#hello as you can see they have consumed all conscious thought of mine

[borrowthemoonlight]

darling, so it goes some things were meant to be

#hello as you can see they have consumed all conscious thought of mine #moulin rouge #musicaledit #moulinrougeedit #moulin rouge! #baz luhrmann #nicole kidman #ewan mcgregor #christian x satine #satine moulin rouge #christian moulin rouge #someone please teach me how to tag thank you

[azsluttyslut]

Born to die

Azriel x f!reader

TW: blood, violence, angst, fluff, near death experience.

Word count: 3883

Azriel POV

-Flashback-

Feet don't fail me now

Take me to the finish line

Oh, my heart it breaks every step that I take

But I'm hoping that the gates, they'll tell me that you're mine

He was corner there was no fucking scape, but all he could think about was that least his mate was safe, his only comfort at the moment, lovely (Y/N), always so sweet and caring. “It had my absolute honor to had been with her for the last 60 years” he thought to himself still fighting for his life.

The tried to fight as best as he could, the trained for situations like this his whole life, so he pushed himself harder, Azriel's only goal to see his mate at leat one more time, she deserves to know how much he love, his absolute everything. So that’s what he did, and killed soldiers under Koschie command left and right, but there was no point, they were everywhere and he was losing power, strength and he was so fucking exhausted, this was a losing game. That was until he felt a surge of power, he have never experienced that much power, not even from his brother and High Lord.

It was astonishing how can that blast killed every soldier around him, he himself wasn’t sure how he survived, it was like they melted, all the gore of the soldiers that were surrounding him was everywhere it was a a goo of blood, skin and bones. When Azriel turn around to see who was the person that save him, he couldn’t believe his eyes, his beautiful mate was there, she has never told Azriel about her powers, he never pushed her too afraid to say the wrong thing, she just told him that it brought bad memories and it was her trauma to bear. But watching her use her powers just so she can save Azriel it made him love her even more and for a moment it brought him this sense of peace, it was as if the Mother told him that everything was going to be okay, that this moment even as short as it was, was just one of many to come.

But that sense of peace went as quickly as it came. Because the moment he took a step forward to reach her, in a blink of an eye there was a one of the enchanted soldiers behind here, and before he can voice that, a fucking sword with faesbane was passing through her stomach and the feeling of pain he feel through the bond brought him to his knees and he scream, and scream, and in pure act of willingness only fuel by his anger he killed all around his path until he got to her, screaming and cursing the Mother for being so cruel moments. And then everything went black.

It could be days, or months he didn’t care how much time it passed since he last was conscious, not after the moment he woke up and everything came crashing down. He tried to reach for the bond but the was nothing. Not even his shadows were with him. He didn’t know to much time passed until Rhys came to the healing chambers to check on Azriel.

“Hello Brother, I'm happy to see you finally awake” he just stared at him blankly,the numbness consumed every finer of his body, he knows Rhysand went through the same but at least Feyre came back, instead he watch his mate died, he felt the pain and sure as hell he still feels the void in his chest, his very soul were once was a gold thread, full of love, joy and fulfilment. And as if reading his mind that Azriel is almost sure he did, he says “ she’s not dead, brother”.

-End of the flashback-

Walking through the city streets

Is it by mistake or design?

I feel so alone on the Friday nights

Can you make it feel like home if I tell you you're mine?

It's like I told you, honey (louder)

It’s been a month since the day Azriel woke up, and you are still unconscious, Rhys told him his shadows haven’t left you sight, that brought him a bit of confort. The loneliness consumed his already tormented soul, he never felt this alone in his life, not even when he was a child in the care of those bastards.

Madja doesn’t know when you are going to wake up, but they are sure you will, maybe they are saying that just to make him feel better, he doesn’t know at this point, the void that is the bond wights on him everyday, they won the war but he just feels lost.

Rhys encourage him to seek help with one of Madja's mental health healers, they told him that maybe if he does things that you both used to do together would make him feel better, but walking around Velaris without you it makes him feel empty. Not even your house in the suburbs feels like home, that’s where he made you his, when he devoted himself to you, and the memories are too much, too unbearable without you.

•1 week later•

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry

Sometimes love is not enough

And the road gets tough, I don't know why

Keep making me laugh

Let's go get high

The road is long, we carry on

Try to have fun in the meantime

The memories haunt Azriel like a plague everyday, all the laughs you share, the kisses, the all nighters, both of you getting drunk and high because you were bored. The memories playing in his head stopped the moment he felt the golden thread, all this time it’s has been a dim almost white, a white that made him feel hopeless, but right now it’s recovering color as if you were healing and recovering consciousness.

The tears blinded his eyes and the sob of relief that leaves his mouth, his entire body shook with the force of the sobs. He couldn’t stop the only thoughts running through his mind was “Y/N is waking up”, but even if that was true he could bring himself to go to see you. He couldn’t make himself be hopeful, and knew the only people that could help were his brothers.

Rhys! Rhys! RHYS!! BRING CASSIAN!

Rhysand appeared within seconds with Cassian in tow ready to attack, nothing would prepared them for the sight that greeted them. Azriel looked like a fallen angel, with tears streaming down his cheeks, face blotchy, red eyes, trembling body and slumped wings.

“Are you okay?” Cassian ask his voice frantic, searching for anything, they have never seen ghe shadowsinger like this, in all the years of friendship, he has never been the emotional friend, the only time Azriel cried beside when he was a kid was when Rhys came home form under the Mountain. He still remembers the grief of losing his brother and not been able to do anything to help. But that pain was minuscule compared to the thought and feeling of losing you.

“Az what’s happening? You are scaring us” Cassian voice make Azriel snaps out of his grieving thoughts, the tears and sobs don’t stop, he can bring himself to stop feeling.

“T-the bond” the sobs that leaves his mouth shooks his whole body, not even been able to form coherent sentence, the warlord and the high lord look at each other without knowing what to say, not knowing how to approach this topic.

“What about the bond” Rhys ask carefully, too carefully to the spymaster liking, but he doesn’t care, he feels the bond recovering it’s power, it makes his soul mend just a fraction.

“It- it’s not dim anymore” Both males sigh in relief “Rhys, I need you to check her, I-I can’t, I can’t get my hopes up, please” Rhysand gives Azriel a court nod and his gaze become distant, meaning that he’s asking Feyre. After about 10 minutes that felt like an eternity, Rhys has a small smile while looking at his broken brother. Stepping closer so he can comfort him while explaining what Feyre told him.

“She’s regaining consciousness, Madja said any of this days she would be awake again” After that the shadowsinger didn’t stopped crying of relief until he feel asleep. Cass and Rhys stayed the night, making sure that Adriel was okay.

-Flashback-

Come and take a walk on the wild side

Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain

You like your girls insane, so (louder)

Choose your last words, this is the last time

'Cause you and I, we were born to die

The night before the last battle it was raining, while you and your mate were at your tent, cuddle up.

“Let’s take a walk” Y/N said with those (e/c) eyes that the spymaster love to get lost in. And he knew he could never say no to those eyes while they look at him as if he’s the only person on earth, Azriel always tends to agree to whatever you wants, this time it wasn’t any different. He loves the spontaneous things you do, sometimes some of the things you wants to do border insanity, but he loves every aspect of his mate. So without a thought he took your hand while leading you outside.

“Angel be careful it’s raining, I don’t want you to get sick” the shadowsinger said, he knows fae don’t get sick easily but he always worry about you. Your only response was only a snort of laughter, and oh boy! how he love that sound.

“Az, you know as well as I do, fae don’t get sick easily, why don’t we dance in the rain, and just listen to the pattern of the rain” Your eyes glowed with joy as you looked at him expectantly, he didn’t hesitate in taking your hand and dragging you until we are chest to stomach, while you start to sway with his hands on your hips and yours around his neck, with your head laid on Azriel chest.

The shadowsinger couldn’t stop watching you, admiring more likely, he didn’t take his eyes away even while they were swaying to the sound of the rain and the latter soaking your clothes, but after some time he couldn’t contain himself and kissed you as hard as he could pouring all his love and devotion he feel for you, sending it through the bond and through the kiss. After that you two went back to the tent, drop the wet clothes and he showed you how much he loves you throughout the night.

But in the morning the bubble you’d encompass yourselves in exploded, because of how Rhys made the strategy for the last battle.

“Azriel I don’t care if Rhysand gave you the order or not, you will not be standing in the fucking front lines, I swear to the mother you cross that tent and…” Yelling got you nowhere with Adriel Y/N knew that as much, but even then he could still see the fear you held of the idea of him on the front. But his anger overpowered his common sense.

“Or what? Are you going to do what? (Y/N) this is for the best, I know how to protect myself, I know my limit. This is for our future, so yes I’m going to cross that tent because this is who I am, this is who was raised to be, born to be, if I have to die there knowing that you are safe, then my mission is done” and without another word he left the tent, your tent were his mate was left crying.

But to Azriel's saddened heart in middle of the battle he realized you never gave each other the kiss before battle, it was a non spoken deal between the two, it was their “I’ll be waiting for you to come back, please come back”. But it was too late, and the words exchange between the two in those last moments left a bitter taste on Azriel's tongue.

-End of the flashback-

Y/N POV

•1 week later•

Lost but now I am found

I can see that once I was blind

I was so confused as a little child

Tryna take what I could get

Scared that I couldn't find

All the answers, honey (louder)

My body feels like it’s on fire, I can’t even open my eyes, every nerve, every muscle in my body hurts, is this the after life? I thought that when you died you don’t feel any pain. But oh gods! I feel like I was crushed under a fucking mountain. Cauldron fucking boil me alive! The only thing that I feel apart from the agonizing pain in my body are the scattering caresses of what I think are Az's shadows.

A groan leaves my lips, as I tried my hardest to open my eyes to the blinding light that comes from the window, as if sensing my discomfort almost all of the shadows surround the room in darkness, while the others hurried vanished out of the room to probably alert Azriel and the inner circle. I don’t remember what happened, my last memory was the night before battle that me and mate dance in the rain, followed up to have the most tender and loving sex with Az. I feel so lost, with so many questions.

The sound of hurried footsteps getting closer bring me back from my scattering thoughts, a second later my beautiful mate appears in all his glory, but he looks terrible, not in a bad way, Azriel is the most gorgeous male I’ve ever seen, he couldn’t be ugly even if he tried. But there are circles under his eyes as if he hasn’t sleep in forever, his cheekbones are more prominent and he looks like he lost some pound and muscle. What the hel happened?

He looks frantic throughout the room as if some broke in, but that is until his gaze land on me. He lunges himself at me while breaking down with sobs. I tried to move to comfort him but my body is not cooperating. Not even my voice is functioning. Azriel's sobs break my heart and I think he feels it because he looks and me with tears in his eyes.

“You are alive” he looks at me as if he hasn’t seen me in years “you are okay” he repeats the same thing as mantra, as if trying to convince himself this is real. I tried to speak but no words come out. He sense this and rushes to bring you a glass of water, you gulp it down and the refills it again and again until your throat doesn’t feel like sand anymore.

“Hello my love” my voice comes out scratchy like I haven’t used it in a long time, at the pet name my mate's eyes fill with tears again. “what happened?”

“I promise, I’m going to tell you anything you want to know, baby, but I need to alert Madja you are awake, okay?” He caress my hair, my face touching everything part of me that he can, I’m able to give him a small nod, while his eyes become distant probably telling Rhys to call Madja.

Madja came ask questions while checking my body, always questioning where it hurts, what’s the last I remember, and told me not ask what happened, that my memories will be back in time, and asking would affect the currency of them, after a while she gave strict orders to all my family that I’m to stay in bed for at least a week more, that I need to regain my energy and my weight, and not to exhaust myself, while also giving Azriel some viles that help with the pain.

The week I was in bed all my family make sure I was taken care of, even Amren took care of me, that was weird, I’ve never seen her be so soft with someone, and that includes Varian, Mor and Feyre were as usual always fussing about anything I needed, Cassian and Rhys always made sure I was comfy enough and bringing me gifts and food, Cassian brought me a lot of books, courtesy of Ness, and sometimes Nests came to check up on me. And Azriel well he never left my side and when he did he made sure to leave his shadows with me even if he was to leave one minute.

Elain is another story altogether, since she was made, she took a liking to my mate, I don’t blame her Az is the sweetest most precious soul that I’ve ever known and because of that he indulged her, not intentionally, he just wanted to help her getting used to her new life, which gave her the impression that he was interested, and when she tried to make a move and he rejected her, she almost attacked me, blaming me that I stole Azriel for her. And while her sisters were on my side, they couldn’t let her sister's side either. Since then my relationship with the Acheron middle sister is non existent.

Don't make me sad, don't make me cry

Sometimes love is not enough

And the road gets tough, I don't know why

Keep making me laugh

Let's go get high

The road is long, we carry on

Try to have fun in the meantime

After I was given the good to go by Madja, Az help me with training, giving me small exercises to regain strength, while always making sure I was okay and drinking enough water. I tried to talk to him about what happened with me, but every time I tried it was fruitless, is like all his walls shot up and he becomes a shell of himself, he has nightmares most nights and when he wakes up he makes sure I’m breathing and then proceeds to hold me tight trough out the night.

Come and take a walk on the wild side

Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain

You like your girls insane, so (louder)

Choose your last words, this is the last time

'Cause you and I, we were born to die

As Madja said the memories will be recovered with time, they did and I remember everything, the night before battle, the fight before battle and the moment I saved my mate for being killed to me being stabbed by a faesbane coverd sword. And even though I remember all the traumatic events, one thing is echoing in my head. Azriel last words before battle “…this is who I am, this is who was raised to be, born to be, if I have to die there knowing that you are safe, then my mission is done” it’s like he thinks himself as a weapon, he always did, but I thought we were past that.

“Love, are you okay?” Azriel’s melodic voice breaks through my thoughts, making me snap my eyes to his hazel almost gold eyes. His scarred fingers wipe gently my under eyes, I didn’t know I was crying until that moment.

“Az, do you still see yourself as a weapon?” I look straight into his eyes, but when he adverts his eyes, I got my answer. “You know, we talked about that for years, I thought that you didn’t see yourself that way anymore” I say gently.

“I know, trust me I know, but when the war began and everything happened, my only thought was that I have to keep you safe, and if that means be a weapon, t-then so be it” his voice breaks at the end “when you saved me I couldn’t be more proud to call you my mate, I was so ready to run to you, and hold you, but the moment that that soldiers s-stabbed you, I-I lost it, I didn’t even realized more soldiers were approaching me, but it was like my brain knew and I killed them all just to get to you” A few tears scape his eyes, with shaky fingers I cup his face and wipe them, his eyes look up at mine, and all the pain I see there breaks my heart.

A sob scapes my lips when I tried to talk, taking a deep breath I tried again “We are stronger than this baby, we are going to go through this together as we always do, and if I have to remind you every day for the rest of our lives that you are not a weapon, that you are worthy, and wroth living for, I will, always, but you have to promise me that you will try, and never give up on you, on us” I tell him, resting me forehead against his, while looking deep in his eyes. His chin quivers with, and tears wet his eyelashes. Azriel gives me a nod while chanting “I promise” over and over again.

We were born to die

(We were born to die, we were born to die, we were born to die)

We were born to die

A pain prickles my neck making me hiss and my mate's heveas a hiss of his own while touching his neck, my eyes look at his neck looking at a tattoo, a skull with wings, “The Angel of Death”, that’s what that means, what they used to called in the Court of Nightmares. My power, death in every shape or form. My fingers trace the portrayal of our promise mark on our skins. His eyes adverts to my neck, looking at what I know is my tattoo, it’s a skull with truth-teller he says, while shaky breaths and broken voice.

“Please don’t leave me again” he says after a few moments “I wouldn’t know how to bear with that, the past month and a half, it was hel” his eyes plead with me.

Come and take a walk on the wild side

Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain

You like your girls insane

I gave him a reassuring smile, crashing my lips with his, in a silent promise that everything is going to be fine, that we are going to do this together. Whatever long it takes. That I have him as he has me. That our love is unconditional and strong. That we will have again moments like the one we had before battle. And specially that we will be together to whatever life throws at us. And I’m that moment draped in each others arms, everything feels right.

So, don't make me sad, don't make me cry

Sometimes love is not enough

And the road gets tough, I don't know why

Keep making me laugh

Let's go get high

The road is long, we carry on

Try to have fun in the meantime

Come and take a walk on the wild side

Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain

You like your girls insane, so (louder)

Choose your last words, this is the last time

'Cause you and I, we were born to die

We were born to die

(We were born to die, we were born to die, we were born to die)

We were born to die

Why? (Got that?)

Who, me? (Louder)

(We were born to die, we were born to die, we were born to die)

Why? (Got that?)

Fin.

A/N: well as I said I’m new to this, I hope you enjoy, I accept constructive criticism and feedback. Thank you and sorry for any grammar errors 🫶🏼

#shadowsinger x reader #azriel angst #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #rhysand #cassian #acotar #acotar series #feyre archeron #morrigan #amren #elain archeron

[livingalifeofasimp]

Request - Hello! Can I request a hc for yandere Childe who doesn't see his darling as someone beneath him but instead someone very important (like gasai yuno) ?thanks!

♚Yandere Childe X Reader♚

✧Childe always admired you for your power, determination, even if you fail you would try to stand up. Since you were new he never talked with you but applaud for you. He wanted to tell you that you should be confident with what you are doing because he saw the ability in you. The aura you had around yourself was full of kindness making Childe feel warm whenever he comes closer to your form if only he could praise you for being so perfect could he ever deserve someone like you, Childe would gladly kill anyone who would talk bad about you.

✧To him you were a kind, gentle and strong person which is not a common trail in everyone, sometimes thinking about you makes him frustrated since he is able to detect people's facade then why not yours are you really this gracious, your words holded no fabrication it was pure you were so pure like an angel how can some like you even exist? he would think everytime he sees you and never had the courage to talk with you.

✧He saw you helping everyone when they needed it, you would smile at them make them feel comfortable that they would come to you again, Childe never thought that you will ever give your helping hand to him until one day you saw him carrying his stuff walking clumsy and grabbed them before they could fall down. "Are you okay?", Looking at your pretty face he forgot how to speak usually he can go on arounds talking for hours with others but seeing you feels like time slowed itself. His poker face made you feel if you offended him somehow. " Oh I am sorry I don't mean it", "Can you help me carry it around my place", you smiled on his response "Since I am free why not, lead the way", a beautiful smile on your face that had almost stunning effect on him, why is he even, he felt stupid, what about his first impression?.

✧Looking down at you while strolling besides you he realized how pretty you are, not only beautiful inside but outside too. Childe's admiration turned into crush then an obsession that brings destruction. You were everything he dreamed of kind, beautiful feels like you came from Netherland yourself. His sweet thoughts about you turned into lewd fantasy. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, do all those things a loving couples do together he wanted to call you his. None of the second goes when he doesn't think about you imagining a perfect life together. It's you who laughs in his jokes even if it's lame sometimes, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

✧After millions time trying to woo you by throwing compliments, pick up lines, bouquets and expensive gifts that you rejected everytime  he finally had you everything was going as it was planned, but he had you suffocating Childe was a perfect boyfriend one could ever ask for, he brings you all the gifts, treat you nicely never missing his gentleman behavior but his possessiveness was getting out of control, he would growl at everyone who try to come closer to you or stare at you for too long and it got even worst when he saw one of the guys flirting with you.

✧After explaining him thousand times, Childe didn't understand and kept on blabbing if you don't love him anymore the hurt look in his eyes made you feel sad for him maybe it's your fault, if you weren't in his life none of this might have happened to him. You do love him really but more than that you are worried about him and your future it felt so toxic now that you have no one to rely on but him when did you became so dependent?. So you decided to break up with him.

✧"What are you doing here? Did you miss me so much, cause I did too", Childe smiled warmly, when you come to him like this he feels so blessed to have, you his soulmate, he wanted to hug you after such a long day, you couldn't bear to look in his eyes cause if you did, it would be hard for you to break up with him. Your silence, eyes wandering anywhere but him, made him stop on his way to you, why are you so silent? " Is there something wrong? Did someone hurt you". Childe grabbed your shoulders and begin inspecting you, who would hurt you when he is the only one! Why is he so sickly sweet.

✧"Say something what happened?", Childe swear, he would kill anyone who dared to hurt his angel, then you finally decided to speak "Let's break up , it's not working you deserve someone better not me", you wanted to run but his grip on your shoulders tighten as if he was warning you to take your joke back. "Nice joke Y/N I didn't knew you like to make jokes-", "I am not joking Childe I had enough of this now let's part our ways", Your cold eyes consumed him, your cold words shattered his heart, Is his fear finally coming true? Your thinking of leaving him. Childe hugged you possessively since he is aware that you will definitely run away if he didn't.

✧"You can't you are mine mine mine only mine and no one else, why do you not want me, I did everything I could to make you love me, to want me but still in the end you don't wanna be mine, you must be angry from me because I did something wrong right? Tell me I can be fix it, I will be perfect the guy you want just don't leave me, I can't live without you please just love me again I am begging you",  the thought of you going away staying apart from him, made him cry historically, you had enough of his behaviors it felt like you are to blame. You pushed him away "I hope you find someone good and have a bright future", "My future is with you if you are not going to be in the picture then I will draw you, one day you will love me again" Childe's eyes darken, psychopathically smiling before you lose your conscious falling into the warm arms of your lover. 

#genshin impact #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere story #genshin impact childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere male #yandere boy #tumblrfeed #tumblrposts #tumblr

[justathoughtfulangel]

Day 1 - May 10th, 1994 (AU Kai Parker Love Story)

Hello and welcome to part one of my alternate-universe Malachai Parker love story! If you’d like to read some details about the universe I’ve created for this piece, click here. 

Word count: 426

(gif not mine)

Without further ado, let’s start the story!

Day 1 ~ May 10th, 1994

Malachai Parker woke under the darkness of a waning eclipse. At first, everything seemed the same. His childhood home loomed in front of him as the moon gave way to the sun. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized what had happened. 

He is alone, and it is here he will stay forever: a prison the size of the whole world with no other soul to share it with. Perhaps the true prison is his eternal solitude. He was meant to absolve himself of his sins. Yet, how could this be his purgatory when he had not committed any sins?

Kai had always been an abomination in his father’s eyes, a leech who stole the magic of others. He did not have to approve of his father’s actions, but he could deduce the cowardice and fear behind them. When Sheila Bennett spoke of the siphon who could bring the destruction of the world, Joshua Parker was quick to assume it would be the son he always despised. Kai had not lifted a finger against another, but here he was, serving a sentence he hadn’t earned.

Somewhere within him, a despondent voice broke out. His scream echoed against the trees, his lungs aching for air. His pain isn’t for himself. It isn’t longing for home nor companionship. It is longing for her. She made his life worth living. While others ran from him, she willingly gave her hand to him. He lived only for her, but he knew he’d never see her again.

Once his tears subsided, Kai pulled himself up and stared at the house that had broken him. A few miles to the east is the home of the girl he loves. Trudging in silence, he found himself straining to hear any sound beyond the crunch of the dry soil beneath his feet. Of course, he found none. No other creature dwelled here.

Without any conscious thought, Kai found himself in his beloved’s bedroom. His fingers brushed over the pillow where she rested her head. Their tearful goodbye would be etched in his memory forever. Just beyond her window lies the place sacred to them: a small hut nestled in the trees that was their true, shared home. He could not bear to visit it. Not without her. Not yet.

