reach, he became aware of several things one after the other.

First, he was no longer on the battlefield. Instead, he was in some sort of building, laying on his right side on a moderately comfortable bed. 

Next, the pain that had been wracking his body from his burns all week long were significantly dulled. There was a deep ache in certain areas, but overall things were far better than they had been earlier. 

Finally, while he was still very tired, suffering from what felt like a bone-deep exhaustion, he was also very thirsty. His gaze wandered around the small bedroom he was resting in and fell upon a nearby end-table with a ceramic pitcher and cup just out of reach.

Gingerly, Tim began to sit up, groaning softly with the effort. He almost didn't hear the soft footsteps approach the room and the quiet knock upon the doorway. He looked over to see an old Nord woman in a hooded robe standing there, a bowl and some linens in her arms. She smiled at him kindly. "You're finally awake," she said as she entered the room. "That's good. We've been concerned you might not wake up anytime soon." She immediately went to Tim's side and placed a cool hand against his forehead. Tim flinched a little, but didn't pull away completely. "Still a bit too warm, but at least your fever is headed in the right direction. Another day of rest and it should be broken completely."

"I'm sorry, but who are you, and where am I?" Tim asked.

"My name is Danica," she replied as she moved to the end table with the pitcher. "And you are in the Temple of Kynareth here in Whiterun. I'm the head priestess here." She poured out a cup of water and handed it to Timothy. "Drink slowly," she instructed before turning back to pour the rest of the water into the bowl she'd brought over.

As Tim brought the cup to his lips, he paused. He could smell something medicinal in the liquid, and the color was not quite right for just water. Still, he was extremely thirsty and he took small, careful sips until the cup was drained. As he drank, he watched as Danica placed one of the smaller linen towels into the bowl and soaked it before wringing it out and folding it into a compress. She then turned her full attention back on Tim and tried to gently encourage him to lay back down. 

The idea of laying back down and going back to sleep was tempting, and he was so tired, but still...

"I can't stay too long," he murmured as he tried to maneuver his legs off the bed.. "I need to speak with the Jarl about that dragon and--"

"No you don't," a familiar voice said firmly. Tim looked at the doorway to see Lucien standing there. He had a firm, determined expression on his face. "You are under strict orders by the Jarl himself not to set one foot out of this Temple until you are cleared to leave by Sister Danica herself." He stepped fully into the room and Tim could see he had a basket in one hand. Though covered with a cloth, Tim could see part of a loaf of bread and some fruit peaking out. 

A corner of Tim's lip quirked upward despite himself. "Oh really? So we're listening to the Jarl's orders now?"

"We do when the Jarl's housecarl Irileth herself has decided to fold you under her wings as a fellow 'soldier-in-arms' and has made your recovery one of her top priorities." Lucien remarked as he set his basket down on a nearby dresser. "Apparently she has a reputation of being a strong advocate for the soldiers under her command, despite her stern demeanor, as well as a reputation of speaking her mind with the Jarl when something troubles her. This..." Lucien made a vague circular motion with his hand that seemed to indicate Tim's whole physical state. "...troubled her greatly." He shrugged. "Apparently when Irileth speaks, Jarl Balgruuf actually listens. Imagine that... A Nord actually taking the words of a Dunmer to heart. Will wonders never cease?" 

Then Lucien's expression turned more serious. "So long story short, the Jarl has instructed that you be given all the time you need to recover from your illness and injury. The Temple itself is not to be disturbed by anyone unless they are approved by Irileth or if they are in serious need of healing themselves. So please, Timothy. Will you please just sit back and rest? This is the first time you've woken and been coherent in three days."

"Three days?" Tim echoed with slight disbelief. 

Lucien nodded and took a seat at the foot of Tim's bed as Danica added a pillow so Tim could recline comfortably, but be upright enough to eat. He pulled out an apple from the basket and began to peel it with a small pocketknife. "You were deathly ill when Irileth had her men brought you to the temple after the battle with the dragon. Your burns were deeply infected and all the stress of that battle exasperated your condition." Once peeled, he cut a slice and offered it to Tim.

Reluctantly, Tim laid back down on the pillows, a soft sigh escaping him when Danica pressed her compress against his forehead. The cool cloth felt good, and the medicinal aroma from the liquid wasn't an unpleasant smell. It was rather soothing. Tim had a suspicion that the herbs had some sort of soporific effect, but he wasn't really in any position to complain against it. Still, for the moment hunger beat out the immediate need for sleep, so he took the offered apple slice and took a small bite.

While he ate, Danica took a chair next to the bed. Then, she gently took Tim's left burned arm. The young man startled at the touch, but Lucien reassured him. "It's alright. Just let her work."

Curiously, Tim watched as Danica focused on his arm, holding it with her left hand. She murmured what sounded like a soft chant under her breath and held her free right hand over the area that was scarred by the burn. A warm golden aura radiated from her hand and eventually travelled to his injury. Tim watched with awe as the lingering ache in his arm began to fade even more, and the wound itself began to look far better. Rather than an infected angry red wound, it now looked more like an aged silvery scar that was a few shades lighter than his normal skin tone. After a few minutes, Danica finished her chant and she returned Tim's arm to him. 

"That's... amazing," Tim whispered as he tentatively touched the scar. 

"How does that feel? Is there any lingering pain anywhere in the arm?" Danica asked.

Tim moved his arm experimentally, testing the range of motion he now had. When his face reflected a twinge of pain around his elbow, though he didn't complain about it, Danica used her magic to heal the area with a more precise touch. 

As Danica worked, Lucien watched with a content expression as he continued to cut fruit, bread, and cheese and feed them to Tim. Eventually the priestess was finally satisfied with the state of Tim's arm and shifted her focus to his back. This part of his body, it seemed, was still in a worst state than his arm. Even after several passes of healing magic, there was still quite a bit of pain left deep in the muscles and bone and it showed on Tim's face, though he didn't complain verbally about it.

"I think that is enough for now," Danica announced after a final pass. She gently stroked some of Tim's hair from his face, She could feel the heat of his lingering fever radiating off of him, and carefully repositioned the pillows so he could lay back down completely. "The burn and infection on your back went far deeper than what your arm endured. Because of your fever, you'll need to rest before we can proceed with more healing."

Tim, for his part, was exhausted. Though he didn't do anything except eat and sip water while he was being healed, he felt as if he'd just run a marathon. He closed his eyes as the compress was placed on his forehead again, and he relished how good it felt against his overheated skin.

Danica didn't leave immediately, though. She studied Tim for a moment. "Just wondering, young man, but were you sickly as a child?"

Tim cracked open his eyes. "Sickly?"

"When you were a child, were you prone to illness and took a long time to recover?" 

He shook his head. "Not as a child, but last year I received a... permanent injury that I've been told might make me more prone to illness." Tim wasn't about to try and explain how he'd lost his spleen and its function. He was unsure how much knowledge of human anatomy and the function of individual organs was known here. He hoped the vague explanation would be enough. 

Danica sighed. "The costs of war..." she murmured with a shake of her head. Clearly she was assuming his injury had been from the current Civil War strife plaguing Skyrim. She then went over to the nearby dresser and pulled open the top drawer. From it, she removed an amulet and tied it around Tim's neck. 

Curiously, Tim lifted it from his chest to get a closer look at it. The amulet was strung on a leather thong, appeared to be forged from iron and some other pale metal he couldn't identify, and was shaped to look like a bird in flight. In the middle of the bird was a sky blue gemstone. It was a lovely piece of jewelry, but that was not the most remarkable part of it.

"It's warm?" he mused. Tim wasn't sure, but it almost felt like the warmth was pulsing like a heartbeat.

"It's an amulet of Kynareth," Danica explained. "She is our patron Divine here at the temple. Through Kynareth's blessing, the amulet improves one's stamina when you wear it. This should help with improving the speed of your recovery while in the temple." She gathered some of the dishes and spent linens. "Now get some rest. I'll check on you in a few hours.

Once Danica was gone, Tim turned to Lucien. "So... who is Kynareth?"

"She's one of the Eight Divines," Lucien explained. "A nature goddess of the sky, air, and wind, and the patron of travelers who traverse both land and sea." He smiled a bit. "When you're feeling better, before you leave the Temple you ought to take a moment and pray for a blessing at the shrine here. It wouldn't hurt to seek Kynareth's guidance as we try to find your way home."

Tim gave Lucien a strange look, and the scholar's smile faded. "Is the worship of gods different in your homeland?"

"Well... There are different religions throughout my world. Some believe in many gods. Others believe in just one." Tim sighed. "And still others don't believe in any at all." He glanced away from Lucien. "And back home... I fall into that latter category."

Lucien's jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. "You... You don't believe in any divinity?! How does that even work?" 

Tim shook his head with a shrug. "I believe in science and in things I can see with my own eyes. I believe in real mortal people who live their lives and make their choices. I believe in the existence of powerful beings who have abilities that far outstrip those of normal human beings. There are plenty of those on my home world. But I don't believe them to be gods and I don't believe in any necessity to worship them."

"Have you always believed like this?"

The younger man's expression became clouded and distant. "No... not always..."

"What happened? What changed?"

Tim sighed. "I... really don't want to talk about it."

Lucien regarded Timothy quietly. It seemed that the scars visible on the young man's skin were not the only ones he carried. Never in his own life could Lucius even fathom the existence of a spiritual injury that could mortally wound a person's faith itself. 

It was a disquieting thought.

"Timothy... I..." Lucien started to say after a long moment of silence, but paused. He noticed that Tim had curled up onto his side and his eyes were now closed in slumber. Lucien's gaze softened as he rose and pulled the blankets over Tim's shoulder. "You may not believe in our Divines here, but I'll pray that they watch over you regardless," he whispered before blowing out the candles and leaving the room. 

There, in the dark of the room as Tim slumbered, the blue gem set in the amulet of Kynareth seemed to glow faintly. 

As he slept, the voice of the dragon that had plagued his nightmares before did not trouble him again.

  -------------------------

Note:

Unfortunately no screenshots with characters in this scene. Just couldn't seem to get a right angle for any screenshots within the Temple of Kynareth. I have included an image of the Amulet of Kynareth Tim received. In-game all the amulets of the Divines offer some sorts of buffs to your characters, and it seemed appropriate that a stamina buff might help Tim since he's sick. I also figured that since Kynareth/Kyne is going to feature heavily during the journey of the Dragonborn, despite Tim being an atheist, she might be a bit "invested" in his well-being.

Just because you don't believe in a goddess doesn't mean she doesn't believe in you.

But because she is one of the Divines and not one of the Daedra, she's not going to be able to interact with Tim directly, but I think there needs to be some obvious-ish indirect influence. I need to think about this... Hopefully I'll have a better idea by the time Tim starts making his journey to meet with the Greybeards.

