#Yes I used the same tattoo parlor name as in my story Black Magic

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Drarry (Scarrs)

Where after complaining about his scars and emphasizing over and over that Potter wrecked his perfect skin, Pansy tells him to either go to a tattoo artist and get them covered or he can shut the fuck up because she’s heard the same damn story a million times since they were sixteen. Enough is enough. 

Offended, Draco snatches the business card Pansy gave him and storms out. What does she know anyway? Her chest isn’t marred by scars. He reluctantly floos ahead to make an appointment before heading over to the parlour. 

Scarrs. 

The irony is not lost on him. He curses Pansy’s name and vows to get her back. Who names a tattoo parlour Scarrs? Sounds foreboding, definitely something that belongs in Knockturn Alley and not in the bright colourful shops nestled in Hogsmeade. 

When Draco walks in and sees a familiar face, he promptly turns around to leave. 

“No, wait!” 

The sound of Potter’s voice confirmed that it wasn’t a hallucination, oh no, it was real. Like a bloody nightmare. 

“Parkinson said you might stop by.” 

“Did she now?” Draco said through clenched teeth as his hands followed suit. “You two been gossiping about me, have you?”

“No,” Potter said, tone pitched in confusion. It was enough to have Draco turning around. “She threatened me to not harm you, and that was it.” 

Perhaps Draco liked Pansy a little bit. A tiny little minuscule amount that wouldn't overinflate her already ginormous ego.

“Not that I’d harm you,” Potter added with a slight smile that bordered on a smirk. “Much.”    

“Yes,” Draco drawled slowly. “Because that makes me feel so much better.” 

The smile grew and Draco hated that he was reminded of seeing the same smile across the Great Hall. Not directed at him before, no, never at him. 

“You wanted a tattoo?” 

Draco looked down at the ground. Why did it have to be Potter? Couldn’t it have been anyone else? Hell, he’d have taken Finnigan even knowing his penchant for lighting shit on fire. That was a risk he’d have taken as long as it didn’t involve Potter, of all people. 

“Several,” mumbled Draco as he glanced up. “I have a lot of scars on my chest. Ones I don’t care for.” 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. An apology? Guilt? A grimace? But what he got instead was a tilted head and an intense look. 

“I’m good at covering scars,” Potter said, eyes narrowing as the intensity increased. “They’re my speciality. Whether physical or emotional, I can cover them.” 

“Well, then at least you aren’t a waste of my time.” 

The intensity waned as expressive green eyes rolled. “Your mouth sure hasn’t changed over the years.” 

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” Draco winked before snorting at the way Potter flushed lightly. 

Potter gestured him toward a reclined chair. “I need to look at the scars to get a feel of what I’ll be working with. Do you know what kind of design you might be going for?”

“No,” Draco shook his head as he took off his robe before sitting down. He ignored the sharp inhale from Potter when his chest was revealed. That was the reaction everyone had. Every. Single. Time.

“You can look around,” Potter gestured to the walls filled with hand-drawn designs and photos of previous tattoos. “I have a photo book you can flip through if nothing up there sparks your interest.” 

Draco was pretty sure the walls held beautiful designs, was almost positive that there was something there that he might like, but he wouldn’t know. He was too distracted by the fingers touching his skin. 

The warmth in Potter’s hands had to have been more than just skin contact. There was a singe of magic that trailed the same path fingers had previously travelled. 

Draco looked up but Potter’s focus was on his chest, so he let his eyes roam over Potter’s face. The years had been kind to Potter in a way that people never were to him. What drew his attention was the scar. 

The famous scar. 

It was beautiful in a way. Finding beauty in darkness was all Draco had ever been able to do to stay sane. 

Lightning. 

The creation of lightning was caused by two electrically charged regions equalizing themselves, temporarily. Evening the score, balancing out. That in and of itself was intriguing, and perhaps destined when it came to Potter’s scar. 

He had always been fascinated by lightning. It lit up the night sky, brought in thunder and left behind desolation in its wake. Lightning was the definition of something beautiful but also deadly and dangerous. 

“Lightning.” 

“Hm?” Potter’s hands stilled as his brows arched. “What?”

“Lightning,” Draco repeated. “That’s what I want. The crack of lightning as it strikes.” 

A long silence followed but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

“Each one?” Potter whispered, fingers trailing over dozens of scars. 

“Yeah,” Draco said, a hint of a smile in his voice even if it wasn’t present on his lips. “I want lightning to light up my chest.” 

When Potter’s eyes met his, there was a softness to them, one Draco wasn’t sure what to do with. 

“I can do that.” 

Draco wasn’t sure what else Potter could do, but he knew that he wanted to find out. Even if that meant having to come back and endure many other tattoos. 

Perhaps he wouldn’t curse Pansy after all. 

[al-pomegranate-seeds]

The hands they held

“Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before.The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain.“

Pairings: Logince, DLAMP in later installments

Urban fantasy

Tags: Fluff, Getting Together, Genderfluid Logan Sanders, Flower Shop and Tattoo Parlor au(but make it magical(not the first one to do that but I feel proud))

Warnings: Food mention(it’s Roman listing out some food and then they mentioning it after some times)

Characters: Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Dot(Cartoon Therapy)

Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27705440

Roman looked at the flower shop that set itself across the street from his tattoo parlor. How weird. He was almost sure the building had looked as boring as the other empty buildings in the street when he closed the shop the night before. The front of the small building was not as covered with vines and flowers that surely didn’t grow together as it was now, of that he was certain. The visuals were right up his alley, though, just the right amount of dramatics one needed in their life to make it interesting. A big sign sat on top the glass doors, displaying the name “Berry’s Flowers and Herbs”.

And then, as he was lost in thought admiring and trying to see if he recognized any of the flowers, a man almost as tall as Roman himself, with deep brown hair and brown skin, wearing a simple black polo with jeans and a gardening apron, opened the door and put up a sign saying “OPEN” in dark blue letters, before turning around and inspecting the streets, and then looking directly in Roman’s direction and – holy shit.

Roman was in love.

Before we continue telling the story, let’s lay down some facts about our current favorite boy. First, Roman and Remus’ mother was an elf. Second, elves, besides a long lifespan and a somewhat inflated ego, have better working eyes than most humans. Which is how, even a street away, Roman could notice the beautiful sharp angles of the man’s face, the gorgeous silver shade of his eyes behind his square glasses, and the adorable glittering freckles that covered his face, his neck and his arms.

Roman kept gawking at the glittering man like a fish as he went back inside the shop and closed the glass doors.

“Ooooh, sweet, that’s closer than where I buy.” Remus’s voice sounded suddenly, startling Roman out of his daydreaming.

“Oh, cool.” Roman said automatically, before turning to Remus, who was cleaning his hands with a rag. Roman decided to simply not ask how he had gotten them dirty. “Hey, Rem.”

Remus imeddiately squinted. “What the fuck do you want?”

“What? Can’t a man just call his bro by a nickname to show his brotherly love?”

“You do that by calling me Trash Man, you only call me Rem when you want something, what the fuck is it?”

“Oh I wasn’t going to ask for anything, I was just going to ask if, I dunno, you maybe needed some more ingredients, maybe the ones you have are running out or something, I could maybe go pick it up for you...” Roman trailed off.

Remus just kept squinting at Roman for another 20 seconds, before flicking his eyes to some point behind him. Roman turned, only to see the man from before pushing a table on wheels with flower vases to the front of one of the big glass windows, before going back inside.

Roman could tell he was staring as the man went back inside, and when he looked back at Remus, that shithead smile was glued to his face like a dry face mask.

“Oooh, you got a cruuuuuush?” Remus said in a sing-songy voice, and Roman didn’t even have the energy to pretend to be mad, so he just kept staring at his brother’s face. “You know, now that you mention it, I think I’ve used up all of my marigolds, and I’m close to running out of rosemary...”

Roman immediately perked up. “So maybe, your very selfless and very helpful brother could pick some up for you?”

“Ah, yes, my brother who has no ulterior motives besides being helpful, of course.” Remus said, grabbing one of the sketch books before ripping out a page and writing something down. “Ok, there’s more than just what I said, I need some alyssum and some chrysantemus and some dandelions...”

“Ok, noted.” Roman said, grabbing the paper and scanning the list without actually reading it. He already remebered only the dandelion out of the flowers Remus had mentioned.

As Roman was heading out by the door, Remus screamed “Use protection!”

“I’ll murder you!” Roman screamed back cheerily.

He wasn’t prepared to enter the shop.

As soon as he step foot past the door, he realized the air felt different. It wasn’t exactly pleasant or unpleasant, but it was distinctly different than the air around human populated cities. Roman was almost sure he could hear little bells, and it felt like the air was caressing his skin. The walls were covered in shelves with different plants displays, the floor was a magenta and indigo checkered tile with golden edges that somehow managed to not be obnoxious, and the ceiling was entirely glass with golden metal swirls. The space was well lit, all of the flowers in perfect display.