For now, he rested in her bed, desperately hugging her pillow to his chest in hopes of feeling her close. A listless sleep consumed him, and his dreams were marred by the pain in her voice as his hand slipped away from hers…

~~~

Short, I know. I really want to keep all parts under 1000 words to make sure they are short glimpses into my beloved, tortured Kai’s loneliness. 

Part two has been posted! You can read it here. 

Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to message me with any thoughts/comments/constructive criticisms you have.

Until next time, JustAThoughtfulAngel <3

#kai parker #malachai parker #tvd #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #prison world #kai parker imagine #malachai parker imagine #kai parker love story #malachai parker love story #kai parker x reader #malachai parker x reader #kai parker x you #malachai parker x you #kai parker x oc #kai parker x y/n #malachai parker x oc #malachai parker x y/n #kai parker oneshot #malachai parker oneshot #kai parker angst #kai parker fluff #malachai parker fluff #malachai parker angst #kai parker smut #malachai parker smut #kai angst #kai fluff #kai smut #malachai angst

[pressedinthepages]

Family Business

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n: Another day, another collab with Maragret @sometimesiwrite cause we just cannot stop. And this one will have cHaPtErS!!!!!!

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

Modern Coffee Shop AU. Eskel and his brothers run a coffee shop. Jaskier pops in one morning. Neither can anticipate what is to come.

The bell above the door of Happy Goat Coffee and Snacks tinkled quaintly as Eskel returned from the corner store, carton of almond milk in-hand. He slipped the receipt into the till and opened the milk fridge, taking stock to see if there was anything else that couldn’t wait for Wednesday’s delivery. All seemed to be in order—Barista Blend soy and oat milks, a few bags of regular milk. He didn’t like carrying almond (bad for bees), but it was the only thing some customers could drink so… here it was. 

He turned to make himself another coffee, taking stock of their baked goods: chocolate zucchini muffins, banana bread, blueberry muffins (a few missing, Geralt’s been here…), and an assortment of granola-based snacks. The overall business plan was plant-based and/or sustainably sourced in the hopes of filling a void left by the larger chains that were the only other options in the neighbourhood. It wasn’t a bad plan, and with the increasing number of conscious-consumer parents, they were establishing a strong and loyal customer base.

    Lambert carried a tray of sourdough paninis around the counter and began transferring them into the display case, arranging them as neatly as his energetic hands would allow. It had been hell working with him for the first little bit. Lambert took after their sainted mother only in being a morning person. His general pissy attitude skipped a generation and came directly from their grandmother. But the prickly bastard knew what he was talking about, and after some… heated negotiations, they managed to agree on finding a local butcher who could provide pork belly which Lambert would turn into proper bacon in the back. They barely had the space, but he somehow made it work, and it sold very well as an add-on. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. It did taste better.

    Of course, this didn’t stop the young brother’s grumbling. He simply did it while chewing. “Lambert, could you please, please, stop eating the bacon?”

    “I’m sorry, I must be doing this wrong. Do I look like I give a fuck???”

“No, you don’t. That’s why I’m doing it for you. Just...” he sighed “don’t eat us into bankruptcy.”

“What, so Geralt can drink all the fuckin organic ass lemonade he wants but I can’t have a piece of gods-be-damned bacon???”

“Geralt drinks the—oh my God you guys are killing me—look, I will talk to Geralt about the lemonade, you can have some, some bacon, and I’m going to try my hardest not to put my head through the fucking wall. Capiche?”

Lambert watched over Eskel’s shoulder as Geralt chugged the remainder of the lemonade from his cup through narrowed eyes in his direction.

“Fine.” Lambert growled, turning back to the kitchen. “You’ve got a fucking customer, by the way, boss.”

“Don’t call—oh never mind. Hello, sorry, welcome to the Exasperated Goat. I’ve changed the name.”

“I love it,” the young man on the other side of the counter crooned, cocking his hip with a smile. “Think it’ll really capture the true essence of the neighbourhood.” Eskel was struck dumb immediately, his words falling flat on his tongue. He was trapped in a pair of dazzling blue eyes and the brightest, most open face he’d seen in a—well, a depressingly long time, if he was honest. The young man was eccentrically stylish with bright splashy colours and patterns that had no business going together as well as they did. 

Eskel wasn’t the only one transfixed. His vivacious new customer was too busy marvelling at something inexplicable behind the proprietor’s hazel-green eyes and his… aura? Was that even a thing? How long have I been standing here? Oh God, am I staring? Shit. 

Geralt swaggered behind the counter and bumped into Eskel's shoulder pointedly.

“What can I get you?” He fumbled, working hard to regain his senses.

The young man recovered more smoothly, “Cappuccino, dry please. And a chocolate zucchini muffin. Please,” he added with a cheeky grin, holding out a twenty.

Eskel took the money and their fingers brushed, just the tiniest bit—was that a linger?—but he felt the sparks fly under his skin nonetheless, and as he got to work steaming milk, he desperately tried to remember how small talk worked. The young man beat him to it. 

“How’s the morning so far?”

Eskel sighed, glancing up at him. “Not...terrible,” he said, peering over his shoulder to find Lambert now munching on a mini quiche. “Lambert keeps eating the merchandise, but I suppose it could be worse.” 

Eskel was caught up in the man’s smile again until the rapidly rising temperature of the milk that brought him back to himself. He tapped the pitcher to settle the foam and wiped the steam wand, “How’s your day been...?”

“Can’t complain,” the man shrugged, taking a sizeable bite out of the side of his muffin—an act that Lambert would have seen as a criminal offense. Eskel disguised an amused grimace. “Had a gig last night, decent turnout. One or two people I didn’t know actually showed up on purpose.” Eskel knocked a portafilter empty, cleaning it with a well-practiced twist of the wrist. The man’s eyes drifted to the espresso-stained microfibre cloth that was currently being handled so expertly and found his mind wandering, jarred back to reality as the grinder kicked on. He jumped a little. 

“Ah, you’re a musician, then?” Eskel asked over the noise.

He nodded, swallowing thickly as he took in the breadth of Eskel’s shoulders. “I like telling stories,” he called back.

“Ah, you write your own stuff, then.” Eskel knocked the edge of the portafilter against the palm of his hand to settle the espresso and Jaskier was lost again, watching large, graceful hands working with strength and precision, all in the name of a decent cup of coffee. Eskel looked at his mesmerized conversation companion, “Or do you prefer to cover?” 

“Hm? Oh, well, a bit of both. I like to cover because it gives people a sense of familiarity, like they can trust you with their evening. It sets the tone. Then I do my own stuff once I’ve got them on my side.”

Eskel cut the shot as the rich caramel colour of the dark espresso began to run lighter, and he gave it a sniff, ensuring the extraction was good before pouring in a little milk, and dolling out large quantities of foam. He passed the drink to the young man. “Extra dry.”

“Ah, my hero,” the young man wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his lips. “Mmm, delicious as always.” 

“Always?” Eskel asked, tearing his eyes away from the young musician’s long, slender fingers. “Y-you’ve been in here? I don’t—I’d’ve thought I’d remember you.” 

“Mhm, I usually pop in in the afternoons though, it’s typically Geralt over there who’s working.” He waggled his fingers over Eskel’s shoulder and he heard Geralt grunt in acknowledgment.

“Ah, yes. He takes over from me so I can go home and sleep. Well, rather forces me to. It’s hard to remember there’s a home when you spend most of your time at your own business. You hear people talk about self-care? Mine’s Geralt.”

And the young man, who Eskel thought was incapable of being any more charming, laughed so brightly and earnestly that Eskel could’t stop the grin that spread to his own face—not that he’d’ve wanted to. 

"I suppose that's what partners are for, isn't it?" he said flippantly, adding a dash of nutmeg to the foam in his cup and stirring in a little honey. 

"Pardon?" 

"To remind you there's something other than work, you know, house and family and—" 

"Oh, uh, no—business partner. Geralt's just a—well not just. He's my brother." 

"Ah! I'm so sorry, I just assumed... You know, urban cafe, tasteful decore, and then you mentioned he’s your self-care. Most people aren't that close with their siblings is all." 

Eskel nodded, "Our other brother's in charge of the kitchen. It's... a long story, but, here we are!" 

Eskel watched as the young man took a deep breath through his nose, seemingly steeling himself. He was then met with those striking eyes again as a napkin was slid across the counter, just barely brushing his fingertips. “In that case...would you like to get dinner sometime?”

"I—what?" Eskel shook his head, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

The young man smiled again,"It's alright. I'm just giving you a napkin with my number on it. You can use it to communicate with me. You know, texting? Call me? Maybe eat some food?" 

"But I—I don't understand, why?" 

The young man playfully rolled his eyes, "If you're not interested, you can just say so."

“No! No, I absolutely am, I’m ju-“ Eskel stammered, trying desperately to keep from sticking his foot in his mouth and driving the young man away,“I’m just not sure why you are.”

The young man just laughed brightly, his blue eyes flashing beneath dark lashes, "Because you're handsome, hard-working, and the way we've connected just now gives me a hunch. Besides, how long has it been since you had a chance to get away and go to dinner with someone?" 

Eskel eyed his customer, thought for a moment, and tapped the napkin before picking it up. "Walk first, then dinner. I hate starting dates like a third-degree."

The young man set down his coffee and held out his hand, beckoning to Eskel over the counter. As he came around, he offered his hand in return, and was shocked by the—could he call it intimacy?—of the musician’s hand gently closing around his. It may as well have been an embrace. “I-“ and of course his voice cracked. Eskel cleared his throat with a chuckle, finding those beautiful baby blues once more. “I’m Eskel.”

"Julian. Stage name is Jaskier. You can call me either, it doesn't really matter." 

Eskel smiled warmly, "It's nice to meet you, Julian." 

"Likewise, Eskel. I, uh, I should get going. But. Text me, we'll make plans."

Eskel watched as Julian left, his stride long and confident. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring into empty space, but at some point Geralt once again appeared to nudge against his shoulder. “Better save that napkin, brother.”

Eskel nodded at the flimsy paper in his hand, looking at the digits like they were an ancient cipher that needed decoding. "Better yet..." Geralt said, surreptitiously grabbing Eskel's phone from off the counter, unlocking it, and texting, Hope you have a good day.

"Here you go," Geralt said, handing the phone back to Eskel before pouring himself a drip.

Eskel’s stomach simultaneously lept into his throat and fell onto the floor. “Geralt,” he breathed, watching the *read* message pop up, “well now what? By the way,” Eskel suddenly turned, wagging his finger at the end of Geralt’s nose, “quit drinking all of the merchandise!”

“First off, now he can actually text you back instead of waiting to hear from you all day, which is exactly what would happen if left to your own devices. Secondly... Lambert said he wouldn’t tell you.” 

Eskel shook his head, mouth agape, “Unbelievable.”

Eskel’s fingers itched as he continued about his morning business, his phone silent in his pocket. He had nearly given it up as a lost cause when it finally chimed, and then he almost sent the phone flying across the store in his haste. 

So sorry for the late reply, Eskel. I was on the metro and then I had to run off downtown and then, alas, my phone died. I should really get one of those portable battery things. Ah well. Thank you for the well wishes!! It really brightened my day once I finally got them 😍😍😍

Eskel exhaled deeply. Okay, this was okay, this was good. He typed and deleted. Retyped. Deleted. Geralt reappeared over his shoulder, glancing at the text no worries, wanted to make sure you had my number. Geralt shook his head and took a sip of coffee before grabbing Eskel’s phone and typing, no worries, glad you got it sorted. Hope the metro wasn’t too much of a disaster. Geralt handed Eskel his phone to peruse the message.

“When did you get good at texting?” Eskel murmured as he pressed ‘send.’ Geralt merely shrugged as he ambled away, clearly in search of something to snack on as he finished inventory and ordering. Eskel called over his shoulder, “Would you please make more lemonade since you drank it all?!?!” 

As Geralt’s hum in the affirmative hit his ears so did the chime of his phone.

Not bad at all! Only one shouty person, and he didn't even hurl obscenities after me :D Although a mother with a very large stroller gave me a rather impressive side-eye as I sat down with my guitar tucked between my feet and mumbled something about manspreading. Some days it's the little things that get you through 🙃

Eskel replied, That sounds about right for 2 in the afternoon. Too bad you didn't see the Singing Man, he'll really give your day a kick you didn't know it needed.

You know what would give my day a good kick? A lovely walk with a lovely man ;) 

And Eskel blushed. Full on blushed. Lambert snorted from where he hovered in the doorway. 

“Go on, lover boy,” Lambert smirked, taking a bite out of another goddam slice of bacon. “We’ve got it covered.”

He rubbed his face. It was hard to think straight. He'd been up since 4:30, and part of him just wanted to go home and sleep, but it was also the first sunny day they'd seen in what felt like over a month, and the idea of a nice walk with some light conversation wasn't unappealing in the least. He frowned at Lambert, "How do you even know it's him that texted?" 

"Because you just turned three shades of pink and stared at your phone like it's a piece of alien technology." 

Eskel grumbled and turned back to his phone. Would be nice to get some company and fresh air. What part of town are you in? Meet in the middle?

Meanwhile, Julian was on the metro. Again. His leg bounced where he was sitting, reading the same paragraph of some random book over and over again. He knew it was a long shot coming all the way back to the coffee shop—Eskel might be done for the day and gone home or out doing shopping or—but it could be worth it. He lept off at his stop and bounded up the stairs, and his phone dinged with a delayed notification. He smiled at his phone and stowed it away, walking as fast as he possibly could until he saw the familiar sign of the coffee shop. Julian slowed down so that he didn’t cross the line from ‘windswept’ into ‘desperate’ and peered into the little window. He spotted Eskel immediately, his back to the door and speaking with another man behind the counter, presumably Lambert. Julian smiled and pushed open the door.

"Whoa-ho-ho, Pretty Boy at twelve o'clock." 

Eskel looked up from Jaskier's Spotify account and quickly closed his phone. "I suggested halfway, I hope you didn't come all the way across town."

Now it was Julian’s turn to stammer a bit, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth as his eyes swept across Eskel’s form. Since this morning, it had clearly been a busy day. His cheeks were flushed and his hair curling at the nape of his neck, and he had even caught a glimpse of luscious chest hair peeking out from the sharp v-neck that pulled across his chest. “I-“ Julian grinned to himself, come on, keep it together, “I was already on the metro when you texted back, so I figured I’d just...come here!”

Eskel narrowed his eyes and hummed. "Want a drink before we head out?" 

"Oh sure, we can't eat the merchandise but you can give away free drinks to anyone who flirts with you?" 

"I—You—would you just..." 

Jaskier cut in, "I think you'll find that actually exactly how it works. Bit of an unspoken code. People have started taking advantage of it to get free coffee, though. Makes it hard for those of us who mean it..." Julian's eyes met Eskel's for a lingering second and Eskel had to remind himself to breathe. "London Fog, please, Eskel. But I'm happy to pay. I know tea is less expendable." 

"Hm. See, Lambert? It's a barista thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes as Eskel steeped the Earl Gray in a bit of hot water, added vanilla, and steamed some milk. He carefully slid the finished beverage over the counter, one of his hands finding the tie at the back of his apron. “So...” he said, trying to decide between meeting or avoiding Julian’s intense gaze, “would you like that for here, or to go?”

"I think you'll find it's already in a to-go cup," Julian said, raising an eyebrow. 

"That's because we're getting the hell out of here," Eskel said, and—much to Julian's instant pleasure and amusement—fluidly traversed the service counter, landing deftly on the other side. "I just need to change my shoes, and I'll be up in a second." Julian looked down to see Eskel's black work shoes covered with espresso and nodded, blowing on his tea as he watched, leaving him with the Prickly Brother, staring at him as he chewed his bacon. 

Julian sipped his tea and peered over the rim at Lambert, who had been scowling at him the entire time. Though he didn’t take it personally, it was likely that was just his face. “So,” Julian started, thrumming his fingers on the side of the paper cup, “you’re the one who’s been eating all of the merchandise?”

Lambert scoffed and scowled sideways, the last piece of bacon sticking out from the corner of his mouth. He nudged himself off the back counter and swaggered close to Julian. "Listen. I don't know what your deal is. But if you fuck him over, you will have two very big, very pissed off brothers to deal with. Got it?" 

"Fuck him over what?"

"'Scuse me?" Lambert said, scowling harder. 

"You said not to fuck him over, but didn't specify what."

It took Lambert a moment, but he granted himself one singular chuckle for the little shit. “Alright, kid. Just- be careful with him.” 

Julian smiled gently, peering over Lambert’s shoulder to where Eskel was striding back into the shop. “He seems like the kind of guy that I will certainly be trying my best to keep around.”

“Better believe it. You can spend your whole life looking, you won’t find a better guy than Eskel. He’s a fucking goldmine. But he’s our goldmine. Take his shine, you answer to us.”

“Yes, sir,” Julian mock saluted as Eskel handed something to Lambert. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a piece of bacon. 

“Geralt’s in charge,” Eskel rumbled (which Julian found enticing) and with that, he turned on his heel and pulled open the door. He held it open and Julian smiled as the two of them stepped into the evening sun.

Eskel took a deep breath as soon as they stepped into the fresh air, letting the warm sunlight spill across his face. It was beautiful to look at. His hair glinted with little chestnut highlights and his arching eyebrows became even more pronounced in contrast with the brightness of his skin in the evening glow. Julian watched the muscles of his face relax, the pressure of greeting people slowly dissolving. His shoulders dropped, and he looked truly exhausted for a moment before opening his eyes and smiling softly. “So, Julian. Do you like dog parks?”

Julian braced an excited hand on the swell of Eskel’s arm (and my gods it was firm), “I would love to go to the dog park...but will it be odd if we just show up, without a dog?”

Eskel laughed and Julian felt his knees go a bit wobbly and he tucked his arm around Eskel’s for support. He noticed Eskel glance down. Ah, right, a bit forward. Easy Jaskier. Julian smoothly transitioned to holding his cup with both hands and Eskel smirked privately, appreciating the non-verbal understanding. “No, not really. We can find a bench if it’s not too cold, lots of people come by and watch. Not everyone in the city can have an animal, people are pretty understanding of onlookers.” Julian still looked skeptical, “c’mon, it’s not like going to a playground. I promise we won’t be creepy.”

“Well...” Jaskier smiled, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “lead the way.” 

Eskel walked slowly, stretching their time (and his legs) as much as he could. They made polite, easy small talk, finding little details about each other as they walked.

It turned out that they had surprisingly similar tastes in music, and Jaskier was both pleased and intimidated to learn that Lambert doubled as a DJ on weekends at one of the more popular clubs downtown. He was further surprised to learn that their father owned and operated one of the oldest Italian restaurants in the city and was quite famous because of it—he’d opened it as an homage to his Italian wife when she passed away unexpectedly—and while Papa Vesemir himself was Polish, he’d learned to cook from the best. 

It seemed they were a culinary family, in fact. Both Lambert and Geralt had trained in professional settings—Geralt had a background in baking, while Lambert had trained on the line with his father. Eskel, it turned out, preferred to be behind the bar. He liked people. Enjoyed making drinks. His father always joked that he had the “magic touch.” Every drink he made always came out tasting better, even if he followed the recipe to a T.

“So, why the coffee shop?” Julien asked as they rounded the corner of the dog park. They both smiled as they saw fluffballs of all shapes and sizes bounding around, and Eskel led them to a small bench.

He kicked his feet out in front of him and sipped his own coffee thoughtfully. “It was something we all knew how to do, and we saw a niche missing in the neighborhood. We had originally wanted to make it a bit more of a hub for artists and public resources—you know, host workshops, put up fliers, put artists’ work on the walls to sell. It isn’t quite where we want it yet, but it’s our old neighborhood. Wanted to give something back to the community. Plus, we like having regulars. You don’t get the same thing with restaurants. Cafes, though, you can get to know people better. Build loyalty.” 

Julian sat for a moment, looking at Eskel with a deeper appreciation than he already had. “You’re amazing,” he breathed, the words spilling from his lips without so much as a second thought. 

Eskel flushed even deeper, his neck a very pretty shade of pink. “I wouldn’t say all that...” 

“But I would,” Julian nodded, downing the remainder of his tea. “You’ve created something beautiful in a place that’s meaningful to you with your family, that’s amazing. And I’m allowed to say that, because I personally decide what is and is not amazing.”

“Fair enough,” Eskel raised an eyebrow and hid a smirk behind another sip of coffee. “It’s just... well everyone’s gone and opened up a coffee shop now, and it’s getting harder to see where our niche still sits. It’s a diverse neighborhood, we don’t want to alienate anyone, but we have to stay open... ah, I dunno. I suppose anything seems unremarkable if you’ve been waist-deep in the logistics for long enough.” 

“Do you have open mic nights?” 

“What?” 

“Open mic nights, you know, local artists bring their instruments, read poetry, play music, promote new albums while people buy alcohol and food?” 

Eskel tilted his head, “Huh...” 

“Yeah. Huh.” Julian nudged Eskel’s shoulder playfully. 

“The only issue with that is hours. We’d have to hire more staff and/or open later in the day so we can stay open.” 

“You could man a proper bar again,” Julian sang, jiggling his foot at the end of his crossed leg. 

Eskel reached an arm up and over and around Julian’s shoulder, “Julian, either you’re a remarkable person and I don’t know what on earth you could possibly want with me... or you’ve been sent by one of our competitors to play a long con and put us out of business.”

Julian tried valiantly to hide the shiver that ran down his spine just with the proximity, the weight of Eskel’s arm resting comfortably on his shoulders. “Well, if I told you that, then I’d have to kill you,” Julian smirked. Eskel threw his head back and laughed, reveling in the rejuvenating aura of the delight of a human that had deposited himself at his side.

“Hmmm, shall we keep walking? Or—I don’t want to keep you if you’ve got things to do,” his gaze on Julian was sincere and unassuming and the young musician was certain he’d never had less sense of any ulterior motives than he did in this moment. 

“I should drop my things home before work, actually. But we can walk for a bit in the same direction if you like.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Sure! Which way are we headed?” 

“I’m an Eastender,” Julian smirked. “Off we go!” He offered his elbow for Eskel to take, which he did—a little tentatively and far more gently than Julian would ever have expected from someone so... physically imposing.

Eskel could feel the persistent thrum of blood under his skin, but not in a way that signalled any particular desire. He felt comfortable, more content than he had been in a very long time, and he felt like he could easily waste an entire day doing exactly what they’d been doing for the last hour. Walking, talking, laughing... 

“What are you thinking about?” Julian asked, looking up at Eskel and stealing his breath in the same movement.

“I’m—uh—“ he cleared his throat again, “I’m thinking about how pleasant this has been and... also how comfortable I feel. I—well, I get the jitters, usually. With this kind of thing Which is not to say I haven’t still got them but,” they stopped walking for a moment, and Eskel turned to face his date, “what I’m trying to say is you’re very comfortable to be around. And that’s new.” 

“Wow... honesty. I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“I’m sorry did-did I...?” 

“Just make me more impressed?” That damn smile, “yes, I’m afraid you did. How tragic.”

Just like that, Eskel was lost again, caught up in those eyes that shone with an enigmatic innocence and penetrating observation that kept him looking and left him speechless. And Julian... well Julian was uncharacteristically at a loss for words in front of this stunningly kind, unbearably-gentle man he'd impulsively taken a chance on just a few hours ago because of a hunch. 

Eskel wondered whether Julian had leaned a bit closer during their few seconds of silence and countered, leaning forward a little himself. But he didn't want to make the young man think he was in it for the wrong reasons. The fact that he was older and larger wasn't lost on him, and the last thing he wanted was for Julian to feel any pressure. Those bright blue eyes flitted to Eskel's lips, and he swallowed, waiting. But Julian's intuition was too strong—Eskel was hesitating. Instead of following his eyes to the full, soft-looking lips in front of him, Julian placed his hands on Eskel's chest and dispersed the tension. 

“If we don’t keep walking I’m going to freeze my ass off,” Julian finally said. 

Eskel huffed a small laugh. “Come on then,” he jutted his chin, and the two started walking again. 

After a brief silence, Julian spoke, suddenly worried that Eskel felt rejected in some way, “For what it’s worth, I also feel quite comfortable. With you, I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I find I’m starting to move away from the Village scene. It’s always nice to have a community, of course, be able to go to a bar and know you’re in good company but... in the city, everyone’s trying on identities and—it’s all well and good, they should, but it’s just... well, it was fun for a while. I just want to play music and make people happy.” 

“Hm. I can relate to that.”

Julian stopped at the top of the street that would lead him to his apartment, not really wanting the evening to end, wondering whether Eskel was aware exactly how much he’d brightened Julian’s day. 

“C-would you...I mean, if I- or-“ Eskel stuttered, his fingers fiddling at his sides. 

“Go on...” Julian crooked his head with a gentle smile. 

“Would you mind if I came to one of your shows?”

Julian closed his hands around Eskel’s shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. “Good God, please come to one of my shows so I can look at a face that wants to be there instead of my bored friends.” 

“Well, I’m sorry it has to be my face,” Eskel fumbled in his self-consciousness, hearing the sound of his own distasteful insecurity. He grimaced inwardly. bad form, Eskel. 

“Hm. Clearly, you haven’t met my pimply weak-chinned-not-at-all-utterly-dashing friends.” It was so easy. Ludicrously easy, the way Julian made Eskel smile in that moment. It truly was a remarkable feat, one that none of Eskel’s former failed romances had ever navigated as easily, or as quickly.

“Thank you,” Eskel said quietly, only for Julian’s ears. 

“Whatever for?” Julian’s brow crinkled adorably and Eskel wanted to smooth the creases away with his thumbs. 

“For...for being bold. Because I know I wouldn’t have.”

“Oh please. This is all stage presence and bravado. I’ve been on the verge of a nervous breakdown since I wrote my number on that napkin. Listen, I’ve—ahh I hate to do this but I really have got to run. We can text later or I’ll pop by the cafe tomorrow and—“ 

“Absolutely, do your thing, I don’t want to make you late. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab dinner.” 

“I’ll check my schedule tonight. Should be free in the next few days. Have a good night, Eskel. I mean that.” Julian turned to go, but turned back, quickly pecking a kiss to Eskel’s right cheek, leaving the man standing with a half-smile of surprise on his face as he watched his new love interest scurry into his apartment.

Eskel walked back to the coffee shop, his cheeks pained from the smile that still hadn’t faded. The little bell above the door chimed and Geralt looked up from where was wiping down the counter, and Eskel heard a loud clang as Lambert dropped a metal pan and came running to the front of the now-empty cafe.

Eskel stood in front of his brothers. Geralt’s hand stopped where it was mid-wipe and Lambert fidgeted where he stood, hands on his hips. “So??”

Eskel hadn’t seen Lambert this energetic in a long time, and stood silently, drinking in his little brother’s excitement. Geralt came out from behind the counter, “Eskel. I don’t want to beat it out of you, but you’re leaving me with very few options.” 

“Nah, Geralt, you gotta use smaller words. He’s clearly having a stroke. Eskel!” Lambert clapped loudly, “How did. It go. With Pretty Boy. C’mon, we’re tryna close up here!”

Eskel finally spoke, “I—yeah, it was great. I, uh, I really like him.” 

“Fucking finALLY, BROTHER, THAT’S FUCKIN’ AMAZING!” Lambert practically jumped on Eskel, and Geralt sauntered over to put an arm around his shoulder. “You call Dad yet?” 

“No, I want to wait. I want to make sure this time. Don’t wanna get his hopes up. Plus he’s... well, he’s a bit younger—“ 

Lambert cut him off, “Whoa, I’m gonna stop you right there. What do you always do?” 

“Self-sabotage.” 

“Exactly. So shut up with that shit. You like him, yes?” 

“Yes. Definitely, very much.” 

“And he likes you.” 

“Well I mean—“ 

“That wasn’t a question. He likes you. End of discussion. He’s an adult, let him decide what he wants. Geralt?” 

“Surprisingly sound logic, coming from you. Frightening, actually.”

Eskel nodded along as his brothers bickered back and forth. He felt like he was floating on air, without a tether to the ground. 

“Oh, fuck, he’s really gone for him isn’t he?” Lambert muttered, watching Eskel’s eyes glaze over once more.

Eskel smirked and shook his head, “Fuck off, Lambert.” He playfully shoved his brother’s head to the side and went to count out the till and take it downstairs. He just sat down by the safe when his phone pinged.

Free for dinner day-after-tomorrow, playing a gig tomorrow night and Friday. Which would you prefer first?

Eskel smiled and typed out a response of his own, sending it before he could rethink it. Could I come to tomorrow’s gig and take you to dinner Thursday? I really want to see you again.