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[shijiujun]

tell me baby

A gratuitous sick fic for Inspector Qiao, and he finally eats from the spoon Lu Yao offers him because third time’s the charm - Inspired by this gifset

===

It’s a slow day at the station today with all their leads dried up, but Youning and Lu Yao are investigating outside right now and Chusheng doesn’t doubt that the both of them will turn up with new evidence soon enough, if not have the whole case solved when they return at the end of the day.

There isn’t much to do but to sign some papers and ensure everything is properly documented. When Boss Bai first asked him to be Inspector, Chusheng hadn’t quite thought about the ridiculous amount of paperwork that passes through his hands every single day. 

Still, his tasks for the day don’t take much physical activity, but seated in his chair at his table, it takes everything Chusheng has to concentrate.

His limbs are numb for some reason, and every single movement makes some part of his body ache. It’s not like they’re in the deep of winter or even anywhere near autumn, so there’s no reason for him to be feeling this cold.

Exhaling shakily, he wonders just what the hell is wrong with him today.

Chusheng swallows with difficulty, his throat bobbing with the action. Glancing at the empty mug at the corner of his table, Chusheng is certain he just took a large gulp of water, so why is his throat this parched?

“… Inspector? Inspector Qiao?” asks Ah Dou, who’s standing in front of him with a confused look on his face, “Are you… okay?”

He doesn’t feel okay, but Chusheng doesn’t know why he would feel anything but.

“Hnn,” he makes a noise of assent, clearing his throat with a frown. “Just leave it there, I’ll look at it later.”

He’s finding it a little hard to breathe and with frustration, Chusheng tugs at his tie, loosening it. Ah Dou still hasn’t left, staring at him with his brows furrowed.

“What’re you still doing here?” asks Chusheng, leaning into his chair. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yeah but… Inspector, you really don’t look so good,” Ah Dou persists, which is very unlike him. “I think you should go to the hospital if you’re feeling unwell-“

“You’re not usually this nosy,” sighs Chusheng, sounding more tired than reproachful. “I just have a headache. Don’t worry.”

“I’ll get you a cup of warm water then,” Ah Dou says, oddly considerate today, but Chusheng isn’t lying about the headache, and all he wants is to be left alone.

Standing as Ah Dou picks up his mug and starts to walk in the direction of the coffee table where the water flask is, Chusheng begins, “Ah Dou, I don’t need-“

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence because he’s keeling over in the next moment, nearly braining himself on the surface of the table if his hip didn’t strike against its edge first, and he lands in a messy pile on the floor instead. The ceiling slants above him, and gosh, he’s so fucking thirsty-

Someone is calling for him, but he can barely hear anything outside of the ringing in his ears. As dark spots fill his vision, Chusheng thinks maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to skip a trip to the hospital yesterday night after that ambush at the docks.

Right before he slips under, all he remembers is promising Lu Yao that he would pay for five baguettes today.

===

“Are you an idiot? Did you not bring your brains out to work today?” is the first thing he hears when he wakes up.

Disoriented, Chusheng blearily surveys his surroundings, dazed. He’s floating a little and everything seems overly yellow and green, and it feels like he’s been asleep for a little too long. He doesn’t usually sleep in, always up at the crack of dawn to train and keep in shape.

Turning to the side slowly, that’s when Chusheng sees San Tu seated in a chair next… next to his bed.

The man looks displeased, his arms crossed over his chest and looking more petulant than angry, and Chusheng knows he’s in trouble.

If he tells anyone that he, Qiao Chusheng, one of the Eight Martial Arts Masters of Shanghai, is a little cowed by Lu Yao’s frown, they would surely laugh at him.

Memories of how he landed in the hospital resurface in his head. Chusheng looks towards the glass pitcher at the bedside table, and luckily Lu Yao isn’t too angry to ignore him. The man pours him a glass of water, before helping him to sit up a little, fluffing the pillows behind his back as Chusheng drinks slowly but liberally, because he’s really, really thirsty.

“How long have you been doing this?” Lu Yao asks then.

Confused, Chusheng blinks, “Doing what?”

“This is just like that time, when Zhi Qing-ge kidnapped me and you rescued me but refused to tell me!” Lu Yao snaps, and Chusheng winces. “At least you went to the hospital then with Youning. Guess what the doctor said to me earlier? That the wound on your right side was infected because you didn’t treat it properly and it was continuously bleeding when it needed stitches!”

“You said you didn’t get hurt in last night’s raid,” Lu Yao says, glaring at him.

“I-“ Chusheng begins, but Lu Yao cuts him off, “And then the doctor says you’ve got other scars on your body that look rather recent, ones that even Youning didn’t know you had. How long has this been going on?”

“San Tu,” Chusheng sighs, “It’s okay. This is nothing-“

“Nothing? Ah Dou freaked out when you fainted on him earlier! What were you thinking? He said you looked unwell all morning and refused to listen to him when he asked you to rest. Qiao Chusheng, do you think this is a joke?”

It’s not the time or place for this, but hearing Lu Yao utter his full name for the first time, Chusheng feels a chill run down his spine. No one has ever dared to call him out like this.

He likes the way his name sounds on Lu Yao’s lips and how angry his San Tu looks right now.

Clearing his throat, Chusheng musters a smile instead, “San Tu… I’m used to this. I just miscalculated and I’ll be more careful next time. Don’t be angry. I’m the patient here, you know.”

“Next time?” Lu Yao asks, incredulous. “You’re thinking of a next time?”

Knowing that Lu Yao will probably go on if he doesn’t do something, Chusheng reaches out and tugs at Lu Yao’s arm until the man sits down quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Chusheng repeats, and frankly, part of him is a little touched that Lu Yao is so angry at him. He’s never had anyone angry at him for something like this.

“San Tu, if you don’t stop yelling, the nurses are going to come in and-“

“Chusheng-ge!” a yell comes, and both men flinch.

Lu Yao sits back and relaxes as Youning storms in. Chusheng pales, and his hand raises as if to facepalm, but Youning is quicker. She looks ready to give Chusheng hell on Lu Yao’s behalf too, and that she does.

===

Lu Yao, when he’s not distracted by antique wares or expensive restaurants or his English books, is a pretty self-sufficient person who can take care of himself. He’s a little vain, timid and dumb on some counts, but the man can cook very well, knows how to clean up after himself in a way that Youning still forgets to sometimes.

Chusheng himself can cook, but he eats takeout or heads back to Boss Bai’s house for the occasional meal more often than not, so when he wakes up next to the aroma of pork ribs and old cucumber soup, he has to pause for a moment.

“You’re awake,” Lu Yao says, glancing at him with narrowed eyes, probably still pissed off that Chusheng tried to hide his injuries from him. “Eat up. The doctor said you should have some soup.”

“Where’s Youning?” he mumbles, still groggy from the drugs and this is exactly why he hates hospitals.

“She went back home first, she’s got a draft to rush out tonight. This soup was on the stove for more than four hours. Man-jie told me that I should cook it under a smaller fire for more than three hours, so you should try it.”

Lu Yao scoops out a spoonful and blows gently at it, before bringing it to Chusheng’s lips.

When the man simple stares at him, Lu Yao glares, “Why would you- you don’t want to eat again? I cooked this myself when I could have been sleeping and even Youning helped to stare at the fire for an hour, and you still don’t want it-“

Chusheng cuts him off mid-rant, leaning forward and eating from the proffered spoon obediently.

“… how is it?”

“Hnn,” Chusheng hums, looking at anything but Lu Yao, “It’s passable.”

Suddenly, Chusheng realizes how close Lu Yao is next to him seated on the bed. He’s not used to being in Lu Yao’s care- or anyone’s care for that matter, and this whole thing is jarring, to say in the least.

“Passable?” Lu Yao scoffs, but scoops up another spoonful for Chusheng anyway.

Chusheng bends his head to reach the spoon again, and at the last moment, it dawns on him again how strange this whole thing is. He moves back, saying, “I can eat on my own-“

His eyes go wide as Lu Yao ducks in and kisses him, cutting him off. Chusheng can swear his mind goes blank.

When Lu Yao finally pulls away, there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, and he’s not looking at Chusheng either. Clearing his throat, he puts the bowl into Chusheng’s hands.

“You should finish the soup,” Lu Yao says, picking up his jacket from where it is lying over the chair, “I’ll settle your discharge with the doctors.”

Chusheng looks up, blinking, “San Tu-“

“And you better not do this again,” Lu Yao finally meets his eyes again, though the blush doesn’t go away, “Youning and I are going to check you over after every fight. You better not hide another injury from us again, and I’m dragging you over to the hospital if you so much as have a cut!”

That seems a little of an overkill, but Chusheng can’t help but smile.

“And if I don’t listen to you?”

Lu Yao blinks. “Then- Then I’m never-“

“Never going to kiss me again?”

“Never going to make soup for you again,” Lu Yao enunciates firmly, but his ears are now red too as he turns on his heels quickly to escape the room.

Chusheng laughs to himself, shaking his head. Licking at his lips, he wonders if Lu Yao would give him a repeat performance later, but he supposes they have all the time in the world for that now.

===

The next time they get caught in a shootout, as promised, Lu Yao and Youning (and even Ah Dou, hovering a few feet away and trying not to get caught looking at him) make him take off his jacket, roll up his sleeves and lift his shirt a bit to show that he’s fine.

The rest of the officers pretend they’re not looking, even though a shirtless Chusheng at the station is nothing new.

Of course, when they get home, Chusheng lets Lu Yao do a close-up inspection.

In the privacy of their room of course, so that Lu Yao can inspect every inch of his body thoroughly.

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Until Forever - Sirius Black

MASTERLIST Warnings:My English and pics aren’t mine. This one is a stepping stone.  Word Count~ 3k Prologue |  Mercury | Delicate | Blue | Running | Aftermath | Stardust |December | Nightfall  Chapter 10. Revelations. 