“Salutations.” Sounded a voice, and Roman immediately looked back to the counter that sat at the back of the store, behind which he could see the glittering man and wow, he was even more beautiful up close.

“Hello there!” Roman said, managing to hide the fact that he felt distinctively out of breath at the sight that laid before him, which he wasn’t completely sure wasn’t a hallucination.

The man’s glittering silver freckles were even more visible from this close, and Roman could also see some that were smaller, less glittery but just as breathtaking, and he also noticed that the man’s hair also glittered slightly.

“...Can I help you?”

“Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, my brother sent me to buy some flowers, and-“ he started before realizing he didn’t actually know what to say after. “...and here is the list. With the flowers.”

He dramatically handed the list over to the man, who simply grabbed it and started Reading. A couple seconds passed before he raised an eyebrow.

“A...Kiss?”

“Whut. Wait.” Roman hastily grabbed the paper and quickly scanned the list, eventually finding the “kiss” item with a heart dotting the i. “Oh, that motherfucker knew I wasn’t going to read it, I swear this is just a prank – “

“Not to worry. Let’s simply ignore this and I’ll grab the flowers.” The man said, and set to do just that, quickly scanning the shelves and putting the flowers in clear plastic rolls.

Roman managed to stay silent for about five seconds.

“So, I don’t remember seeing the shop here yesterday.”

The man seemed to be startled for a bit, before answering “You wouldn’t have, we moved in during the night.”

“Hmm.” Roman hummed before looking for something else to say. “We?”

“...Yes. Me and my parents. My mother and I run the shop.”

“Oh, marvelous, so it’s a Family business! You know, me and my brother run the tattoo parlor across the street, we do tattoos with various magical properties. You should come visit, my name is Roman, I use he/him pronouns, and my brother is Remus, he/him pronouns too.”

“...Logan. He/him today.” He – Logan – said, turning to the dandelions. “Are you always such a conversationalist when buying flowers?”

That made Roman pause.

“Oh, um, I hadn’t – Am I making your uncomfortable?”

“Not to worry, I am simply not used to such...Friendly customers. But this is pleasant.”

Roman sighed relieved.

“I am not opposed to visiting your parlor, if you’ll have me.”

He simply smiled.

“Well hello there!” Roman said, opening the glass doors and spotting Logan behind the counter, like last time.

“Salutations, Roman. They/them today.” Roman nodded, leaning on the counter.

“So, how’s the day going for you, Specs?”

Logan went a few moments without answering, probably because of the nickname. “Pleasant enough. A few customers have come by. None of them was unpleasant.”

“That’s indeed pleasant.” Roman turned around, leaning on the counter with his hips now, looking around at the shop, and noticing the flowers on his left looked more perfect than a lot of flowers he had seen in his life. “Hey, Logan, did you do something to those flowers over there?”

Logan seemed to perk up a bit. They fixed their glasses before answering. “Indeed. Those are flowers I separate for decorations, I enchant them to stay alive for longer. This enchantment can mess with cooking and potions, however, so I always ask before picking them.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hadn’t thought of that.” They stayed silent then, Roman zoning out as he looked at the flowers and spun his necklace on his finger. “Hey Specs, how old are you?”

“I – Well.” Logan started, before pausing and thinking more. “I’m forty years old, technically, but I’m a fairy, so I haven’t grown beyond being what humans would consider twenty five to twenty nine.”

“Oh, you’re a fairy?”

“Well, quarter fairy. My father is half fairy, my mother is human. They had me when mother was twenty  seven years old, and I grew up in the same speed as a human until I was around twenty four years.”

“Marvelous. I’m half elf. I’m thirty  four years old, and yeah, basically around that age. I would still be a teenager if both of my parents were elves.”

They stayed in silence for a few minutes.

“Roman, do you...Do you like outer space?”

“Well, yeah.” Roman said, before turning back to Logan. “I don’t know a lot, but I think it’s fascinating.”

“Would you...” They swallowed, then, sounding nervous. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Of course. Tell me everything you know.”

Logan smiled, then, with barely restrained excitement, and Roman felt like he could listen to them for hours if they would always smile like that.

“Hello there, my favorite nerd!” Roman said, entering the shop with his his arms spread and holding a paper bag.

“Salutations, Roman. She/her today. Do you bring anything besides your dramatic entrance?” Logan said, with a small smile that never failed to make Roman lose his train of thought for a few seconds.

“I sure do, Smarty McSpecson, I bring sustenance!” He laid the paper bag on the counter. “It’s a bowl of goose stew with mushrooms, fruit salad with honey, aaaaaaaand pork filled buns.”

“Sounds delicious. I’ll have the buns.”

“Marvelous! I’ll eat some of the stew. I’ve got homemade mayonnaise too, if you’d like to add it.” Then he went to open the bag.

“Wait. Mother will take over the shop for this afternoon, so I’m free in ten minutes. There is a small kitchen in the back, and I think it would be pleasant to eat on a table instead of this counter.”

“Oh, that would be cool.” Roman said, trying to play it cool. It almost felt like she was inviting him on a date, but surely that wouldn’t be it? Logan was just nice like that. She was also very direct and probably would be forward in asking for a date. Yeah.

“Come on, it’s behind this door over here.” Roman then followed Logan into the aforementioned door, finding a small kitchen that seemed to be decorated with a light yellow color scheme. All the counters and cabinets were light yellow, the counters having white tops, the fridge and the stove were both black, and the floor tile was white. The kitchen was pretty small, only wide enough to fit a small round table and two chairs, and there was a floor to ceiling rectangular glass window behind one of the chairs.

“You can sit down while I get mother, I’m sure she won’t be incovenienced to come down ten minutes early.” Logan said while getting some plates and bowls from the cabinets, then laying them on the table.

“Ok. I’ll be here waiting.” Roman said, sitting on the chair facing the window. He may or may not have been thinking about how gorgeous Logan would look framed by the window and the plants outside.

Logan stepped into a door that led to a white staircase, leaving Roman to think and analyze the small kitchen.

Now that he had the opportunity to pay attention, he could notice little things he hadn’t noticed when he first entered the kitchen : the white countertops were stained at some spots with some sort of colorful pigment, there was a black paper on which someone drew constellations with white crayon, and there was a clear glass cookie jar filled with dried flowers on one counter.

About five minutes later, Logan came back with who Roman assumed was her mother, a chubby, dark skinned lady with short black hair wearing a beige argyle sweater over a white button up and beige skirt, plus a pair of red glasses and bright red lipstick. He noticed Logan seemed distinctly more glittery around the face.

“Oh hello there dear, you must be the famed Roman!” The lady said, rushing over to him and grabbing his hands. “I’m Dot, this one’s mom, I’ve heard so many things about you – “

“Mother...” Logan said with a warning tone, her voice not managing to hide her embarassment.

“Oh Logan talked about you so much, you’re every bit as handsome as she described – “

“Mother!” Logan exclaimed, and now her face was shining so much it looked like it was encrusted with tiny gems. Roman was almost hipnotized enough to not realize that was probably her way of blushing.

“What? It’s true! He’s as handsome as sherpherd pie!” Dot responded, and Roman was as confused as he was flattered.

“Mother, that’s not – forty seven years of marriage, and that’s what you pick up of father’s vocabulary?” Logan said, bafflement not being able to hid the awfully fond tone of her voice.

“Oh don’t pick on me, you know I’m telling the truth.” Dot said, before looking at the shop. “Oh dear, I better get started on that shop running thing.” She said, before kissing Roman and Logan’s cheeks and stepping out into the shop, closing the kitchen door.

They stayed silent froma few moments before Logan sighed.

“I love my mother, but she can be a bit overwhelming. I hope she didn’t bother you too much.”

“Oh, she didn’t bother me at all. So, um, as handsome as shepherd pie?” Roman asked, still a bit baffled by the term.

“It’s an expression father uses. It’s an equivalent translation coming from the faery language my father’s specific nation spoke. It’s a bit outdated, but it was used most often to describe someone the person was attracted to. Of course,” Logan said all of this while grabbing the cuttlery and sitting down on the other chair. She paused while adjusting herself on the chair, before continuing with a fondly amused smile. “she wasn’t hitting on you, don’t worry.” Logan went to grab the pork buns, while murmuring to herself low enough that, if Roman wasn’t part elf, he surely wouldn’t have been able to hear it. “Not for herself, at least.”

“Not for herself?” Roman asked. Logan’s eyes went wide as saucers, and she almost dropped the bun she was holding.

“Oh you – you heard that?” Logan asked, adjusting her glasses (which Roman had noticed was a bit of a tic of hers). Her face, that had gone back to the normal amount of glittering, suddenly was shiny enough that Roman wanted to grab her face and kiss her senseless.