He felt his breath immediately quicken, but his hand was steady as he waited for a reply. 

*...* 

*...* 

*...* 

Oh Jesus God please just reply...

Gig tomorrow is at 8:30, Gibson’s Pub in Corktown. $5 cover and also $5 Mill St. on tap. Dinner on Thursday it is. Not fussy, but nothing too spicy. Your choice 😊

Not quite sure what we should do for dinner, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. I won’t miss it for the world. Meanwhile, Eskel knew exactly where he’d be going for dinner. He shot off a text to his father and requested a quiet table for 2 at his restaurant. Papa Vesemir never asked too many questions, but he knew he’d have to explain later.

If you have the opportunity to save the world rather than listen to me play Wonderwall at someone’s request, please do. You can hear that literally any time you want.

For my favorite son, what wouldn’t I do?

Eskel replied to both: That’s a tall order. Watching you begrudgingly play Wonderwall could let me die a happy man.

Thanks, Pops. I know you’re not working that night, just tell Giulio nothing fancy, okay? Just a normal two-top.

Eskel’s phone dinged twice more: Oh my gods, you really are trying to kill me aren't you? You’re too sweet ;)

Mhm.

Eskel continued on with Julian, content with leaving Vesemir to finish his night. Don’t get me wrong, there would be a deep amusement in knowing how much you definitely hate that song by now.

Oh, I absolutely despise it and it needs to go die horribly in a dumpster somewhere. At least now I’ll have a confidante tomorrow evening. You know, someone to really share my suffering with.

Will you play any of your originals? 

Would you like me to?

Only if you want. I understand if you’d rather not share them right away. 

Julian was quickly realizing the extent to which he had, very much, struck a gold mine. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder what was waiting around the corner to make things not work out This Time. But he shoved those thoughts back. I share my music every week with people who’ve either heard it all before, or are too distracted to really care. Mostly Tinder dates trying to gain hipster points. Please. I would be so happy to know you’re there and actually wanting to listen.

Eskel felt his heart flutter in his chest as he rested his elbows on the desk with a crooked smile. 

I can’t wait, I’m sure they’re wonderful :) Eskel wasn’t really one to use emojis, but this one just kinda...slipped out.

He was whistling by the time he got to the top of the stairs and his brothers were already waiting for him, jackets on, lights out, floors mopped, door ready to be locked. 

“Dinner? Eskel said, trying to wipe what he knew was a stupid grin off his face. 

“Where to, lover boy?” 

Eskel deferred to Geralt, “Hmmm. China down?” 

“Mother Dumpling?” Eskel offered, pulling his collar up as they headed out, Geralt and Lambert sounding their agreement. With the cafe door closed and locked, the three brothers headed out into the evening.

#eskel/jaskier #jaskel #fluff #coffeeshop au #modern au

[psychewithwings]

Confessions: Shikamaru NSFW

WARNINGS: Sex, dirty talk

This fic is brought to you by  ‘______ song slowed down’ videos on youtube.

You had waited for over an hour at the park bench before he responded to your many text messages.

Where r u?

U coming?

Hello?                         Cant make it                         Sorry

You didn’t respond. You were crushed. You had talked with him the night before about this and had hardly slept. This was the first guy you had liked since you’d broken up with your ex and he hadn’t shown? You began to walk home but a sudden fear of being alone caused you to change direction. You walked to Shikamaru’s apartment instead, figuring that it was only a little after 9:00… You sent him a quick text:

Can I come over?

It was delivered but unopened. Typical for Shikamaru. His apartment was on the third floor, on the left. As you approached you could see that his lights were on and you felt relieved. You climbed the stairs and checked you phone. He still hadn’t opened the message. You hoped that he wouldn’t be too annoyed with your sudden appearance. You took a deep breath and knocked on the door. You stood there and waited.  Eventually the door opens. He’s standing there shirtless with black sweatpants on, the waistband of his boxers showing. He raises an eyebrow at you, “yes?” You start trying to tell him what happened but you’re so embarrassed. His eyes scanned your face, as he analyzed your every move. “He didn’t-“ you started, “he didn’t show,” he finished. You nodded, laughing a little at the irony. Shikamaru wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you into his living room. “You wanna finish this movie with me?” he asked and you nodded grateful that he’s so understanding. 

You slid onto the couch and Shikamaru handed you a blanket. He sat down next to you and propped his feet on the coffee table which was littered with half empty snack bags and containers. He grabbed a box of cookies and you rested your head on his shoulder. He pushed the remote and the movie began to play. You sat there in silence trying to figure out what was going on in the plot of the film. “Hmm?” he offered you a cookie and you took one. “Is there something wrong with me?” you asked as you bit into the Nilla Wafer. Shikamaru shook his head, a cookie in his mouth. “Theres nothing wrong with you, guy’s a drag,” he offered. You nodded but you couldn’t get the thought out of your head. “It’s just that this happens a lot… I would be the common denominator.” Shikamaru set down the box of cookies. “Y/n, listen to me, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you… you just pick the wrong guys.” You were feeling prickly upon hearing this. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?” you said staring at him brow furrowed. Shikamaru rolled his eyes, “you know what I mean, don’t take it personally.” Okay he was really starting to get on your nerves. “Do you think I choose this on purpose? You think I want people who treat me poorly?” You turned towards him awaiting for his answer. “Fuck! Thats not what I meant okay? But if you want honesty, and I think you need some, yeah, I do think that you pick people like that on purpose. But because I don’t think you understand what you deserve.” You felt tears pricking your eyes, you were ready to be angry and have it out with him but you just felt stunned. “W-what?” you questioned. His eyes were intense on yours, and for a split second they flicked down to look at your mouth. He was sitting forward, as if he was awaiting something. Then he grabbed your shoulder with one hand and the back of your head with the other. He pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours. It was shocking, like an explosion. His lip moved with such skill as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. He pulled back to gauge your reaction. “You deserve to be treated like this,” he said and he kissed you again. His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you opened your mouth, allowing him to feel your tongue against his. It felt so good to have him this close, but it was also confusing and becoming an all consuming desire. Your hands tangled in his pony tail. He gently bit down on your bottom lip again and this time you let out a soft sigh. He growled in response and moved his mouth down to your neck. He nipped and kissed his way to your collar bone, “mmm, so good,” you said softly. He looked up at you and said, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long…” You moved your hands down to his shoulders, “Shikamaru.” He looked at you his face falling a bit, perhaps he was expecting the worst. “Do you actually… like me? Or do you just wanna hook up with me?” you asked softly. He took your hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart was hammering against his ribs. “Y/n, I like you… more than you even know.”

You didn’t need to say anything in response, instead you climbed over him and kissed his lips. His hands began to caress your back and stomach under your shirt. You sat on his hips and pulled your shirt over your head. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he gripped on your waist. His hand moved up to your breasts and he brushed his thumb around the cup of your bra. He sat up, tugged the cup down, and took your nipple in his mouth. He pulled at it with his teeth and you moaned, “oh- oh my god.” He used his tongue to move to your other breast where he repeated the process. Every swirl of his tongue on your skin was done with care. He wasn’t gentle, but every time he touched you it was conscious. He trailed his kisses up to your neck and he bit down just below your jaw. His fingers trailed to the wet spot that was soaking your panties. “Oh you’re so fucking wet… All for me?” He started rubbing your clit through your panties. “It’s all yours Shikamaru,” you whined. “Good girl,” he praised. He started rubbing harder and your hands reached down and began  stroking his cock through his pants. He laid you down and removed his clothes, then your panties. He groaned upon seeing you for the first time. He couldn’t resist and his fingers sunk into you. “Ah- oh- Shikamaru,” you cried as they curled inside you. His other hand stroked his cock. It was as if he was so full of desire that he wasn’t sure where to go next. He pulled his fingers out of you and sucked them. “You taste so good,” he said, “taste.” He stuck his fingers in your mouth next, the combination of you and his spit driving you wild. You rolled your tongue around his fingers and his eyes rolled back in his head. When his eyes met yours next, they were dark with lust. He was over you and then inside you in seconds. You moaned as his cock filled you. He began to fuck you hard. Your nails were digging into his back… Was it even possible for a man to go this deep? He kissed you through your ragged breaths. “You’re-so-fuck-ing-good-“ you said as he continued to slam into you with a relentless pace. You felt yourself getting close, the feeling of clenching around his cock driving you delirious. It was right as you were about to cum that he began to slow down and soften his thrusts. “Wh-what are you-?” Shikamaru laughed softly. “Do you know how long I’ve thought about this? Getting to kiss you and be inside you? I’m gonna take my time with you.” You began to push your hips into his. The more you pushed towards him the more he pulled away. “Please,” you whined, caressing a hands down his cheek. He smiled and much too slowly sunk back into you. He stopped moving then altogether. “Pleeease Shikamaru, please, please, please.” You peppered kisses on his face as you begged him. “Please what, princess?” He was driving you crazy. You ground your hips into his hoping for any kind of friction. “Please fuck me, please let me cum all over your cock, please cum inside me.” You figured you could play his game a bit, tease him with words and ideas while he teased you with his cock. He began to pick up the pace slightly; you could see in his eyes that he was intrigued by your words. “I need you so fucking bad Shikamaru,” you begged. He groaned in response and began to slam his hips into yours. Your built up desire was starting to break. You came almost instantly, hard, squeezing his cock. He did not stop his relentless pace, “did you cum already, sweet girl? I think you can take more,” he said as his hand reached for your clit. He began to rub soft circles as he fucked you. You were surprised by how quickly the fire returned to your abdomen. Your breath hitched in your throat, “cum for me again, let me feel it again.” It was as if your body was listening more than your brain. You’d hardly processed what he said before you were squeezing his cock again. This time you could tell he was close to his own release. His eyes shut tight and his left hand gripped your hip. He moaned your name as he painted your insides.

That was the first of four rounds that night. You woke up naked and in his arms, on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Your legs were intertwined with his, and the throw blanket was wrapped around you. You weren’t sure how long you’d slept exactly, just that it was more of a nap than a full nights sleep. You moved slightly and felt his lips on your neck. “Y/n?” he said, his voice groggy. “Hmm?” You rolled over to face him. “I want you to be mine,” he said without hesitation. A smile crossed your face, “I’m all yours… as long as I can call you mine too.” He took your hand and placed it over his heart. “I’m yours,” he whispered.

#shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #shikamaru x y/n #smut #I wish I had this man #more men like this #true love #true love only in anime? #I hope not #I think we all deserve this

[vampiregirl1797]

Hopeless: Chapter Seven

Klaus Mikaelson x OC

GIF Not Mine

Click Here For Masterlist

I groaned at the dull aching in my neck as I regained consciousness, proof that my neck had been snapped. When the memories of what had happened came back to me my eyes jumped open. Everything was upside down and it took about three seconds for me to realise I was tied to a tree by my feet, leaving me the wrong way up. I was glad that my skirt had been tied into the knot that secured my feet, for that would have been a whole other problem. Just as I reached up to break the ropes, a hand stopped me.

 ‘Why am I upside down?’ I asked the alpha, hoping conversation would delay the inevitable.

 I could tell that night had completely fallen now, fire torches were the only things lighting the clearing, though I was surprised he was the only one there.

‘I’ve been bleeding you out.’ He replied, and he was right, I hadn’t noticed the dried blood on my arms until that moment, or the pools of crimson on the floor, ‘I’m going to release you just before the moon reaches its apex and we’re going to chase you down.’

 ‘That sounds like fun.’ I muttered sarcastically, ‘what is that, some kind of wolf bonding exercise?’

 ‘As a matter of fact, yes it is.’ He grinned and it was all teeth.

 ‘Well then where is everyone?’

 ‘A mile away, gotta give you a head start or it will be over far too soon.’ He said, casually bringing a blade to my wrist and dragging it down to my elbow.

 I bit back my scream of pain when he repeated the action on my other arm before throwing the blade to the ground.

 ‘That should be enough. The moon will be rising soon, enjoy your last few moments, blood sucker.’ He sneered and walked away, leaving me struggling to stay conscious from the blood loss.

 When I was sure he was out of earshot I tried to lean up again, but I couldn’t find the strength. I couldn’t die like this, Klaus knew why the ritual failed before, but I needed to make sure that this time was a success. My family and friends were counting on me. I felt my stubborn streak rise up inside of me and I managed to reach the ropes. It took a lot longer than it should have, but I managed to snap the rope and when I landed on the ground I untied my legs and unsteadily got to my feet. Taking a deep breath, I focused my hearing—the pack was definitely close and they were in the path I would need to take to reach the Mikaelson mansion. I inwardly cursed and started heading in that direction, being sure to stay as far away from them as possible when I reached them. The relief at making it past them didn’t last long as after about five minutes of stumbling I heard bones breaking. They had started. I’d learned from Tyler that the more wolves transformed, the quicker the transformation happened. I was willing to bet that these wolves had transformed more than a few times. Using my last bit of strength I flashed forward, managing to make it to the woods directly in front of the house.

 ‘Klaus!’ I yelled but looked behind me when I heard twigs breaking.

 When I was met with several fully transformed wolves I felt my stomach drop. I saw one lunge for me and I closed my eyes, fully ready to accept that I was as good as dead. A whimper followed by a crash made my eyes snap open in surprise and what I saw surprised me and relieved me at the same time. Klaus had thrown the wolf that had lunged at me into a tree with enough force to knock it out, and was steadily working his way through dismembering the others. With his strength and speed it didn’t take him long to deal with the four that had caught up with me. Before I knew it, he was in front of me, his hands grasping my upper arms, but I barely registered it, because he was looking at me with an expression of pure worry on his face. Though admittedly, due to my weakened state he was a little unfocused and so my sight wasn’t completely reliable. There was no way he was concerned about me.

 ‘Evangeline, look at me.’ His hand went to the side of my face, bringing my gaze to his.

 ‘They’re coming.’ I murmured and I was grateful he was holding me because if he weren’t, I would have fallen to the floor.

 ‘Let’s get you inside, love,’ he whispered, but before he could lift me up, the sound of growling filled the air.

 Klaus’ face hardened and he shifted me to stand behind him as he faced the newcomers. I felt my knees buckle without him supporting me and I was helpless to stop myself from falling to the floor. I was sure I was about to pass out, but before I could I felt a sharp sting in my side that made me scream before blackness consumed me once again.

 Klaus’ POV

 ‘Elijah!’ I yelled as I rushed into the house, carrying Evangeline’s body in my arms.

 I had managed to destroy all of the wolves, but not before one had bitten her. The feeling that accompanied me hearing her shout for me was a feeling I hadn’t felt in centuries—complete and utter fear.

 ‘What happened?’ Elijah’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

 ‘A wolf bit her.’ I growled, blinking away the tears in my eyes, ‘find me a witch, any witch.’

 ‘Brother—,’ Elijah started, probably about to remind me that no witch was going to be able to stop the inevitable but I didn’t want to hear it.

 ‘Now!’ I roared before taking Evangeline to my room.

 I laid her down onto the bed, brushing her hair out of her face and frowning at how pale she had already gotten. Wolf bites wouldn’t usually work so quickly, but the state she had already been in was hurrying the process along at an alarming rate. Watching helplessly as she deteriorated wasn’t something I wanted to do, so I decided to take a different approach. I took her hand in mine and opened up my mind before delving into hers.

 Evangeline’s POV

 The smell of bacon cooking roused me from my sleep. It must have been Saturday; mom always cooked bacon on the first day of the weekend as well as pancakes. I rolled out of bed and pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, smiling when I heard Elena skipping down the hall. After grabbing my dressing gown I followed after her, eager to eat breakfast. Today was going to be a good day.

 ‘Good morning family,’ I greeted brightly, ruffling Elena’s hair on my way past her to take my seat.

 ‘Hey!’ she complained around a mouthful of bacon, making me chuckle.

 ‘You’re chipper this morning.’ Mom said with a little laugh, her hand coming to the side of my face for a moment before falling away.

 ‘I have a good feeling. I’m gonna roll with it.’ I said in between mouthfuls of pancakes, ‘is dad already at work?’

 ‘Yeah one of his patients went into labour early this morning. He went to the surgery from there.’ Mom answered after taking a sip of coffee.

 ‘When’s aunt Jenna getting here?’ Elena asked, standing from the table and loading her dishes in the dishwasher.

 ‘This afternoon.’ Mom said, watching Elena’s movements with a knowing eye, ‘although she’s staying longer than she planned so if you want to go to this party tonight, you’ll get to see her tomorrow.’

 ‘Really?’ Elena’s expression brightened and when mom nodded she squealed and ran over to hug her.

 ‘Same rules apply. In by eleven and no drinking.’ Mom gave her a stern look and Elena nodded with an innocent expression.

 I laughed but then something occurred to me—this had already happened. This exact day was the day my mom and dad had died. How was this happening? Was I dreaming?

 ‘Sweetie would you get that?’ Mom said, patting my arm.

 ‘Get what?’ I frowned.

 ‘The door.’ She smiled, and at that moment the doorbell rang.

 I stood to answer it, a feeling of uncertainty burrowing in my gut, but when I opened the door a feeling of relief washed over me.

 ‘Klaus.’ I breathed, stepping out onto the porch with him.

 ‘Hello, love.’ He smirked, though he was surprised when I leaped into his arms and hugged him hard—he was the only connection I had to genuine reality right now. Last I remembered I was running from some wolves in the fifteenth century and I’d reached Klaus’ arms.

 ‘I must say, this is not what I was expecting the future to look like.’ His comment distracted me from my worry and I pulled back from him to give him an amused look.

 ‘Ah, yes, you’re dressed how I’m used to seeing you.’ I joked, observing his shorter hair, brown leather jacket and jeans.

 ‘I much prefer the fashion here.’ He said looking over his own outfit. When his gaze moved over to mine he looked a mixture of confused and amused.

 ‘Believe it or not, nightwear is much more comfortable in the future.’ I told him, very matter-of-fact.

 ‘I can see that.’ He smirked and offered me his arm, which I took after smiling in bemusement at the gesture, ‘show me around your little town, love.’

 ‘Is that a good idea?’ I wondered but I led him to my car anyway, pleased to find my keys in the jacket of my bathrobe, ‘showing you what life will be like in six hundred years?’

 ‘It can’t hurt,’ he smiled, taking a moment to observe my car in amazement before climbing into the passenger seat, ‘what is this?’

 ‘It’s called a car, not as traditional as a horse and carriage, but it gets you where you need to go.’ I teased, deciding not to turn on the radio in favour of not wanting him to combust.

 ‘So where are you taking me?’ Klaus wondered, staring at the surroundings with wrapt interest.

 ‘I’m taking you to the Mystic Grill. It’s the prime hangout here.’ I informed him, pulling into an empty parking spot and gesturing at the establishment, ‘you can see how different alcohol tastes in the future.’

 ‘Lead the way love.’ Klaus smiled following me out of the car and into the bar.

 It was exactly how I remembered it that day; of course I’d originally come for lunch with my mom. The people were all there, Matt was busting tables, and Tyler was playing pool with Vicki hovering around him. I smiled faintly at the familiarity, of course in reality, Vicki wasn’t alive and neither was my Mom or Dad. I didn’t know why I was having this “dream” but I was going to roll with it for as long as I could.

 ‘Two bourbons please, Jeff,’ I grinned at the middle-aged man behind the bar.

 Klaus slipped into the stool next to mine and accepted the drink with an amused smirk.

 ‘Of all the things you could have had me doing… this is not what I expected.’ He commented, taking a sip of the bourbon.

 ‘This is the day my parents died,’ I murmured, smiling slightly when his eyes widened in surprise, ‘I woke up to pancakes and mom letting Elena go to this party she’s been asking about all week. I would have come to the Grill for lunch with my mom and then headed over to the library to start my summer reading.’

 ‘Summer reading?’

 ‘I was about to start my first semester at collage…’ I continued when he looked confused, ‘it’s somewhere you can go to get refined skills in specific subjects. I was there most of the day, and I went home to dinner with my family, apart from Elena. It was going perfectly well, until Elena called for a ride home. Mom and Dad left but never came back.’

 ‘Being heartbroken over the loss of a parent is not something I can relate to,’ he admitted, looking down for a moment before looking over to me, ‘but I’m sorry, love.’

 ‘I miss them every day. But it does get easier.’ I murmured, ‘I hate to say that because it shouldn’t should it? The pain of missing them should grow every day, not lessen.’

 ‘Those who love us, never truly leave us.’ Klaus said softly, his hand resting on top of mine, ‘you don’t need to feel guilty about not missing them as much because they’re always going to be with you.’

 I hadn’t realised I was crying until he gently wiped away the tears from my cheeks. I cleared my throat.

 ‘Thank you. I needed to hear that.’ I smiled softly and shook my head, ‘come on, I want to show you something.’

 Klaus allowed me to drag him back to my car, where I drove him to Mystic Falls High School. I grinned at him as he eyed the building curiously.

 ‘This is where I went to high school,’ I told him, taking his hand and leading him to the front doors, ‘of course it’s the weekend, but we have supernatural strength.’

 I shot him a mischievous look that made him chuckle as I broke the chains that had the doors locked. After throwing them to the ground, I opened them and led him inside.

 ‘How long were you in high school for?’ Klaus asked, glancing around at the lockers, classrooms and stopping to look at the class case that held pictures of past sports teams.

 ‘Four very long years.’ I said very melodramatically.

 ‘You didn’t enjoy it?’ he wondered.

 ‘Sometimes I did.’ I nodded, ‘and sometimes I didn’t. It was a… unique experience. Of course, when I graduated, every time I came back to this school it was for something bad.’

 ‘How do you mean?’ He frowned and I pursed my lips, debating whether to tell him—I had held back the fact Elena was a doppelgänger on purpose when I told him about the future the other day. But it seemed futile now, what difference did it make with him knowing about Elena?

 ‘I’ll show you.’ I said, an idea forming as I dragged him to the cafeteria, I pulled him into the corner and let the memory of Elena and I being attacked by one of the tomb vampires play out in front of us.

 We had both managed to fight him off, using pencils and I even managed to steak him in the back. Before he could retaliate out of anger, Damon and Stefan had arrived.

 ‘Your sister is the next doppelgänger.’ Klaus realised, looking over to me with an astonished look on his face, ‘that’s why you want me to complete the ritual now.’

 ‘It’s one of the reasons.’ I nodded, hoping I wasn’t making the wrong decision by telling him, but at the same time I knew I hadn’t.

 ‘What are the others?’ He asked, squeezing my hand gently.

 I had already told him what he had done when he came to Mystic Falls, but maybe showing him would help him understand more. I took a deep breath and imagined we were back at my house, internally cursing myself for driving around when I could have manipulated the scenes around me. When I opened my eyes, we were stood in the hallway and I silently pulled Klaus so we were standing side by side, looking in on the living room.

 ‘Those are the reasons.’ I smiled softly watching Elena and Jeremy arguing over who got the last valentine’s chocolate.

 Jenna walked in from the kitchen and took the box out from the middle of them, telling them that seeing as she was the only one not to receive anything for valentines, she deserved it. Jeremy and Elena didn’t argue, holding up their hands in surrender.

 ‘That’s my aunt Jenna.’ I said softly, being careful to keep the anger out of my voice, ‘I told you about her. ��You turned into a vampire and used in the ritual to unlock your werewolf side.’

 Klaus looked surprised, glancing in between me, and the light-hearted family scene that was taking place in the next room. I looked away from him, taking in every detail I could. The sound of Jenna’s laugh, the way she teased Jeremy over his valentine, which Elena enjoyed until she turned her antics on the older Gilbert sibling.

 ‘You miss her,’ he noted, when my eyes flickered over to him I noticed he was watching me.

 ‘I do. When our parents died she was all we had. She suddenly had three teenagers that she was obligated to care for overnight and honestly I don’t know how any of us would have gotten through it without her.’ I felt tears trailing down my cheeks, but didn’t bother with wiping them away.

 His hand came up to the side of my face to wipe the moisture away, and I felt myself unintentionally leaning into his touch, but something broke the moment. A sharp pain flared up in my side and I whimpered, pulling away from Klaus to lift up my shirt, revealing a bite mark.

 ‘Is this real?’ I asked in a small voice, not meeting his eyes in fear for what I’d find.

 ‘Yes,’ he said reluctantly, his index finger went to my chin to force me to meet his gaze, ‘I have Elijah on his way with a witch.’

 ‘There’s only one cure for a werewolf bite.’ I told him, suddenly weak—apparently I’d been distracted from reality for as long as I could. The irony wasn’t lost in me—the two pieces of information I’d wanted to keep to myself, I had ended up telling him in less than twenty-four hours.

 ‘What is it?’ he demanded urgently.

 ‘Your blood.’ I said simply and I felt the alternate world we were consumed in collapse around me.

 ‘Klaus?’ I groaned; I could feel the fever burning underneath my skin, the sweat and the pain erupting from my side.

 ‘Here, love.’ He said and my eyes snapped open when I smelled blood.

 His wrist was in front of my face, a bite mark already in place to release the blood from underneath his skin. I could feel the veins growing underneath my eyes at the sight; I had been weak and hungry before I’d been bitten and now it had increased ten fold.

 ‘I might take too much.’ I warned him, already bringing his wrist to my mouth and moaning when a few drops spilled onto my lips.

 ‘Take as much as you need. It won’t kill me.’ Klaus assured me, lifting my head up to make it easier.

 Without further hesitation, I allowed my vampire face to come forward and I bit into his skin, savouring the taste of his blood on my tongue. He tasted exquisite; even better than the first time I tasted blood. I didn’t think it was possible, humans were supposed to be the best food source for vampires, but I could have easily survived on Klaus’ blood without any complaint. I drank until the fever broke, until the pain stopped, until the wound on my side stitched itself back together, and my hunger was satisfied. When I was finished, Klaus wasn’t any worse for wear; he continued gently stroking my hear and when my fangs withdrew from his skin, he kissed my forehead and lay me back down on the bed, where I went without complaint. I was more than happy to sleep, as the whole days events had been more than exhausting.

 Klaus’ POV

 I heard her breathing even out and felt myself release a sigh of relief that she had been right; my blood had cured her werewolf bite. She was going to be okay. Now that I knew that, I was fully able to digest all of the information she had given me while I’d been inside of her head. What she had both told me and shown me in the last twenty-four hours made me realise a few things. First, she was telling the truth about coming back for her family, and I couldn’t blame her, because her sister would have had to die for the ritual to be completed. Second, she was one of the strongest women I knew; she lost her parents, her aunt, her life and she was the one who shouldered the responsibility for her family. Third, I vowed that even if Katherine got away this time, I was never going to walk into her life and tear it apart like I had before, because… she didn’t hate me. She should have, but she didn’t. That was made clear when she comforted me by the river and told me she wasn’t going to blame me for something I hadn’t done yet, when she easily could have and with reasonable justification. And another reason that I wouldn’t hurt her sister, or any members of her family was because I wouldn’t be the reason that her life was ripped away from her, hindering her from living a full immortal life. I couldn’t hurt her. Not when I was more than certain that my affection for her was starting to become more than me fancying her. There were a few things that needed to be done, to assure that Evangeline went back to the future she deserved.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson imagine #Klaus Mikaelson x OC #the originals #the vampire diaries

[berjhawn]

Angel On Fire - Ch. 6 - An Honorary Elf

Warnings: Heartbreaks ; angst ; fluff ; 

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader ; Thorin Oakenshield X Reader ; Bucky X Reader X Thorin ; Marvel X Reader X Hobbit

Summary:  Heartbroken and Lost the reader finds herself stranded in a strange but familiar land filled with creatures of fantasy. joining the company of Thorin Oakenshield, (Name) travels across Middle Earth in search of a way to make it back to her home and the people that love her.

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