      Being on her own, a bit of a loner anyway, felt like a breather – even for just mere days. She never thought that she needed it as much as before. She hadn’t been chasing one relationship after another – perfectly content on her own. She smiled at the memory that popped into her mind; her best friend, heartbroken after a breakup that had costed her an entire year. The thing was no one had to be in a relationship and she meant it when she had told her that. It was an idea, forced down people’s throat until they choked on it. Women weren’t pretty unless they’re wanted. Guys weren’t men unless they had sex. People weren’t lovable until they were dating each other.          As wonderful as romance was — it wasn’t the only love that existed. It was not the answer to everything. She was constantly bombarded by the words “nobody loves me”, words escaping from the mouths of people who happened to be single. Love didn’t diminish just because someone didn’t want to have sex with another. In fact, it made that love more real. It made it into something that surged beyond physical attraction and surfaced level companionship. It made it unique.       She knew it all too well, it was pretty to be in love. However, it was also wonderful to stop for ice cream in that beautiful dress after a wild night with three other girls. It was also wonderful to drive in the middle of the night with a bunch of people who were family. Being on her own, never phased her and this time was no different. What was different, however, was his maturity – in the age of eighteen he was more mature than almost all of her previous partners. And just like that she realized that maybe, instead of looking for other halves, people should really be piecing themselves together.  And maybe, she wasn’t born unfinished.       She had said her goodbyes and walked them down to the castle entrance. James and Peter hugged her; Lily kissed her cheek while Remus smiled in a way that told her it was a bit too soon. Sirius even though he did want to hug her, he winked at her as he was the first to walk away with Marlene. She had to stop worrying about him. She turned around and walked toward the kitchens, hungry and ready for the therapeutic few days in front of her.         She was mumbling a song that had stuck in her mind without paying attention where she went, resulting in a collision. She apologized but he waved it off kindly until he saw her face – even without her robes, everyone knew the girl who fell from the sky. He grew distant and cold; she didn’t have to look at his robes to know that the boy was a Slytherin but what she hadn’t been expected was that particular one.       “You’re the Gryffindor everyone talks about” he pointed out. She shrugged, already gathering the ingredients and preparing a big Caesar’s salad and politely asking the elves not to help her, causing the boy to smile.        “…and you are?” she chimed, not really interested in his opinion. He was intrigued and grew reluctant of storming out.         “Regulus Black” a simple answer made he mind freeze and think that made she had been sent to hell. Her personal hell… She shook it off fast and cooked the sliced chicken in to a hot pan – thank Zeus this place had everything.         “I gain from the silence that you know my brother and you now feel awkward” he described her attitude in a nutshell. Trying not to burn her food, and remaining calm, she put the garlic, bit of olive oil and two anchovies in the food processor that had magically appeared in the counter and beat them until the garlic had completely broken down. She hummed as she transferred the sauce into to a large bowl and added the parmesan, lemon zest, lemon juice, mayonnaise and lots of pepper.           He enjoyed how simple she was being, how down to earth and self-sufficient, so much so he got comfortable near her – and she noticed.          “True, but still not my problem. Care for a bite?” she offered him as she was already setting two plates on the table, two glasses filled with her favorite sparkling wine and the big bowl of salad in the middle. He was startled. She was fast when she was hungry. Also, not having to wash the dishes was an added bonus of relief. He knew he had to say no, but no one else from his house was there anymore – everyone had already left and he was supposed to take the train tomorrow – and he was a bit hungry himself.        She sat down next to him, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a grey shirt. He pulled of his robes, remaining in his sweater as he took the salad tongs and served her plate first and then his. She was impressed but then she remembered the way all those manners were imposed on him and took that back. She raised her glass without making a toast, waving it just a tad, and taking a generous sip.          “How come you haven’t slept with my arrogant brother?” he asked nonchalant making her laugh loudly. He was entertained as he ate the tasteful lunch.         “I made lunch, I should be the one asking the questions, don’t you think? But, it’s not from the lack of effort, if you must know” she answered, leaving him startled yet again. She was indeed, something else. He took notice of how unafraid she was and envied that.      “Alright, it’s only fair, I suppose” he agreed. He found himself very happy – as if all of the sudden he had a sibling again and that left him shallow. She had plenty of question to ask but didn’t want to make him hurt again – he saw that and felt grateful.      “What are you doing New Year’s Eve?” she asked innocently enough. If she could just change one small detain in the story… just one. Their conversation was refreshing and nice… McGonagall had almost interrupted them but her quick thinking saved it. She knew that her professor would like to discuss this with her and she also knew that she wanted to discuss something herself. She was determined – she would tell her the truth.       The evening chill begun to creep inside the kitchens as they sipped their freshly brewed hot cups of tea. He had opened up in ways he never thought possible for him and she had been the most accepting person he had met. She hadn’t been sure before, but she was most certain now – she had to save the pour child. He was fifteen years old and had been surviving in a sick environment. She knew how that would play out. He was smart and she could tell but what if she could prevent all the bad things from happening? She already had the knowledge that those bad things had brought on – what if she used that in the first place?         She waved him goodbye and walked towards her room – she would have to face her demons and talk to Minerva at some point, but tonight, she wanted to lay in bed and read one of her favorite books – the little prince. Maybe she would find all the answers she was looking for in the few pages of the most enticing story she had ever read.

      Waking up slowly, indolently stretching, not worrying about the day before it begun, felt refreshing and new to her. She could see the freezing blizzard outside the tower but she was perfectly content with her soft, warm and cozy bed. She would take it easy, one step at a time – and today was all about blowing off steam.           She got up and went to her bathroom with a very interesting idea in her head. Making sure to seal everything properly, so no steam would escape, she lighted all the candles around the room, creating an enticing atmosphere. The aromas started spreading, capturing her senses. She ran a hot shower and drenched herself in the water, which helped relax the tension in her muscles. She could physically feel the steam softening her skin.          Thankfully she had everything she needed, right next to her. Applying a thin layer of black soap all over her body, she closed her eyes and remembered the hot summers she spent in the sea She let the product worked its magic for about twenty minutes – the most relaxed minutes of her recent days. Beautiful beaches, blue waters, white sand, hot sun, cold cocktails, chilled music blasting from the megaphones of the bar and sunbathing – she loved her life and she didn’t even know it back then. Every dive in the wonderful sea let her explore the underwater world and block every noise; it was just her and the water and she had never felt more alive.         She had to rinse the black soap away with lukewarm water and prepared the scabbing glove by soaking it in warm water for about 30 seconds and letting it dry. Her mind traveled back to a particular memory; she was on vacation with her boyfriend and the island’s beaches were packed so they had decided to rent a small boat and go a bit further away into the sea. It had to be the best decision of her life – beautiful blue sky, mesmerizing teal waters, no one else around. She had been in the water more than three hours and her skin was all soaked up but she had fun and enjoyed herself more than ever.        She rubbed the glove in circular motions all over her body to remove dead skin cells and grime. She made sure not to rub too hard, though because those gloves were abrasive and over-scrubbing could hurt her skin. She took care of everything with an almost ritual attention, as she continued her blissful experience with Moroccan red clay powder, mixing it with a splash of water and applying it to her whole body, including her hair. She was being a mermaid in her day off and she was perfectly okay with that.          This time, she simply didn’t think about anything and so, twenty minutes passed without even realizing it. Rinsing it off was the last step before slathering her skin in argan oil while still moist to allow full penetration of oil goodness. She didn’t have argan oil but two creams with it and so she adjusted to that, massaging her body with them as she wrapped her hair in a soft towel and allowing herself to enjoy a few more moments before going back to reality.

          It was after the Christmas lunch that Minerva kindly asked her to follow her to her office, a small study located off of the first-floor corridor, to the right of a staircase ascending to the Serpentine Corridor on the third-floor. It has a large fireplace, windows overlooking the Training Grounds and the Quidditch pitch and a sparse stone-floored bedroom behind a concealed door.      Minerva was very protective of her students, especially the troubled ones, such as the Black brothers and she understood completely. She knew her backstory and what decisions led her here – and respected her the most.       Having already decided to tell the whole truth, her mind didn’t twist in order to find the perfect lies, didn’t pain with thoughts. Whether she would believe her or not, that was a different question, one she had yet to see answered. She offered her one of the two armchairs by the fireplace and a cup of tea, which she gladly accepted and sat down.        “I don’t know how much you are aware of but things between Sirius and Regulus are um, a bit different” she began and took a sip of her tea. This was it.       “I know, not because Sirius told me; not because Regulus opened up that much. I know their relationship the way I know Dougal McGregor, the way I know Ariana and Aberfoth” she confessed and placed the cup next to her, on the small table. Minerva was shocked, to say the least. Her face was pale and her eyes wide open.       “How is that possible?” she asked bewildered the girl in front of her, who was seemingly holding all the answers. She took a deep breath and spilled it all out.       “Whatever I’m about to say, it will remain within these walls, please” she begged her and sure enough, Minerva understood that something bigger than both of them was taking place, as she nodded.        “My birth year is 1997. As in… twenty years from now, but that you already knew. What no one know is, that I wasn’t born in this dimension. In my world, I am an archaeologist, and was supposed to begin my master’s degree. In my world, there is no magic and this, you, Hogwarts and everything and everyone in it, it’s a book – seven, actually – about a boy, Harry, who learns he is a wizard and through his eyes, we, the readers, get to discover this world. The journey begins in 1991 and results in one more war against Voldemort and too many tragedies. So, yes, I know who dies, who lives, who betrays, who loves and who hates. I know your past and future just as I know everyone else’s – and I had never felt the weight of such a big secret, hanging around my neck, trying to push me down. I didn’t plan on traveling through dimension and timelines – I don’t even know why or how that happened. At first, I thought I was in a comma and dreaming but my imagination was never that wild. And the worst thing, is not never seeing my family and friends again – it’s knowing how this story ends and not being able to change one bit. Knowing that the people I now call friends are going to suffer, that one of them is going to die and leave behind a child, the other is going to be accused of murder and spend twelve years in Azkaban, the third is going to end up alone and the fourth is going to betray his brothers not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t have a choice. So, yes, I know that the relationship between the two brothers is rocky” she let out, feeling for the first time how severe her position was, how much it weighted and how tragic her presence there was. It was the first time she said it out loud. Before Minerva spoke, she continued because she had opened the gates of hell and every demon was about to get out.         “But then I think about my very existence in this world. I wasn’t supposed to be here, which means that the story is already changed and different from the one I knew. However, if that was the case, I would have been able to intervene in some way – or maybe I was here and I simply wasn’t mentioned in the story because it wasn’t a story about this time and the Marauders but about Harry. Why am I here? Just to become a witness of all those terrible things I cannot prevent from happening?  Should I try to change the story? Should I tell them?” she went on without really asking Minerva – who was still trying to adjust to the new information. She believed her – she believed her despair. She wouldn’t be so hopeless if she was lying. Not only was from the future and had to adapt in her new environment, she had also – possibly – no chance of living her own life the way she was supposed to, but the single most tragic thing about her was the inevitability she was facing. Knowing the outcome and not being able to change the course of the path. Silently, waiting for the doom to come. All those months, she had said nothing.          “I don’t know why you are here, but I will help you to try and change the story. I believe you. I just… I want to know. I understand that this is too much for you. However, I think that if I know, there is a possibility, I can be helpful. How is Harry?” Minerva told her truthfully. She didn’t believe her ears – she had thought that the professor would have believed she was crazy. Without a second thought, she told her everything. For the next five hours, they would talk with only truths, occasionally pausing for a sip of tea and a bite of the sandwiches Minerva had summoned out of nowhere. In her face, the girl found an ally.