“If it’s any comfort, I only heard because elven hearing is a stronger than humans’. But seriously, what did you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing important, it’s silly, it’s just – mother is certain you have been flirting with me, you see, and no matter how much I tell her she’s being foolish, she won’t quit putting these thoughts into my head, and I swear it wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t even felt like these before but then she mentioned it and I couldn’t stop thinking about how handsome you are and how nice you are and how you made an effort to befriend me when we had just moved in and I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t have any energy to go out and make friends – “ she was rambling now, her speech getting more fast paced and anxious the longer Roman went without saying anything.

Well. She seemed to think Roman wasn’t interested. He had to do something about that.

Logan was gesturing wildly with her hands, moving them up and down in an effort to calm herself, so Roman grabbed one of them in an effort to effectively distract her.

“So,” he said, laying their hands down palms up on the table and drawing tiny circles on the wrist. “I most definitely was flirting. I most definitely think you are very handsome and very nice. And I most definitely think you are as handsome as shepherd pie.”

Logan was silent for a few moments before saying, with a slight breathless note on her voice, “...oh.”

“Yeah.” Roman said, before bringing Logan’s hand up his mouth and kissing the palm.

Logan giggled. She honest to ghosts, real as magic, giggled.

“So,” Roman said, putting their hands back on the table. “do you want to try this?”

“I – most definitely.” She answered, nodding quickly with a smile on her face.

They started eating, then, and nothing changed but the hands they held and the soft smiles.

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors 

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 1

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius.

Day 1 Prompt: Tattoo Artist/Flower Shop AU

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1318

Tags: smoking, language

Chapter One

Remus

Randy Newman “You’ve Got a Friend in Me”

If you've got troubles, I've got 'em too

There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you

We stick together and can see it through

'Cause you've got a friend in me

“Missed you at the Potter’s Wheel.” Remus handed a steaming cup of coffee -- black with cream, no sugar -- to the younger man. He had grown accustomed to their morning coffee ritual, so he had worried when the other didn’t show up that day.

A bearded face peeked around the large floral arrangement. His grey eyes widened and then looked down at his watch. “Shit. I’m sorry,” Sirius apologized and accepted the cup. “We’re a little swamped at the moment,” he chuckled.

Remus looked around the Flower Loft. It didn’t seem any more crowded with floral arrangements than usual. In fact, it looked as it always did. The same cooler containing premade arrangements stood along the wall near the door -- for those spontaneous or impulsive people. Small tables containing other trinkets and tokens for sale dotted the wood floor. He couldn’t see anything different or out of place.

He looked back at Sirius. “So everything’s ok then?”

“Everything’s fine except I have two florists out sick this week, plus one on her honeymoon, which means I’m coming in early and working late this week to get our orders done on time.”

Remus noticed the dark bags under his friend's young eyes and worried that his ambition might be greater than his ability. “I grabbed a couple takeaway sandwiches, too.” He held up the wrapped sandwiches. “You need a break. Come on.” He took a sip of his mocha cappuccino and headed for the door.

Sirius followed him out the door and down the sidewalk. Remus stopped at a bench under the shade of an oak tree and they both sat down.

“Ham or chicken?” Remus asked.

“Mmm, chicken!” 

He passed the container with the chicken sandwich inside, and Sirius ripped into the package.

“Fank ‘oo,” he said through a mouthful of sandwich. Swallowing the bite he asked, “What would I do without you, Remus?”

“Learn to take care of yourself, I imagine.” Remus chuckled to himself. If only that were possible. Or if only I could learn to let you.

Sirius stretched his legs out with a sigh, leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Silas doesn’t like me working all these hours.”

Ah, yes. Silas. Remus scarcely avoided rolling his eyes.

Silas was Sirius’ younger boyfriend who was studying something to do with animals. Remus wasn’t really sure because Sirius had never been very forthcoming with the details of his boyfriend’s profession. Over the last couple months in which their relationship had grown more serious, he had tried really hard to be nice to the young man despite the significant instinct he felt to be anything but.

Preferring to avoid Silas conversation, he gave Sirius a noncommittal, “Hm?” through his mouthful of ham sandwich. Even if he also thought Sirius was working too hard, he wasn’t going to admit out loud that he agreed with Silas.

“Yeah. Between his work stuff and me at the Flower Loft, it doesn’t leave much time or energy for … you know, boyfriend stuff.” Sirius shrugged and took another bite of sandwich.

Oh, Godric. Boyfriend stuff?! Remus was in agony. This was neither the time, nor the place to contemplate Sirius and…‘boyfriend stuff.’ How can I steer this subject away from Silas?

“Hem,” he coughed. “So, how’s the guitar playing?”

“Oh, man!” Sirius leaned forward with enthusiasm. “It’s awesome! Difficult as hell, but awesome!” 

“What are you working on right now?” Remus inquired. He was eager to keep the conversation on a safe subject. Music was one of the few things, apart from floristry, in which Sirius had a true passion.

“‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis.”

And off Sirius went on a long-winded explanation about the ins and outs of music, and chord shapes, and who knew what else. Remus didn’t understand half of what Sirius said, but he enjoyed listening. Watching the way Sirius’ eyes would light up; the way his hand gestures would grow more wild when he got over-excited; the way his eyes would crinkle when he smiled...Remus liked it when Sirius was happy.

He was in awe of this warm and sweet man. Regardless of the tingle he felt inside himself anytime he was in close proximity to Sirius, he buried those feelings. It was safer that way. For both of them.

Sirius finished his sandwich in between pauses, and lit up a cigarette.

“That shit is terrible for you,” Remus admonished him for the millionth time.

“That’s what you keep telling me,” Sirius responded, blowing a puff of smoke up and away, so as to not offend Remus’ sensitivities.

It didn’t help. His senses were more delicate than the average person.

Sirius stood up and stretched his hands over his head. The front hem of his shirt came untucked from his jeans, and a sliver of tan abdomen was visible. Remus felt himself flush and he looked away.

“Thanks for the break, Remus. I have to get back though.” Sirius gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Flowers won’t arrange themselves, unfortunately.”

Remus nodded and looked at his watch as he stood. “I have an appointment coming in about ten minutes anyway, so I need to get back too.”

“What are you working on today?” Sirius asked as they began the walk back to their respective shops.

“Finishing a sleeve for an Irish fella. Started it almost a year ago.” 

The pair reached the Loft. “Maybe one day I’ll let you do me,” Sirius said with a playful smirk.

Phrasing. “You figure out what you want, and let me know,” Remus responded as level as possible.

Sirius barked a laugh and opened the door to the shop. “See you later, Remus.”

Remus waved good-bye and went next door to his tattoo parlor. Once inside he shut the door and leaned his forehead against it.

“Fucking hell.”

Remus banged his head a few times against the door, hoping against hope that he could knock some sense into his skull. Does he say shit like that on purpose? Taking a breath, Remus stood up straight, and pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. He checked that the gold suede curtains were pulled closed over the front bay window and gave a complicated wave of his wand. His tattooing equipment sprang to life and set themselves up just how he liked. 