Staring out over the balcony I find myself suddenly starting to think about Thorin and our conversation the day before. We had some things in common and that alone made him easier to understand. There was also the way my mind and body kept reacting to him. It was confusing and yet a bit exciting. As I stare at the water cascading down over the rocks, I feel someone walk up behind me and I turn to see Elrond watching me intently as he walks up to lean against the rail alongside me.

“I see you chose to remain in your own clothing.” He says and I nod as I smooth down my t-shirt.

“Yeah, no offense to you or your kind; but your dresses didn’t really fit me.”

“None taken; besides I have a feeling you are more comfortable in this.”

“You’d be right.” I reply a smile covering my lips.

“You’re not with the rest of your company?” He asks and I shake my head.

“I needed some time to think. My mind’s been a little weird lately.” I reply looking back out to the waterfall.

“About?” He asks and I shake my head.

“I have no idea really. There are so many things running through my head.” I pause my eyes meeting his for a moment before he ushers me to continue. “I mean I should be missing my home and everything there; but this place,” I pause taking in the scenery, “No, so far this whole world feels more like my home than where I came from.”

“That does not surprise me.” He replies making me meet his gaze. “There is something about you and how you came to be here that makes me think you are not too far off in your belief. Something or someone brought you here, whether they were good or not is the mystery.”

“I just wish I knew why I was here. Like, I feel like I shouldn’t veer too far from the company but… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You may not know for some time what your reason for being here is,” He pauses turning towards me his hands reaching up to rest on my shoulders, “But if for any reason you may change your mind about staying with them, you will always have a place with the elves. Whether it be here in Rivendell, the great kingdom of Lothlorien, or even with the woodland elves of the Greenwood; you will always be welcome.”

“You know little to nothing about me, yet you and your kin would welcome me so warmly? Why?” I ask brows knitted together in confusion.

“I believe you may find that we are more alike than you know,” He states making me cock an eyebrow at him in surprise. “That and I find you most interesting. If you should need my help do not hesitate to ask. Also, there is someone who would like to meet you later. If you wouldn’t mind meeting them, I would greatly appreciate it.” Then giving my arms a quick pat, he disappears down the hall leaving me there to stare after him with a whole new load of confusion on my mind.

“This place is just one confusion after another.” I say running my hands through my hair. Turning back to the waterfall I let out an annoyed groan and brace myself up against the railing. I knew he meant well but I couldn’t help being skeptical of him. That’s how I was wired. Taking a deep breath, I compose myself and turning around head back to where the dwarves were camped out.

Upon reaching where they were being housed, I let out a chuckle as they were all laughing and convening around a fire. Shaking my head, I go to walk over to them when I spot Thorin sitting off by himself overlooking the city of Rivendell. I decide to go over and chat with him. Walking over to him, I clear my throat to let him know I was there. He turns towards me and a smirk covers his lips as he says, “Hello (Name),”

“Hey, mind some company?” I ask and he motions to the spot next of him.

“Be my guest, I was just lost in thought.” He replies folding his arms over his chest.

“About?” I inquire rubbing my arms unconsciously.

“I may not have told you everything about how we were driven from our homes?”

“Oh?”

“When my grandfather was presented with the Arkenstone, he became mad with a sickness for gold. It consumed him, my father succumbed to the same sickness and now I fear…” He pauses his eyes looking down at his hands.

“You worry you will do the same when reunited with the mountain.” I finish for him as he nods. “I don’t know much about dragon sickness, but I have faith that since you have seen this sickness effect your own family, you know what to be on the watch for. You will be stronger than your father and grandfather and you will not succumb to the sickness.” I pause, my hand reaching out to take his as I gently give is squeeze. “You will be a wonderful king.”

Thorin remains quiet but his gaze is fixed on mine. My breath catches at the fire in his deep blue eyes and I suddenly become very self-conscious as I slip my hand from his, a slight flush filling my cheeks. Looking from him I feel my heart start to race in my chest and I silently curse it as I hope he cannot hear its thunderous beating.

“Do you mean it?” He asks as he turns slightly to face me. “About me being a great king?”

“I do.” I reply my eyes focused on the scenery in front of me. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

“Thank you, (Name).” He says his voice soft and velvety.

“No problem.” I reply a lump forming in my throat making me clear my it.

“I know we haven’t really talked about it, but what are you planning to do now?” He asks and I tilt my head in confusion as my eyes meet his.

“Well I figured I’d still travel with you guys. I mean it’s beautiful here and I was already told I could stay but…”

“But what?” he asks turning just enough that he is now facing me completely.

“I don’t know, I just feel like there is something telling me to go with you.” I answer making a burning emotion fill his eyes causing me to stammer as I add, “You all,” I cough a few times. “I meant with you all.”

“Well,” He pauses his hand reaching out to gently take my own. “We all would be glad to have you with us.”

I am about to thank him when the sound of someone clearing their throat catches my attention making me jump back away from Thorin as I pull my hand from his own. I turn toward the person to see Gandalf standing there eyeing the two of us suspiciously.

“May I borrow our young friend for a moment Thorin?” Gandalf asks and Thorin nods.

“Of course,”

“Come along (Name), Elrond wishes to speak with you.” Gandalf announces making me nod in agreement. I give Thorin a polite smile as I head off down the walkway with the wizard. When it is just the two of us, he turns to me and says, “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“Of course, you weren’t, we were just talking about stuff and things.”

“I see.” He chuckles clearly not buying my words. “Cause from where I was standing, I would call that flirting.”

“Uh… I… I wouldn’t call it that.” I stammer as I trip over my own feet in surprise at his words.

“Oh really, then what would you call it?” He asks cocking an eyebrow at me.

“I don’t know, I was just being supportive. He asked me a question and I gave him my honest answer. If that was somehow flirting than; yes, I guess I was flirting.” I retort anger filling my body causing me to pause and stare into his eyes. “And even if I had been flirting, that’s between me and him. Why do you care?”

“I’m just worried about how it will affect you both when this is over, and you return home.” Gandalf clarifies making the anger vanish from my body as it is replaced with regret. “I don’t mean to be mean; I just worry for you both.”

“I understand.” I reply stopping him from continuing. “You’re right. I can’t give him hope where there isn’t any.”

I can tell there is more Gandalf wishes to say but instead he keeps his mouth shut and leads me to a gazebo like balcony where Elrond was waiting for us. As we near him he pulls Gandalf ahead of me as he starts talking about the journey for the mountain.

“I’m not the one you have to answer too.” Elrond says and then motions to a figure standing with their back to us making me look around him to see a woman with long flowing golden hair standing in the moonlight. As she turns around my breath catches at her beauty.

“Lady Galadriel.” Gandalf says but I cannot pull my eyes from hers.

“Mithrandir. It has been a long time.” She replies and I swear it’s like an angel singing.

“Nae nin gwistant infanneth, mal ú-eichia i Chíril Lorien.” (Age may have changed me, but not so the Lady of Lorien.) Gandalf replies causing her to smile making me practically week in the knees. “I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you.”

“He didn’t. I did.” I hear another voice say and I turn to see what I guessed was another wizard but something about this one rubbed me the wrong way.

“Saruman.” Gandalf says giving the white wizard a slight bow.

“You’ve been busy of late, my friend.” Saruman replies looking at me. “What is she exactly?”

“Don’t worry (Name), come.” Elrond says motioning me toward the center of the gazebo by a small set of chairs and table.

“This, is (Name), she hails from another world.” Gandalf says causing them all to look at me. Fear fills my body causing me to reach up and unconsciously start rubbing at my arms.

“You came here by a very dark means.” Galadriel says pulling my attention toward her.

“I don’t understand.” I reply making her offer me a soft smile.

“Even you yourself do not know how you came to be here. This dark force I see in your mind, I fear we may not have the answers you seek.” Galadriel replies making me bite my lip.

“I also sense another power hidden inside you,” Saruman says causing me to look from Galadriel to him. “Why not show us?”

“If you are willing.” Gandalf adds trying to calm my nerves.

“Please don’t freak out.” I say as I reluctantly hold my hand out and taking a deep breath look over at a nearby lantern.

As if the fire heard my command it flows like water from the lantern to my hand wrapping around it like a snake. I glance at Gandalf who offers me a wink before I send the fire back to the lantern. Next, I kneel down smiling softly, I think a happy thought as I create hundreds of wildflowers all around us. Then I call upon air making it whip around me wildly pulling the flowers from their stems as they dance upon the breeze. Smiling I send them out into the water down below. Finally, I walk over to the balcony and closing my eyes I reach out both hands and calling the water from the river below I feel it rise towards me. My heart lifts as I feel the water take the shape of a dragon.

I open my eyes and see it staring at me and my breath catches. Then with a flick of my wrist I send It diving back into the river. I would have called lightning like my brother could, but I felt like that would have been too much for a first showing. I feel my body suddenly become sluggish and I shake the sleep away as I turn back to see them all staring at me.

“Was that too much?” I ask concern suddenly filling my body.

“That was beautiful.” Galadriel says and I swear I could cry. Back in my world no one would have reacted like she did. “I believe there is more, but you were wise not to show them right now.”

“I felt like calling down a bolt of lightning would probably scare a lot of people.”

“You would be correct.” Elrond adds making me smirk.  

“Where did you come to possess such gifts?” Saruman asks narrowing his eyes in scrutiny.

“I was born with them, but they didn’t show themselves to me until I was about twelve years old. That’s how it is for a lot of mutants though.”

“Mutants?” Gandalf asks suddenly becoming offended for my sake. “Why would they name you that?”

“Because we are different. In my world a mutant is a human being that possesses a genetic trait called the X-gene. It causes the mutant to develop superhuman powers that manifest at puberty. Human mutants are sometimes referred to as a human subspecies, Homo sapiens superior, or simply Homo superior. Mutants are the evolutionary progeny of Homo sapiens and are generally assumed to be the next stage in human evolution.”

“Were your parents the same?” Saruman asks and my heart clenches.

“I don’t know. My parents died when I was a child. I don’t remember much about them.”

“You poor child,” Galadriel says reaching out to pull me into her arms. I stand frozen for a moment as she gives me soft hug. “You have seen so much hardship.” She adds and I cannot help the tears that form in my eyes as I slowly reach my arms around to hold her back. As I bury my face into her upper chest, I suddenly feel my worry and sadness start to melt away.

“How do you suggest we send her back?” Saruman interrupts and it takes everything I have not to glare at him.

“There is no way to send her back. At least no way we possess.” Galadriel answers giving me one last squeeze before she says into my head. ‘Your company needs you. You should be with them.’

“(Name), you look rather tired from your earlier display. How about you retire for now?” Gandalf suggests making me nod.

“Okay, goodnight everyone.” I announce then giving her one last look head back toward where Thorin and his kin were. When I reach them, I cock an eyebrow at the sight I saw. “What are you doing?” I ask making them all turn toward me halting their packing.

“Good, you’re back. We’re leaving.” Thorin replies not looking at me.

“Leaving? Why?” I ask nearing him.

“I will not wait for permission from a council of elves to go after my homeland. We leave now before they try to stop us. Will you come with us?” He asks his eyes meeting mine.

“Of course, I can’t just let you leave me behind.” I reply making him smirk.

Will Continue

#berjhawn writes #Berjhawn #angel on fire #fanfiction #Fanart #hobbit x reader #marvelxreaderxhobbit #the hobbit #hobbit fanfiction #hobbit #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #marvel #bucky x natasha #bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #thorin x reader #thorin oakenshield #thorin fanfiction #Thor Odinson #thor #thorin #loki laufeyson #loki #mutant reader #hobbit x reader x marvel

[unsettlingshortstories]

Miriam

Truman Capote (1945)

For several years, Mrs. H. T. Miller lived alone in a pleasant apartment (two rooms with kitchenette) in a remodeled brownstone near the East River. She was a widow: Mr. H. T. Miller had left a reasonable amount of insurance. Her interests were narrow, she had no friends to speak of, and she rarely journeyed farther than the corner grocery. The other people in the house never seemed to notice her: her clothes were matter-of-fact, her hair iron-gray, clipped and casually waved; she did not use cosmetics, her features were plain and inconspicuous, and on her last birthday she was sixty-one. Her activities were seldom spontaneous: she kept the two rooms immaculate, smoked an occasional cigarette, prepared her own meals and tended a canary.

Then she met Miriam. It was snowing that night. Mrs. Miller had finished drying the supper dishes and was thumbing through an afternoon paper when she saw an advertisement of a picture playing at a neighborhood theatre. The title sounded good, so she struggled into her beaver coat, laced her galoshes and left the apartment, leaving one light burning in the foyer: she found nothing more disturbing than a sensation of darkness.

The snow was fine, falling gently, not yet making an impression on the pavement. The wind from the river cut only at street crossings. Mrs. Miller hurried, her head bowed, oblivious as a mole burrowing a blind path. She stopped at a drugstore and bought a package of peppermints.

A long line stretched in front of the box office; she took her place at the end. There would be (a tired voice groaned) a short wait for all seats. Mrs. Miller rummaged in her leather handbag till she collected exactly the correct change for admission. The line seemed to be taking its own time and, looking around for some distractions, she suddenly became conscious of a little girl standing under the edge of the marquee.

Her hair was the longest and strangest Mrs. Miller had ever seen: absolutely silver-white, like an albino’s. It flowed waist-length in smooth, loose lines. She was thin and fragilely constructed. There was a simple, special elegance in the way she stood with her thumbs in the pockets of a tailored plum-velvet coat.

Mrs. Miller felt oddly excited, and when the little girl glanced toward her, she smiled warmly. The little girl walked over and said, “Would you care to do me a favor?”

“I’d be glad to if I can,” said Mrs. Miller.

“Oh, it’s quite easy. I merely want you to buy a ticket for me; they won’t let me in otherwise. Here, I have the money.” And gracefully she handed Mrs. Miller two dimes and a nickel.

They went over to the theatre together. An usherette directed them to a lounge; in twenty minutes the picture would be over.

“I feel just like a genuine criminal,” said Mrs. Miller gaily, as she sat down. “I mean that sort of thing’s against the law, isn’t it? I do hope I haven’t done the wrong thing. You mother knows where you are, dear? I mean she does, doesn’t she?”

The little girl said nothing. She unbuttoned her coat and folded it across her lap. Her dress underneath was prim and dark blue. A gold chain dangled about her neck, and her fingers, sensitive and musical looking, toyed with it. Examining her more attentively, Mrs. Miller decided the truly distinctive feature was not her hair, but her eyes; they were hazel, steady, lacking any childlike quality whatsoever and, because of their size, seemed to consume her small face.

Mrs. Miller offered a peppermint. “What’s your name, dear?”

“Miriam,” she said, as though, in some curious way, it were information already familiar.

“Why, isn’t that funny—my name’s Miriam, too. And it’s not a terribly common name either. Now, don’t tell me your last name’s Miller!”

“Just Miriam.”

“But isn’t that funny?”

“Moderately,” said Miriam, and rolled a peppermint on her tongue.

Mrs. Miller flushed and shifted uncomfortably. “You have such a large vocabulary for such a young girl.”

“Do I?”

“Well, yes,” said Mrs. Miller, hastily changing the topic to: “Do you like the movies?”

“I really wouldn’t know,” said Miriam. “I’ve never been before.”

Women began filling the lounge; the rumble of the newsreel bombs exploded in the distance. Mrs. Miller rose, tucking her purse under her arm. “I guess I’d better be running now if I want to get a seat,” she said. “It was nice to have met you.”

Miriam nodded ever so slightly.

It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery story; closed, of course.

That evening she scrambled eggs and fixed a bowl of tomato soup. Then, after putting on a flannel robe and cold-creaming her face, she propped herself up in bed with a hot-water bottle under her feet. She was reading the Times when the doorbell rang. At first she thought it must be a mistake and whoever it was would go away. But it rang and rang and settled to a persistent buzz. She looked at the clock: a little after eleven; it did not seem possible, she was always asleep by ten.

Climbing out of bed, she trotted barefoot across the living room. “I’m coming, please be patient.” The latch was caught; she turned it this way and that way and the bell never stopped for an instant. “Stop it,” she cried. The bolt gave way and she opened the door an inch. “What in heaven’s name?”

“Hello,” said Miriam.

“Oh…why, hello,” said Mrs. Miller, stepping hesitantly into the hall. “You’re that little girl.”

“I thought you’d never answer, but I kept my finger on the button; I knew you were home. Aren’t you glad to see me?”

Mrs. Miller did not know what to say. Miriam, she saw, wore the same plum velvet coat and now she had also a beret to match; her white hair was braided in two shining plaits and looped at the ends with enormous white ribbons.

“Since I’ve waited so long, you could at least let me in,” she said.

“It’s awfully late….”

Miriam regarded her blankly. “What difference does that make? Let me in. It’s cold out here and I have on a silk dress.” Then, with a gentle gesture, she urged Mrs. Miller aside and passed into the apartment.

She dropped her coat and beret on a chair. She was indeed wearing a silk dress. White silk. White silk in February. The skirt was beautifully pleated and the sleeves long; it made a faint rustle as she strode about the room. “I like your place,” she said. “I like the rug, blue’s my favorite color.” She touched a paper rose in a vase on the coffee table. “Imitation,” she commented wanly. “How sad. Aren’t imitations sad?” She seated herself on the sofa, daintily spreading her skirt.

“What do you want?” Mrs. Miller asked.

“Sit down,” said Miriam. “It makes me nervous to see people stand.”

Mrs. Miller sank to a hassock. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“You know, I don’t think you’re glad I came.”

For a second Mrs. Miller was without an answer; her hand motioned vaguely. Miriam giggled and pressed back on a mound of chintz pillows. Mrs. Miller noticed that the girl was less pale than she remembered; her cheeks were flushed.

“How did you know where I lived?”

Miriam frowned. “That’s no question at all. What’s your name? What’s mine?”

“But I’m not listed in the phone book.”

“Oh, let’s talk about something else.”

Mrs. Miller said, “Your mother must be insane to let a child like you wander around at all hours of the night—and in such ridiculous clothes. She must be out of her mind.”

Miriam got up and moved to a corner where a covered bird cage hung from a ceiling chain. She peeked under the cover. “It’s a canary,” she said. “Would you mind if I woke him? I’d like to hear him sing.”

“Leave Tommy alone,” Mrs. Miller said, anxiously. “Don’t you dare wake him.”

“Certainly,” said Miriam. “But I don’t see why I can’t hear him sing.” And then, “Have you anything to eat? I’m starving! Even milk and a jam sandwich would be fine.”

“Look,” said Mrs. Miller, arising from the hassock, “look—if I make some nice sandwiches will you be a good child and run along home? It’s past midnight, I’m sure.”

“It’s snowing,” reproached Miriam. “And cold and dark.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come here to begin with,” said Mrs. Miller, struggling to control her voice. “I can’t help the weather. If you want anything to eat you’ll have to promise to leave.”

Miriam brushed a braid against her cheek. Her eyes were thoughtful, as if weighing the proposition. She turned toward the bird cage. “Very well, she said, “I promise.”

How old is she? Ten? Eleven? Mrs. Miller, in the kitchen, unsealed a jar of strawberry preserves and cut four slices of bread. She poured a glass of milk and paused to light a cigarette. And why has she come? Her hand shook as she held the match, fascinated, till it burned her finger. The canary was singing; singing as he did in the morning and at no other time. “Miriam,” she called, “Miriam, I told you not to disturb Tommy.” There was no answer. She called again; all she heard was the canary. She inhaled the cigarette and discovered she had lighted the cork-tip end and—oh, really, she mustn’t lose her temper.

She carried the food in on a tray and set it on the coffee table. She saw first that the bird cage still wore its night cover. And Tommy was singing. It gave her a queer sensation. And no one was in the room. Mrs. Miller went through an alcove leading to her bedroom; at the door she caught her breath.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Miriam glanced up and in her eyes was a look that was not ordinary. She was standing by the bureau, a jewel case opened before her. For a minute she studied Mrs. Miller, forcing their eyes to meet, and she smiled. “There’s nothing good here,” she said. “But I like this.” Her hand held a cameo brooch. “It’s charming.”

“Suppose—perhaps you’d better put it back,” said Mrs. Miller, feeling suddenly the need of some support. She leaned against the door frame; her head was unbearably heavy; a pressure weighted the rhythm of her heartbeat. The light seemed to flutter defectively. “Please, child…a gift from my husband.”

“But it’s beautiful and I want it,” said Miriam. “Give it to me.”

As she stood, striving to shape a sentence which would somehow save the brooch, it came to Mrs. Miller there was no one to whom she might turn; she was alone; a fact that had not been among her thoughts for a long time. Its sheer emphasis was stunning. But here in her own room in the hushed show-city were evidences she could not ignore or, she knew with startling clarity, resist.

Miriam ate ravenously, and when the sandwiches and milk were gone, her fingers made cobweb movements over the plate, gathering crumbs. The cameo gleamed on her blouse, the blond profile like a trick reflection on its wearer. “That was very nice,” she sighed, “though now an almond cake or a cherry would be ideal. Sweets are lovely, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Miller was perched precariously on the hassock, smoking a cigarette. Her hairnet had slipped lopsided and loose strands straggled down her face. Her eyes were stupidly concentrated on nothing and her cheeks were mottled in red patches, as though a fierce slap had left permanent marks.

“Is there a candy—a cake?”

Mrs. Miller tapped ash on the rug. Her head swayed slightly as she tried to focus her eyes. “You promised to leave if I made the sandwiches,” she said.

“Dear me, did I?”

“It was a promise and I’m tired and I don’t feel well at all.”

“Mustn’t fret,” said Miriam. “I’m only teasing.”

She picked up her coat, slung it over her arm, and arranged her beret in front of a mirror. Presently she bent close to Mrs. Miller and whispered, “Kiss me good night.”

“Please—I’d rather not,” said Mrs. Miller.

Miriam lifted a shoulder, arched an eyebrow. “As you like,” she said, and went directly to the coffee table, seized the vase containing the paper roses, carried it to where the hard surface of the floor lay bare, and hurled it downward. Glass sprayed in all directions and she stamped her foot on the bouquet.

Then slowly she walked to the door, but before closing it she looked back at Mrs. Miller with a slyly innocent curiosity.

Mrs. Miller spent the next day in bed, rising once to feed the canary and drink a cup of tea; she took her temperature and had none, yet her dreams were feverishly agitated; their unbalanced mood lingered even as she lay staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. One dream threaded through the others like an elusively mysterious theme in a complicated symphony, and the scenes it depicted were sharply outlined, as though sketched by a hand of gifted intensity: a small girl, wearing a bridal gown and a wreath of leaves, led a gray procession down a mountain path, and among them there was unusual silence till a woman at the rear asked, “Where is she taking us?” ”No one knows,” said an old man marching in front. “But isn’t she pretty?” volunteered a third voice. “Isn’t she like a frost flower…so shining and white?”

Tuesday morning she woke up feeling better; harsh slats of sunlight, slanting through the Venetian blinds, shed a disrupting light on her unwholesome fancies. She opened the window to discover a thawed, mild-as-spring day; a sweep of clean new clouds crumpled against a vastly blue, out-of-season sky; and across the low line of rooftops she could see the river and smoke curving from tugboat stacks in a warm wind. A great silver truck plowed the snow-banked street, its machine sound humming on the air.

After straightening the apartment, she went to the grocer’s, cashed a check and continued to Schrafft’s, where she ate breakfast and chatted happily with the waitress. Oh, it was a wonderful day more like a holiday—and it would be so foolish to go home.

She boarded a Lexington Avenue bus and rode up to Eighty-sixth Street; it was here that she decided to do a little shopping.

She had no idea what she wanted or needed, but she idled along, intent only upon the passers-by, brisk and preoccupied, who gave her a disturbing sense of separateness.

It was while waiting at the corner of Third Avenue that she saw the man: an old man, bowlegged and stooped under an armload of bulging packages; he wore a shabby brown coat and a checkered cap. Suddenly she realized they were exchanging a smile: there was nothing friendly about this smile, it was merely two cold flickers of recognition. But she was certain she had never seen him before.

He was standing next to an El pillar, and as she crossed the street he turned and followed. He kept quite close; from the corner of her eyes she watched his reflection wavering on the shop windows.

Then in the middle of the block she stopped and faced him. He stopped also and cocked his head, grinning. But what could she say? Do? Here, in broad daylight, on Eighty-sixth Street? It was useless and, despising her own helplessness, she quickened her steps.

Now Second Avenue is a dismal street, made from scraps and ends; part cobblestone, part asphalt, part cement; and its atmosphere of desertion is permanent. Mrs. Miller walked five blocks without meeting anyone, and all the while the steady crunch of his footfalls in the snow stayed near. And when she came to a florist’s shop, the sound was still with her. She hurried inside and watched through the glass door as the old man passed; he kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t slow his pace, but he did one strange, telling thing: he tipped his cap.

“Six white ones, did you say?” asked the florist. “Yes,” she told him, “white roses.” From there she went to a glassware store and selected a vase, presumably a replacement for the one Miriam had broken, though the price was intolerable and the vase itself (she thought) grotesquely vulgar. But a series of unaccountable purchases had begun, as if by prearranged plan: a plan of which she had not the least knowledge or control.

She bought a bag of glazed cherries, and at a place called the Knickerbocker Bakery she paid forty cents for six almond cakes.

Within the last hour the weather had turned cold again; like blurred lenses, winter clouds cast a shade over the sun, and the skeleton of an early dusk colored the sky; a damp mist mixed with the wind and the voices of a few children who romped high on mountains of gutter snow seemed lonely and cheerless. Soon the first flake fell, and when Mrs. Miller reached the brownstone house, snow was falling in a swift screen and foot tracks vanished as they were printed.

The white roses were arranged decoratively in the vase. The glazed cherries shone on a ceramic plate. The almond cakes, dusted with sugar, awaited a hand. The canary fluttered on its swing and picked at a bar of seed.

At precisely five the doorbell rang. Mrs. Miller knew who it was. The hem of her housecoat trailed as she crossed the floor. “Is that you?” she called.

“Naturally,” said Miriam, the word resounding shrilly from the hall. “Open this door.”

“Go away,” said Mrs. Miller.

“Please hurry…I have a heavy package.”

“Go away,” said Mrs. Miller. She returned to the living room, lighted a cigarette, sat down and calmly listened to the buzzer; on and on and on. “You might as well leave. I have no intention of letting you in.”

Shortly the bell stopped. For possibly ten minutes Mrs. Miller did not move. Then, hearing no sound, she concluded Miriam had gone. She tiptoed to the door and opened it a sliver; Miriam was half-reclining atop a cardboard box with a beautiful French doll cradled in her arms.

“Really, I thought you were never coming,” she said peevishly. “Here, help me get this in, it’s awfully heavy.”

It was no spell-like compulsion that Mrs. Miller felt, but rather a curious passivity; she brought in the box, Miriam the doll. Miriam curled up on the sofa, not troubling to remove her coat or beret, and watched disinterestedly as Mrs. Miller dropped the box and stood trembling, trying to catch her breath.

“Thank you,” she said. In the daylight she looked pinched and drawn, her hair less luminous. The French doll she was loving wore an exquisite powdered wig and its idiot glass eyes sought solace in Miriam’s. “I have a surprise,” she continued. “Look into my box.”

Kneeling, Mrs. Miller parted the flaps and lifted out another doll; then a blue dress which she recalled as the one Miriam had worn that first night at the theatre; and of the reminder she said, “It’s all clothes. Why?”

“Because I’ve come to live with you,” said Miriam, twisting a cherry stem. “Wasn’t it nice of you to buy me the cherries…?”

“But you can’t! For God’s sake go away—go away and leave me alone!”

“…and the roses and the almond cakes? How really wonderfully generous. You know, these cherries are delicious. The last place I lived was with an old man; he was terribly poor and we never had good things to eat. But I think I’ll be happy here.” She paused to snuggle her doll closer. “Now, if you’ll just show me where to put my things…”

Mrs. Miller’s face dissolved into a mask of ugly red lines; she began to cry, and it was an unnatural, tearless sort of weeping, as though, not having wept for a long time, she had forgotten how. Carefully she edged backward till she touched the door.

She fumbled through the hall and down the stairs to a landing below. She pounded frantically on the door of the first apartment she came to; a short, redheaded man answered and she pushed past him. “Say, what the hell is this?” he said. “Anything wrong, lover?” asked a young woman who appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands. And it was to her that Mrs. Miller turned.