____ Tagist: @nadinissavage​ @mycobrakai1972​

[ezekielbhandarivalleros]

Adventure of the Past (Chapter 2)

Characters: Oliver Cochrane, Ezekiel Tweneboah, Brit Tweneboah, Mother Tweneboah and Maggie (Mentioned)

Summary: When Ezekiel gets himself in trouble, Oliver comes and rescues him

Taglist: @schnitzelbutterfingers  @daddyethanramsey @choicesficwriterscreations,  If you want to be tagged tell me

The sweet aroma of the markets wafted to my nostrils and I inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent. Truffles, baguettes and various other sweets hung in the air. Living in Port Royal did have its' benefits, and I could easily treat myself to whatever I preferred. To be sure I did not have as much money as many other royal folk, but I was anything but poor. The day was young, and I was free from the hands of labor. Well, almost.

Mother had sent me out to the shops for dinner tonight. I groaned as I thought of the work in store for me and the rest of the women household; Mother, Maggie, and the servants besides myself. I was man of the household, as Mother had now become a single parent to both me and Brit after father left.

Laughing to myself in self pity, I observed another seller who was beckoning to others walking down the street. His hand outstretched and voice loud, he spoke of how his item of price was better than all the rest. Normally I would have ignored the man and moved on, but I moved towards his stand as if I was put under some type of spell.

"Ello Sir" He grinned widely as soon as I was within hearing distance. My pace slowed but still I came nearer to him. Something was hidden behind that smile-something bad. And even my instincts told me to turn around and run. But I was entranced as he showed me jewels and beautiful necklaces. Something I could only dream of affording even in the present.

I cocked my head slightly, staring at all the trinkets as the scene around me became a blur. It was as if I was walking into another dimension the sounds and voices muffled. The merchant beamed at me, eyeing my body as a wild animal does his prey. I felt trapped. I wanted to cry out for help as the strangers arms reached out to me, but there came no sound.

Then, someone grabbed me, pulling me into the shadows. I came out of the fog, only to see darkness around me.

A figure. He was standing close and held onto me with a tight grasp. I tried to see who it was; if I had possibly been tricked by the man and pulled into an abyss where he would take my whole being. No. My reflexes kicked in, and my body tensed. I struggled against him.

"Who?" I started to say, then knew instantly when I was pushed up against the wall of a building. His warm breathe blew against my face and then in one short second lips pressed against mine.

"Hello my Love." the voice whispered in my ear seductively once the kiss had ended.

"Oliver." A name of relief.

"Ezekiel, what were you doing? You need to be more careful. I can't always be here to protect you. If I hadn't noticed you when I did he would have raped you. And no one else would have helped. They would have walked by and ignored what was going on. People like that cannot be trusted in the least, do you understand me?" he held me to him protectively.

I stood there with a confused look. "What are you speaking of?" I asked cautiously. I heard a sigh of frustration as he took my hand in his and led me around a corner, away from the crowds and more into the light.

Flinching from the brightness, I leaned against the wall of a different building. Everything was a dizzying blur and I felt as if I was recovering from a long night of drinking. I started to fall, and he caught me, laughing lightly.

"Did you have too much fun without me? You know that's not aloud." He gently caressed my face and looked into my eyes for some time thoughtfully. I returned the gaze and steadied myself, searching his face for any clue of his thoughts.

That's when we both heard shouting. "Thieves! Bandits! " Our heads turned to the sounds as many footsteps came our way. My heart started to pound and I looked up at Oliver in question.

"Do you think they mean us?"

"Better not wait and find out." he replied "Let's go." He grabbed my hand and we took off at a dead run through the city. My senses were finally returning as the adrenaline kicked in. We were being chased, and for a crime I hadn't even committed. This angered me. How dare that man accuse me of stealing just because... Because why? Then I realized what Oliver had been talking about; that man at the market almost had his way with me, and for some reason my body had been frozen, not allowing me to do anything about it.

My mind raced, the anger rapidly growing inside of me. A part of me wished to turn around and confront that man, but as I turned my head I saw that there were not only a few villagers, but several armed men as well. So instead I fueled my anger into my legs, running as fast as I could.

Without warning, Oliver suddenly pulled me down another side road and into a busy street. This one was full of even more stands and customers, hardly giving us enough room to walk. Miraculously though, people were moving out of the way as they saw the incoming chaos, pushing themselves to the side as quickly as they could.

Stumbling over one of the stands, I let go of Oliver's hand, a plan forming in my mind. He immediately stopped when he felt my absence, and turned around to see what I was up to. I pushed all of my weight against the stand, and soon vegetables and other various foods crashed to the ground. I smiled triumphantly as I knew that it would give us enough time to escape from the on comers, but as I looked back towards Oliver, his face full of disbelief, I knew something was wrong. Hearing many angry shouts of protest, I turned back just as the other stands in turn knocked into each other, falling to the ground like dominoes. Oops. Knowing that that was probably a very dumb idea, but unable to take what I had just done back, I grabbed Oliver's hand again, pulling him along with me.

From there we quietly slipped away from everyone, weaving through many alleyways. No one was chasing us anymore, and I was sure that it would stay that way. From the mess I had just caused, it would take quite a while to clean everything up.

Oliver was now leading the way, and I followed him through the city. "Where are we going?" I finally asked, curiosity getting the better of me. Dresden was always finding new places to explore and dangerous things to do.

But there was no answer to my question. Instead, he turned to face me and looked straight into my eyes, smiling mischievously. I looked back questioningly. I would always put my full trust in him, he had never given me a reason not to, but it seemed as if we were always facing trouble and miraculously escaping from it just in the nick of time. Today had been no different.

Several minutes later, I found myself standing in the middle of a beautiful meadow. Trees surrounded the green grass which was covered in all sorts of colorful flowers. Nothing remotely familiar about the city was here, and all that could be heard was birds chirping and the running of a small stream. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air, enjoying how peaceful it all was.

Oliver's arms came around my waist from behind, pulling me to him. I smiled, enjoying his touch. "Do you like it here?" he asked softly. My eyes fluttered back open, and I took another look around. It was as if it had been untouched; a secret known only to him.

"It's wonderful." I breathed, and I meant it. No one could have taken me to a better place. This moment was perfect, and I wished we could just stay like this forever; in a land where nothing else mattered but love and all obstacles were out of mind..

Not too long after we met, a day came when we managed to get into more trouble than usual. Our hearts pounding and minds racing, we had shared our first kiss just moments after wriggling out of the clutches of danger.

How ironic it was, I thought, that even today we were lying here, looking at each other with much adoration, only minutes after creating so much turmoil within the city. Besides our age, things hadn't changed too much between us.

Oliver leaned down close to my face, and I instantly closed the distance between us. The kiss was slow, our mouths exploring each other as if it were the first time they'd ever met. I moaned softly as he gently bit my lower lip and pushed his body down against mine. I would never begin to understand just how easily my body reacted to him, or how he was able to pull such emotion and physical pleasure from me. Just one touch sent my body shivering and heart on a chase of its' own.

He pulled back, looking into my eyes with amusement. "What?" I had to ask. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile and he started to laugh, ignoring my question.

"Just you." He answered, leaning in for another kiss. I returned it as he reached for my hands, enfolding them within his own. Wasn't it amazing how well my fingers fit in between his? The thought fascinated me; it was if I was the only one who would truly complete him.

"What about me?' I returned in question, gently rubbing the tip of my nose against his.

"I love you." He said quietly, and in that moment, it seemed as if the world just stopped. I love you. These words were rare to come out of his lips. They were not the first time to be spoken, but every time they were my heart skipped a beat and my spirit soared. How, I wondered, could this one man have so much power over me?

I managed to catch him off guard and flip us over so I was on top. Our hands were still entwined, and I used this to my advantage, pinning him down as best as I could. He looked up at me questioningly, another smile escaping his lips. Staring into his gaze, I gradually leaned down towards him. Expecting our lips to meet, he tried to bring his face closer to mine, but I moved mine to the side of his. I could tell he was slightly disappointed, and he made a small sound of disapproval.

Bit by bit, I moved my mouth down to his neck, enjoying the feel of his skin beneath my lips. Ever so tenderly, I opened my mouth, grazing my teeth against his skin. In response, his fingers tightened their hold on mine, and a light gasp escaped his breath. I smiled, continuing to slowly kiss and nibble, my tongue gently caressing as I moved my way up his neck. Once I was farther up, I stopped moving, pushing my weight down on his hands and nipping his ear gently. A hushed, small, sentence formed upon my lips...

"I love you too."

[oyesmendes]

The Coffee Roasters - Chapter 1

a/n: andddd chapter one is here!!! hope you guys like it!!!

Espresso - boiling water shot under pressure through finely grounded coffee beans; like caffeine coursing through your veins, the rush of love felt exactly the same

7AM - When the sun was just rising, the Hoang family was already full steam ahead roasting coffee beans in the back rooms and stocking the shelves with fruit cups, yogurt and granola. They were ready for their morning rush. Sophie was putting on her apron when their first customers walked through the doors - Mr and Mrs Meloche, who have been coming to the cafe for over 40 years.

“G’morning Mr and Mrs Meloche!” The 3 siblings greeted the old couple, and their coffee was served in an instant. They had their coffee black, at 7am for 365 days a year (well, make it 364, the cafe closes on lunar New Years) without fail and they’ve watched the 3 siblings grow up over the years. When the couple came in for their coffee, everything else fell in place like clockwork; their usual customers started streaming in and the Hoang family began their business. over the years, Alex has given up the front of the house for his children to manage, while he remained at the back of the house roasting the infamous coffee beans and filling the entire shop with the aroma of coffee. He has passed down this art of coffee bean roasting to his children of course, but he could never let it go no matter how many times Harvey or Austin would try to coax their father into passing on the big wooden ladle to them. The morning rush went by at lightning speed this morning, and Sophie was summoned to the back of the house immediately to prepare a special order for her father’s old friend.

While the Hoang’s morning was coming to an end, Niall’s had barely started. He was still tucked deep inside the soft beddings of the hotel with the blanket pull all the way up to his chin. The warm stream of sunlight managed to wake him up by a bit, and when he looked at the time on his phone Niall shot up straight away.

“Holy shit! It’s flippin’ late” he muttered under his breath as he attempted to swoop all his things into his travel bag. Niall was checked out of his hotel room in minutes, and making that 10 minute walk to the Coffee Roasters. Somehow he felt a little bit nervous to see Sophie again, and it filled his stomach with butterflies when he thought of her working behind the coffee machine. There was something so unique about her, and Niall had a good feeling about it all.

When he opened the doors to the cafe, his heart sank a little as he saw 2 tall men standing at the counter. Maybe they work in shifts, and today wasn’t her shift? He could ask the boys about her, but would that be weird? He wanted to see her again though, and he didn’t know if he’d get the chance to-

“Hi there! What can I get you?” Harvey’s voice brought Niall back to reality. Niall stood there, stunned for a moment before another voice chimed in.