Even though Remus had chosen a corner of Muggle London to set up his shop, in no way did it mean he had abandoned magic. Separating himself from the magical world wasn’t without its drawbacks, and he had to be more careful about not breaking the Statue of Secrecy, but the change had been necessary. It wasn’t too bad now he was accustomed to it.

~~~~~

The afternoon passed without incident. The Irishman’s last sleeve session lasted a good couple hours, and Remus was proud of the finished product. He had a couple walk-ins later on, but nothing came of them. Slow day overall.

He was leaned back in a chair with his feet propped on the desk, flipping through the latest issue of Inked, when Sirius came through the door.

“You made a tattoo decision then? That was quick,” Remus joked.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No. I came to see if I could buy you a bite from Potter’s.” Sirius shifted his feet with his hands in his pockets and looked down. “You got me some earlier and all.”

Remus studied the younger man. Why did he seem … embarrassed? Shy? “You don’t owe me for that,” he replied, with a wave of his hand. Remus closed the magazine and stood up.

“Well, then I want to.” Sirius smiled at Remus now. “My treat.”

Remus shrugged. “All right,” he said. “It’s been slow as hell here today anyway. Let’s go see what specials James and Lily have today.”

Remus locked the door to the tattoo parlor and the pair walked across the street to the Potter’s Wheel Cafe.

A/N: The name of Sirius’ flower shop comes from the name of the flower shop in my hometown. The Flower Loft was on Main Street, which wasn’t actually named “Main Street.” It was one of two highways that intersected the small town in which I went to public school, and made some of my life-long best friends. “Main Street” was the “main drag” -- as we small town folks say -- and it was where 90% of the town's businesses resided. This chapter is dedicated to my first friend: my little sister. She is not only my sister, a mother to my two adorable nephews, and sender of spicy Harry Potter memes. She is also my number one beta reader. Our perfectionist and competitive spirits were bred into us and she doesn’t let me get away with crap writing. I love ya, Sis! Thanks for reading my words.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

[hpwipfest-blog]

Masterpost HP WIP Fest, part 1

Hello dear fest participants and exited readers. I hereby give you the first masterpost of the HP WIP Fest, announcing all WIP’s that have entered so far. As it is a long list, I have put it under a cut, with the WIP’s that are already on ao3 first in case you want to start reading already. 

If you signed up for the fest but do not see your WIP in this list, this is probably because I do not yet have a title for your work. In that case, please email me the title so I can include you in the next masterpost.

I hope all the participants find lots of inspiration to finish in the upcoming weeks, and to our early readers, enjoy these wonderful WIP’s!

#1

Skin Deep by @loganaa-fic

Pairing: Drarry

When Harry accepts a job at Dean's tattoo parlor, he never expected that Draco Malfoy would show up, looking for a tattoo. But then again, since when did Malfoy do what was expected?

#2

The Boy Who Killed God by @sirius-black-killed-god

Pairing: Wolfstar

Sirius Black has a secret. Well, no, that's not true. Sirius Black has many secrets. His wand is dying, his parents more or less want to kill him, and there's the small matter of the cursed TOUJOURS PUR tattoo right above his heart, that he's had since he turned eight years old. Sirius Black is no stranger to secrets.

Then, Remus Lupin walks into his life.

Thus, begins a whole new history - one of darkness, of magic, of bravery, of family - as four boys set out to unwind the endings so many others have written for them.

This is the story of the Marauders at Hogwarts and afterwards, and all the love that lies between.

This is Year One.

#3

Apparently by justanotherloser

Pairing: Drarry

Father says apparently I feel too much.

Mother says apparently my mask needs to hide more of my emotions.

The Dark Lord says apparently I'm too weak.

Blaise says apparently I hate too often, and Pansy says I apparently need to let go.

I never get to make choices with them. Not with my family, not with my life, not with my house.

Apparently I can only choose who I hate, and I can't even get that right.

Apparently I love Harry Potter.

#4

Are You Here To Finish Me Off, Sweetheart? by @geekmom13

Pairing: Antonin Dolohov/Hermione Granger

Antonin gets held by the order for the secret he keeps and Hermione is put in charge of him. They end up relying on each other more than anyone had expected.

#5

Children of war by @the-purple-black

Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange

A promise made by Bellatrix to the Dark Lord seemed unimportant at the time, though years later it seems her loyalty must be put to the test.

#6

Fixed Point by @frumpologist

Pairing: Dramione

Draco and Hermione are Time Unspeakables who travel through time to stop anachronists from using illegal time travel to change the course of history.

Their adventures lead them through the whole of history and the unwritten expanse of the future. Hermione learns about the History of Magic and Draco learns about science, Muggles, and falling in love.

However, there are fixed points in time, events so important that they cannot be altered. Hermione Granger’s tragic life as an Unspeakable is one of those points, and nothing Draco can do will change the path they’re forced to follow.

#7

Not In Love (Letters) by @drarryangels

Pairing: Drarry

It's eighth year at Hogwarts, and Harry is unsurprisingly beyond miserable. Ron isn't coming back for his last year of school, Hermione is suddenly best friends with Pansy Parkinson, and Draco Malfoy won't stop ignoring him. Even all the House unity is going too splendidly to be exciting. Truthfully, Harry wishes he had never come back at all. That is, until he starts receiving letters from an anonymous sender.

#8

Sequel to Palo Alto by @nachodiablo

Pairing: Wolfstar

Modern AU set in Northern California. It's been four years since Sirius and Remus got their shit together. James and Lily aren't doing too shabby, either. Things are going great. Sure, James still hasn't gotten any of his business ideas off the ground quite yet. And yeah, Lily's still not ready to move in with James, even though she spends every night at his place. And okay, Remus might be starting to freak a little about whether his PhD is going to land him in some no-name wasteland town for a job. And fine, Sirius has stalled out a bit since he left work to pursue his dreams of... well, to find a dream to pursue. Regardless. Things are great. Very chill. That is, until a family tragedy brings an adorable bundle of responsibility into their lives.

#9

The End Is Just The Beginning by @the-fifth-marauder

Pairing: Drarry

When Draco decided to join the Auror forces, he knew life would be made hell for him by just about everyone in the Ministry. Yet never did Draco think he would be condemned to a fate like this.

Or

The one where Draco gets the second chance he never knew he wanted. Before he realized that 'Happy Endings' just aren't for his destiny. Or were they?

#10

New Beginnings by @kaarina-riddle

Pairing: Dramione

Hermione comes home to find her husband in a compromising position on the kitchen table and wants to get away from everything, the perfect job opportunity as a professor of Charms at Hogwarts is offered and she takes it. Only to find that there's a surprise Draco Malfoy old school nemesis is the new DADA professor what will happen?

#11

A Girl Worth Fighting For by @saintdionysus

Pairing: Hermione Draco, Hermione/Theo

Due to the events of War, The Ministry of Magic has ordered students to repeat their final year, despite being legal wizarding age and completion of OWLs. Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini form a friendship as head boy and head girl and find a way to use their authority to challenge the Ministry. Along the way, she finds herself caught between two unexpected love interests, while Blaise plays referee between his two friends.

#12

The Promise by @tofadeawayagain

Pairing: Drastoria, Dramione

When Astoria Malfoy learns she is dying, she asks Hermione Granger to take care of her husband Draco. It's not until the following New Year's Eve that he starts to let her. A tale about the seasons of grief, friendship and love, and moving on after a devastating loss.

#13

All the Stupid Things in Between: A Gryffindor and Slytherin Love Story by ForeverEvan

Pairing: Fred Weasley/OFC

Evangeline "Evan" Carter, the illegitimate daughter of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, is moved from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts at the beginning of the 4th Year. She is facing the task of hiding her true identity while falling for a boy from the wrong family. Evan must rely on her brother and her teacher to navigate the dangerous world of being the daughter of a Death Eater and a killer.

#14

Prowler by @goldie-writes-things

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Harry and Hermione thought winning the war was the hard part. They had no idea how difficult surviving it would be. Newly engaged Lord Potter and Lady Black must navigate the murky waters of parenthood while rebuilding their lives. But when their world starts crashing down around them they are faced with a startling question: What wouldn’t you do for your child?

#15

Stressed Teen to Yes Queen by @drarryandharry

Pairing: Drarry

The fab five sort out post war Harry. That’s it. That’s the summary.

#16

Shockwave by maraudersaffair

Pairing: Drarry

When Harry fled Britain he had no idea murder and Draco fucking Malfoy would follow. Now in Las Vegas, he’s faced with a vampire mystery and a Malfoy who refuses to tell him the truth.

Veelas and vampires! Yay!

#17

Destiny Intertwined by @vinoamore

Pairing: Hermione/Dolohov

In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the DFFandCabalChristmasFest collection.

Prompt: A marriage law is passed just before the Christmas holidays. Hermione is matched with a former Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov...and Hermione is furious. "Why is this happening?!" she demanded. "He tried to kill me!"

#18

The Seven Year Witch by @thelastlynx

Pairing: Dramione

A boy and a girl have been meeting, coincidentally, for seven summers. While they pretty much hate each other most of the year, for those little moments in July or August they manage to see one another in a different light. But will that be quite enough to bring them together?

#19

Distant Stars by @of-stars-and-moon

Pairing: Wolfstar, Jily

(The story of Sirius Black, a Slytherin student as he finds friendship and love from someone he never expected)