“Listen,” she cried, “I’m ashamed behaving this way but—well, I’m Mrs. H. T. Miller and I live upstairs and…” She pressed her hands over her face. “It sounds so absurd…”

The woman guided her to a chair, while the man excitedly rattled pocket change. “Yeah?”

“I live upstairs and there’s a little girl visiting me, and I suppose that I’m afraid of her. She won’t leave and I can’t make her and—she’s going to do something terrible. She’s already stolen my cameo, but she’s about to do something worse—more terrible.”

The man asked, “Is she a relative, huh?”

Mrs. Miller shook her head. “I don’t know who she is. Her name’s Miriam, but I don’t know for certain who she is.”

“You gotta calm down, honey,” said the woman, stroking Mrs. Miller’s arm. “Harry here will tend to this kid. Go on, lover.” And Mrs. Miller said, “The door’s open—5A.”

After the man left, the woman brought a towel and bathed Mrs. Miller’s face. “You’re very kind,” Mrs. Miller said. “I’m sorry to act like such a fool, only this wicked child…”

“Sure, honey,” consoled the woman. “Now, you better take it easy.”

Mrs. Miller rested her head in the crook of her arm; she was quiet enough to be asleep. The woman turned a radio dial; a piano and a husky voice filled the silence and the woman, tapping her foot, kept excellent time. “Maybe we oughta go up too,” she said.

“I don’t want to see her again. I don’t want to be anywhere near her.”

“Uh-huh, but what you shoulda done, you shoulda called a cop.”

Presently they heard the man on the stairs. He strode into the room frowning and scratching the back of his neck. “Nobody there,” he said, honestly embarrassed. “She musta beat it.”

“Harry, you’re a jerk,” announced the woman. “We been sitting here the whole time and we woulda seen…” She stopped abruptly, for the man’s glance was sharp.

“I looked all over,” he said, “and there just ain’t nobody there. Nobody, understand?”

“Tell me,” said Mrs. Miller, rising, “tell me, did you see a large box? Or a doll?”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

And the woman, as if delivering a verdict, said, “Well, for cryinoutloud…”

Mrs. Miller entered her apartment softly; she walked to the center of the room and stood quite still. No, in a sense it had not changed: the roses, the cakes, and the cherries were in place. But this was an empty room, emptier than if the furnishings and familiars were not present, lifeless and petrified as a funeral parlor. The sofa loomed before her with a new strangeness: its vacancy had a meaning that would have been less penetrating and terrible had Miriam been curled on it. She gazed fixedly at the space where she remembered setting the box and, for a moment, the hassock spun desperately. And she looked through the window; surely the river was real, surely snow was falling—but then, one could not be certain witness to anything: Miriam, so vividly there—and yet, where was she? Where? Where?

As though moving in a dream, she sank to a chair. The room was losing shape; it was dark and getting darker and there was nothing to be done about it; she could not lift her hand to light a lamp.

Suddenly, closing her eyes, she felt an upward surge, like a diver emerging from some deeper, greener depth. In times of terror or immense distress, there are moments when the mind waits, as though for a revelation, while a skein of calm is woven over thought; it is like a sleep, or a supernatural trance; and during this lull one is aware of a force of quiet reasoning: well, what if she had never really known a girl named Miriam? That she had been foolishly frightened on the street? In the end, like everything else, it was of no importance. For the only thing she had lost to Miriam was her identity, but now she knew she had found again the person who lived in this room, who cooked her own meals, who owned a canary, who was someone she could trust and believe in: Mrs. H. T. Miller.

Listening in contentment, she became aware of a double sound: a bureau drawer opening and closing; she seemed to hear it long after completion—opening and closing. Then gradually, the harshness of it was replaced by the murmur of a silk dress and this, delicately faint, was moving nearer and swelling in intensity till the walls trembled with the vibration and the room was caving under a wave of whispers. Mrs. Miller stiffened and opened her eyes to a dull, direct stare.

“Hello,” said Miriam.

[eclecticstarlightconnoisseur]

Edinburgh to Boston - Chapter 9 - Snow Day

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

Chapter4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Hello all, Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out there.  Real life some times gets in the way. This includes technology as my hard drive died. I didn’t lose much, most of what is really important was able to be salvaged.

I finally got around to including links to the other chapters, so anyone who has not read them all will be able to find them if they want. 

Has anyone noticed that Jamie has not called Claire Sassenach in eight chapters? Well, that will be rectified now. You don’t know how hard it was not to call her that all this time.

If there are any questions, comments, or thoughts please don’t hesitate to let me know. I can only learn from what you all say. Respectfully, please.

I do need to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls reading this and giving me the courage to post this. You are the best. Chapter 10 is underway.  I have no idea when it will be done, but there is a Chapter 10. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Without further delay, I give you:

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 9

Snow Day

Jamie and Claire sat at the table by the window, enjoying their breakfast. Jamie attacked his bowl of parritch, mixed berries, and honey with the ravenous appetite of a starving wolf who just happened across a carcass.

“Nuthin’ like a healthy bowl of parritch to start the day,” said Jamie, giving a withering look at Claire’s breakfast choices of fried eggs, bacon, and toast slathered with butter and jam.

“Well, Fraser, when in America, eat like one,” she said while waving a delectable piece of crunchy fried pork in the air. “It happens to be quite good. Even though they have got this bacon thing all wrong. Not like the rashers we have at home. Still, it is delicious.” Popping the tasty morsel into her mouth, she rolled her eyes and groaned ecstatically.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining piece sitting on the plate, “Looks mostly like fat to me.” He reached over, snatching the ribbon of porkiness from her plate, considered it, and swiftly consumed it. “Hmm, fatty, salty, crispy, and smoky.  ‘Tis good, but I wouldna want to eat it every day.  Cannae be good for ye.”

Sighing and shaking her head,  Claire leveled a look of exasperation at him. “Live a little will you? We’re on vacation!”

He let out a laugh, “Yer right, but there is no need to be unhealthy.  As it is, I’ll no’ be going to the gym today. Hmm, mebbe I’ll just carry ye around instead,” he said smugly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her body an appraising look, much like gazing upon the beauty of a perfect rose.

“What do ye weigh a leannan, about 8-9 stone? That’s no’ much. I’ll never get a decent workout just carrying ye around,” he smirked.

“Why thank you, I think. That is supposed to be a compliment, right? You don’t think I’m too thin do you?” Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down at herself trying to figure out if she was too fat or too thin.

“Aye, it ‘tis and no yer not. I like ye just fine the way ye are.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, lass, what would ye like to do today?”

“Well, if you are worried about not getting your proper exercise, there are other forms of exercise that will raise your heart rate, you know,” Claire said as she cast a quick glance back toward the bed.

Jamie ignored this.

“I ken what we can do! Why dinna ye take me to some of yer favorite places ye liked to go when ye lived here?”

“I don’t know if that is a wise idea. Boston winters are very cold and I don’t think that either of us has appropriate clothes to go wandering about. Besides, I don’t know how many places are open today. Most people will be digging out.”

Getting up, Jamie went to rummage through his suitcase. Sure enough, he found his favorite forest green cable knit pullover, his black jeans, a pair of duck boots, and his down jacket.

“Weel, I’ll be damned.  I dinna remember packing these. Check yer bag let’s see what you have in there.”

Claire opened her suitcase and found clothes suitable for outdoor activities. She found her favorite cashmere jumper in midnight blue and her woolen turtleneck sweater in deep rich wine. She also found her favorite black skinny jeans, a warm wooly hat and gloves, and her parka.

“I know I didn’t pack these. I’m sure of it.” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she considered how these clothes ended up in her bag.

“It doesna matter how they got there, yer clothes are here. Let’s get dressed. I shall leave the itinerary to ye.”

Claire’s breathing quickened. She began to nervously play with one her curls, twisting it around her finger, over and over.  Truth be told, there was a certain amount of anxiety about leaving the room. She worried about dredging up old memories that she safely tucked away after ending her marriage to Frank. Least of all was the prospect of visiting places that held unpleasant memories. Most certainly she did not want to visit these places with Jamie. Fearing the possibility of a chance meeting with Frank gave her shivers.  She concluded that the likelihood of a chance meeting would be remote as classes would be canceled. That would leave Frank free to shack up with some bimbo, er umm, a young woman all day.

“What’s amiss, lass? Ye look a bit peely-wally. Are ye alright?”

“Sorry?”

“Something is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.”

Jamie walked back to the chair by the window, pulling Claire along. He sat down and settled her on his lap.

“I dinna want ye to feel that ye need to tell me anything that ye canna, but I can see yer fair fashed over something. Mo nighean donn, tell me what’s bothering ye if ye can.” He raised his hand cupping her cheek and began to stroke his thumb over her cheekbone.  Melting into the warmth of his hand, she relaxed.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I told you I slept well.”

She cleared her throat nervously, eyes darting around the room searching for something to focus on while gathering her thoughts.

“I, ah, had a nightmare about, ...well, it was about Frank. It left me feeling rather unsettled, to say the least.”

Her body language and voice were contradictions, outwardly appearing composed while her voice quavered with emotion. Describing her dream, she related how Frank tried to plant seeds of doubt and used her insecurities against her. The Scottish Barbarian and The English Rose. Insinuating she had a need for someone to dominate her. Jamie observed Claire as she told her story. Her face contorted with frustration, anger, shame; her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I told…,” her voice cracked, “I told him that I love you and you love me. And, and that he should bugger off and not come back,” Claire said this with pride in her voice. “But he said he would come back when I called him. I don’t want to see him ever again, really I don’t. I’ll never call him back, never.” With that, Claire buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder crying shedding tears of outrage and irritation.

Jamie’s mouth drew together in a tight white line.  His eyes burned with anger. That Englishman, that filthy sassenach bastard! How could he have the audacity to come into his bed between him and his woman upsetting her, trying to sow the seeds of doubt. He had no care for insults or slurs directed at him. He heard them before. But, Claire! She is kindness and goodness personified. If I ever meet him...

Jamie’s arms came around her, pulling her close to him.  His strong hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He spoke to her softly in the Gàidhlig, speaking words of comfort that had no meaning to Claire but spoke to her heart and soul.

Jamie cradled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair, “I’ll let nay harm come to ye as long as I walk this earth. Dinna be afraid, a leannan, there is the two of us now.”

Claire nodded her head and sniffed.

Jamie’s hand reached under Claire’s chin, raising it up so that he could look onto her face. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and runny, and her cheeks were tear stained.

“Ye are so beautiful, mo chridhe,” Jamie said smiling. He took a serviette wiping Claire’s runny nose as he kissed away her tears.

She sniffed, “You must be blind. I’m really not sure you should be operating anymore. I’m sure I don’t look beautiful right now.”

“Yer beautiful to me always,” he said lovingly.

Jamie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Claire, if ye dinna want to go out because yer worried that ye will run into Frank,” he growled saying the bastard’s name, “I dinna want you to do anything that will make ye uncomfortable. We could always find something else to do.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being suggestive.

“Ridiculous man,” she said with a smile in her voice, feeling so grateful to have found him.

Closing her eyes to aid her concentration, she considered Jamie’s suggestion carefully weighing each of the pros and cons.

How much longer will I give Frank power over me, to control me and my life? It’s been three years since we divorced and he still tries to make me insecure, belittle me. When will I remove myself from his grasp? It’s now or never. It’s time to choose.  Time to take back what’s mine.

“NO! No, I won’t run and hide.  Frank has run my life for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I let him continue. Let’s go see Boston, Jamie. We’ll make our own memories,” Claire said grinning.

“That’s my lass. Yer strong, brave, and fearless and I love ye for it.” Jamie gave her a resounding smack on the lips that left her breathless.

They quickly dressed and departed the room laughing, smiling with their fingers intertwined.

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

Jamie and Claire stepped outside of the comfort of their hotel into the bitter cold and biting winds. In spite of being warmly dressed, the frigid temperature threatened to seep its way into the very marrow of their bones.

The sidewalks were barely passable despite the best efforts of man, machine, and salt. Icy patches dotted the landscape causing the lovers to slip and slide along the walkways. Jamie’s hand reached out taking Claire’s elbow to steady her. They climbed over mounds of grey city snow that sported an occasional yellow streak.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached Boston Common, each sporting red runny noses and equally red cheeks.

“I’m beginning to think yer first suggestion to stay in bed all day was a good idea,” Jamie said with a smirk on his face, the steam of his breath escaping with each word.

“Do you want to turn back?” A look of concern written all over her face.

“Nah, I was concerned about ye, Sassenach.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks.  “Sassenach?! I know that word and it isn’t very nice.  Isn’t that something derogatory to call me?” Her amber eyes narrowed glaring at him with unnerving thoroughness.

“In truth, it depends on who and how they are saying it. The word sassenach really means Englishman or English lady. At worst, it means outlander. I have always called ye Sassenach in my mind.  Ye see I have always thought of ye as my English Lady. A woman of grace and refinement, a true Lady.”

With that, Jamie smiled placed his hand over his heart and made a courtly bow, “My Lady, I am at yer service.”

Giggling at the sight she decided to return the gesture.  Bowing her head and spreading the skirt of her jacket, Claire curtsied, “My Lord.”

Jamie popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Who told ye?” he demanded.

Claire looked quizzically at Jamie, “Who told me wot?”

“That I am a Laird.”

“You’re a wot???” she gasped.

“I am Laird Broch Tuarach of Lallybroch Estate.  My home. ‘Tis only an honorary title now, but it has been handed down in my family since the 18th century. Lallybroch is a working farm in the Highlands, ye ken.  My sister Jenny and her husband Ian run it. Their five children live there too. But, technically it is mine as I retain the title and will pass it on to my son someday.”

“Hmm, do I have to curtsy every time I see you, my Laird?” Claire asked with a coy smile.

Laughing to herself, she wondered how the OR staff would react if they had to curtsy every time he came to do a case.

“Nay, I think we can dispense with the formalities if ye please,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Good. It’s awfully hard to curtsy in the bloody snow.”

“May I offer ye my arm my Lady as we stroll about on this fine cold day...for the sake of yer safety of course. I wouldna want ye to slip and fall injuring yerself.” His blue eyes, as blue as the cold clear sky, crinkled with mirth as he extended his arm for her to take.

Bobbing her head, and lowering her eyelashes demurely she said, “It would be my pleasure, my Laird,” and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Claire suddenly wondered why this felt like such a familiar thing to do.

Jamie tucked her hand securely in place pulling his arm and her hand closer to his body. He began to speculate why it felt like he had done this more times than he could remember. It felt natural, more like an everyday occurrence for them to walk like this.

A strong wind blew up around them, coating Claire from head to foot in a sheath of powdery snow crystals. The hair that peaked out from under her cap glistened, lashes sparkled with the tiny flakes that clung to them, and her clothes were enrobed in glittering flakes. She took on an otherworldly aura.

His mouth opened as he watched the swirling dust of snow float around her.

She must be one of the faes. No, not just a fae, but Queen of the Fae. For only the Queen could be so beautiful.

He stood there envisioning her in the finery befitting a Queen. A circlet of silvery moonbeams would adorn her head accentuating her mass of curls. Her lithe form draped in a diaphanous gown made of diamond dust while her feet were encased in slippers made from starlight.

He wanted to fall on his knees in worship, beg her to take him to her Queendom. He would become her Knight of the Realm, her Champion. With dirk and sword, he would do battle shielding her from harm. He would slay dragons, protect her from evil sorcerers, and safeguard her from malevolent creatures. As darkness envelops the earth, he would sleep at her feet sheltering and guarding her against the dangers that lurk in the blackness of night. She had cast a spell on him and he was happy to be under her power.

He heard the tinkling of her laughter, much like a wind chime, light and gentle in the breeze. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as a small buffy-brown bird landed on her shoulder. It hopped along coming closer to her ear merrily chirping. Claire raised her hand and stroked the downy head of the little bird speaking softly to it. Her hand went to her pocket and returned with a bit of her toast from breakfast. She opened her hand and the warbler flew onto her hand seized the bread and took wing.

Jamie stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him. “Is a wild bird so tame for her?!” The scene repeated itself several more times with birds flitting along her arm, singing and trilling to her. Each was tenderly stroked, given a bit of bread, then flew off to join its fellows. Her hand went to her pocket pulling out the remainder of the toast wrapped in the serviette. She tore the bread into bits scattering it on the snow.  En masse a clan of the small birds gathered joyously chirping doing a demented dance around the bread, pecking at it.

Mary, Michael, and Bride, she is the Queen of the Fae!

Claire looked at him with a radiant smile.

For a split second, Jamie became irrationally afraid.

“How did ye do that, lass!? The birds, they seem so tame!”

“I don’t do anything, really. They just come. It’s been happening for a long time, ever since I was a little girl. It started not long after my parents died,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Sassenach, do ye want to tell me about it if ye can?” Jamie asked cautiously knowing her parents' death is a painful and sensitive area for her.

There was a moment of hesitation, then taking a deep breath to steel herself for the memories.

“As I told you after my parents deaths my uncle Lamb became my guardian. He was writing a book on the meaning of birds in different cultures. While he sat writing in his study, I would play in the garden. One day, not long after my arrival, I was playing with my plushy dog when a bird, a sparrow, flew down next to me. Its head turned side-to-side watching me. Then it began to sing one of the sweetest songs I had ever heard. I held out my hand and it hopped on, chirping madly while wildly flapping its wings as if it were a leaf caught in a maelstrom.”

Claire’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered while struggling to maintain her composure as the childhood memories beset her.

“I began to pet the bird and it quieted under my touch. It began to sing again, but this time soft and low. For a moment, I thought I heard my mother’s voice singing the lullaby she sang to me at bedtime.”

She gave Jamie a sidelong glance to see if he thought she was deranged. He stood there calm, placid, face expressionless, giving no hint to his inner thoughts.

“I started to cry and the bird flew off. I got up and ran into to tell Lamb what happened. He picked me up, put me on his lap, and cuddled me to his chest. After he wiped my tears, he told me that ancient Egyptians believed that sparrows carried the souls of the dead to heaven. Perhaps this one came to tell me that my parents were in heaven with God and the angels and I shouldn’t worry.”

A single tear ran down her cheek.

“I was happy that Momma and Daddy were in heaven, but I really didn’t understand all of what he was talking about.  Later, as they continued to visit me, we talked about it again. Lamb told me that a Buddhist teacher he knew believed that a person in mourning is considered a very holy person. This holy state opens the mourner to experience things that are beyond the physical world and more receptive to the spiritual world. Lamb thought that was why I thought I heard my mother singing or my father’s laugh when the birds came. Grieving opened my heart to other possibilities.”

“Three months before you came,” she continued, “whenever I would walk Ginger in the park the birds would continue to visit. I began to hear another voice, a new one. It was deeper, rich, and very, very masculine. He would call my name, sometimes in passion and sometimes with love and laughter.” Giving him a quick sidelong look she finished her tale,  “I know now that it was your voice I heard.”

Jamie startled at this revelation. Was it truly his voice or could it be the other’s voice calling out to her from across the centuries? He wondered if she was ready to hear about the Fraser Legend. No, he thought not just yet. He disliked withholding something from her but now was definitely not the right time.

Beginning to fidget, she moved her foot in the snow gouging out a divot with the heel of her boot. She felt the heat rising up to color her cheeks. She was afraid to look at Jamie fearing that she would see he truly thought her insane.

Neither spoke for a time. The only sound around them was the wind soughing through the leafless branches.

“Claire, look at me.” Jamie placed his fingers under her chin forcing her head up to look at him. She kept her eyes closed not able to bear the disdain she would see in his eyes for her.

“Mo ghràdh, look at me, please. I believe you. I dinna understand it, but I believe you.”

“How can you believe me when it sounds crazy even to me? Really, Jamie! I have often wondered if this...” Claire waved her hand toward the birds eagerly consuming the bread, “was nothing more than the imaginings of a sad and lonely child who grew up to become a sad and lonely adult searching for her lost parents and her lost home. A woman who is so desperate that she convinces herself that some sparrows hold the souls of her dead parents. Christ, Jamie!”

He looked at her, her glass face giving away her sense of loss, loneliness, and pain. “Sassenach,” he spoke gently to her as if she were a frightened child, “I am an educated man but I am also a Highlander born and bred. I do ken there are many a thing that is beyond our understanding. There are many tales of the highlands that still canna be explained. Why not this?” His eyebrow lifted in an inquiry.

“Can ye explain what happened to Robert Gordon? The man was clinically dead after 30 minutes of resuscitation no heartbeat, no breathing. Then all of a sudden the man sits up and starts talking. He told us everything that happened in that room, everything we said and did. He said he saw his wife and bairns calling and greetin’ for him.  There was more for him to do he kent, so he decided to come back.”

“Yes, I remember.” Claire shuddered at the remembrance of the event. It still gave her chills to think about it.

“Can ye explain that? No, I dinna think so. There are things that are outside our ken. Why must ye explain yers? It just is. Dinna question it, especially when it makes ye happy to believe so.”

Her rational mind, the scientific part of her, rejected any possibility of this being true, but the little girl in her wanted, no needed to hold on to any chance that she might still have some connection to her family.

Claire’s eyes drifted down toward the snow.  The clan of sparrows left, all except three.  She sighed.  It was always the same, three of the warblers always remained, two males and one female.

The birds stood there cocking their heads from side-to-side regarding Claire and Jamie. The female and one of the males flew up alighting on Claire’s shoulder. The female came close rubbing her feathery head against Claire’s cheek, softly cheeping to her.  The male landed on her opposite shoulder gently pecked at her hair.

The more vocal male flew up landing on Jamie’s forearm giving him a level look. He began to chatter and chirp loudly hopping up his forearm with the determination of a sprinter moments away from the finish line.

His black birdy eye coldly glared while uttering piercing squawks of what seemed to be warning or admonition.  The feathery wings spread wide fluttering frantically. This was one very agitated bird.

“If we are going to believe these creatures possess the souls of my family, I think he is my father and these two are my mother and uncle,” Claire said with a small smile.

“Aye, I think yer right, Sassenach.”

Jamie reached up took hold of both of  Claire’s hands, linking them together.

“Sirs and Madam,” Jamie said with all solemnity, “I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, and I am deeply in love with yer daughter and niece. My intentions are honorable and I promise to see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life. I ask yer approval of our relationship.” He bowed his head in respect toward the feathery family.

In unison, their heads swiveled toward Claire questioning.

“I love him too. He fills my heart with love and joy. He takes away the emptiness. When I am with him it's as if the sun comes out on a cloudy day filling my life with light and warmth.”

The downy kinfolk flew around them coming to land on their joined hands singing sweet and mellow.

“I hope ye dinna mind, but I plan to kiss yer daughter.”

Their hands broke apart.  Jamie raised his hands up to cup Claire’s face, “Before yer family, I love ye, Claire Beauchamp across all time.”

“I love you too, always and forever,” she sighed into his mouth.

He leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. A kiss filled with so much love, tenderness, and promise.

His eyes crinkled and a smile lit his mouth, “Aye, I must love ye Sassenach, ye have me talking to the birds too.”

The little bird family took flight soaring high above the lovers and disappeared into the sky knowing their daughter and niece was well loved.

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 9 #snow day #bacon and eggs #oatmeal #sassenach #boston common #queen of the fae #sparrows #laird broch tuarach #it's cold outside #thanks to my beta #curlsgetsdemgurls #Here Goes Nothing #I always freak out when I post something

[winchesterprincessbride]

Not What He Expected-Part 9

 You meet Dean Winchester in a bar when he attempts to come to your rescue after a drunk Alpha tries to take advantage of you.  He quickly realizes you’re not what he expected.  You’re a very independent Omega who is used to speaking her mind.  He’s all Alpha, but there is just something about you, an attraction that makes him want to know more…….

This part fills the Mating/Claiming Square on my @spnabobingo card

Part 1 (All parts are linked)

Master List

With my need for Dean temporarily satisfied, I was able to think clearly for the moment.  “We need to talk about this,” I said quietly.  Dean sat down next to me, his nostrils twitching at the scent of my heat.  He can’t seem to control himself, and he starts nuzzling my neck, his lips ghosting over the spot where he claimed me.

“Dean. You have to focus, baby. Look at me.” My words come out with a breathy little moan and he growls before his lips meet mine.  As they do, I see that his pupils are blown black with lust, the green barely visible.  He’s rutting badly.  

“Later.  We can talk later,” he mutters before he pulls me into his lap, his big hands grasping my hips hard enough to leave bruises.  And then my heat is consuming me and I am in a frenzy for his touch and we both are swept away, all rational thought going out the window.

We spend the next three days in an endorphin-fueled haze until my heat and his rut finally burn themselves out. I am exhausted and sore and doubt I will be walking normally anytime soon.  I collapse into his arms and we sleep like the dead until my growling stomach wakes me up.

When I open my eyes, he is watching me, but his gaze is clear so I know his rut is over.  “How long have you been awake?” I say sleepily.

“Long enough to know I’m starving.” Dean answers. “How about I make us some breakfast?”

I give him a surprised look. “Your gonna cook for me?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You know, Y/N, I did manage to feed myself before I met you. I may not be a chef, but I get by.  I make a mean scrambled egg.” He says, flashing me that sexy grin of his.

“I’m just not used to guys cooking for me is all,” I whisper, feeling incredibly self-conscious.

“If you want to grab a shower I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done.”  He tells me, kissing me quickly before jumping up and heading to the kitchen.

I feel like a new woman after a hot shower, and I smile as I hear Dean singing “Traveling Riverside Blues” off-key in the kitchen.  I stand in the doorway for a minute, just watching him.  Even with bedhead and three days growth of beard, he is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.

Dean slides a plate of eggs and toast toward me, clearly proud of himself.  I take a bite, and then another.  The eggs are hot and creamy and super cheesy, just the way I like them.  I moan with happiness, and Dean’s eyes darken.

“How do you do that?”

I look up from my plate of happiness, confused. “Do what?”

“I’ve just spent the past three days fucking you seven ways to Sunday, and all it takes is that little moan you do, and I am hard as a freaking brick.” He replies, and suddenly the lightness is gone, and we are reminded there is unfinished business.

We eat in silence for a few minutes before I finally speak.  “So are we going to talk about this?” I ask, pointing towards the claiming bite on my neck with my fork.

His shoulders tense subtly, but I still notice it.  “I didn’t plan on doing it. I just couldn’t control myself.” He says quietly, not meeting my eyes.

I immediately assume the worst. He doesn’t want me.  He didn’t mean to claim me and now he’s stuck with an Omega he doesn’t want.  I feel like I’m going to be sick.  I push the plate of eggs away from me as if they are poison.  I don’t know what to say to him when he grabs my wrist.

“Look at me, Omega.” He commands. I look up, and the tears that I have been trying desperately to hold back spill down my face. “Y/N, please don’t cry.  Let me finish. I wasn’t planning on claiming you now, not during my first rut with you. But let me be clear. You are mine.  I just wanted to do it when I wasn’t out of my mind with rut. But I don’t regret it, not for one second. I love you.”