“Hey! You’re that guy from yesterday, caffe americano? Ahhh what’s your name… don’t tell me I got it…Ni-Niall! Right?” Austin shouted excitedly. Niall had a small smile on his face as he scratched the back of his head.

“Yeah that’s me… and about yesterday… that girl who made my coffee, is she working today?” Niall asked sheepishly. He watched Austin and Harvey give each other a look, before sizing him up. God this is embarrassing.

“You must be talking about our sister” Harvey said, a smirk forming on his face. Niall’s stomach immediately plummets to the ground. She not only has one, but two very handsome brothers to protect her. What has he done? Niall shifts uncomfortably in his place, nodding his head slowly. Harvey and Austin both burst out laughing

“Chill mate! She’s out back making some pastries, I’ll go get her.” Harvey makes his way to the backroom in search for his sister.

“I’ll get you your cup of coffee, on the house.” Austin moves behind the coffee machine, whirring away at Niall’s Americano.

In the backroom, both Sophie and her mother were busy piping the enormous birthday cake for their family friend until Harvey came bursting through the doors.

“HEY HEY HEY BACKOFF!” Sophie shoved her brother far away from the cake, “and no! I am not taking your shift outside-“

“There’s a boy asking for you outside” Harvey cut her off before she could finish. He smirked, knowing very well he got everyone’s attention. Sophie placed the bag of icing down on the table, and squinted at her brother - she couldn’t believe the words coming out from his mouth. Harvey shrugged, hands up in surrender, “Di said it was the guy from yesterday… something about caffe americano” Sophie had to think for awhile before her mind brought her to the image of Niall. She felt a blush on her cheeks and her mother gave her a knowing smile.

-

“I think you like him” Angela smirked at her daughter. Being the only girl out of the 3, it was natural that Sophie was closest to her mother and she told her absolutely everything. Even the short encounter with Niall, and how his eyes illuminated a sort of dullness or sadness that she couldn’t put her finger on. “But they were so blue” she told her mother again, they were mesmerising and it sort of had an effect on her. Sophie wanted to know more about this boy, and she prayed so badly that he would come back again the next day.

“We’ll see, I’ve only spoken 2 sentences to him so he’s probably not going to remember me. And not to mention Ma, he’s Niall fricking Horan” Sophie poured a glass of peach tea for both her mother and herself.

-

“Go, I can handle this. Your father can help me with it anyway” Sophie gave a kiss on both her parents cheeks.

“Go get it, Mei!” Harvey yelled before she ran out the doors to the front, shooting him her middle fingers. Sophie saw Austin who gestured over to the table by the windows, one of your favourite spots in the cafe. Niall was facing the outside, steaming mug of coffee in front of him. She approached him slowly, not wanting to startle the man.

“Hey, heard you were asking for me?” Niall jumped at the sound of her voice and Sophie let out a chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. My brother told me you were looking for me”

“Oh-yes, I am… uh have a seat..” Niall scrambled from his place, pulling out the chair for Sophie to sit on. She settled in and stuck out her hand for him to shake (weird gesture, I know)

“I’m Sophie, Sophie Hoang” Niall shook her hand, “Niall Horan” Damn she’s gorgeous, Niall thought to himself. They sat in silence for a bit, Niall just staring at her eyes and she fiddle with a stray piece of fabric from her apron.

“Um- I’m sorry I’m a mess I didn’t think this through” he stuttered, running his hands through his hair. Sophie gave him a soft smile, she was a conversationalist, so none of this startled her at all. They started talking, and laughing, and Niall opened up to her about why he was here. Sophie didn’t judge, she listened intently and leaned forward to give him as much of her attention as she could. She made him feel safe, as if he could conquer the world with her. That’s when he remembered why he came to the cafe.

“So I was wondering, would you like to take a tour of Brighton with me? I know you live here and you need to work but its my last day and I wanted to see-“ he was a blubbering mess once again and she stopped him before it got any worse.

“I would love to give you a tour.” Niall grinned, his smile stretching from ear to ear. She placed her hand on top of his, drawing small circles on them, “I’ll go ask my parents for the day off, give me a sec”

She left him by his seat to head to the backroom, and let out a small squeal that got Angela and Alex’s attention. Her brothers soon streamed in to, wanting to know all about the hour long conversation that they had by the most perfect spot in the cafe.

“Ma, Pa can I have the day off?” Sophie paused, looking back and forth between her parents. “He asked if I could show him around Brighton and I agreed…” she trailed off, watching her father’s face carefully. But before Alex could even breathe a word, Angela had already agreed to her daughter’s request, her hand placed on Alex’s to tell him to Shut up. Sophie kissed her parents again, giving both her brother’s a high-five before she ran to get her bag.

“You didn’t even let me-“ Alex protested, but to no avail. Angela’s hand was raised up in the air a signal in the family that the conversation was over. This earned a chuckle from Sophie’s brothers,

“Come on Pa, it’ll be fine the guy looks like he wouldn’t even hurt a fly, don’t worry about Mei. She’s a big girl now” Harvey told his father. It only earned him a smack on the head and a string of curse words muttered under his father’s breath. On the other side of the door though, Sophie was beaming and excited for her “date” with one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. She tapped him on his shoulders, a smile plastered to her face ever since she’s seen him. Niall stretched his arm out to her, and she gladly wrapped her hands around his bicep, her heart bursting at the gesture. What she didn’t know was that Niall was blushing too, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering from the physical contact.

She brought him to Brighton Pier, they spent their afternoon eating food and playing games at the arcade even though they were trash at almost every game they attempted. They sat by the benches over looking the sea, sharing their stories and before they knew it the sun was setting over the horizon. Sophie was wrapped under Niall's arms, their hands intertwined and it felt like they were teenagers in love.

“This sunset, is the second most amazing thing I have seen in my life” Niall said softly.

“And what’s the most amazing thing you have seen?”

“You” Niall replied her, kissing the top of Sophie’s head. She let out a laugh, burying herself deeper into Niall’s embrace, “Cheeseball” They sat in silence for a bit, watching the sun go down. This was it, this was Sophie’s cue to ask him to stay with her tonight. She wanted him- no, Sophie needed him in her life and she knew that this was her chance.

"Stay.” There, she said it.

Niall looked down at her and he melted instantly when their eyes met. Whatever commitments he had in London tomorrow could wait, this girl was asking him to stay and he couldn't say no to her.

“Okay.” He replied. Her face lit up at his words, and he gives her a peck on her forehead. She interlocks her hand with his as she gets up swiftly, pulling Niall along with her.

"Woah, where are we going?" Niall asks as he stumbles behind her. She crashes straight into Niall's arms, giggling like a child.

"Come home with me" Sophie says excitedly. And that sets them running, they're dashing for Sophie's car, hands interlocked as they manoeuvre through the crowds. People shot them dirty looks as they ran and laughed, circling into each other's arms ever so often. after sprinting for what felt like hours, they arrived at Sophie’s car and Niall swooped her into his arms, earning a squeal from her. Their foreheads touched, chest rising and falling away from each other as they caught their breaths. It was like this for a while, before Sophie pressed her lips against Niall’s. The kiss was gentle, filled with so much love, and before Niall could go deeper into it, Sophie pulled away with a smirk forming on her face. Niall pulled her back as she tried to walk away, but Sophie shook her head.

“You’re going to have to wait till we get home.” She was teasing him, leaving him to want more. Niall smiled back at her, knowing he was going to get all that he wanted when they got to her place. He watched as she sauntered to the other side of the car, each step feeling like an eternity. While for Sophie, her heart fluttered as she realised she was falling in love with Niall so quickly. She knew she shouldn’t, after all he only broke up with his long-term girlfriend two days ago. So she hoped and she prayed, that he was feeling exactly the same.

[cobaltcaster]

Creating a Magickal Atmosphere

Within this post is a comprehensive check list of creating the right atmosphere

[[ Click Here for Part 1. Preparing for Your Spell ]]

Here are the individual links if you’d like to take it step by step. 

Magickal Enchantments [[ Food, Clothing, Music ]]

Magickal Tools [[ Candles ]]

Incense and Fragrances

Crystals and Gemstones

Element Water

Additional Magickal Tools

Personal Altars

If you’re ready for a medium read then let us begin!

⚪9⚪

Magickal Enchantments

Food and Beverage

Three simple words: Keep it light! A spell on a full stomach is not recommended. A heavy meal can leave you sleepy or uncomfortable. Avoid meat the day of your spell, if you can. Stick with fruits and vegetables as much as possible. Fish ----- baked, but not fried or in a heavy sauce----- is a good option. Wait at least two hours after eating to begin your spell.

Try to avoid caffeinated or carbonated beverages; distilled water is an excellent choice because the impurities have been removed. A cup of caffeine-free herbal tea is soothing and relaxing. Try a blend of chamomile and passionflower. Although some of the spells include type of wine or fruit juice during the actual spell, do not take it to extremes.

Clothing As with food and drink, here, too, three simple words apply: natural, loose, and clean. One hundred percent cotton is a wise choice. A loose white gauze garment is nonrestricting and gives you a sense of cleanliness and purity. Some individuals enjoy taking the time to find certain color garments for special spells. The same colors listed in the candle color chart ( click here ) can be use for clothing as well.

If you do not have a cotton garment, choose something as close as possible, like a cotton blend. Comfort is important; Tight jeans and belts do not allow your body to relax. However, wear jeans if they are the most comfortable thing you own ----- and most jeans are 100 percent cotton. If you are in a private place, you may decide to just wear a robe, towel, or oversized t-shirt. You may even opt for nudity. The choice is yours.

Before you get dressed, make every ever to take a bath or shower. Start fresh and clean. Think as you are showering or bathing that you are washing any negative energy off your body. A bath is an excellent idea, especially if you use music and candlelight.

If you're doing a group spell, bathe or shower before leaving the house or before the group arrives. If you can't shower, at least wash your hands and face. If you can wash your feet, that's even better. If water is not available, shake your hands and visualized negativity being removed.

Music

Music has the ability to create a sense of peace ----- providing it's the right music.

By virtue of the fact you are reading this book, I feel safe in saying you most likely are a seeker of peace and well-being. And all likelihood, you already have in your possession music that soothes you. Slow classical music or New Age music seems to be the most popular. Drumming and chanting recordings are also something to consider. Nature tapes offering gentle background music can be found in most department or music stores.

After purchasing any new tape or CD, listen to the entire recording befor e using it for spell work. The first two selections may be ideal, but if song number three goes up thirty decibels and a wolf starts howling, it could send you crashing down from your altered state.

If you have the time, visit your local music or New Age store. Most provide headsets and demonstration tapes that give you the opportunity to listen before you buy. The recording you choose should be long enough to last your entire spell.