'The memory was still so new and clear, feeling like it was yesterday but an eternity away at the same time.

In first year, Sirius would have never ever imagined that on his last day at Hogwarts, he would be lying on a roof, holding hands with Remus and listening to James and Peter.'

#20

A Home For Christmas by @motherbookerao3

Pairing: Drarry

High on a barely legal pain potion, Harry accidentally ends up adopting a child with Draco Malfoy.

#21

The Noble and Most Ancient Guide to Vice and Virtues by grimyoufuck

Pairing: Wolfstar

Toujours Pur; the words had been branded into Sirius' subconscious from a young age. It was a motto he'd never been able to live up to, even when he had tried. But now? Now, he was going to escape his mother's scathing words and his father's ambivalent silence to travel the continent with his best friend, and nothing was going to stop him. His mother was determined to keep the bloodline pure, and uphold the name of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Sirius was determined to do the opposite.

When Sirius Black journeys to France to begin the first leg of his European tour with best friend James Potter, he'd expected a holiday of booze and boys. What he hadn't expected, much less wanted, was an educational trip, including nights out at the opera. But when a particular cast member catches Sirius' eye, he wonders if some good old fashioned fun could be obtained after all.

#22

Serendipity by @mrsren96

Pairing: Harry/Hermione

Like any girl, Hermione has dreamed of her future nuptials, at least once or twice. So far it's not going so well. There's a marriage law, and well, Harry Potter to deal with.

#23

Avignon by bittercape

Pairing: Gen

Voldemort is dead, and Wizarding Britain is controlled by the totalitarian Umbridge Ministry. The resistance, mainly centered around our heroes from the books (with some additions and some changes), is working against overpowering odds to overthrow the government. Think a reversed French revolution meets Cold War-era Berlin. With magic.

#24

A Bond Beyond The Vast Wave by @mangopassionfruity

Pairing: Sirius/Lucius, James/Lily, Lily/Severus

Sirius was a many things, rebellious, lazy, a prankster, troublemaker, lady's man, irresponsible, carefree. Or that is what he likes to appear as. And why break that image he's crafted for himself? Even if it'd make his life easier, especially with his hidden relationship with a certain Malfoy heir.

But things backfire and it leads to making decisions that change his way of life.

#25

Though My Mind Could Think (I Still Was a Mad Man) by Cassiara

Pairing: Drarry

After the war is over Harry thinks it's finally his turn to rest after years of pretending he's fine, and just waiting for the day he isn't needed anymore. He tries to kill himself, but of all people, Malfoy saves him. Harry realises that if he has the courage to die, he should also have the courage to live.

Ultimately this is a story about recovery, but it's also about all the things you sometimes have to go through to get there.

This is a rewrite of my fic "Favourite Scar".

#26

Explosions in the heart by @hp-rbiim

Pairing: Drarry

It's back to Hogwarts and Malfoy is annoying as ever.

Unpublished WIP’s

#27

Time is gone (thought i'd have something more to say) by Thestias

Pairing: Fremione

After the battle of hogwarts, the dead number in the hundreds; the loss of the brightest witch of their age hits hard, and for one wizard, his desperation to fix what had been broken sends him travelling back in time in a frantic attempt to save her. angst, fluff and angst, time travel, alternate universe - canon divergence, slow burn

#28

Encounters by @pottercrew

Pairing: Drarry

Harry is finding it difficult to keep his relationship with Draco apart from his relationships with Malfoy. What if he no longer wants to? Kink negotiation, anal sex, blow jobs, hard sex, bondage, voyeurism, sex club.

#29

The Side Of The Angels by @hiddenhibernian

“Focus,” Hermione told herself, forcing her breathing to slow down. “What's the worst that can happen?”

 Bad question. Her heart was hammering so hard it drowned out the buzz from the bar on the other side of the door to the cleaning cupboard she unceremoniously had been bundled into. The bar was the Hag's Head, and it was usually a friendly place for the Order of the Phoenix. They were still fighting, five years after the fall of Harry Potter, but Aberforth had turned against them... It didn't bear thinking about. 

Then the door opened.

#30

Not Gryffindor…? by Dracomalfoyy_youlittleshit

Harry gets sorted into Slytherin, finding an unlikely friendship in Draco Malfoy. Basically a retell of Harry Potter but with Harry in Slytherin.

#31

A Lotus In The Mud by @kaokumasparkle

Pairing: Drarry

Harry always had problems with common sense, everyone knows this. And now that he's sick with Hanahaki over a certain slytherin blonde, it looks like he may never get the chance to learn. Possible tags: mutual pining, angst with a happy ending, parseltongue Harry, Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts 8th year, Hermione just wants ONE year where Harry doesn't almost die, jealous Draco, protective Harry, Forbidden Forest adventures, minor mentions of blood

#32

It’s A Kind Of Magic by ive_beenfound

Pairing: Drarry

It's 8th year and the war has been hard on everyone. And having a future to think about and look forward to is terrifying Warnings/Tags: 10 year time jump, difficult conversations about lgbtq and war, harry being oblivious, draco being a shite, potentially triggering conversations about family.

#33

Flirting With Chaos by @alexandrao

Pairing: Dramionarry (Draco x Hermione x Harry) 

The Ministry of Magic passes a marriage law, forcing all those above the age of 17 to be married. Hermione, furious with the law, is paired not to one wizard, but two! Determined to change the law, she flirts with the line that could send her relationship into complete and total chaos.

#34

Friendship, Football, and Fireworks by @LegendaryWrighter

Pairing: Deamus

One lazy Sunday morning, Seamus finds Dean going through some old sketchbooks and joins him in reminiscing on several memories. 

#35

The Winder Of My Life by @nuclearnik

Pairing: Dramione

Hermione's special bond with her Snippets of Hermione's life as she grows up raised by a single mother. When Hermione is an adult, their bond grows to include Draco, who accepts him as long as he loves and cares for her daughter. As her mother's health declines, Hermione has hard truths to face and a supportive husband who is smitten by her mother. 

[untitled-show]

Meet Gray Gleason! He’s a caster from my TV pilot (which remains untitled). He castes his magic by working runes into tattoo designs. This art is by mameedoodles via DeviantArt, and below is a story about him. 

          Gray sits at one of the small cafe tables scattered throughout the tattoo parlor, sketching a design that nobody’s asked for. One of his specialties, it’s a geometric approach with strong angles, all highlights, midtones, and shadows done in strong blocks and triangles that come together to form a shape. At the moment the shape is fluctuating between a woman and a tree; maybe some kind of tree nymph. He hadn’t sat down with a clear image in his mind; just the idea of simply letting ‘the pen take him where it will’. 

         If you knew what to look for (and if you were getting one of Gray Gleason’s pieces you should know what to look for) you might spot a pattern between the lines of the triangles and geometric shapes, a subtext to the design. It’s a rune; this particular one is for fertility. If he were to put this ink to skin, spend a few hours watching the color bloom on someone’s body and feel the world slip away from him as he works, that’s when his magic would go into effect. It would flow out of his art, his person, into the client’s body, and soon enough they’d bring a child into the world. Or grow one hell of a garden. Maybe both.

           Fertility isn’t the only gift he can imbue; he has a sizable number under his belt. Bravery, Luck, Resist, Strength, and Love are all safely in his employ along with Fertility, though he refused to put Love into any of his works. Despite many studies, it was still unclear if Love simply attracted compatible mates to the wearer or if it forced affections onto innocent bystanders. The whole thing smacked of date-rape to Gray so he never disclosed to the owner of the parlor that he could work that particular magic, and with 5 skills he’s still one of the more talented magic workers in the city.

           “Gray, your 12 o’clock is here,” calls the girl at the front. Gray pushes the sketch he’d been working on to side of the table and stands to greet his client. The man is tall, in his mid 40’s with silver hairs starting to push into his temples and a wealth of crows feet at the corners of his eyes. He’s wearing a suit and has the general harried look of a man on his lunch break and aware of every second as it ticks by. Gray favors him with a huge smile and an outstretched hand, which the man shakes.

           “Hey—William, right? Nice to meet you, I’m Gray Gleason. I understand you want a tattoo with Luck. Have you read over our waiver?” he asks, the friendly smile still on his face.

           “Yes,” William responds shortly, eyes roving the parlor, catching on the glossy pictures mounted on the walls. Most of them are works of the other artists’ in the parlor, but one section of the wall is dedicated to Gray’s works alone. The owner of the parlor, Hank, insisted on taking a dry erase marker to the glass over the photos and tracing over where the runes are hidden in the pictures. ‘To prove they’re in there’ he’d said when Gray had argued. He felt the whole point of his work was that he could work the runes into a larger picture, so clients could get the full effect of the magic without having to sacrifice style and design to do it. But he doesn’t own the shop.

           “And you understand that Luck has an equal chance of drawing both good and bad luck?” he recites. The new laws were quite clear that he needed to repeat this all in person whether or not the client has signed the waiver. “Basically it just sort of makes things happen to you, whether those are good or bad things no one has any control over that. Not me, and not you.” Gray waves a hand at the empty chair at the other side of the table and William takes it.

           “Yes I understand the risks,” William says, crossing his long legs one over the other and folding his hands on top of the table like he’s more comfortable behind an ornate desk than seated at a little café table in a tattoo parlor. “One of the guys in my office got the same tattoo from you a few months ago and he got a promotion the next day.”

           “That’s great! Mind if I ask what his name is?”

           “Max, Max Wainright.”