I am out of my chair so fast Dean barely has time to catch me before I tumble into his arms. “ I love you too, Alpha.”

“Your brothers are gonna have a field day with this,” Dean mutters against my hair and we both laugh.

I decided not to say anything for the moment about Dean claiming me.  I was always honest with Babi, so when my heat started, I had texted her and told her I needed a few days off and why.  She was an Omega, she understood how it was. 

 I left out the part about Dean being in rut.  She replied she was happy I had a handsome Alpha to help me through it and to let her know when I would be back to work.  She must have told the twins to leave me alone because I didn’t hear from either of them.

I got to work early because I wanted to get a head start on things since I had been out. There were certain items on the menu that only I made, and I knew we would be running low. 

I made sure to wear one of my uniforms with a higher neck so no one would see Dean’s claiming mark.  I didn’t want my family asking questions that I wasn’t ready to answer.

 I was elbow deep in flour when Cas and Meg came in.  “You look like your feeling better,” Meg said with a sly grin.  “Can’t imagine why.”

I glared at her and rolled my eyes in Cas’ direction. Babi must have told her. Damn her! “Much better.  Thanks for asking.”

“Please tell me your making pie. We’re just about out of everything.” Cas told you as he hung up his coat.

“Hello to you too, Brother Dear,” I said sarcastically. “I’m touched to see how much you missed me.”

“I missed your baking skills, anyway,” Cas said with a grin as he dodged the dough ball I lobbed at his head.It was really busy, and I was rushing around like a madwoman trying to catch up on all the stuff that needed to be done. I was still worn out from my heat, so by late morning, I was losing steam. I should have taken a break and eaten something, but I didn’t want to spare the time when there was so much to do.

I was filling the bakery case up front with some freshly baked pies when I heard a mocking voice speak from behind me.  “Well if it isn’t the little Omega tease.” 

I whirled around, ready to clock any dick that spoke to me that way. My eyes widened. It was that guy Barry from Dean’s garage.  Great, just what I needed today! “What do you want?” I snapped.

“I’m getting lunch. Thanks to you Winchester looks at me like he wants to snap my neck whenever he sees me.” Barry said with a sneer.

“Guess you shouldn’t have touched me then,” I said with a shrug, outwardly calm but inwardly seething.

The next second, both my brothers were standing next to me in full Alpha mode, blue eyes blazing with anger.  “What did you just call my sister?” Jimmy demanded.

“She’s your sister?” Barry questioned.

“Yes, she is,” Cas confirmed.

“I called her a damn tease.  Why else would she come into a garage full of Alphas when she’s in heat, looking so damn hot? She got Winchester so worked up she drove him into rut and he almost killed me.” Barry snapped.

“That’s it!” Cas exploded. “You need to leave, now! If I see you in here again, I will tell Dean you were bothering his Omega and he will kick your ass!”

“You heard my brother, Barry.  Get the hell out!  Dean won’t have to kick your ass because I will! Now go!” I told him furiously.

Barry looked at the three of us and realized he was seriously outnumbered, so he turned and walked out without even waiting for his food.  I finished putting the pies away and turned to the twins. “Thanks, guys.  He is an asshole. I’ll talk to Dean about him.”

Jimmy and Cas exchanged a look without speaking. One of their “twin telepathy” looks, I called it.  

“So are you going to tell us what happened?” Jimmy finally asked in a tight voice. 

“No, I’m not. It’s really none of your business.” I told them over my shoulder as I went back into the kitchen.

Jimmy and Cas left me alone for the moment, but knowing the twins like I do, I knew this wasn’t the end of this.  They wanted answers, and they wouldn’t stop until they got them. They were tenacious little bastards when they wanted to be.It was late afternoon, and I had been going nonstop since I’d gotten there.  It was just easier to keep going to avoid talking to Cas and Jimmy. I was in the walk-in refrigerator gathering some ingredients I needed to make quiche. I’d grabbed some eggs, cream, and some fresh herbs and as I stretched to grab butter from the top shelf, I got very dizzy.

The ingredients fell to the floor of the walk-in as I felt myself start to pass out. I made a quick grab for the metal shelf but I couldn’t get a grip, and my head hit the edge of it hard as I went down. The ragged gash in my forehead began to bleed profusely, my blood mixing on the floor with the cream and the broken eggs.

I never even heard Jimmy open the walk-in door and scream, “Cas, come quick!” at the top of his lungs. What happened next is all a big blur.  I don’t remember Babi coming, 911 being called, or the ambulance ride to the hospital.  I don’t even remember falling.  One minute I was getting ready to make quiche, and the next minute I wake up in the hospital with one mother of a headache.

“What happened? Why does my head hurt?” I ask groggily.

“You passed out at work and hit your head.  You have a concussion and a nasty gash that needed stitches and you are dehydrated. I suspect you haven’t eaten anything today, have you?” Babi grills me.

“I just had so much to do……” I began.

“You are the most stubborn girl I have ever met! You’re weak from your heat. You know how important it is to eat, and especially to drink lots of water.  Haven’t I taught you better than this?” Babi scolds me, and I feel like I am nine years old again.

“Has someone called Dean?” I asked quietly.

“He’s on his way,” Cas says in a hard voice. I look at him strangely.

“Speaking of Dean, we saw the mark on your neck, Y/N.  Do you have something you want to share with the class?” Jimmy asks in a very soft voice that hints at his barely restrained fury.

Part 10

@shamelesslydean   @pdy93 @abbessolute @tatachot@yoursmilemakesmeloveyou @ayeeitsemry @erin654 @silenceofmidnite@stationary-queen @tinkerbellafan @curlyblondexoxo  @i-like-it-heavy-so-i-can-panic@lupine-princess @abbymonster17 @authoressskr  @peaceloveancolor @sandlee44 @boxywrites  @p3nny4urth0ught5 @posiemax @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @mandilion76  @skybinx-blog@percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it @pinknerdpanda   @atc74 @jayankles   @notnaturalanahi @midnightjazzmine  @moonlitskinwalker  @we-are-band-sexuals @winchestergirl-love  @gecko9596  @ronnie248-blog @essie1876 @bohowitch @just-another-busy-fangirl @jotink78  @captainradicalpassion @keelzy2  @disneymarina  @kittenofdoomage  @mrswhozeewhatsis @oriona75  @frankiea1998  @akshi8278 @stylinson531 @valynsia  @dr-dean @theoutlinez   @imweirdandobsessed  @growningupgeek     @luciisthebest   @laurenisnot  @maddieburcham1   @canadianjelly @muliermalefici  @brewsthespirit-blog  @ilsawasanacrobat  @nanie5 @weasleywinchester-blog  @samisimportant  @fatalcrossbow   @violetsamalamb @letmusicguideu  @grantsgorgeousgirl @faegal04  @feelmyroarrrr  @kay18115 @milkymilky-cocopuff  @mikimausiii  @the-greatest-temptation  @superpanicromancesummer  @wh1sp3r1ng-impala  @emoryhemsworth  @squirrel-moose-winchester @sofreddie

#spnabobingo #alpha dean #dean winchester #alpha dean/omega reader #spn au #supernatural au #winchesterprincessbride #not what he expected #supernatural a/b/o #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/omega #spnfamily #spnfangirl #spn series #supernatural series #dean angst #dean smut #sam winchester #cas and jimmy #novak twins #sam and jess #singer's garage #dean and reader #dean and y/n

[aggresivelyfriendly]

~Meet Me In The Hallway~

Special thanks to my feedback leavers and my betas!

Love you @emulateharry and @nocontrolforlouis

Chapter 9-Sightseeing

I wandered down those paths most nights in those days. I’d think about what ifs all the time and I was painfully aware of my feelings. 

The way he looked at me sometimes....

 In the beginning they were filled with me climbing onto my self-created rack and stretching my feelings long and taut. I felt ridiculous.

My stomach fluttered whenever I saw him, and those days when we were reunited after stretches away from each other were particularly bad. I was, to quote the great Britney, not a girl, but not yet a woman, but my pubescent response to him was stupidly overwhelming. I was not a fan girl. I spent a tremendous amount of time with a bunch of dudes who had fan girls. They were treated like something apart, something more than human.

In my real experience, they were more human than human, they sweat and farted and bled freely and often. It pissed me off that Harry was able to reduce me to the fluttering mess he was. My only hope was that he was unaware. I could not imagine he knew what he did to me, or his flirty little touches and open self disclosures would be the cruelest lead.

If so, he was a mean master and I was pulled along on his leash.

I told myself, in those long early days, that he didn't mean any harm. From what I came to know of him, what I still believe I know of him, is that the last thing that Harry wishes to give to others is harm.

Even when he was a randy man child coming to grips with the spotlight and all of its privileges and pitfalls, I don't think he ever intended to hurt anyone. Least of all me. He liked me always, as a person and as a friend at least. I'm not exactly sure looking back when it happened. When it became more for me, when it became more. I knew better than to like a guy who was my friend.

It didn't work out. But, by the time we had rejoined the tour and I'd been welcomed back into Harry's arms and bed, I had feelings for him. Those bastards kept cropping up, like weeds in a well-tended garden. I took the time and spent hours tending to it, every night I would talk myself down. Phrases like:he could have anyone, you are lucky he cares for you like a friend, he always takes you in, don't ruin it, he's so much fun, don't miss out on that because of stupid tummy swirls, you know how this ends, don't do this again- those were my lullabies.

Every morning I'd wake up with him tangled around me. Spider arms wrapped around my neck, or shoulders or torso, and I'd be a willing fly in the web. We'd laze about, and have talks in the half-light or bright sunshine, depending on our jet lag and then we’d eat together. We were sharing at least two meals together most days, no one seemed to notice, but all that broken bread meant we couldn't help but be making something together.

He flirted too, and he was a horrible flirt, truly. Harry's hands found my body in almost every interaction that we had. Unknowingly while he slept, unconsciously while we played video games or ate, and purposefully when he hugged me hello or goodbye, dropping candied kisses on my cheeks as well. My feelings were confused, or I liked to pretend they were, and I didn't have the huztpah to ask him about his own. I feared his rejection more than the pain I was putting myself through. I would have missed him terribly had he pushed me into the hallway after I revealed myself. I may have been in his bed then physically, but emotionally I was standing in a long chamber between countless doors waiting for him to open one.

There had been times when he slipped, Freud level oppsies that kept me on his hook. I was his own big mouthed bass, gape open and waiting. Casual I love you's were shared-"I love the way you laugh, kick my ass, make fun of Niall, talk, smell."

I wanted him to love the way I tasted.

The near miss kisses we shared may have been a teasing taste had we ever collided. Those I thought of too, lying in white fluff, smelling the tang of his sweat and gradual pleasant sour of his breath. The scenarios I came up with started to ramp up after our wish fulfilling movie night. Before watching Wesley and Co. defeat evil princes, I had daydreamed about kissing Harry.

Sitting on my bed far far away, I had thought about what he would move like. Would I taste him or just the spearmint of the gum he chewed constantly? Would the mint cool my mouth giving me a bracing inhale that one time we went to the snow in New Zealand, freezing throat of like menthol with the fiery other being our lips meeting. Would the kiss be a peck followed by an awkward sputter as it flared out? Or, would mutual attraction be enough oxygen to cause a flare?  Would the tinder be rich enough that we lit up and were consumed? Would it lead to more, be an amuse bouche, a taste of things to come?

After he sat his bony hindquarters on me and leaned in so close, the daydreams changed. I was no longer some corseted heroine being taken by his Fabio-esque rakishness. All those fantasies I built from books still in my head were replaced by little realities. His nose glanced off of mine during our Eskimo kiss, so I could fill that in to my imagined scenario. His breath was minty, but the onion from his burger had a sharper bite when I tasted his breath. His hands did span the back of my neck doubly, one could wrap around my throat with ease. Up close the green of his eyes were translucent and the blue ring at the edge was pushed out when his pupils dilated. His lips tipped up enough around the edges so that they touched my own when he leaned in, long before the interiors were in danger of connecting. And when he spoke at that proximity they moved against my own like silk sliding over my hips, a snag or two on the dried pieces of skin Lou hadn't exfoliated off yet.

The new sensations to go along with my wishful thinking fueled my late night yearnings. It only got worse after that.

I tried not to think about him, not to give myself to him when I had no assurance that he wanted it. I'd go out and try to distract myself. But I had built habits around being hisbiis eyes in the cities he moved through without seeing.

I'd pass a bit of street art, graffiti, dude with a funny sign, ocean view, mountain vista, piece of kitsch, slice of Americana, and I'd snap it. Send it. I'm surprised my phone did not automatically forward pictures to him. All those algorithms failed me there.

Even now, when I'm in a new place, or see a new wonder, I capture it for him before I do for myself. Last week, before I headed out from Singapore for a week long work trip, my friends dragged me out to celebrate my new gig with a night out. After shots and dancing and karaoke, and more shots, I was in the Chomp Chomp Centre watching the late night hawkers, and all I could think of was how watching the life in this place would light up his face. The wonder he would have, his chin would tilt up and he'd stop breathing for just a moment, and then his eyes would cloud, gloss, and he'd close them to get ahold of his emotions.

Maybe now he had grown comfortable with how weepy he could be. I was always impressed with his deep feeling, how things cut to his bone so swiftly. The armor I wore blanketed me from my emotions and my natural inclination to introspection meant my feelings were only known to me, and then I'd dissect them out of existence. I did not possess his glass face, but I coveted it. I also loved to provoke the deep feelings when I hit upon something that moved him.  I knew this place, it's pace, would do just that. I could imagine him going from stall to stall, looking for the longest lines like a local. He'd want to share.

"Try it." His low tone would bring me in, his personal space my own as I tried to hear him over the din of drunken company men and metal spoons scraping woks.

In the beginning, I'd shyly open and receive his offering, a child at first communion. Near our end, I was more the naughty school girl hoping to seduce the new young priest. I'd suck his fingertips and look at him through my lashes. The dilation of his pupils and other measures of his mania for me I'd have studied like an acolyte. By the end I was more than ready for ordination.

I wondered what he'd put on his chicken rice, if his British sense of taste would be satisfied by the fragrance of the grain steeped in stock, or if he'd grown as much as me in his travels and would heap on the chili sauce. If he couldn't come with me, I wondered if the kisses we shared when I made it back to him would be spicy, and his lips would burn with mine from dual appetites.

I snapped pictures, for him, and long dead habits seemed to be surfacing. The three years since I'd last seen him erasing my consideration of him in my day to day life. I made a conscious effort to stop, I had taught myself to seek my own interests and pleasures. It was when I couldn't walk out without the banana sweet I realized I hoped to see him in Shanghai.

I don't even like banana.

The yearning for him is what I remember most. It was my constant companion. It’s shadow was long and dwarfed me when I slept in his arms but didn't have a room in his heart. It cast itself like it was noon when I was sure of my place, only to grow long in absence. When we were apart, the want of him was huge. It overshadowed me. I can't say it was the same for him. Our final separation saw my shade become greater than myself. It was so large, there was nothing left of me for longer than I care to admit.

I'm not sure I ever made such an impression on him. I suspect I was more like an amenity.

I am being unkind, especially to myself. He would be disappointed. I wish I did not care.

I'm still watching the back of his head as he makes his way away from me to the elevator, to the next place. He's surrounded by people, I can hear his voice and I know the tone. He is teasing the man with short hair beside him. I can't make out the words, but the guy’s tone is low and full of affection, he wraps his arm around a woman among them and I wonder if the affection is towards her or Harry. Probably Harry, he provoked that response in strangers, let alone people he liked enough to tease.

His fingers extend to press the call button and I am distracted by his long fingers. I've watched the skinny digits pluck away at a guitar and my nipples and my body twinges at the memory. My attention strays from his nail beds, still chipped with polish. I smile involuntarily that he still likes them painted until my eye drifts to the cluster of silver near the top of his palm. My breath catches.  He couldn't possibly still wear that ring. When his hand pulls back, the light catches the metal circle and I can almost read it. I know what it says. It was my wish for him while he was surrounded by chaos. It was what I hoped I gave him a measure of in the rooms we shared, a moments peace.

His head rises up, and the mirror next to the elevator doors catches his attention. My focus shifts to where he is looking.

He is looking at me.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #meet me in the hallway #mmith #chapter 9

[islandpcosjourney]

Hindsight

29th December 2020

3 years ago, after a lovely family Christmas and a crazy few weeks beforehand redecorating the kitchen & dining room, I was enjoying some down-time. Facebook reminded me today that we were removing my fireplace in town – a big job involving big hammers and lots of sweat, on hubby’s part anyway ;) I had also just said goodbye to my Dad for the last time, although I didn’t know that. My final words to him were “Please go see a doctor” as we had noticed that he wasn’t himself while he was with us Christmas week. If I’d known in hindsight that I’d never see or speak to him again, I’d have never let him go. For the last 3 years I’ve punished myself for that. But in all honesty, I’m glad I didn’t know, despite the shock of his untimely passing, as I spent no time trying to cling onto something I wouldn’t have. He was just my Dad, it was just an ordinary Christmas, we were just hammering concrete out of a fireplace, as per usual and it was his time to go.

This year. The year of COVID. The year of cancellations. The year of worry. The year of unknowns. The year of excess screen time. The year of FOOD! This was the year of a fresh start. A chance to really sit down and think, quietly about anything and everything. In a year where our health has been debated so much in the press and in the community, I chose this year to sort it out, head on. Or rather, this was the year that my body chose, to WANT to sort itself out.

Many of you will have read before of the trials and tribulations that my PCOS gives me daily. It’s a vicious circle of physical and mental symptoms caused by external and internal factors. But before this year, although I’d done tons of research and I knew everything I could about my difficulties, I still couldn’t solve them. Something was always stopping me and that was indeed me.

We are what we eat. I truly believe this and always did but mentally I was always being drawn to the wrong foods. I still am, I am human after all but while most people had a kill switch to stop themselves from eating junk, my switch was broken, or so I thought. I understood the theory behind what foods would be good for me but putting it into practice is always the hard part and I’m sure many of you will have faced this before yourselves!

During lockdown, like many others, I was forced online to work. It wasn’t long after that I started noticing daily headaches, getting worse and worse. After a while, it was debilitating, and I was at the point (when in normal circumstances) where I’d have run to the GP for some stronger pills! But this wasn’t really an option this time and it forced me to think alternatively. I was convinced it was screen time to blame so I took a wee break and combined my teaching days/hours to make sure I had a long weekend away from the computer to recover each week. Around the same time, I was also experiencing buzzing in my ears – one Sunday thinking I was going insane hearing somebody strimming in their garden, when of course nobody would do that up here on a Sunday! Kevin definitely thought I’d gone mad and I was certainly believing I was! We figured out it was tinnitus or something similar and deduced I’d just have to ignore it, along-with my headaches. Fast forward to June when I finally decided to move a huge pile of recipe books from the landing upstairs. I can’t remember why they ended up there in the first place but rather than putting them back downstairs again, they’d just sat there in a tall pile for months. It was at this stage that I came across Jason Vale’s Turbo Charge Your Life in 14 Days book. A book I’d had at college and had used to lose weight before my degree’s final recital in 2009. I remembered losing 7lbs in 7 days. I sifted through all the pages and got swept back through memory lane and my tastebuds started to remember the taste of some of the juices. Mmmmmmmm yummy. Especially the Turbo charge smoothie – Pineapple, apple, lime, spinach, cucumber, celery & avocado. The ONLY form of avocado I would eat as I hated its taste but seemed to love its creaminess in a smoothie! Avocado being an essential fat that I KNEW I should be eating with my PCOS…… So, the next shopping trip I decided the buy the ingredients, dig out my juicer and before I knew it, while planning a week away to see my Mum & brother, I also planned a detox! AND it timed in perfectly with Jason’s BIG juice challenge between 6th – 12th July! Perfect, all meant to be.

So now, let’s cut a long story very short. I returned a week later totally rejuvenated, hadn’t eaten a single morsel of chewable food in 8 days and I’d lost 8lbs – here, something was working! I felt amazing, my headaches had gone, my skin was glowing, my teeth were whiter, I had tons of energy and I no longer had any ringing in my ears – all after just one week. Ok, so let’s continue! Nearly 6 months later incorporating juicing into my daily diet and I’m 30lbs down (It was at 33lbs, but Christmas was far too good hahahaha). I’ve set myself a target of 100lbs but the biggest reason for this dietary change is not to lose all the excess weight I’m carrying, although of course that will help, its to always put my health first and live the healthiest life I can. In a year where health has never been more important, I am finally on top of mine. I have finally found a way to control my symptoms and my cravings, naturally. I know it probably all sounds ridiculously obvious, but we are what we eat. My body was consuming junk therefore I was junk – I was overweight, chronically fatigued, had oily/acne skin, excess hair, moody, depressive, stressed, dull, no fun – the list is endless. I will now consume, in an average juicy week: 7 pineapples, 56 apples, 7 limes, 28 celery sticks, 28 asparagus spears, 7 courgettes, 2 bags of spinach, 1.5 bags of kale, 3.5 cucumbers, 3 broccoli stems, a few bananas, massive handfuls of mixed berries, beetroot, 7 pears, 7 avocados. Safe to say I am now bright, bubbly, happy, positive, glowing, full of energy, no back pain or headaches, smooth skin everywhere and best of all, I am reducing my PCOS symptoms massively. I’ve been at this weight before; I remember how I felt at this weight before. My weight has nothing to do with this feeling. The food I am eating is directly responsible. Finally, an answer to all my troubles. I know it sounds obvious but how many of us will turn to medications or look for other factors to blame for our chronic conditions? I did! As soon as I was diagnosed, I continuously went running back to the GP/consultant for more and more pills. One to sort that, one to sort this, another one to counteract the last one etc etc. I KNOW categorically that the medications were intoxicating me and that the fuel I put into my body causes the relevant energy output whether strong or weak. I know that if I wake up in the morning and feel tired, a juice will sort me out, not caffeine. I know that if I’m tired at night it is because of the incorrect fuel I’ve put into my body earlier that day, for whatever reason I decided to consume it. I am seeing a direct long-term result of it all too.

From previous blogs, you will know that I DID NOT have a menstrual cycle without medical intervention. As of Boxing Day this year, that is no longer true. It may have taken since July to regulate my hormones naturally, but it has worked. Obviously, time will tell if I’m going to restore any kind of regularity to it but in all honesty, that’s not a concern right now as I can’t remember having a regular cycle since I was a teenager, so we’re talking around 20 years of hormonal disruption to be reversed and Rome wasn’t built in a day! Interestingly the last “natural” cycle I had after stopping years of medication also appeared on Boxing Day, in 2016 ;) In August this year, I was convinced “mother nature” had come to visit but she only said a very brief hello in a socially distanced way for a day so this time with the COVID restrictions lifted a little she was able to come to stay with gifts of stomach cramps, carb cravings & headaches as a way of getting us reacquainted again. Needless to say, she was made very welcome and I’ve never been happier, especially by hugging a hot water bottle.

Not everything is quite sorted but as you can imagine, its well on track! I now choose my food wisely, looking for naturally wholesome options as is humanly possible and just being more conscious of what I am eating (of course I eat treats ocassionally but I’m doing it consciously). Would you put dirty fuel in a car? Of course not. Would you put dirty oil in during an oil change? Of course not. That’s what I believe medications do to chronic conditions – they throw dirty oil into an already dirty engine. Our cars need servicing each year where they get an oil change, where the filters are cleaned, where essential maintenance is done, so why don’t we do that when we’re chronically sick? Why do we turn to pills to sort a condition we’ve developed rather than look to what we’re fuelling our body with and give it a good clean out? Of course we need medicines for acute conditions but chronic ones can be reversed if we clean out the “filter” and do an “oil change”. I’ve seen tons of documentaries recently where I’ve learned of people curing their Asthma, Eczema, Psoriasis, Diabetes etc I’ve even seen a documentary where cancers have gone into remission for dozens of years through eating raw food alone. I know it’ll sound very “out there” for some people and it would’ve done for me too had I not gone looking for Functional Medicine (using food to heal) research after years of understanding the theory behind it but not finding the right way to put it into practice. But, never in my whole life and in spite of a worldwide Pandemic, have I felt more alive or healthier than I do right now. I may have turned the clock back 3 years on my weight but energy-wise I feel about 15 years younger which is far more important than any number on the bathroom scales.

In hindsight, do I wish that I’d reached these dietary conclusions earlier? Not at all. It wasn’t the right time. In hindsight, I can see that all of the information that I have been armed with over the years, are the tools that have set me up for the success I now have. Like a fine wine, I needed time to breathe, time to mature to become the best I can be. No point in opening it early, you’ll just be disappointed. A good teacher is somebody who’s struggled themselves and I’m a better, stronger person for having had my major struggles. There’s probably many still to come. Life is never boring!

Now that I’ve written this, I logged into Tumblr to copy this blog across and to see when I last posted and to my amazement it was Boxing day last year! I love coincidences of dates & Boxing Day seems to have cropped up a number of times. I said that my goal was to increase my energy levels as I really struggled this time last year. I had said regarding Christmas day:

“I want to be able to, one day, wake up early to make the breakfast, open stocking presents, get dressed inc. make up, cook a Christmas dinner, watch a bit of Christmas TV, play some board games, do the washing up and still feel like a proper woman – not some shadow of one who can only do one or two tasks a day.”

Well I did all those things! I’d totally forgotten that I’d even set that goal (for one day!) but I reached it a year later and more. I never thought I’d be sizes smaller than a previous year as my pattern has always been to be one size bigger each year ;) I recently ordered a few jumpers for the harsh winter, one a size 16-18 and one a size 14 for the future. Well, although a stretchy material, I’m in the size 14 jumper and had to send back the other as it just hung off me! Considering I was a size 20 last year, ballooned to a size 22 by the middle of the year and now I’m back to the size I was 3 years ago, I’m delighted. I also don’t get the violently ill episodes when I eat gluten/dairy now that I did before when I religiously followed a PCOS diet and ocassionally slipped up. I honestly think fruit & veg is healing my gut, my hormones, my skin, every organ in my body! There’s a lot to say for eating a plant-based diet, not only for my health but also the purse-strings but there’s also lots to say for eating balanced nutrition and listening to one’s body for what it really needs. My ears are wide open now.

[fernandsteel]

It was such a big part of my life that it's hard not to talk about it

but it's not suitable for casual conversation

it belongs in a a quiet room with a ticking clock

sitting on cold tiles beside a wicker basket

it belongs in an ambulance with the sirens off

in the self loathing I felt when I held the broken glass up to my wrist and couldn't bring myself to end it

it belongs in the late nights doing push ups on the floor

running in the woods until the air burned out of my lungs, like grief is something you can outrun

it belongs in the pain of losing a friend

in the walls of a home whose brokeness has been painted over with a fresh coat of paint

a beautiful suburban neighbourhood

a good school

my father's birthday, his self pity and cynicism a justification for the empty bottles

it belongs to the holes in the walls

to the shattered window

to the police car parked across the street

no one gets through life without experiencing some kind of trauma

my brother seems fine, he's ok

so why do I still feel the reverberations in my chest

why do I still have a bitter taste on my tongue

I can't sit in a restaurant with him

I remember how scared he made me feel when I was crouching in my room

put it out of its misery, he said

using it against me at every turn

guilt and shame were his favorite currency

he would watch me with bleary bloodshot eyes

I learnt defiance and anger because it was my only shield against that heavy gaze, those throbbing words

he was never a port in a storm he never had our corner he was not a man not an anchor he was pitiful and despicable

I missed her, and I hated him

my mother cried too often

locked herself in her room

I tried to run away from the ambulance

but the nurse blocked my way to the elevator