Music that suddenly stops in the middle of a ceremony will also break the mood. If you have no choice and you must turn a tape over, at the very least have your sound system close to you so you do not have to leave your spell area. Music is the sound of the soul: If you can include it in your rituals, all the better.

⚪10⚪

Magickal Tools

Any tangible item used for ritual can be considered a magickal tool as long as it means something special to you. The creative part of our brain works in symbols, so it makes sense to use symbols as a way to conduct creative magick. You probably already have magickal tools and may not even recognize them. It may be your favorite picture that makes you "feel good" upon merely looking at it, that special coin that a relative gave you when you were a child, or a favorite pen you've had for years.

Candles

Candles bring light into our lives ----- both literally and symbolically. They chase away the darkness and allowed new projects, thoughts, and relationships to emerge. Lighting candles before a spell can create very powerful energy.

Candles also represent the three levels in which we exist. The wax corresponds to our physical body, the wick to our mind, and the flame to our soul or spirit.

Candles come in a myriad of colors, shapes, and sizes. Some are scented, some unscented. For our purposes, shape and scent ( or lack thereof ) are unimportant. Do give some consideration to the size of your candle. If you deem your spell will take an hour, don't light a candle that burns for only thirty minutes.

Color is a significant part of what candle burning is all about. Different colors represent different vibrations. As the candle burns, the vibration of that color is red. Refer to the color chart to clarify which color best suits your needs. You may use just one candle or a combination.

If you don't have any idea color available, use white. When burning a white candle, pay attention to the smoke. When it starts to smoke, negative energy is being cleansed from that area. When the smoke subsides, the energy in that area is cleanse and clear.

Take caution in purchasing a white candle that is too inexpensive. Inexpensive white candles smoke too readily and can confuse you. However, I would also not advise going to the extreme and looking for top-of-the-line candles. Use common sense and buy moderately. When working with candles, always use caution and do not leave them unattended.

Candle Color Interpretation

WHITE Purity, power, newness, spells, healing, peace, and psychic skills. White will intensify the effect of any color candle it is used with.  

BLACK Removal of negative energy; not a color of evil or negativity. Release and banish.

BLUE Peace, tranquility, protection, fidelity, astral projection.

BROWN Protection for the household; telepathy, stability.

SILVER Neutralizer of negative energy or forces.

GREEN Prosperity, money, success; counteracts jealousy, ambition.

ORANGE Provides additional energy needed for work or other endeavors; promotes order, control over the self.

PINK Love, friendship, romance, affection, giving.

PURPLE Intuition, psychic pursuits, power and independence, wisdom.

RED Fertility, physical strength, sexual passion, courage.

YELLOW Well-being, self-esteem, attraction, glamour, action.  

As mentioned earlier, this chart can be used as a guide for making clothing color choices.

In my experience, people have either love incense or they have an aversion to it.

⚪11⚪

Incense and Fragrance

Incense also comes in different sizes, shapes, and forms. Some types of incense are already labeled with names reflecting the effects they hope to achieve: There is stress-relieving incense, energy incense, love incense, and so on.

Some people prefer to burn potpourri or oils. One of the purposes of incense in these particular rituals is to bring you into an altered state of consciousness in the most peaceful way possible. If the smell of sage or sandalwood calms you, use it. But if your sinuses say no, give them respect.

Don't get caught up in what others have decided is the best aroma for you. For example, studies have shown citrus fragrances promote energy, and the smell of lilac can calm us. But don't force yourself to inhale a scent if you don't care for simply because the label states "incense for romance." Always buy what you enjoy.

Experimenting with new aromas is also fun. Most incense is inexpensive and sometimes sold by the stick. One thing to be careful of: If you are going to do a spell inside or in a small area, try your new purchase out prior to its actual use. Otherwise, you may be subject to a disagreeable smell for hours, if not days. Incense can take a while to dissipate and may linger in the air for a long period of time.

Here are some recommended sense and herbs you may want to try that correspond to a certain magickal work. Remember: These are only suggestions and not a must.

👤 Health Bay, Carnation, Cedar, Eucalyptus, Juniper, Lavender, Lemon Balm, Myrrh, Pine, Sage, Sandalwood, Thyme 💞 Love Apple, Musk, Rose, Ambergris, Basil, Cinnamon, Chamomile, Dragon's Blood, Jasmine, Lemongrass, Patchouli, Peppermint 📠 Career \ Job Vanilla, Allspice, Cloves, Nutmeg, Pine, Wisteria, Heliotrope, Spruce, Sage, Mint, Honeysuckle, Cedar, Bayberry 🌹 Women's Issues Musk, Orange, Hyacinth, Myrrh, Pine, Rose 🐯 Men's Issues Musk, Cedar, Jasmine 🌅 Spirituality Frankincense, Heliotrope, Jasmine, Sweetgrass, Gardenia, Pine, Sage, Violet, Sandalwood, Rose

⚪12⚪

Crystals and Gemstones

Crystals bring life to our quartz watches. They receive and transmit radio waves. Without quartz crystals, the computer age would never have happened: They are what make up integrated circuits and electronic chips.

The power of crystals go far beyond the products we have derived from them. They are important tools in magick, having the ability to focus and direct energy to a specific intention. Some say they have healing powers, mentally, physically, and spiritually.

Many other stones also have special energy that can assist in your spells. For a quick reference, I’ve listed a few below. But this is a huge area of exploration. If you want to know more, your local bookstore or library will certainly contain numerous books on the subject.

Gem Stone Qualities

A special note about quartz crystals: These stones are available in nature stores, gem shops, and most New Age gift stores in rough or polished form. You need not spend more than a few dollars on your crystals. Start with something small, and go to a larger size if you feel it's necessary. If you are unsure of which is the best stone to intensify your spells, use a clear quartz crystal. Clear quartz crystal stimulates healing, balances the elements to fulfill us and make us whole. Aids psychic development. Amethyst a very powerful spell stone. Psychics and healers have used its curative properties for years. Helpful in dispelling anger and anxiety, aids in feeling less scattered. Carnelian often called the stone of good luck. Said to purify the blood, stimulate sexual emotions, and aid in sexual function. Lapis lazuli draws love to us. It is also reputed to be effective in healing headaches, high blood pressure, depression, insomnia, and other such ailments. Malachite increases energy, is connected to change and creativeness. The Egyptians wore crushed malachite as eye shadow to guard against the evil eye. Moonstone is said to be a stone of magic. It increases psychic abilities and is used widely for spell rituals. Astral projection is accelerated when using a moonstone. Rose quartz also known as the love stone. A stone and that deals with the energy of all the emotions. Turquoise builds strength, provides protection. It is a sacred stone to the Native Americans. It is a protective stone for horses and their riders. In Arabia it is a stone of meditation. It has equality of absorbing negative energy. When purchasing, carefully touch the crystals at the store. A stone chooses you, you don't choose it. It would just “feel good” to you, having something the others don't possess. Use your gut feeling ----- which is your intuition talking to you.

Charging Your Crystal

Once you find your crystal, it needs to be "cleared, charged, and programmed." Cleanse it of a past owner’s energy and \ or the energy that has been placed on it by individuals examining it by washing it in cold water or letting it sit in a bowl of water.

Next, use the Moon to charge the crystal. Place it overnight in view of one of the phases listed below:

New Moon a crystal charged in this phase specifically offers energy that supports new beginnings, confidence, hope, and specifically anything of increase. Full Moon a crystal charged in this phase brings power to support anything you want to achieve. This is actually the best all-around phase to utilize.

Once you have cleared and charged your crystal the last step is to program it. Hold it in your hand, and focus on the vibrational energy you are looking for to accomplish your goal. Visualize your final goal, but not the way you think you're going to get there.

For example: if you want to lose twenty pounds, see yourself on the scale twenty pounds thinner. Don't try to analyze the way it will come about. This is best left to your higher power to solve.

If you choose, you can program any of your other gemstones as well.

⚪13⚪

Element Water

Throughout the spells you will see the use of what I refer to as element water. Element water is basically water that has been charged to help you do magick during a thunderstorm.

It represents fire, earth, air, and water, a forceful mix of elements at their highest potency. Lightning represents fire, which corresponds to power, energy, magick, and lust. Thunder represents air, which corresponds to spirituality, health, and knowledge. The strength of the storm represents earth, which corresponds to nature, being grounded, wisdom, and all things material. The rain itself represents water, which corresponds to emotions, reflection, love, creativity, and purification.

How to Make Element Water

Basically you are collecting rainwater with intention. First you will need a container to collect the water. I have used glass, plastic, clay pottery, and almost any type of container one can use, and I have seen no difference. You may feel a natural material is better or something you feel special has more impact. If these are your thoughts, then seek a special container. I personally use two or three chalices.

The important thing is that the container is new or extremely cleaned, having been sterilized in a dishwasher or by boiling if is made of glass. If the container is new, still clean it to remove energies from other people who may have handled it. Because thunderstorms are not all that common, I recommend obtaining as much water as possible so you will always have some on hand.

If you know that a storm is approaching, take your container and place it in a spot where it will collect water. Some people always leave a container outside just in case, and others only place one out when they are almost certain storm is near.

After the storm and your water has been collected, you should invoke a "hand blessing." Place both hands above the container with your palms facing down and say, "Bless this water. May it empower my intentions."

Now, transfer your element water into a practical container for later use if you are not going to use it immediately. A glass or plastic jug or bottle with a lid is a good choice.

The water is not limited to use only during rituals. It can also be used to bless something. Feel free to separate your water into smaller bottles for traveling or even to give a small bottle to a friend. It is a perfect gift for someone who is like-minded because it comes from nature and you have put your personal energy into it with good thoughts and well-wishes.

Around the holidays, I take element water and put it in tiny plastic containers with little labels that read, “Element Water.” I then tie ribbons around the necks of the containers and give them to special friends in case they want to bless something. I use element water to bless my car, computer, office, home, and the cat next door!

Special Notes

Element water will only be powerful when rain, lightning, and thunder are all present. An average rain will not do.

Do not use water that flows from a gutter! It may seem to be a very easy solution, especially if you want a large amount quickly. However, the fact is the rainwater being channeled through the gutter is not as pure as water coming directly from the sky because it has picked up debris.

Do not be concerned about pollution in the air when gathering water. Your blessing over the water purifies it.

Do not drink the water, as it is not meant for your inner body.

If you are not in an area where you are able to collect water, ask a friend to do it for you. However, you must conduct the “hand blessing” once it is in your possession.

Be cautious in thunderstorms and do not go out when lightning is about. For safety reasons, wait till the storm is over to bring your collected water inside.

⚪14⚪

Additional Magickal Tools

Other magickal tools mentioned in spells will include the following. Feel free to substitute what is available or what works for you.