           “Oh yeah, I remember him. Nice guy, I’m glad it’s working out for him,” Gray says with a genuine smile. Max had been a nice guy, sort of squirrely looking, shorter and a little too slim, but a nice enough guy. He’d had Luck put on his left calf in broad black strokes with a wreath of holly around it. “That’s his picture up there,” Gray says, jabbing a thumb at the wall where Max’s tattoo had a place of honor. It was a nice piece of work if Gray did say so himself, bold, contemporary, and Hank liked it since the rune was so obvious.

           “Oh, it’s uh. That’s pretty big. Does it matter how big it is?” William asks, distaste written all over his face, in the line between his brows, the wrinkle above his nose. Gray feels his heart fall. Most of his client base is made of up these types lately, business people who want a leg up in the game and figure a magic tattoo is the best way to do it. It doesn’t matter that they don’t like the look of a tattoo, or that they still feel that tattoos are somehow inherently unprofessional; they just want the supposed benefits of the magic worked on them and they don’t much care how that happens. Gray has to shake himself to get off this train of thought. Maybe the guy just doesn’t like the big stripes of black, maybe he wants something a little more artsy. He puts on a professional smile and shakes his head.

           “No, the size doesn’t matter. We can do any size you’d like to do, do you have a design in mind?” Gray asks, getting down to business. He pulls out his sketchpad and flips to a clean page, writes William’s name in the corner and the date, then holds his pencil poised over paper. This is always his favorite part of the job, the creation, making a new design, a new piece of art that will live forever on someone’s body.

           “Well, I was hoping you could just do the picture itself. Small as you can, and does it need to be in black? I’ve heard that if you get a white tattoo it’s barely noticeable. It’ll still work even then, right?” William says, leaning back in the chair. Gray’s smile fades quickly, but maybe he can still save this. Maybe he just needs to explain a little further what he can do, what they could make together. Maybe he can show William some of the other works he’s done and the man will get it then, that they can make something beautiful and timeless and give him the boost of luck that he so desperately desires.

           “Yes we can do it in white. It doesn’t matter what color the tattoo is, just that it’s on your skin. But you know: I can do anything you’d like. We could work together and put something memorable on your body. It still doesn’t have to be big, but we could work in a lot of meaning. What’s important to you? What do-” Gray starts, speaking quickly as he gets worked up.

           “No. I just want the rune in white; small as you can please. On the inside of my leg. The left I think, not too high up where I can’t cover it with a sock if I need to,” William said, cutting Gray off.

           After the rather disappointing consult the tattoo was ‘designed’ and put on to William’s leg in time for him to get back to work before his lunch break was over, it hardly even looked like he had gotten a tattoo, just a little smudge of white over the bone of his left ankle.

           Gray wanders toward the front of the store with a pout firmly on his face and a sigh in his very soul. The girl at the front desk, Shelly, gave him a commiserating smile. “Another quick one?” she asks, leaning back against the back counter and flipping the cash register shut.

           “Why even do I even bother designing things? The only people I get these days are the assholes who don’t really want a tattoo. All they want is the magic. I feel so used,” he grumbles, dropping his folded arms onto the counter and leaning heavily against them.

           “At least they pay,” she says with a little shrug. “And you get a few people who want designs too, you’re booked for another one of those next week,” she says, pulling up the calendar on the computer. “Coming in for a consultation on Wednesday and everything.”

           “Yeah, and how many others do I have that are coming in just for a ‘simple design’?” he asks bitterly, “a ‘simple design’ always just means ‘something, in white, small as you can’. I feel like I’ve done a thousand of those tattoos. They’re dull, they don’t take any talent and they’re so boring. I feel cheap just doing them.”

           “You could always stop offering the magic component, go back to just doing art?” Shelly asks, now scrolling through her phone as she talks to Gray. It’s a conversation they’d had about a million times, the words familiar as the way home. She could talk this topic over in her sleep.

           “Doesn’t pay as well. And I think Hank would fire me,” he says, with a jerk of his head toward the office in the back of the parlor.

           “Then be happy that you have something so lucrative that can pay the bills. Do you know how much anyone here would pay to be able to do what you can?” she admonishes, this part of the conversation is familiar too, as is the sigh that Gray gives and the way he collects himself again, standing up straight and nodding slowly.

           “You’re right, you’re right. I should be glad for what I’ve got.”

           “Good. Now get ready. You have 24 more appointments for quick runes on ankles.” Gray’s eyes go wide, head whipping around to Shelly, staring in disbelief.

           “24?” he demands, teeth gritted together and a mixture of irritation and dissatisfaction filling him from toe to tip. Shelly just smiles sweetly at his expression.

           “Nah, it’s more like 7. But now aren’t you happy it’s not 24?”

           “Fuck you, Shelly.”

[hellsangelsheavensrejects]

Times Forgotten: All the World’s a Stage

This takes place a few months after Harry struck out on his own after apprenticing with Nicholas Christian at Ragged Angel Investigations.

Harry 

The man performing magic on stage in the theater was bad news. Bad news with a bright, red, juicy arsenic cherry on top.

The theater was one of the old-fashioned kinds, complete with a pair of huge, dusty red curtains that had been drawn open across the stage at the beginning of the show. A scattering of props, some still covered with black silk sheets and awaiting their parts in the show, decorated the stage and podium– cabinets painted with arcane symbols both real and fantastical, a low, long table littered with cards and bits and baubles and curiosities, one of those long, enclosed boxes for sawing hapless damsels in half, and– Harry couldn’t see very clearly from where he sat, but he could swear he saw a summoning circle built or painted on the stage floor. The man performing was good looking in a rugged sort of way, his build slim and athletic, a shock of sandy blond hair topping his head, a pair of shrewd, intelligent eyes roving over the audience. He had a showman’s flair, an arrogant grin, and spoke with a heavy Liverpool accent, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement as he said his lines.

And he was using real magic. Harry could feel it weaving and dancing and crackling, electrifying the air around him as it took shape under the magician’s will.

Harry shifted in his chair and frowned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he studied the man. He’d heard rumors of somebody using real magic in public shows and had immediately set out to investigate. The discovery of the man’s name shortly thereafter had served to put the entire case in a different light.

He’d heard things about John Constantine.

A lot of things.

A lot of… highly disturbing things. Such as how he’d been responsible for the death of a little girl during a demonic summoning gone awry. How he seemed to have no scruples, no restraint, no morality of which to speak. How he was a slippery, conniving, slimy bastard who would stab you in the back the second he saw opportunity in it, then walk off with a smirk and a pull on his ever-present cigarette as if he hadn’t just shattered somebody’s entire world.

And, most disturbing of all were the whispers that he had the White Council wrapped around his little finger. He didn’t even want to think about the sort of power, the sort of mind that could accomplish such a thing. He didn’t want to believe it was possible, and yet here was John Constantine, larger than life and with his head still attached to his body. There was something to that particular rumor.

There was no way Harry was going to let this loose canon run rampant over his city, doing God knows what kind of damage. So he was going to do what he did best.

Stick his nose in where it wasn’t wanted.

He crossed his arms over his chest, shifted in his seat, and continued watching the show.

John

The auditorium beyond the bright stage lights was dark, full of shadowy figures, but he could feel the attention. The power of it fuelling him, a magic all of it’s own, making it so easy to perform trick after trick after trick.

Real magic, yes, but parlor tricks compared to what John Constantine was capable of. Conjuring demons, twisting reality. Walking through Hell and coming out unscathed.

Mostly.

There was something electric about it. About standing there, in the bright spotlights, for all the world to see.

He did so much of his work in the shadows, this was it’s own kind of high. And maybe the buzz from the half bottle of whisky he’d downed before helped, too. Making him pleasantly lightheaded and urging him on.

“For my next trick …”, he announced and his voice carried through the air without any electronic help. “I need an assistant.”

Measured, deliberate steps brought him to the very edge of the stage, out of the direct light and then he could see them sitting there. Faces turned up towards him in rapt attention. His very own congregation worshipping at his feet. He grinned at them and spread his arms. The pale skin of his forearms, revealed by rolled up sleeves of the half unbuttoned dress shirt, was littered with the first, dark lines of what would become a tapestry of occult tattoos. Before him, in the first row sat a young redhead, curves in all the right places, hair done in curls and lips painted red. That kind of retro rockabilly thing that was going around and she was looking up at him with her mouth half open.

“You there, pet.”, John smiled and swung one hand around, going down on one knee to reach out for her. “Would you do me the honours?”, his voice dripped honey and he could see her pull her bottom lip between her teeth.

She’d have those lips around his cock later, he didn’t even need any divination to know that much.

Her hand in his was warm and soft and he pulled her up on the stage with just a little push of magic, making the skirt of her pretty little dress flare and her giggle. She landed in his arms, one hand against the exposed skin of his chest and he winked at her. “‘llo there. Wha’s your name, eh?”

“Emma.”, she sighed as he put his arm around her waist and spun them away from the edge of the stage, back into the light, in a quick little dance.