I was scared to lose my sharp edges

my self control

when self discipline is an armor

recovery feels like a violation

they strip you down

tell you to endure the fullness

they push it through your nose and down your throat

Nauseous anxiety at the locked doors

the weigh ins and the hospital gowns

Each admission broke me in a new way

Eventually I took the pills

The dizziness deafened the alarm bells

the fear ebbed away

Recovery was sleepwalking

I felt nothing I couldn't keep my eyes open my feet were as heavy as cinder blocks

I was by all accounts restored

I asked, is a successful outcome supposed to feel this numb?

I was choking

I was glued together

a girl in a glass box staring out at the world

Hunched over my desk

Doodling in the margins

Feeling like something sorry and misplaced

Someone says my name and I look up, confused

Me? You're speaking to me?

But it's nothing

Idle small talk

I mistep, my response a beat off tempo

I don't understand any of them

Maybe they could understand me

But it's not something you talk about in casual conversation

it's not something you can just tell people

it's fine, they don't need to know

talking about the past doesn't change who I am

you can have me at face value

you can take me or leave me

That's fine

I tell myself

I can be anonymous

I hesitate

Sometimes I bite my tongue, sometimes I overshare

I want to disclose, to confide

it's not that I want your pity

it's just that I feel like I've hidden something from myself and

if you could see my footprints in the snow

I wonder if that icy glass would melt away

if then I would be knowable

If then this chasm between me and the world could be swallowed

or if it's something else completely, if I'll always be a little apart from the world

no matter how much I try to explain myself

but I know there are others with scars like mine

they make me feel less alien

there is a worldless solidarity between those who understand how thoughts can be an electric fence

how a mind can betray you

how to let go of the log when there is nothing else to keep you afloat and trust blindly in the people telling you that the river won't drown you

That you will be strong enough to swim to the shore

One summer we see each other at the water fountain

Ghosts from another life

you say hello and I say hello but we are strangers to each other now

I still remember their names and their faces, the unbearable softness of the other broken kids on that ward

I want to speak about my old life

but it's not the right place

It belongs to a different world

so I pretend it never happened

and try to work with the pieces of who I am today

Wading forwards

Tapering off

I try to lean on science and logic but it makes me feel cold

I need stories and stardust too

I need words

need to sit still as the

the old feelings and the new feelings slowly coalesce

I wonder who I was then and who I am now

I wonder at the dark years when I was consumed by the fire burning in my head and my heart

when I felt alive so deliciously exhausted but never tired

when every fiber of my being was pitted against a number on a scale, and I chiseled my body down

chipped away, redefined and refined

I never wanted to be attractive

I wanted to be untouchable

I wanted to be invincible

and I wanted to need no one

but there comes a time on a cold October dusk when I sit down beside a dark river

and I face every iteration of myself

I face my ideations and my shame and my despair

I think about going gently into the night

but something rustles in the trees behind me

survival rings out like a church bell in a graveyard

I can't help that spike of adrenaline

I get up

because how can you argue with instinct when it screams at you to flee

run out of the darkness towards the streetlights

my limbs are shaking I curse myelf curse the world

those cold hands flash through my mind as I hesitate in the beat of silence, gaps in a conversation between my friends

because i should bite down on the past

bury it from these earnest people

I don't want to make it uncomfortable

I've always felt too much or not enough

never in the right measure

too passionate but too apathetic

unconcerned but self conscious

I remember a day on the mountain where i told my friend's mom that I'd like to live away from it all

disconnect

and she said why would you want that

and i realize now

years later with a sinking jolt that I might be too much like my father

I might carry the same poison in my veins

I'd rather die than become him

but I sit by the river I sit with a shard of glass pressed into the little blue vein at my wrist I sit with the pills in my hand

and I can't do it

because trauma is about survival and in the end some primitive part of your brain stills your hand

you throw the razor blade away and instead of cutting flesh

you cut away at yourself and try to rearrange your flaws into something workable

something lovable

someone true

I'll be the anchor

I'll show up for myself

and I'll beat a new path through the thicket

This time in the beat of silence

I'll make no reference to the past

I strike a match and let those years burn away

catharsis and closure pooling at my feet

Until all that's left is a promise tattooed on my skin:

I won't be like him.

#poetry #recovery

[glmfic]

Happy holidays my dear readers: chapter 27 sneak-peak

My dear readers, bless you all. I have been writing on GLM for 10 years now, and you’ve been my everything. Nothing is more motivating and encouraging than knowing there is someone out there waiting to read what happens next. Your comments and reviews make me laugh and cry (happy tears!). Most importantly, they give me the drive to keep writing. Please don’t misunderstand, I enjoy writing-- very much, but it’s a solitary thing and sometimes can be discouraging and lonely. A quick trip to FF.net or Wattpad (and now this blog<3), is all I need to change that. Because of YOU. You, my dear readers. You are all so special and important to me, more than you know. I appreciate you all so much, thank you for being on this journey with me.

When I posted chapter 26 at the end of June, I was overwhelmed with the response. You guys were amazing-- so excited, you had so much to say! It made my heart so full, afdgshjfgssj !!! You were dying for the next part and I was dying to write it for you <333 Originally, I thought that that would be no problem-- I had sort of split chapter 26 in two...part of it was going to contribute to chapter 27. I knew where things were going, piece of cake! I’ve had this part of the story in my head for ages (Naru!!!) and I was just going crazy wanting to write it out. I thought your excitement + my motivation = chapter out in record time (oh yeaaaah). But life has a funny way taking your plans...and throwing them out the window. What was supposed to be an update in September, turned into...when can I steal five minutes to write today? Some of the delay has been work related, but a larger and tougher barrier has been some serious personal problems that have come up. I’ve been all consumed with taking care of and supporting my family in this hard time. Unfortunately, it’s left me pretty exhausted. Writing is usually my go-to way to de-stress, but most days I couldn’t find the energy, even when I had the chance. It has made me sad. Very sad because I want to write. I want to share the next chapter with you, my dear readers. Posting updates here on this blog though, and seeing you all still kindly waiting for me, lifts my heart. I am so grateful!

I couldn’t give you the full chapter for Christmas like I wanted, but I wanted to give you something. So here it is: a preview of chapter 27!  I know we’re just around the corner from 2018, and I am hopeful I will be able to return to writing like I so want to. I am excited to share 2018 with you all, and to share the next installments in this story I love so much.

I hope you enjoy this small preview (this chapter supposed to be 10,000+ words when finished), thank you all so much for your support <333

[previously in chapter 26]

Reaching the inn, unable to help herself, Mai scanned the cars parked outside. No black van. A familiar ache spread through her chest, but she stubbornly ignored it. Dinner was coming.

He will be there.

Last to enter the lobby, her mind on things like what freeway traffic was like at this hour, Mai didn't notice Mrs. Koku until she was nearly upon her.

“SIGN.”

Mai gave a polite bow,

“Oh, hello.”

Her greeting discharged, Mai made to move along, unpleasant memories surrounding the inn keeper assaulting her, but she was halted by a second, “SIGN.”

Mai blinked, and turned to look back. She saw then that in addition to a sour expression, Mrs. Koku held a clipboard. At her feet were two boxes. Gift wrapped.  

“SIGN.”

Mai took the clipboard that was suddenly shoved into her hands.

“Me...?” she asked, staring at the receipt in confusion. Designer perfume invaded Mai's senses. Ayako was suddenly at her side. The miko bent down and picked up the two boxes.

“For you? Mai, this department store wrap, tsk-- expensive. I only pay for it at the holidays. Who could it be from?”

Mai stared at the crisp wrapping paper, thinking the exact same thing.

Who...?

She glanced at the packages, but there was no card, no return address...

“Do you know who--” she began, but faltered meeting the inn keeper's stony gaze. The old woman reached out and jammed a wrinkled finger against the X at the bottom of the receipt.

“SIGN.”

[chapter 27]

Day Seven

4:30pm

The Koku Inn

Mai had barely finished signing when the clipboard was yanked from her hands. She watched as Mrs. Koku reviewed the receipt, her expression as if Mai had written a foul word there instead of her signature. Self-conscious, Mai glanced at the clipboard.

“Is there...something wrong?”

The inn keeper grunted.

“PEN.”

Huh?

Mai blinked, confused, but then realizing what she still held in her hand, mumbled a quick, “oh, here.”

Snatching up the offered pen, the old woman gave one last scowl before shuffling away. With the distinct feeling she was being silently cursed, Mai turned to leave. She had only made it a step though, when a second booming voice filled the lobby. Mr. Koku joined his wife.

“DID YOU DELIVER THOSE PACKAGES TO THAT GIRL?”

“I HAD TO, THERE WAS A RECIPT.”

“SHE ACCEPTED THEM?”

“WITHOUT BATTING AN EYE. SHAMELESS. SHE EVEN HAD THE PLUCK TO TRY AND ASK ME WHO THEY WERE FROM. AS IF SHE DOESN'T ALREADY KNOW.”

“NOW MY DEAR, SHE MIGHT NOT AFTER ALL. THOSE KINDS OF CITY GIRLS KEEP SO MANY RICH LOVERS, IT GETS HARD TO TELL THEM APART.”

Shameless? What kind of girl...?!

Mai was definitely warm now. She tugged at her hoodie, fighting the urge to share a piece of her mind with the slanderous inn keepers behind her-- only past experience held her back. Arguing would do nothing but cause a scene. The last thing she needed was more eyes on her.

Grudgingly, she met the set that were. John's openly curious, but also empathetic. Ayako's, side-long and glittering with interest. Bou-san's amusement was clear from across the room. Reaching them, her head ducked in embarrassment, Mai was surprised to find Lin still standing there. His gaze was impossible to read as usual, but she noticed his attention lingered on the packages in Ayako's arms.

“If you're finished here, we should head in,” he spoke, leading the way down the hall. Mai followed after, only too ready escape the lobby.  

“Rich lovers, hm?” Bou-san murmured as she past him.

“Shut up.”

They arrived at Ayako's room first, but the miko walked by.

“Leave me out of opening these boxes? As if.”

Mai sighed, staring at her delivery.

So much for privacy.

But privacy was exactly what she was being afforded. Mai had braced herself for the prying looks and whispers as she returned to her room, but the occupants of the Koku Inn were too busy getting ready to be busy bodies.

They reached John's room next. With the agreement to meet for dinner, the young priest left them. Ahead of them, Lin opened his door.

“I've reserved a table, be there no later than six.”

With these instructions, the Chinese man shut his door. Just the three of them, Bou-san and Ayako's suppressed interest and curiosity was given free reign.

“So, what do you think is in there?”

“Expensive shoes,” Ayako answered, tapping the box with her nails.

Mai blinked, surprised at the woman's cool certainty.

What makes her so sure?

“What about perfume?”

“Perfume? No. It's shoes, and probably a dress too.”

“What do you mean, no? Perfume makes a nice gift. And jewelry. Two-thousand yen says there's a necklace.”

“Good gifts, according to 2 am infomercials. Your singleness is showing.”

“Ah, so you've been watching them too?”

Mai reached over and took the packages out of the priestess' distracted arms.

“We're here,” she announced, digging in her sweatshirt pocket for her key. That was when her gaze, as if drawn, fell on it. Unoccupied, room thirteen.

Naru.

With mixed feelings, Mai stared at the spot she had stood that morning. The familiar ache was present, but also, the thrill of anticipation.

He's coming back.

“What's with all the commotion out here?”

Torn from her thoughts, Mai saw the door to room twelve was open, an old man standing in it.

That neighbor.

Mai griped her key and quickly turned back to her door.

“So, it's you again. Should have known,” he began, recognizing her. The commotion (argument between Bou-san sand Ayako) behind Mai paused.

“Who's your friend?” Bou-san asked. Mai turned the key in her lock.

“Ah, your parents,” the old man continued, noticing Ayako and Bou-san. Mai nearly dropped her key.

Parents...?

“I tell you, you ought to have better control of your daughter. I couldn't sleep at all because of her boy chasing, pounding on the door next to mine well after midnight, and then, she was back at it even before the sun was up--”

The boxes Mai held were suddenly plucked from her. With a firm shove from a perfectly manicured hand, Mai stumbled into her room.

“You hear that? This is all your fault. You should reflect on your poor parenting,” Ayako announced, backing in after Mai, smirking at the bewildered monk in front of her. Then, in a tone just he could hear, “We're going to spend some mother-daughter time. See you at dinner.”

“What kind of father...” was the last thing Mai heard before the door was shut.

“Boy chasing?” Ayako asked with an arch glance.

“Forget it, mom.”

“Fine, but only because we have bigger fish to fry.” The miko held out the packages, “If you don't get these open, I will.”

Mai took the packages, bringing them over to her unmade bed. Ayako made a disapproving face, but held her tongue. Mai's mind began to race. The same questions cycled through her head: who? Why?

Again, she looked for some form of identification. But her delivery was unmarked.  

“Enough stalling. I'll do it.”

Ayako picked up the smaller box and expertly slipped the wrap off. Then she did the same to the larger one. Mai's heart pounded in her ears.

The two of them stared down at the unwrapped boxes.

“Hi-ro-ko Ko-shi-no,” Mai spoke, reading the name elegantly printed there.

“Hiroko Koshino...I recognize the brand-- they have a store in Ginza. I visit them sometimes. When I'm in the mood to treat myself.”

“Really?” Mai murmured, her curiosity mounting. Turning the large box over in her hands, she pulled at the corner, and the top came off. Buried in scented tissue paper was a dress, lace and rich burgundy. Mai stared, stunned. Next to her, Ayako had no patience for her shock. The priestess snatched up the smaller box, the lid was gone in an instant.

“I called it,” Ayako remarked with satisfaction, “Shoes. And a dress. That monk owes me 2,000 yen.”

“Oh, they even match,” Ayako persisted, holding up the pair of lace flats next to the dress Mai held.  

It's a complete outfit.

Standing there, considering the pair of luxurious gifts and how they came to be hers, Mai could feel Ayako's intent gaze.

“Ah, the spoils of having a rich lover. I'm jealous.”

Mai blinked at the miko, only half listening, “Hm? What do you mean...?”

Ayako set the shoes down on the bed and gestured at them,

“I mean, if I wanted something like this, I'd have to be prepared to fork over 30,00 yen.”

30,000 ?!

The dress slipped from Mai's fingers.

“What? That kind of money-- I can't wear these! I don't even know who they're from! Who could afford such an expensive gift?”

Ayako bent down and collected the abandoned dress, her eyes narrowed critically. She made show of smoothing the lace, before giving a simple answer,

“Your rich lover.”

Mai crossed her arms in protest,

“Ayako-- I'm being serious.”

The miko fixed her with a look, “So am I. You think rent in Shibuya is cheap?”

A heartbeat passed.

“Shibuya...”

She means--

“If I had known he had gone to Tokyo for a shopping trip, I would have made him take me along.”

Mai grabbed the dress back.

Naru?

She inspected the seams, the tag...but it was no use, no trace of the sender was stitched there.

No way.

“Cinderella time.” Ayako pressed the pair of shoes into Mai's arms.

“Cinderella?” Mai repeated, being coaxed towards the bathroom.

The miko shrugged at her,

“Well, if he's not your rich lover, then what else but your prince charming?”

Mai halted and made to object, but taking her shoulders, the priestess directed her straight into the bathroom,

“No? Okay...I guess he's just your generous boss who likes to drop 60,000 on his employees. Nothing special. Let me know when it's my turn, will you?”

“60,000? I thought you said 30,000?”

“That was just the shoes. The dress easily costs as much. Probably more. Now quit checking out price tags and get them on, we don't have all day.”

And with that Ayako closed the bathroom door. Mai leaned her forehead against it. Speaking through it, she protested,

“But we don't know if it's even from him.”

“60,000 yen says the dress and shoes are exactly your size.”

Mai's felt heat rise to her cheeks at the miko's muffled answer,

“The size...? How would he know--”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

That Ayako.

“There's no use denying it,” the priestess continued, unrelenting,“What kind of man buys a woman flats instead of heels...unless they know what a klutz they are? It's from him. So, do you have it on yet? Let's see...”

“No. You distracted me,” Mai answered irritably, leaning back from the door. On the other side she could hear the miko rummaging around, muttering something about ungrateful people and going to dinner in her robes.

Mai sighed, and began undressing. Off came her hoodie.

4,000 yen.

Then her t-shirt.

1,000 yen.

And her jean shorts.

3,000 yen.

Mai reached for the lace dress, and paused.

30,000 yen...

That was almost enough money to pay for a month's groceries. Could she really wear something like that?

Is it really from...

“This a place is a wreck, how do you live like this? And your suitcase is completely empty, don't tell me you haven't been doing laundry...?”

I have nothing else...and Ayako's waiting...

Equal parts embarrassed and pleased, Mai unzipped the dress and slipped it over her head.

It was the exact size. Just as Ayako had said. Mai gazed at her reflection in the mirror, studying the details: the flattering cut, the hem falling just below her knees. Her arms were sleeved in intricate lace. The two cutouts at her waist were the only skin shown, the top of the dress coming up around her neck, delicate and modest.

“...and put a load in with mine tonight, really what were you planning on? You'll end up smelling like Bou-san. Are you done?”

“Not yet,” Mai answered, glancing at the shoes,“but the dress fits.”

“What did I tell you?”

Mai flushed, stubbornly ignoring the remark. Her attention then turned to her feet. Mai crouched down, her fingers trailing along her injuries. Relieved to see the skin mostly healed, she reached for the lace flats.

Another 30,000...

Each shoe on, Mai flexed her toes. Again, a perfect fit.

How...?

“What's taking so long, are you stuck? I'm coming in,” Ayako announced, opening the bathroom door.

Mai straightened, self-consciously adjusting the dress. The miko's keen gaze swept over her.

“Mm, very nice. You look every cent of 60,000.”

“It's comfortable,” Mai countered, still bothered by the price tag.

“Even the shoes...?” the miko asked, approaching her.

“Even the shoes.”

“Well done. He knows every inch of you, hm?”

“Ayako--”

“You're healing up nicely,” she went on, leaning down to study Mai's feet, “Good.”

“Can I keep the bandages off, do you think that's okay?” Mai wondered,

Ayako moved around her, coming to stand next the empty bathtub.

“I think so, you did fine yesterday. Just let me know how you feel after tonight,” she answered, reaching in and plugging the drain. Mai watched as the miko turned the cold water faucet on full.

“What are you doing?”

“What you should have done already.”

Ayako disappeared from the room, and reappeared a second later with a dress laid over her arm.

Originally pink, it was splotched red and brown. A chill ran through Mai. It was her dress from the night before.

“Let it soak, some of the blood may still come out...” Ayako mused, submerging the dress.

Mai stared. Absently she placed a hand to her chest. A heavy weight rested there again.

“Alright, now for makeup and hair. Everything is back in my room, l'll get it.”

“Ayako,” Mai spoke, her gaze still lingering on the bath, “what did you do with your outfit?”

The priestess paused. Her lips twisted into a bitter pout,

“It wasn't salvageable. I threw it out.”

A stark memory replayed in Mai's mind: Ayako, tending to the injured theater goers, the white she was wearing marred with streaks of red.

It wasn't salvageable.

“Hey, what's that face for...?”

Mai shook her head,

“Never mind. Thank you for helping.”

“Helping? This is nothing,” she answered gesturing at the pink dress, “You should see your room, you won't recognize it. God, I really am your mother...”

And with that the priestess left the bathroom. She returned some minutes later to find Mai perched on the counter, still facing the bathtub. Mai allowed the miko to go to work, creams, powders, liners...

“Close your eyes” Ayako ordered.

Obediently Mai shut them, feeling the swipe of a brush across her eyelids. It was then that she noticed it. How tired she was.

I hardly slept last night...

Passing in and out of exhausted consciousness, Mai's thoughts wandered, but they weren't aimless. Relentlessly, they cycled back to one thing...the dress soaking a few feet from her.

The other ghost.

“Quit frowning, you're ruining my work. You can open your eyes now.”

Mai swallowed, surfacing from her reverie, blinking blurrily. Her eyes wanted nothing more than to close again.

“Just say it.”

“Hm?”

“Something is bothering you.”

Mai hesitated. There was so much couldn't just say.

“I was just wondering...” she finally said, “about the case.”

Ayako made a considering noise, “Still uneasy? Is that it? Don't be. I personally saw to two exorcisms today. Really, all that is left to do is announce that we've cleared the haunting. Case closed.”

Mai's brow furrowed,

“What happened at the theater was dangerous,” she persisted in the face of the miko's self-assuredness.

“We've handled worse than Mr. Miyuki.”

Mr. Miyuki.

Further weight pressed against Mai's chest.

“What if...but what if we're missing something? We need more time to investigate.”

Ayako's trademark smirk emerged,

“Weren't you listening? Two exorcisms today. Whatever was there, is gone.”

The priestess' bravado in full force, Mai gave up the argument. With a guilty conscience, she forced herself too look away from the bath and it's haunting reminder of the secret she was keeping.

The other ghost.

“Here, let's do something with that hair.”

Ayako zipped up her makeup bag and stepped back, allowing Mai space to slip down from the counter. Mai turned and stared into the mirror.

“Pretty good, hm?” Ayako quipped, seeing Mai's expression, “I thought a smokey eye might be nice for a change. Suits you.”

“It's...perfect.”

Mai continued to gaze at herself. She wouldn't say it out loud, but Ayako had been right. She felt like Cinderella.

The miko's expert fingers went to work again. Sprays and bobby pins later, the front sections of Mai's hair were braided back, the rest left down.

“There. Very classy. If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd were some rich heiress.”

A dress and shoes from a designer in Tokyo.

60,000 yen.

“It's comfortable,” Mai repeated, modestly. But her heart raced. She couldn't help but imagine the moment she would see Naru.

“What time is it, already a quarter past five...? I need to head back.” Ayako announced, gathering her things.

Mai followed the priestess from the bathroom, and got her first look at her bedroom. Mai blinked in surprise. She didn't recognize it. The window was cracked open to let fresh air in. The bed was made. There were no clothes strewn about the floor-- in fact she saw none of her clothes at all. Not the green dress loaned to her from Nari. Not the shirt and shorts she borrowed from Ayako. Her suitcase was missing.

“Smells better, doesn't it?” Ayako remarked, with grim satisfaction, “It should. I took out those old food trays you had piled up. Honestly, I don't know how you live...”

“Where did you put it all?” Mai wondered, glancing at the tidy corners of her room.

“I stole your suitcase. I'll be doing laundry later. Everything else you had laying around is folded. Along with some festival greatest hits I found crumpled under your bed,” Ayako answered admonishingly, “I figured you'd want to return them.”

Festival greatest hits...?

Mai's gaze fell on something colorful stacked at the foot of her bed.

“I'll see you in thirty, meet me outside John's room,” Ayako instructed on her way out the door. A rustle of robes and she was gone.

Mai let out a long breath. Careless of her hair, she threw herself across her bed. She was so tired.

Mai laid there, the last twenty-four hours running on a jumbled replay through her mind:

The theater.

The blood.

Mr. Sachi and Miss Miyuki.

Nari's near miss.

The pink dress.

Mrs. Motoshi.

Not friends.

The other ghost.

Naru taking her hand.

Naru helping her clean up.

Naru looking pale.

Naru gone.

Naru.

Naru.

Naru...

Mai blinked and cleared her throat. It suddenly felt tight. Her stare shifted from the ceiling to her sleeves. She studied the lace detail.

Is this really...from him?

Mai's heart fluttered. She sat up, blaming it on palpitations. That was when she caught sight of it again. The stack. Her festival greatest hits. Mai frowned, realizing that Ayako wasn't far off the mark. Sitting there were the forgotten dresses of festival days past.

Mai snatched at the bottom of the stack, effectively destroying it (sorry Ayako!). In surprise, she held up a dress of pale blue satin. Mrs. Koku had given it to her, the very first night of the festival.

I never gave it back...?

With growing guilt, Mai examined the rest of the ruined stack. Threads of purple and silver. The kimono Masako had lent her. Mai winced at the dirt stain marring the perfect brocade. Before thoughts of manhandling could surface, she turned her attention to the next dress. Dark green and velvet.

Ah, here's Nari's...

Mai's cheeks grew warm. The actress had been so generous. Mai had meant to return it right away.

I hope she's not in trouble with the costume department because of me.

Mai set to straightening the stack into something orderly again. She made a new promise to make good on her loans. Mai found herself restless, distracted.

The pink dress, soaking in the bathtub, haunted her. Ignoring it, her mind then treacherously fixated on the dress she was wearing now. How right it felt. How perfect it was. The best of any of the dresses she had worn. A persistent voice whispered that the person who had picked it out had done so with care...and if that person was Naru, then that must mean...

Her face growing hot again (for an entirely different reason), Mai firmly banished any further thought.  Her eyes searched the room, but caught on the edge of the bed. Blue satin shimmered there. Mai hesitated. She glanced out the window, attempting to read the darkening sky. How late was it...would she even have the time...?

With a groan, Mai stood. She had made up her mind. She would do it. Against her better judgment, she snatched up the blue satin dress once again and left.

The hall outside Mai's door was unusually quiet. Mai took this as an encouraging sign and hurried on her way. She past John's room-- there was no Ayako.

Good, still early.

Mai's footsteps slowed as she neared the lobby. She began to doubt herself. She recalled her earlier encounter with the old inn keeper, the woman's snide comments and suspicions. The last thing Mai wanted was to be the subject of another spectacle. She readjusted the dress that was draped over her arm.

I'll just hand her the dress, say thank you, and walk away...simple.

Mai approached the lobby counter, for a moment she entertained half a hope that no one would be there, but as luck would have it (or not), it was occupied. Mrs. Koku stood there, sorting through mail.

A moment past. Then another. Mrs. Koku continued sorting, occasionally turning to stick letters in cubby holes with room numbers printed next to them.

Mai cleared her throat.

Nothing.

Unnoticed, but not about to shout and attract attention, Mai placed the dress on the counter. The inn keeper's head snapped up. Seeing Mai, her surprised gaze...narrowed.

Mai bowed her head and gestured to the dress.

“Sorry that it's late, thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“HUH?”

Eager to be free of her charge, Mai tried again.

“I said, thank you for--”

“WHAT'S THIS YOU'VE PUT HERE? A DRESS...?”

Mai heard voices in the hall, people were coming. She needed to be gone.

“On the first day of the festival, you let me borrow--”

“WAIT, I THINK I RECOGNIZE THIS-- YES, THIS WAS MY SUKI'S. WHY DO YOU--”

The voices were loud now. Whoever it was, they were nearly there. The word spectacle flashed through Mai's mind. In a panic, she answered,

“YOU CAN HAVE IT BACK.”

Flustered, she ducked her head in another bow and stepped away from the counter. As before, she had made it halfway through the lobby when a second voice boomed after her.

“I CAME OUT BECAUSE I HEARD A RAISED VOICE, WHAT'S THE COMMOTION?”

“OH, IT WAS THAT GIRL. YOU KNOW THE ONE. SHE'S JUST MADE HERSELF CLEAR. OUR POOR NIKO, SHE NO LONGER THINKS OF HIM NOW. I CAN'T BELIEVE HER NERVE, WALKING UP TO ME WEARING ANOTHER MAN'S SHIRT. SHAMELESS, I TELL YOU-- SHAMELESS.”

Heat burned Mai's cheeks.

Another man's...what?!

Just then the “voices” from the hall entered the lobby. Mai fled the scene, leaving behind the offended Kokus' and the nosy onlookers.

So much for simple.

Her temper and skin were still hot when she reached the part of the hall where Ayako stood waiting, outside of John's room. Catching sight of her, Bou-san waved from beside the miko.

Mai quickly attempted to gather herself, willing her cheeks to lose their color. The last thing she wanted was to have to explain the last few moments. She waved back. Reaching them, a low whistle greeted her.

“Well, would you look at that?”

Mai followed the monk's gaze to her dress.

“What? It's nice.”

Bou-san smiled.

“Very nice.”

“You'll notice the distinct lack of jewelry and tale-tell whiff of perfume,” Ayako interjected, she held out an open hand, “Where's my 2,000?”

Bou-san shrugged, “Sorry, I spent it on this tie.”

Ayako scoffed,

“Which you're wearing like a noose, are you a monk or a caveman?”

The next instant the miko was shoving her clutch into Bou-san's hands, her own going to work at his throat.

Relieved at the change of attention, regaining her composure, Mai allowed herself a chance to study her parents. Not that you could look anywhere else. They made quite a statement.

Ayako was dressed in an strappy hot pink number, which hugged every one of her curves. Her lips, heels, and nails were red. Her hair fell in red waves around her bare shoulders. What Mai could see of Bou-san around the miko throttling him, were peaks of sleek black dress pants, a white shirt, not buttoned all the way, and a deep purple blazer. The tie he was wearing, which Ayako had finally managed to untangle, matched.

The door to the room next to them opened and out walked John.

“Ah,” he spoke, acknowledging Ayako and Bou-san, “you are here...I thought I heard voices-- oh, hello Mai.”

“Oy, you're choking me.”

“It's a tie, quit whining.”

Escaping the miko, Bou-san pulled at his collar.

Ayako snatched her clutch back from the monk, and swatted him in the arm with it.

“Caveman.”

Mai felt someone bump into her. It was a young woman, she smiled and apologized, but she wasn't out of ear shot when Mai heard her hushed gushing:

“I think that's her-- the one from the lobby...”

“Did you see her dress?”

“Expeeeensive.”

“How is that, isn't she apart of that paranormal team?”

“Oh, she isn't paying, that's for sure. Didn't you hear about the rich lovers she keeps in the city?”