Wand or knife: Sword, athame, letter opener, or any type of wand or long crystal. Any pointed object that extends as a pointer will work. One can purchase decorative wands displaying gemstones and crystals in New Age gift stores, fantasy stores, or through Internet Web sites. A double-edged knife is also available through the same sources. Fire burning container: Iron pot, mini-chiminera ( small Mexican fireplace ), ashtray, metal trash can, cauldron. Anything that can contain a piece of paper being burned within a safe vessel. Special drinking glass: Any container that can hold wine or grape juice: wine glass, cup, bowl, chalice, or favorite goblet. Optional tools:

Flowers and fruit

Religious statues or holy cards

Tarot cards or Runes ( or other methods for telling future events; psychic forms divination )

Pendulum ( Click here for information on making decisions using a pendulum )

Pentacle or pentagram symbol ( The pentacle is a five pointed star with lines connecting with a circle encompassing it. A pentagram is the same five point star but has no circle. This symbol represents the elements earth, air, fire, water, and what is sometimes known as the fifth element, spirit. A pentacle or pentagram can also represent the human body with legs and arms outstretched. This symbol is often used in rituals as a form of protection while the ritual is underway. The star should always be in an upright position. The reverse is considered to be negative.)

[[ Image Source ]]

Cross ----- any kind ( The universal symbol of a cross represents the bringing together of multiple dualities into a single whole. It can represent human form with extended arms, as well as crossroads in your life. Crosses have numerous religious and spiritual meanings.)

Bells ( A bell can be rung to invoke universal powers and note the beginning of a ritual. Some people use bells as a form of protection to keep evil away. )

Who knows what contains magic and love for each individual? But I do know if you have such items, you should hold them dear and use them to assist you.

⚪15⚪

Personal Altars

To have a personal altar is by no means a requirements for doing spell work, but it is an excellent place in which to keep your magical tools and to worship whomever you choose. Use it not only as a storage for these special items but also has a place to pray, meditate, and to receive answers from your higher self.

An altar can be any area that is flat. It can be a separate small table or any action on your dresser. The top of a large sound speaker could be used; a bookshelf or two cement block with a piece of wood laid across them would do. Once again, you get to be creative.

You may not want to have a permanent altar but prefer to set up a temporary one just for your spell use. Your altar can typically would display items such as candles, incense, wands, knives, gemstones, statues, chalices, element or holy water, and anything else you would use as a special component that had spiritual and enchanting properties. I do not feel there is any special way to set up an altar. Moving things around until it looks and feels right to you.

An outside altar is also a lovely thing to create if possible. It can be built near a favorite tree using stones and bricks. You may construct a special table outside made of wood. To make it easier, use a tree stump or a rock that is fairly level.

When fashioning an altar, try to stay away from the use of too much metal. Natural materials are always the best. However, if your only choice is an altar containing a lot of metal, tried to cover it. Use a natural fabric or put a piece of wood over it. Try to keep things natural.

As for the direction to face your altar, there are many schools of thought. Some suggest facing north because it is the most grounded direction. Others will recommend facing the altar east because it is the direction the Sun and Moon rise. Each direction has a special meaning and place. Therefore, I feel you should put it anywhere in which it is practical.

I have seen rolling altars, where people have made altars on the top of units that have wheels so they can roll through a room to face the direction they feel it needs to face for a particular spell or meditation. A rolling altar can also be kept out of the way in a closet if you are pressed for space.

Altars are extremely personal, as well as very interesting, and there is no right or wrong way in which to set up this area of sacred items.

[ask-de-writer]

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Return to Flocking Bay

MET BY MOONLIGHT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5740 words

© 2017 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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These had been made with fine, supple leathers taken from the destroyed village of the Marquosts. They had originally held pictographs of things that the Shamans and Totem Society leaders had thought worth recording. Their pictograms, like Egyptian hieroglyph or Chinese ideograms were a genuine written language. That was one of the ways that the Marquost society had been more than a little different from that of the Indians about them.

The men had a Society of Shamans lead by the Great Shaman. They had the charge to do the mighty magics that needed the Blackwall and its power. I was descended from that tradition.

The women had charge of the assorted Totem Societies. Most Indians drew inspiration from their totem animals. The Marquost women did more than draw inspiration from their totems. They became them. They were not lycanthropes, cursed to change with the moon. Marquost women were skin-turners. They donned the skin of the totem animal and became that creature in truth but with a guiding human intelligence and cunning. They were lead by a woman known as the Mother of Change, who could become any animal from any of the Totem Societies — and if rumor be true — any other beast as well.

The High Shaman and the Mother of Change were the ones who wrote and decided what to write.

After three hundred years, their wisdom and spells were coming to light again on my computer monitor. As the English writing was subtracted from the Darkmoon palimpsests, I began to notice something else.

My hackles rose the way that they will when you find that something is very wrong. When I examined the original photographs of the book pages more closely, I found the cause. The originals were genuinely ancient. That was almost beyond doubt. When you are a Shaman, as I am, you get a feel for such things. The problem was in the handwriting. I had a three hundred year span of books open to me. Everywhere that I sampled the Darkmoon Dairies I found the same thing.

The Darkmoon Diaries were a forgery. A unique forgery. I was willing to give long odds that there was no other such forgery in the world.

Efforts to make the handwriting different from writer to purported writer had grossly succeeded. It was the little things that betrayed the forgery. The downstroke of the f’s and s’s. The loop form of the e’s. They were common throughout. It appeared that one person had written all three hundred years worth of dairies.

The most recent volume revealed the likely author.

Just as I was pondering the diaries, Allison delivered a note from Laelia inquiring about my progress and inviting me to assist with cataloging the Hilstrom house. I put aside my problem with the dairies for the more immediate one of helping with Hilstrom house and seeing what might be of use. A Shaman may benefit from much that the ordinary person might not even find interesting. There might be things in there that could lead me to other surviving descendants of the ‘Founding Fathers’ of Flocking Bay.

Because of the age of the Hilstrom House and the contents it was known to have, it was necessary to catalog everything. We would assess what to include in the sale or even if the place should be sold at all. Some of the contents, at least, would have to be auctioned off and some kept for the library and the Historical Society museum.

The Hilstrom House was worth putting aside my petty mysteries. It would be an easy restoration to bring the house back to its original state. Most of the original hand hewn planks and timbers were still there and in place. The electricity and gas had been put in with no attempt to hide the wires and pipes inside the walls.

The fireplace still had the original hand made crane to hang cooking pots over the flames. The andirons were a recent addition. The originals we found later, cast out into a bramble thicket behind the house.

The whole place could easily become a colonial museum. When I breached the idea to Laelia she agreed that it could be done at little cost. The only problem that she foresaw was the simple one of maintenance cost. Such museums rarely paid their way and the township was simply too poor to support another one in addition to the Historical Society museum.

“Don’t give up, though,” she said, patting my hand. “You can propose it at the township meeting. If it is approved, they will find a way to do it.”

I felt that odd hackle-raising twisting that tells you where magic is. It led me to a corner of the living room. There, in a window seat made to serve as a storage chest, were many papers and books … and the source of my feeling.

The old matchlock musket appeared to be in near perfect condition. It was mounted to a plaque with an engraved brass plate just as the diary had said. It read, “This gun won us the town now called Flocking Bay. Eben Hilstrom shot and killed the Shaman with it. The gun would never fire again after.”

Laelia reached past me and took the old gun. “The Historical Society will want this testament to the shameful deed that founded this town.”

I looked at her strangely. I was beginning to fear that Laelia might be a descendant of one of the Founders. A check of ship passenger manifests from 1645 through the end of 1648 showed none who could be Laelia or her ‘ancestress.’ Something would have been in those records even if she had been a stowaway. What did she have to hide? Several things that she had said before flitted through my mind. The unique forgery of the Darkmoon diaries. The Darkmoon crest. The timing of her ancestress’ arrival in Flocking Bay. The low price of the indenture.

With a winning smile, I said, “Laelia, I think that these papers will be enough to keep us busy for the rest of the day.” “Let’s take them back to your place where we can catalog them over some of your wonderful tea.”

We strolled back to Changer’s Court in a pleasant afternoon, with the wind playing with leaves and trying to steal our booty of history.

Back at Laelia’s cottage, I breached a different topic as she puttered about her modern kitchen with its gas range, making tea for us. “Laelia, I have some of the palimpsests done. I think that you will be interested. I found your indenture contract. You can even see where Eben Hilstrom altered it.”

The puttering in the kitchen stopped for a moment. You could hear the strained smile in her voice as she see replied, “You mean the indenture of my ancestress. I’m not THAT old.” She resumed puttering purposefully about and emerged with the tea tray.

As she set it down on the coffee table, I said, “I’m afraid that you’re not telling me the whole truth, Laelia. I can prove that you wrote all of the Darkmoon dairies and I can also prove their age.

“I need to ask you some questions about your origins. I can only think of a few reasons that a person might live so long.”

She let out a long sigh and leaned back in her chair. Resignedly she said, “Have some tea and ask what you will. It was a long run from Poland for my sister and I. She was killed in France. The Crest says it all, to those perceptive enough to read it, as you seem to be.”

I raised my tea to my lips and smelled the aroma. My hackles rose again. I could smell and feel the power. It was a familiar power, like my mother’s but stronger. I had my answer.

“No,” I said, putting down the cup untasted. “You have lied long enough. You are not a werewolf and you are not Polish either. Though being one would account for your age. I know who you are.”

I spoke in Marquost, the old Indian tongue of the area when I said, “Ask me what you want to know, Mother of Change. This Shaman will tell you truthfully what you wish to know without the power of that.” I pointed at the tea.

For a second, she appeared startled. Then she let out the same laugh that I had heard and liked earlier. She replied in the same language, “Your accent is abominable! Still, I haven’t heard anyone use this language at all for years!” Her speech was the utterly relaxed, easy flow of a native speaker.

“Near enough to three hundred years, I expect,” I said softly. “You must have been lonely, living among your enemies for so long.”

“Not so lonely as you might imagine,” said Laelia with that calm that comes only from utter assurance. “I have been stalking my prey. I have got to know them and listen to their Councils and give them advice. When the time is right I take one of my skins and turn it. Then an enemy suffers. That is when proper vengeance comes. They have suffered and must suffer for a long time yet to come. That is why your killing them is not to be accepted. Do not do that. It may put them on their guard.”

Startled, and just a bit guilty, I said, “Mr. Hilstrom was the last of his line. He was old and a bachelor. The Hilstroms are gone.”

Her cheerful laugh interrupted me. “Where did you get that silly idea? That was only the end of the male line. What is the true line of descent?”

I was dumbfounded. I had forgotten, been taken in by the white man’s patrilineal lines of descent. So proud of my own matrilineal descent from the last Shaman, I had used the white man’s genealogical rules to track my enemies! I would have to start my genealogical work all over.