“A grand applause”, John announced and stepped away from her, guiding her into a little twirl in front of his audience. “For Emma!”

And as if enchanted, the audience complied, breaking into rapturous applause as John pulled Emma back to him, her back against his chest, his arms around her, cheek resting against her fragrant curls and she shifted a little, pushing her behind against his crotch before trying to catch his eye with another seductive little bite to her lip.

His attention, however, was on the audience again. Skilled hands whipped one of the black silken sheets off of a large, heavy crystal ball, before gripping the glittering sphere in both hands. “Now, Emma.”, he purred in her ear and delighted in her shiver. “Dis is where I need your help, pet. Take hold of the sphere and lift it with me, yeah?”

It was heavy, but only for the first inch, then the strain in John’s arms shifted from lifting the weight to pouring magic into the object.

“Oh!”, Emma giggled in his arms as the crystal lifted with little to no effort up to her eyelevel.

“Dis is just the beginning, pet.”, John continued and removed his hands, spreading them outward. He could feel her gasp. And then: “Let go, Emma.”

She did so without hesitation, following his direction without question and he wasn’t quite sure if that was what made him twitch pleasantly in his skin tight jeans or if it was the way she leaned back against him.

It might have also been the renewed, thunderous applause of the audience.

“Oh, but tha’s nothin’, innit?”, John called over the roar.

He stepped out from behind Emma, keeping her in place with a touch to the small of her back.

“Coul’ be wires, coul'n’ i’?”, still, his voice carried easily, even over the good natured yells for proof that the sphere was, indeed floating.

Harry

One thing was for sure, John Constantine was one hell of a showman. There was an undeniable magnetism about him that seemed to cast its own sort of spell over the entire room; even Harry wasn't entirely uneffected as he watched the act unfold. The scent of magic filled the room, reality warping and bending and refracting with the magician at the epicenter, like the eye of a storm, as he passed a large silver ring around the levitating crystal ball. The crowd gasped and applauded. The trick was old hat, had been performed a thousand times over since the inception of stage magic, but that didn't matter.

Most people, whether they're aware of it or not, have the innate ability to sense the elemental forces of the universe. Maybe they can't put a name to it, maybe they attribute it to religion or psychology or the skillful use of mundane showmanship, but they've all felt it. It's in that shiver, that sense of awe and wonder you get when you see the distant, hazy magnificence of mountains, collossal giants that saw the Earth when it was young, looming closer and closer as you drive. When you get away from the lights of the city and can see, can really see the silver dust of stars scattered across the sky, knowing that every miniscule speck of that dust is a vast, fiercely burning inferno in systems light years away, many of them orbited by alien planets and their moons. Or when you visit an ancient architechtural ruin and move between crumbling pillars, your feet walking over the same stonework that the ancient Greeks or Romans or Mayans tread on. Or when you're driving alone on a country road and feel every hair standing on end all of the sudden, and you know, you just know, that if you look in the rearview mirror, you'll see something in the backseat. Everyone feels it. On some level, everyone craves it. And that was why the crowd lapped all of this up-- not these trite old tricks that anyone with a lick of practice and a battered volume of Stage Magic for Dummies on the shelf could perform, but that subconscious awareness that there was something here that was real.

John Constantine was the conductor, and the entire room was his orchestra. He practically had the whole crowd eating out of the palm of his hand.

This could be bad. This could be very bad indeed if even a fraction of the stories were true. An image dropped into his mind like a lead weight, of Constantine summoning a demon, right there on stage, and Harry grimaced as he remembered the summoning circle on the stage floor.

Hell's bells. That was just what he needed. He would hope the magician wouldn't be insane enough to summon a creature from the pit of hell into a room full of innocent bystanders, but how was he to tell? He frowned, craning his neck as he tried to discern the specific design of that summoning circle, but he just couldn't see it from where he was. He was going to have to get up on stage.

Which meant that he was going to need to get John Constantine's attention.

He crossed his arms over his chest, stretched his legs out, and got his heckle on. “Wow. I am amazed-- nay, flabbergasted, at this unique and never-before-seen display of arcane powers. I mean-- a levitating crystal ball. Whatever cosmic epiphanies could have made themselves known to you and birthed this rare form of artistry?”

John

There was no hesitation as John reached for items to prove the sphere was, indeed floating, eliciting little gasps from his lovely little assistant. His crooked smirk and the swagger in his step never faltered.

This was his element.

He'd stood on a stage performing shitty punk music in front of a crown of demons.

Wooing dimwitted humans who wanted the thrill they'd heard about when people whispered the name John Constantine? That was child's play. Literally.

He'd pulled off harder tricks than this before his balls had fully dropped.

The mocking voice that finally carried over the the noises of his adoring public only widened the grin on his face. Teeth glinting in the bright stage lights as John swivelled his head around in a lazy roll. Magic reached out from him, searching through the pitch dark beyond the glare and he found his critic, because magic reached back.

Oh, wasn't that fun?

"I see we go' a sceptic.", John drawled while the danger of being caught by another practitioner sparked up his spine like lightning. It had been inevitable, with how he'd put himself out there and it felt like the first hot spikes of orgasm after hours of teasing.

His eyes were focused on the figure lounging out there, lit up to his eyes as if glowing from the inside. [4:53 AM] "Is Miss Emma's testimony no' enough of for you, Mister Unimpressed?", he taunted and sauntered back to the edge of the stage.

The audience was holding it's breath.

Was this part of the show?

What would happen next?

Even across the distance of the four rows separating them, John focused his eyes directly on those of his detractor. A magical game of chicken. Who'd turn away first from a Soulgaze?

"And what, pray tell", John goaded, grinning like the wolf about to pounce. "Woul' impress you, 'andsome? Want me to show you some real magick?", the k came out hard, overpronounced. "Come up here and lemme give you the ride of your life."

Harry

Magic, real magic, potent and electric and alive, stretched out from the man on stage, brushing against Harry's senses, teasing, tantalizing. He met that magic with his own, their energies entangling for a brief and unsettlingly intimate instant before he applied a little push of will, the barest hint of power that was part show of dominance, part test, part warning.

A wry smile played at his lips as Constantine turned the full power of his attention to him, which also had the effect of turning the full attention of the audience to him as well. He resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably in his seat or glance sideways at the people staring at him, instead holding himself with an air of deliberately relaxed, self-assured nonchalance.

John Constantine wasn't the only one who could play a crowd.

“No offense intended to the lovely Miss Emma, of course,” he said, giving her a gallant nod and a glance that may have lingered a tiny bit longer on her generous décolletage than was strictly necessary. “But let's just say I've had a bit of... experience in these things myself.” He leaned forward, eyebrows climbing his forehead as his gaze shifted back to the magician. “And I smell something funny. Very distinct odor. Smells like sun-baked horseshit.” The magician met his eyes, the challenge evident in the curl of his grinning lips, in every arrogant, audacious line of his body.

The dare came through loud and clear: are you man enough for this?

It would probably be the better part of valor to look away before the start of a soulgaze. Locking eyes with John Constantine for more than a fraction of a second would undoubtedly come with a boatload of unpleasant sensations, memories, and images, if even a portion of the things he had heard were true. He would never be able to forget them. They would never fade for as long as he lived.

If Constantine's soul was tainted enough, twisted enough, it could potentially drive him mad.

But if he did look away, if he let his eyes drop just a fraction of an inch, played it safe, he would be displaying weakness, cowardice to a potentially deadly enemy. That would come with its own set of risks.

So he locked his eyes with John Constantine's and said, “Fine. Show me yours, mate, and I'll show you mine.”

John

John Constantine knew his reputation. He took pride in it. Fostered it wherever he could. It was, after all, a great part of his little gambit with the Council. The more dangerous they thought he was, ironically, the safer he was.

And now here was this upstart with the pretty eyes and razor sharp cheekbones, with clearly enough magic to be in the Council, to know about the man most of the occult world knew as the Hellblazer, and he wasn't just challenging John's magic. He was risking a Soulgaze with a soul touched by Hell itself.

the first pull of the Gaze startled a laugh out of John and he dropped his gaze. From dark eyes to the curve of a cheek. Grinning, he wagged a pointing forefinger at his challenger.

"You", he chuckled. "I like you. You go' balls, mate."

With a flourish, John turned from the edge of the stage and back to poor, self-conscious Emma.

"I'm afraid we'll 'ave to postpone any further fun, luv.", he announced with an apologetic bow. "I go' a reputation to uphold an' pre'y boy over there needs a schoolin' in who 'e's dealin' with."

Gently, John placed a hand on the crystal sphere and guided it back down to the table before holding out his hand for Emma. When she took it he pulled her against him, eliciting a gasp and a giggle. "Mee' me backstage after the show, luv. I'll show you some real magic.", he muttered against her ear as he danced her back to her chair. Once she was lifted back down and settled again (not without a promising bite of her lip and a stroke of her hand down his chest) John turned towards his opponent once more.