Spectacle.

Mai frowned, crossing her arms. The hall was getting too full.

John noticed this also. He suggested they move on. The idea was quickly agreed to, and the young priest lead them into a swell of people headed for the dining room.

As they made their way through the inn, Mai kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with passersby, but it wasn't long before more whispered gossip reached her ears...

“So, he finally decided to stake a claim, eh? That's quite the down payment.”

“My educated guess? No less than six figures.”

Mai threw a dangerous look over her shoulder. She knew those voices. Her gaze flicked between the monk and the priestess trailing behind her. She caught their conspiring body language.

That Ayako.

“You have to admit, it's bit surprising. He's not usually this heavy handed.”

“Eh, he must have been nervous, leaving her with alone with Niko around and all.”

“Good point.”

That Bou-san.

Flushing, Mai turned from them. Seeking refuge, she fell into step with John.

“I meant to tell you earlier, you look very nice-- was that the gift you received?” he spoke with a kind nod towards her.

Gossip still ringing in her ears, Mai nodded back,

“Yes, it is.”

She gestured to the suit the young priest was wearing,

“You look very nice too. I can't figure how you and the others thought to bring such dressy clothes...if it weren't for my donations I'd be wearing jeans to the festival.”

John gave a small smile, rubbing at the back of his neck,

“To tell the truth, I didn't think of it. I only brought the basics-- a suit definitely wasn't on the list.”

Mai titled her head at him,

“But then...?”

John adjusted the bow-tie at his neck,

“It's a rental,” he confided sheepishly, “I can't speak for the others, but Bou-san and I rent our suits. There's a man who offers them...isn't he at your festival meetings too?”

Mai shook her head, thinking back to the last festival meeting she had attended. It had been awhile, but she didn't recall anyone hawking dresses.

“So, that explains it,” she murmured, her mind wandering over the variety of looks Bou-san had sported.

It was then that the crowds surrounding them parted. Double doors swung open to admit people inside. They had arrived at the dinging room.  

Mai halted, her heart suddenly racing.

Naru.

Was he there waiting?

A touch at her shoulder. Mai jumped, a hand coming to her chest. There it was again, that weight. She felt so close to shifting it now...

“Mai, aren't you coming...?”

Mai met John's wondering stare. The whispers of those around her were growing.

“That's her isn't it?”

“What's she doing?”

“Look at her blocking the way, doesn't she have any manners?”

“I bet she's waiting for someone.”

“You think? But she already came with someone...”

“So?”

Spectacle.

Mai took hold of John's arm and they passed through the doors.

#happy holidays!! #I hope it's a safe and cozy one for you dear readers #I'm sorry for not updating properly #I wanted to give you guys something #so here's a preview :) #this chapter is going to be monster long when it's finished #thank you for your patience #here's to spending 2018 together with the SPR team #writing update

[myhyyh]

To You | Chapter. 1

Ship: reader x Jungkook

Genre: romance, fantasy, school-life, smut, angst, fluff

Word Count: 5,428

You're the new girl in town. With a grieving past and uncertain future, your days repeat and trail on into the unknown. Love. Lust. Betrayal? You're soon to discover the city holds more than you imagined.

A/N: hello : ) I'm so excited to be sharing my first fanfic with you guys. it is a working process so I can’t exactly say how many parts are to come, though I am planning to drag this one out so sit tight andijustwanttoapologiseinadvanceforanyemotionaldistressthiscausesyoubyenow ^^

Hey. It’s me. It’s been a while… I messed up huh?

-

It’s mid-June, the train doors finally opened after what felt like a journey that would never end, the summer breeze instantly consuming me, but it wasn't the type I was used it. It wasn't like back home, in the countryside where the air was fresh and untainted. Here, it was thick and humid, filled with the scent of newly embedded cement and some other smell that screamed pollution, that’s the city for you; Seoul city.

The past few weeks, months, had been tough on me. At age 17 I was forced to bury my own parents, all by myself. “Huh,” I thought to myself. Almost a year has gone by, yet I’m still stuck in that moment. The pain in my chest as the nurse told me I was left alone in this world, that the only people in my life were now gone, forever. “Huh” I laughed out loud this time. It’s funny how 214 days can feel like a single moment that I’m still lingering in. I feel people shoving past me as they hurry off the train and I realized I’d been standing in everyone's' way, wallowing in my own feelings again.

Ever since the accident, I’d been living with my grandma, both mourning the death of my parents and relying on each other because… well, we're all each other had. I’d begged her to let me stay living with her but she insisted I move to the city that’s ‘full of opportunities’ and get a break from all this. She hated the way it all affected me, how it left me empty, my soul rotting. I hated it too, so giving in wasn't that hard in the end. Maybe a new start was just what I needed?

I had my own place here, but it wasn't anything fancy, just a typical one bedroom rooftop apartment. I could’ve afforded better but couldn't bring myself to ask grandma for too much. A part of me felt I was burdening her enough as it was. I know it's nothing like that but my own conscious wouldn't allow me to take more than I needed. I figured I'd get a part-time job to make ends meet while I attended my last year of high school here. Besides, from now on I'd need to learn how to depend on myself.

I took my time making my way to my new home, taking in my surroundings to familiarize myself. The last thing I wanted was to get lost in this big city. Coffee shop, hair salon, coffee shop, restaurant, convenient store, coffee shop, coffee shop. I internally cringed at how industrialized this place was. I knew from the start that I wouldn't like it but I also knew it didn't hurt to try either and walked into one of the many coffee shops.

The atmosphere was surprisingly calming. It was the combination of the lighting, interior decor and the smell of fresh brewing coffee in the air that allowed my nerves to simmer down for the first time all day. I managed to order something off the menu, some new special, not entirely knowing what it consisted of. I took my drink and looked for somewhere quiet to sit and rest my mind. ‘I made it,’ I thought to myself, but I knew the real journey had only just begun.

-

It’s been a couple of weeks now and I seem to have somewhat adjusted to my new life here. I even made a friend, Mina. She goes to the same school as me, School of Performing Arts Seoul, and I’m kinda grateful to her that I wouldn't be entirely alone when the year started. I met her at the park one day, her dog decided to run off and pee on me. Repeated apologies and bows turned into fits of laughter and, well, the rest is history.

It’s 8:46 pm, I hear a knock on the door that turns into a full on banging and I could tell who it was. Mina. She was coming over to pick me up for a ‘wild night out’. School was starting soon and she’s been meaning to introduce me to some of our classmates. I swung the door open with a disapproving "really” look on my face. “Do you have to do that every time?” I whined. “Yes, yes I do.” she plainly stated, passing by and plopping down on the sofa. “Well, you're late” “Oh relax! We have plenty of time before the club even starts to get lit, you don't wanna be early, surrounded by all those creepers again do you?” We both shivered in disgust at the thought of what happened the last time I urged Mina to ‘not be late’ to a club. “You're right.” I surrendered and headed back into the bedroom to finish putting my look together. “OMG Y/N, you won’t believe who’s coming today!” Mina practically screamed. “Umm let me guess.. the infamous super hot senior graduate you won't ever shut up about?!” I returned her energy with my own enthusiastic sarcasm. “Aaaahh!! I haven't seen Taehyung since he graduated back in May. He’ll be starting university in fall so I gotta win him over before all the uni thots hop on him.” she declared. “Easy tiger, you don't wanna scare him off do you?” “I mean, come on, it's about time. I’m a senior now and in the book that practically puts me on the same level as a uni freshmen, duh.” “What book?” I couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she sounded. “Y/N focus, I’m on a mission tonight and I could use some moral support.” She popped her head in the bedroom to throw me a pout but it quickly diminished into an ‘O’ shape when she saw me. I wore a two-piece black lacy bralette and pencil skirt that stopped just at the top of my thighs, with a pair of thigh-high laced boots to finish the look. I may have not grown up in the city but fashion trends never failed to reach me. I didn't notice Mina gawking as I decided on a choker in the mirror when I heard her scream out, “SLAY BITCHH!” That got my attention. “How do I look?” I did a quick spin for her, letting her see every angle of me. “Ok. I almost dropped Tae for you.. fuck Y/N!” “Ugh shut up.” 9:04 pm. I threw my hair back over one of my shoulders and tucked it behind my ear, grabbed my black fur jacket and clutch and met Mina at the front door with a mental note.

Let's make this a night to remember.

-

The club was well hidden and kinda hard to find. At some point I just grabbed hold of Mina’s hand and let her lead the way, clearly, it wasn't her first time. She’d pretty much taken me to every club in Seoul apart from this one, Paragon. Apparently, the thing about this club was that it only opened for special events or when someone rented it out for personal use? Either way, it was pretty expensive, which got me wondering what could be so special about it? ‘As long as it’s not EDM’ was my motto so I pushed all pressing enquiries to the back of my mind. We got inside and I couldn't help but notice how friendly Mina was with the bouncers. She conversed with them for a while, and I let my eyes wonder around. The only thing between me and the club was a set of large gold lion embroidered doors with a bouncer on each side, yet the sound of the music was still so vivid. The beat was roaring and I could already feel it pulsating in my chest. It consumed me and left me urging to discover what was on the other side. I was broken from my trance by the sound of girls shrieking behind me at the entrance. 

“This isn't a place for kids, now go home”, one of the bouncers commanded. “Please! I just wanna see oppa please, please, please!” I turned around to a pair of actual kids pleading their way into a club.. why was I not surprised? Their attire made it so obvious that they were underage. Body-cons that looked over-sized on their premature bodies, over exaggerated heels that kept them stumbling, and don't even get me started on their make-up. “Mess”, Mina chuckled, grabbing my arm and guiding me forward into the unknown.

To my surprise, I was greeted by the ultimate form of luxurious nightlife, surrounded by raw crypt, lavished with sumptuous leathers and burnished copper, the club radiated an invigorating atmosphere. I looked around the space, taking in a range of differently designed rooms, each with their own special feature, achieving a unique environment out of the mix between past, present, and future. Original elements, such as dark stone, architraves and coving contrasted with modern, custom designed furniture, brushed and polished copper steel finishes and natural colors. The light design pleaded for an exceptional visual experience. Through it’s minimalist elegance and simplicity, I felt stimulated, a sense of exuberance. The creation blending intimacy and community, function and fantasy, art and design, resonating as one in this modern definition of luxury. For a moment I questioned myself if this was a place I was worthy of.

I felt Mina brush her cheek against mine, rushing something about going to get us drinks and I was pulled out of my trance. I watched her disappear into the crowd of people and contemplated whether it was a bad idea not going with her as I was now faced to stand awkwardly alone, in a place I felt I didn't fit into. I mentally shook my head, reminding myself that moving here meant I could start fresh. I was being ridiculous. No one knew me yet, apart from Mina, and seeing as I was going to meet my classmates and ‘potential' friends soon, now was not the time to be consumed in my introverted ways. Pep talk over, I forced my attention back to my surroundings. I looked around, trying to find some place or group that I could blend into. I couldn't help but notice how incredibly good looking everybody was. Seriously, it was like a room full of God’s best creations. A sudden nerve of panic washed over me like I was being watched. I tried to calmly look around for the source but my eyes moved frantically and I could feel myself caving under the pressure. I ventured out to search for Mina, pushing the pair of eyes on me to the back of my mind, if they wouldn’t disappear, I would.

My eyes finally fell on Mina and I willed my body to move in. I watched her deep in conversation with several figures. For a moment, I stopped, stunned by more than just their beauty. Their auras synchronized in emitting ethereal energy. I couldn't quite process it and found myself at loss for words. Something about them was so inviting, so nostalgic.. it kinda reminded me of my parents. Mina’s eyes found mine from across the circle, “Y/N, there you are, come here!” I stepped into them, instantly regretting it as I felt my anxiety almost reaching it’s breaking point now that all eyes were on me. I opted to calm my nerves by focusing on a familiar face and glued my eyes to Mina. I noticed her arm interlocked with a tall, beautiful man, and when she caught my eyes drift to him, she took initiative to introduce us.

“Y/N, this is Taehyung, Taehyung, Y/N.” I could see the excitement dancing in her eyes as she presented her infamous crush, and everybody else fell back into the current of conversation around us. “Y/N just moved here this summer alone and she’ll be attending senior year with me at SOPA.” She finished, causing Taehyung to narrow his eyes on me. “Alone?” he asked, his face reading curiosity. “Yeah, my um.. my parents..’ I instantly dropped my head and began to fidget with my fingertips under the pressure of realizing what hole I just dug myself into, “they died a few months ago so... here I am! alone..” I tried to finish enthusiastically but it all just came out so awkward. I didn't want to ruin the mood, but I realized too late that that is exactly what I had done. “My condolences, Y/N.” He threw me a reassuring smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I wasn't in the mood for another ‘sob story’ moment so I stirred the conversation into a different direction. “I heard you just graduated, so I guess I won’t be seeing you at school this fall.” “Taehyung got accepted into Seoul Institute of Arts, isn't that amazing!” I watched Taehyung blush under Mina’s compliment. “Wow, congratulations.” “Thanks, Y/N.” He turned his head to the side and stared down at Mina, slowly placing a kiss on her forehead. Such an endearing moment. I wondered why they weren’t official yet. “Besides, it’s not like we’d get to see him often anyways.” Mina accused jokingly, pouting her bottom lip out. “Hey, that’s not fair!” Taehyung whined, “I've just been busy touring, you know that.” “You’re an artist?” I interrupted. “Yes! I’m in a group called BTS, we’re not that popular yet, but we’re gaining recognition by being on the road all the time.” He finished, throwing Mina a pitiful look I presume she’s all too familiar with. “Psht, look at you humbling yourself,” she faced directly at me this time, “they’re mad popular here in south ko, but they're trying to go international.” She finished dramatically, rolling her eyes as if Taehyung’s career goal was the only thing getting in between their ‘relationship’. “That’s really cool, I’d love to see you perform sometime.” “Well..” he began, his voice thinning out into a light chuckle as he collected his thoughts, “you see, we were supposed to perform the title song of our new album, Blood, Sweat & Tears, here tonight, but my members got kinda excited and.. shitfaced” he finished with a nervous smile. “Wait, you're all here?” His words spiked up a new curiosity in me. “Well duh, the whole point of this party is to celebrate their new album, of course all the members would be here, Y/N, didn't I tell you?” She asked but I knew she wasn't actually waiting for a response as all of her attention was devoted to Taehyung, she stared up at him as if he was the center of the universe. Her eyes mesmerized, her lips twisting into a beckoning smirk, pleading his to come crashing down into them. She was under his spell. “No, I think you forgot to mention that, Mina” I seethed at her through clenched teeth and a fake smile. “Oops” was all her brain could process. “I would introduce you but... I can’t seem to find them..” he trailed off, looking around the club, over everyone’s head, desperately searching for at least one member. It was almost effortless and for the first time, I realized how tall he was. “It’s ok,” I chuckled at his effort and decided to give him a rest, “another time?” “Of course!”

A tap on his shoulder stole his attention. After conversing with a man for several seconds he turned back around to face us. “It seems like they need me backstage.” He said, his face flashing a mix of concern and embarrassment. “What’s wrong?” Mina asked. “Apparently Hoseok hyung is planning a one-man-show.. in the nude..” He watched both me and Mina’s mouths turn into ‘O’s before continuing, “I better go help stop him before he ruins our career.” He turned around to leave, placing a kiss on top of Mina’s head and nodding a quick goodbye to me before disappearing with the man, who I now came to realize must’ve been a crew member by the way he was dressed, in all black with a mic headpiece shaping his face.

“Everyone here is so damn beautiful, I’m starting to find it weird.” I voiced out loud this time. Finally being alone with Mina, I was able to drop all barriers, I always found it easy to be myself around her. Ever since the big move, I’ve been cautious about the way I should act. I didn't want to stand out as the ‘country girl’, and even though I was perfectly proud to be where I was from, attention wasn't really my thing. After meeting Mina, I started to get a feel for how the people here behaved, thought and saw things. I figured I’d take a few tips from her to help me blend in more, but I loved being able to me unapologetically myself around her. “Well, what else do you expect from celebrities?” She sighed, confused at my question. “Celebrities?Everyone here is??” Why was I only finding this out now? “Not everyone, most of the people here are students at our school and the rest are famous graduates, the celebs-to-be, and the actual celebs.” She finished casually, and I was reminded again how uninformed I was about tonight. “Woah.” Was all I could manage. “Yep, I guess you could say this is where two worlds meet,” she said, looking around the room as if there was some physical divide, “but at least we all have something in common.” She smiled widely. “And what’s that?” “We’re all-“ A sudden arm around her neck cut her off mid-sentence.

“Come on now Mina, how are you gonna bring a new friend to my party and not even introduce me, you know better than that.” The blonde haired boy chided. He had thick hair that was unkempt. He ran his fingers through it slowly, moving it from his forehead and leaving little fly-aways that fell endearingly; revealing clear dark eyes, a color almost indefinable. They reminded me of the autumn leaves, a dark brown at first; but the closer he got the brighter they appeared. Suddenly they were chestnut with slight orange undertones. A straight nose and perfectly full, but masculine lips completed his face. I could hardly think as I stared stunned and bemused into his eyes, eyes that were staring right back into mine. I figured he was a part of BTS by the reference of ‘my party’ and turned to Mina for elaboration. “This, very drunk boy,” she scolded him, “is Jimin, he's a vocalist in Tae’s group” “It’s nice to meet you, very drunk boy.” I teased, which earned the most endearing eye smile from him, making my heart jump. “The pleasure is all mine.” He lifted my hand up, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss on my knuckles. It took me every bone in my body to hold my composure, but when my cheeks involuntarily flushed red, he’d gotten the reaction he was hoping for, as if getting even for the smile and slowly brought our hands down, but he didn't let go.

“Did you graduate too?” I tried to change the subject to lessen the heat rushing through my cheeks, my finger tips burning under his touch as he played with them. He just threw his head down and laughed nervously, and when Mina did the same I felt awkward between their inside joke that I was, apparently, missing the point of. “Well, Jiminie over here was supposed to graduate with Tae last May,” she overemphasized ‘supposed’, narrowing her eyes at Jimin, making him look the other way, “but he's not very gifted when it come to, um, school. So now he gets to repeat senior year with us, yay!” She finished laughing in his face, making the irritation in his eyes grow. “But he’s the best when it comes to dancing.” She quickly added, seeing the pain on his face and hoping to diminish the shade she threw at him. “What can I say, I’m a master with my body.” He whispered at me under hooded, hungry eyes and I had to wonder whether it was actually him or the alcohol talking. “I’m sure you are.” The words stumbled out as I cowered under his gaze, almost giving up on whatever composure I had left.

“Alright, Jimin, I think that’s enough teasing now.” A soft, sweet voice came out from behind him. A fragile-looking girl with vibrant, red, wavy hair. She look like something straight out of an anime, with bright brown eyes and clear, pale skin. “Hi, I’m Yeri.” She took the liberty to introduce herself, gently retracting my hand from Jimin’s and holding it in her own, whilst throwing him a cheeky irritated look. He returned it with his own version of irritation, upset that she’d broken our contact. “Hello, I’m- “Y/N!” She finished for me, and I narrowed my eyes at her. How did she know my name? Her face flashed a look that read ‘uh oh’ and she opened her mouth to explain, but nothing came out. After several nervous glances between the three of them, she continued. “Erm... Taehyung told me.” She laughed nervously, but something in me didn't believe her. “Way to go, Ri.” Jimin called her out, whispering very close to her ear as if I wasn’t supposed to hear him. “Yeah, hyung told us all about the ‘new girl’.” Another boy joined the conversation, throwing darts at Yeri, who was now grinning sheepishly at her mistake. “I see,” I stated flatly, clearly remembering Taehyung heading in the complete opposite direction from where they came from. “Mark.” He extended his hand out to me and I shook it subconsciously, too focused on how tall and pretty he was to properly reciprocate the gesture. “Y/N.” I said, instantly regretting it as he added, “I think we’ve already established that.” He laughed and I snapped back to reality. “Mark and Yeri are both sophomores at SOPA,” Mina moved from next to Jimin to beside Mark, “which means that this little rascal is younger than you, so you don't have to take any of his bs, ok.” She ended, roughly patting his head, although he was a whole foot taller than her, and he just let her. They looked like siblings in the moment. “Yeah, we get that a lot.” Mark sighed, his eyes growing the instant he finished talking as Mina pulled his hair to shut him up. “Get what?” Now I was seriously confused.

We all stood in silence for a few moments before the lights dimmed out in the club. A single spotlight hit the stage and Taehyung emerged from the left wing and took his place at the center. For a moment, I fully expected that Hoseok guy to run out and flash everyone. “Hello everybody, I’m V from BTS.” “V?” I whispered to Mina, who just rolled her eyes. “Stage name.” It seemed like she wasn't fond of it. “I would like to thank everyone for coming out tonight to celebrate our new album, Wings, with us. As you’ve probably already noticed, I’m the only one on stage.” After gaining the light laughter reaction he was looking for, he continued. “Long story short, the boys saw alcohol and I haven’t seen them since.” The crowd erupted into laughter this time at his distress. “I know you guys are listening right now, somewhere, so I just wanna quickly tell you.. you guys suck!” “I love you, too!” Jimin yelled back, earning a scowl from Taehyung in our direction. ‘Swag’ came from somewhere in the crowd, causing another wave of laughter and Taehyung to drop his head. “Yoongi..” Jimin chuckled, looking genuinely amused.

“Anyway. This time we decided writing each song together doesn't reflect the exact personal taste of each member, so instead, we each have our own completely separate songs. This way, we get to explore our own individual styles, incorporating them into our own stories.” He spoke clearly, accentuating every word with his deep, soothing voice and I realized I’d been put under his spell, along with the rest of the crowd. “We all contributed to the writing and producing our solo songs, and, in my personal, humble opinion, “ he began with mischief written all over his face, “the Neo-Soul song, Stigma, is the best.” He finished proudly, earning a round of applause. That must’ve been his song. “Now, I know you were promised a performance but since the members ruined our surprise,” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, who knew he could be such an actor, “due to the fact that they are.. how do I put this nicely? conceited, careless, crazy bastards who can’t control themselves,” my mouth dropped open, “we’ve agreed that the DJ will play our entire album tonight as an apology.” With that, the first song began and the crowd went wild.

“Let’s go!” Yeri yelled, pulling Mark along with her to the dance floor. Taehyung came down from the stage, beckoning Mina to join him too and in the midst of it all, I noticed Jimin disappeared. Mina threw me a glance, insisting I’d join them but the last thing I wanted to do right now was dive into the suffocating sea of bodies. 

My nerves were running out of control and I couldn't understand why. I’d been feeling this way every since we walked in, but it was mild back then, and way more intense now. I could feel it like a weight in my chest, confining my lungs and making it hard for me to breath. My fingers were trembling and when I raised them up to cup my face, I felt a tingling energy force itself through my entire body and stop at my hands. I watched them shake in front of me and for a split second, my eyes caught what looked like markings just in the palm of my hands. I blinked and they were gone. Was it just my imagination? The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I was about to lose consciousness. I needed space, air. I convinced her to go on without me and made my way to the second floor, it was pretty much empty since everyone continued gathering on the dance floor. I found the nearest corner and crouched down against the wall, placing my elbows on my knees and dropping my forehead down into my hands. What was wrong with me? I could no longer control them, they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm, and for a minute I had myself convinced I’d fade into oblivion.

“Come on baby, just one kiss? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” A snobby voice giggled and I realized I wasn’t alone. I peeked up over the edge of my fingertips, trying to find the source of the sound. A couple sat in the lounge opposite me, surrounded by too many empty bottles of liquor. “No.” The boy sighed. “Why not?” The girl began to beckon him by straddling herself across his lap, cupping his face in her hands and leaning in closer. “Because, if I kiss you now then you’ll just keep coming back for more, and I can’t give you that,” he teased her, “you’re just gonna get your feelings hurt and then I’m gonna look like the bad guy.” He spoke, but his actions spoke louder than his words as he made no effort to move away from her. He noticed her hesitate as she digested his words, and figured she’d backed down, but to his surprise... “You know..” she began,“I like bad guys.” She whispered, her lips brushing against his. A smirk played up in the corners of his lips and just when he was about to give in, his eyes found mine.

I instantly shot my head down. He caught me. He caught me and now he was looking at me. I internally cried, hoping the ground would just swallow me up. “What’s wrong?” The girl asked, noticing his diverted attention. “Er.. nothing, it’s just..” He trailed off trying to find some excuse when his phone began vibrating in his pocket. As soon as he read the caller ID, he sat up, throwing the girl off his lap. - “What, no, isn't he with Seokjin?” He almost yelled. I knew something was wrong as I could clearly hear whoever was on the other end of the line frantically shouting, all the way from my position on the other side of the room. “Fucking Hoseok.” The boy spat under his breath, before leaving the area. When I was sure he was gone, I looked up. The girl, who was ready for a make out session only moments ago, was passed out on the sofa, sound asleep. I looked at the mess she was, suddenly very thankful I hadn't had a single drop of alcohol all night and threw my head back down. I just wanted to get out of here and go home but I couldn't bring myself to ask Mina to leave. She’d been looking forward to not only tonight but spending time with Taehyung. I mean, who knows when she’ll get to see him next. I couldn't bear to cut whatever time they had short and sunk further into the wall, trying to find comfort in the silence this part of the club had to offer.

After a while, I came to my senses. I wasn’t sure how much time had gone by but at least my nerves had calmed down. The music was still playing downstairs so I figured it hadn't been that long. I remembered the girl from before and looked up to where she was sleeping, only to find that she wasn't there anymore. I contemplated whether she ended up leaving the club with the guy from earlier or not, but my question was answered when he reached the top of the stairs to the lounge, alone. I remembered our awkward eye contact and hid behind my palms once again, hoping he’d forgotten and wouldn't notice me. His footsteps kept getting closer and I realized it was hopeless.

“Hey, you alright?” A soft voice asked, crouching down so that we were at the same level. “Yeah.” My voice came out so weak, even I didn't believe me. I leaned deeper into my hands, hoping he’d get the message and just leave. “I’m not leaving.” He dropped, sitting down with his legs crossed directly in front of me as if to stand his ground. A few moments passed and when he realized I wasn't budging, he continued, “you know.. it is physically impossible for pigs to look up into the sky.” “Huh?” I couldn't help but lift my head up and laugh at his ridiculous comment. “Congrats, you're not a pig.” He smiled widely, proud that he got me to face him. “What is that supposed to mean?” I was too giddy from his previous comment to even be offended. “Nothing. But at least now I get to see your pretty face.” He said with a smile in his voice. I was met with a smirk, and when my eyes took him in completely, I realized how close he was. I found myself looking straight at him more than I’d like to admit but something about him was so... calming.  My eyes traced every inch of his face; from his eyes to his lips and everything in between, until they fell on a scar placed on his left cheek. I stared at it for a moment longer, wondering how it got there before he turned to the side as if he was hiding it. When he turned back to face me, something about him changed. He held my eyes again and somewhere between his close proximity and intense gaze, I felt like an open book. He wasn’t just looking at me, he was searching my eyes as if he could see straight into my mind through them. With that thought, a smile crept up on his face, sending a wave of energy through me and causing my nerves to stir up again.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” He let out with a slight chuckle.

“Get used to what?” I asked, but he already got up and was making his way back. He turned around to face me at the top of the stairs, throwing me one last smile.

“Everything. See you around, Y/N.”

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