I hung my head in shame. Determined, I raised my head looking Laelia in the eye. “A Shaman must acknowledge his error and try to remedy it. I must begin to search for the neglected lines of descent. Our enemies must die!” I said firmly.

She rebuked me gently but with absolute certainty. “They must NOT die! Death is the END of vengeance. I swore ETERNAL revenge to the Blackwall, pouring on it the blood of my foes. When the last of them dies, so do I!”

Smiling, Laelia said, “I help them in their need and see to it that they stay within my reach.” Her eyes going lupine, she added, “I stalk them down the trail of time. In each generation, they all suffer. A few die. They go on. And so do I.”

I looked at Laelia with new eyes and a heightened respect. I said softly, “Mother of Change, I am sure that your eternal vengeance is more suitable than my slaying. This Shaman opens to you the whole power of the Blackwall.”

—THE END—

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This completes Met by Moonlight. If you enjoyed what you just read, please go to the Master Story Index for links to all of the stories that I have posted on Tumblr

[bbrandy2002]

Birth of an Heir... Part Two

Book: The Royal Heir

Liam x Riley

Part one

A/N: Turned into another total fluff piece, I'm becoming a softy 😕. I had one of my kids choose the baby's name of the ones given in the comments and @kingliam2019 was the winner.

Warning: Drake Walker has a potty mouth and will use profanity in the chapter, but, he's still lovable marshmallow all the same.

These characters belong to Pixelberry.

Birth of an Heir Part 2

Riley stands at the window of her third floor hospital room, observant of the overflowing press crowded below. It had been several hours since the birth of her son and well past midnight. Exhaustion had reached it's peak, yet, adrenaline and a newborn would keep her awake. Another news crew ascends into the mass influx of cameras, sateliites and curious, Cordonian bystanders. "Do they ever sleep?", she asks with astonishment, however, her question is met with silence. She turns, and instantly her heart melts from a simple, yet, poignant sight.

"You are hopeless, you know that right?", she says with a gentle smile.

Liam is sitting in a rocking chair,  holding his first born child, whom seems to fit perfectly, like a small package in his arms. His thumb grazing the soft cheeks and his eyes focused,  contently, on what he considers the second best thing to enter his life. With heavy eyes, he searches and memorizes every single line and detail, and takes to heart, every sound and breath this tiny creature makes. He is afraid to fall asleep, he cannot fathom for one moment the seperation that comes with it. This baby already has his father under a spell that is similar to the way his mother does.

Riley walks closer to him, still slowed by soreness and tenderness with each step. She shakes her head and playfully rolls her eyes, "Liam, did you hear what I said?"

He looks up to her, "I'm sorry dear, did you need something?".

She bites her bottom lip before lightly rubbing her hand up and down his arm, "I said you're hopeless....you know I have to hold him more than just when feeding him, right?".

Liam nods his head and speaks with a teasing whisper, "We'll see about that", as he gives her a quick wink.

Riley sighs, "yep.....hopeless", then leans in to a soft kiss.

She removes her robe, kicks off her slippers, then lowers herself steadily onto her hospital bed. After pulling the sheet over her tired and worn body, out of habit, she rolls to her left side. Riley wants to drift off, but, the events of the day are flourishing in her thoughts. Suddenly, like a vision of sorts, one that is always present in her mind, a familiar story begins to play......

A flash of bright blue that meets her soft brown. An instant spark, a physical attraction, a moment when two lost souls find one another. A beginning.

"Sorry I'm late. Thank you for your patience, Miss...?"

The first time the heat of his lips devoured hers after an impromtu private tour of the Statue of Liberty.

"You're full of surprises aren't you?"

"I try"

"I'm glad to have met you Riley, I'll never forget this night".

A chance of a lifetime, when fate opened a door and offered her an opportunity.

"You want to sponsor me? Why?".

"I'm not doing it just for you, I saw how Liam looked at you last night. I've never seen him so happy...".

The first time he swept her off her feet, literally....the moment her heart felt more than just an attraction, but, the start of a love affair. A waltz to remember.

"I dont....I'm not sure I know the steps."

"Just follow my lead".

Like something out of a fairy tale, darkness surrounded by small, white lights and the shimmer of the moon. Closed off from the rest of the world, it would become a place where memories are made.

"We made it....the center of the maze..and I do believe I won".

"How do you figure that?".

"Easy, I'm on top".

"Hard to argue with that".

"Then don't"

"Something about you...it just feels...right to be around you".

"Liam, I feel the same way".

An exhilerating jump, involving total trust in one another.

"It's said that if two lovers climb to the top of the waterfall and jump in together, they'll get the blessings of the water".

A warm, spring day, filled with pink blossoms and the aroma of freshly baked pies. When she became a queen for the first time and the apple of his eye.

"Meeting you in New York was one of the best things that ever happened to me. You changed my life".

A country soiree, a swing decorated with flowers. He was giddy, playful and childlike.

"...I want you to know, I can't wait for the coronation".

"I can't wait either".

The simple, yet, perfect candlelit dinner, when he opened up to her and shared his biggest dream.

"Maybe this is sentimental, but, its been on my mind lately.....What I really want is to have a family...and not the type most kings have, but, one where we're close and listen to each other....".

The night the stars glistened in the sky above her, three words that rained down and changed everything. A merging of pleasure and senses like never before. The most beautiful , endearing intertwining of bodies and demonstration of devotion ever.

"I've never said this before, but, its more true than my own name. Which is all to say...Riley...I love you".

"Liam, I've been madly in love with you since the day we met...".

"I love you and I want you".

"Then take me, Liam".

And after a period of turmoil, secrecy , and undeserved scrutiny, when she realized air doesn't exist without Liam....she doesn't exist without Liam....they came full circle.

"Riley...all that I want in this life is to dedicate my life to being the best man and king that I can be...for you...Lady Riley Brooks, queen of my heart, I have yearned to say these four words for a very, very long time...Will you marry me?".

"Yes...a thousand times...yes".

When happily ever after truly began....

"I promise to love you, honor you and cherish you. To support you, fight for you and inspire you....as you have always done for me....No matter what the future holds for us, I know that together is where we're meant to be".

A warmth overcomes her body and the corner of her lips curl. She opens her eyes again and peaks once more at the two most sacred things in her life. One is her soulmate, her king, her love; the other is their finest masterpiece.

A faint cry echo's through the calmness of the darkened room. Liam gently lifts the baby to his chest, its head nuzzled securely into his neck. He places one hand on its bottom and the other lightly presses soft chubby cheeks closer to him. He leans forward, planting a lingering kiss through a blue cap, covering fine, peach fuzz hairs. Liam senses her stare and glances up. A faint smile emerges, that not a human in Cordonia could wipe away. With a low, raspy voice, he utters, "I love you".

Those words always send a chill down her spine, however, the emotion and pride in his voice this time, causes her to shed a tear, "I love you, too".

Her body gives way to sleep, assured that her two boys will keep one another company until she wakes.

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

Eyes slowly flutter open and Riley recognizes the presence of early dawn's light. She lifts her stiffened neck to see Liam laying in a small bed near the window; when you're the King, the hospital ensures you continue to sleep like royalty. Next to his bed, he had slid the baby's cot next to him.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to fully awaken. After getting out of her bed, she slips her shoes back on and treks to her infants side. Liam actually fell asleep with his hand in the cot, so Riley picks it up and moves it, placing it on his chest, -Hopeless.

She then lifts her wiggling bundle up and carries him back to her bed.

Lowering her gown down, the baby latches on after a few tries, suckling with tiny fingers gripped to her breast.

Riley watches in awe and amazement, as the most precious bond in the world takes shape. His little eyes twinkle and he is full of energy. She chuckles at his arm movements and how he seems to be devouring his breakfast.

She smiles at him, then tilts her head; she couldn't tell last night, but, relishes in the fact that he definately looks every bit like her husband.

There is a tap at the door and Riley gives permission for them to enter. The first thing she sees is a cascade of balloons and a large stuffed teddy bear, followed by the always gleeful, Maxwell. Trailing behind him, a seemingly recovered Hana, and weary eyed, Drake.

Once Hana slaps a few balloons from her face, she makes her way over to Riley's bedside. "Oh my goodness...Riles, he's so small and handsome".

After Drake gets caught up in the balloons as well and Maxwell runs into him a few times with the stuffed bear, he gets another glance at his namesake. Realizing she is breastfeeding, his face begins to blush, he stammers and fidgets. "Um...um...yeah...I'm just going to...um...look at this wall...that's some fine craftsmanship...this wall". He starts knocking on the wall as if he is checking the quality of its structure.

Maxwell laughs, "Augh, come on Drake, its just boobies....besides, the kids head is blocking the good stuff."

Hana and Riley look at each other, both chuckling at the two men.

Riley notices that Bertrand was not with them and asks Maxwell if he plans to visit.

Maxwell and Hana look at each other and snorted out in laughter.

Confused, "What's so funny guys...what am I missing?", she asks.

Drake still facing the wall, himself amused by the answer to her question, can't help but chime in, "Let just say, ol' Bertrand....", he starts laughing again, "Bertrand....". Drake can"t get the words out before he starts snickering even harder.

Annoyed by all the laughing, Riley threatens to kick all of them out unless they tell her what is so funny.

All three make attempts, however, are still struggling; they have tears running down their cheeks and faces that are bright red.

"That's it...out", Riley finally tells them.

Drake is able to compose himself, taking in deep breaths, "Okay, so...last night at the shower...everyone got...well..got sick from Maxwell's fucking punch as you know", he continues with some difficulty in spitting the words out.

Maxwell wipes a tear from his eye, "Let's just say, Bertrand had to call someone about the mess Madeleine made off the balcony last night".

Riley's grimaces, "Okay. I don't even want to know".

Hana asks if the baby has a name yet.

She looks down at her son, who has finished his feeding and covers herself back up. Riley adjusts the baby into a more comfortable position and looks up with a smile. "I would like to introduce you to the new Crown Prince of Cordonia...Nikolas Drake Beaumont Lee".

All three are touched as she explains how important each one of them are to her and Liam, and hopes the baby carries a little pieces of his namessake. After a short visit, her friends leave, Maxwell promising to return later with junk food and booze.

Shortly after, Liam stirs, surprised she didn't wake him up.

He shuffles to her bedside, kissing her tenderly. Liam searches her eyes, cupping her cheek, "I just want you to know, you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. You have always amazed me, but, I will never be able to thank you enough for making all of my dreams come true".

He has a way with words, always has, she thinks to herself. She gets a mischievous smile, "I know a way that you can start thanking me".

He raises an eyebrow, intriqued, "Anything for my queen".

She lifts the baby up and gently places him in Liam's loving arms, "He needs a diaper change".

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