"A'right, 'andsome.", he grinned, the spark of danger that still simmered pleasantly in his belly reflected in bright blue eyes. "Come up 'ere an' I'll show you a good time."

The magic that had connected with his was strong. The innate kind you're born with, the one where it sings under your skin. The one that so easily created a physical spark between one practitioner and another.

One of the reasons very few magicians tended to enjoy being in intimate relationships with each other. John however? Oh, John had learned all the ways that little spark could be fun. So when his pretty detractor stepped up to the edge of the stage, John held out his hand for him.

"Le's give 'em a good show.", John said, just loud enough for the first row to catch the words, changing casual curiosity into nearly tangible, excited expectation.

Then he moved into the man's space, John crouching at the edge of the stage bringing him face to face with his tall, handsome stranger. "Don' think of fuckin' with my spells, mate.", he hissed. "If you know who I am, you know i's a bad idea. If no', coun' yourself lucky an' jus' play along."

[ashroseevans]

Opposites Attract 1

_____ is a water mage who has had weird and sometimes unpleasant things happen to her through her life. Those weird occurences only seemed to amplify as she got older. It first started when she could use magic that she shouldn't have been able to use except under certain circumstances to just before she transferred out of her old school and moved to Fiore when something even stranger happened. When she moved to Fiore and her new school in a town called Magnolia, she came across a club called Fairy Tail which she hoped would have the answers she's looking for, until she meets a fire mage with the same hidden power as her and her world gets turned upside down.

Natsu Dragneel is a Fire Dragon Slayer who can be too hot headed for his own good. When a new water mage comes to his school after he won a design contest for his clubs logo and is forced to show her the ropes by the Club Master Makarov, he comes to wonder if he can handle being around her. Sometimes they get along, sometimes they don't and other times he just wants to tackle her. But most of the time he just wanted to protect her. Weird feelings that he hasn't felt since Lisanna start swirling around inside of him and he's not sure how to deal with them.

"Argh..." growled a young man as he sat at his desk, scribbling on a piece of paper.

That was the fifth time he's had to start over. He just couldn't get the design right. Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his pink hair and erased the bottom part of the design. Why was it so damn hard to get the damn bottom to look like it did in his head?

"Whatcha growling at Natsu?"

The boy, Natsu looked up at the blond standing in front of his desk. She leaned over to try to catch a glimpse at what he was drawing, but Natsu quickly covered it with his arms.

"It's not finished yet, Lucy. It's just a design for the club. Makarov is holding that contest, remember?" he said.

"I remember. But why can't I look at it yet?"

"Like I said, it's not finished yet. I don't want anyone to see it until it's perfect, okay?"

Lucy sighed. "Fine. I was going to offer my help, but seeing as you don't want it, I guess I'll just leave now," she waved her hands and started walking away. "This is what I get for being friends with a pyro."

Natsu rolled his eyes and got back to work on his drawing. It was almost perfect. He just needed to get it to that part first. He put the pencil back to the paper and started drawing. Then it hit him. Maybe Lucy had a spirit that would be able to draw what was in his head for him!

"Wait, Lucy!" he called and jumped up from his desk, running after the blond that just walked out of the room, the tails of his scarf trailing behind him.

She turned around and looked at him, her hands on her hips. "What? You want my help now?" she asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"Yes and no," he said. "Do you have a spirit that could help me?" he asked excitedly.

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? I don't have any artsy spirits!"

"What about that crab guy? He can cut out the design I want and I can just trace it," Natsu suggested.

"His name is Cancer and I'm not going to summon him just so you can try to win a stupid contest," Lucy said.

"I'll give you half of the prize money if we win," Natsu sang.

Lucy's eyes widened and she looked at Natsu. "Half of the prize money?" she said, not really believing it.

"Yup!" Natsu grinned at her.

"I'll be able to pay my tuition!" she said. "Fine. I'll do it! Meet me at my room after classes."

"Aye sir!" Natsu said and saluted.

Lucy was silent for a moment as she stared at Natsu. "Leave that kind of talk to Happy."

Natsu laughed. "Well, see you tonight!" he said and ran off.

Natsu stood in the crowd of club members as Makarov stood on a podium. The room was filled with loud chatter from all of the club members and Makarov stood with his eyes closed, waiting for the envelope that contained the results. Natsu was bouncing up and down excitedly, anxiously waiting to hear who won the design contest. He hoped it was him because he already promised to himself that whichever design won, he was going to get it tattooed on his shoulder. It started as a bet with Happy, but as he drew his design, he started to actually look forward to it.

"Well don't you seem excited," Lucy said as she walked up next to Natsu.

"Of course I am. We're going to see who wins the contest," he said. "I really hope it's me."

"I'm almost positive we're going to win," Lucy said. "Did you see some of the other designs? You can almost tell who drew them based on what they look like."

"Argh..." Natsu growled, almost completely ignoring Lucy. "The suspense is killing me." He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. "Hurry up, old man! Tell us the results already!"

Makarov opened his eyes and leveled a steady gaze at Natsu. "Calm down, Natsu. Mira has to finish tallying the votes."

"Can't she count faster?" he shouted.

"Natsu," came a new voice from behind him, causing Natsu to freeze up out of fear.

He slowly turned around and saw Erza glaring at him. "Aye?" he squeaked.

"You're not the only one who is waiting anxiously to see if they won so calm down, sit down and shut up," she said.

"Yes ma'am," Natsu said and immediately plopped down on the ground.

Lucy looked down at Natsu with amazed eyes. "I still wish I knew how you do that, Erza," she said.

"It's all in how you handle yourself, Lucy," Erza replied.

Lucy giggled. "So you joined the contest too?"

"I did, but I wish we could have voted for our own designs," Erza said. "I was so proud of it. Instead I voted for the one that looked like a sort of abstract version of a fairy."

"Oh, did you?" Lucy asked.

"I did. I wonder who designed that one. It was very well done. If mine doesn't win, I'd be quite happy if that one does," she said.

"Do you really want to know who drew it?" Lucy asked.

"Since we're supposed to remain anonymous until the results are read, I think I'll hold off on knowing until then," Erza smiled

Natsu grumbled as he sat on the floor and looked to the side. Erza was about to open her mouth in reprimand for him making a sound when Mirajane walked up to the podium to hand an envelope to Makarov. Everyone went silent and Natsu jumped up from where he sat on the floor.

"The results are in," Makarov said in a voice that carried through the club room. "No matter who was the winner, all of the designs were well put together and thought out. Now without further ado..." Makarov opened up the envelope.

Fireworks erupted out of the envelope and coalesced into the shape of the winning design. Natsu's eyes widened and a grin broke across his face as he saw his design in the lights above the club banner.

"OH YEAH!" he roared and jumped up on a table, fire engulfing his hands in his excitement. "I won!"

"Damn it, Natsu!" shouted a black haired ice mage named Gray. "Get down from there flame for brains," he said as he jumped up on the table next to him, stripped down to his boxers.

Natsu turned his grin onto Gray. "You're one to talk, streaker!" Natsu said and made a move to shove Gray off the table.

Gray fell back off the table and almost missed landing on Gajeel. The Iron Dragon slayer growled and turned on Natsu.

"Watch it Salamander," he hissed and reached out, his hand turning into iron and extending far further then his reach to smash Natsu in the face and push him far off the table.

Natsu growled and flipped over the iron fist attack before he was slammed into the wall and ran down it. Before he could attack Gajeel in return, Gray flying kicked him in the side of the head and the two of them went flying into Elfman. Elfman rolled a long with the two boys until they impacted with the wall. Lucy watched in shock as the three boys started throwing punches at each other while still rolling around. Erza sighed and just before anyone else could join into the club room brawl that seemed ever present in the Fairy Tail Club, Makarov spoke loudly.

"That is enough!" he shouted.

Everyone who was fighting froze immediately.

"Congratulation's Natsu," he went on when he had everyone attention. "You can come get your prize after you've settled down."

With that, Makarov left the main room and walked into one of the side rooms of the club room. Natsu jumped up and ran passed Lucy, grabbing her arm as he went, and dragged her into the room Makarov disappeared into.

"Come on, Happy," Natsu said as he walked into his dorm room after he parted ways with Lucy. "Let's go?"

The blue cat curled up on Natsu's bed blinked and looked up at him. "Go where?" he asked.

"To get the tattoo!" Natsu said excitedly. "I won the contest, so lets go!"

Happy jumped up and saluted. "Aye sir!"

He jumped up off the bed and wings sprouted from his back and he flew to land on Natsu's head. Natsu laughed and walked out of his room and through the halls of the school. The two of them walked through the main gate and caught the first bus that headed into town. Finally they arrived at the tattoo parlor they decided om and walked inside. They were greeted by the artist and Natsu handed the man the drawing of the tattoo he wanted.

"What color?" he asked.

"Red. Full color," Natsu replied.

The artist nodded. "Just give me a few moments while I draw this up."

Natsu nodded and he and Happy sat down on one of the chairs in the waiting area. The artist returned barely fifteen minutes later and called Natsu into the room and sat him down on the chair. He went through all the steps of cleaning off his shoulder and transferring the design onto his skin before actually applying the ink. Based on what everyone else had said about tattoos, Natsu expected it to hurt, but to him it barely felt like he was being poked over and over again by a toothpick, unpleasant but not painful.

Read more Fairy Tail Stories (and others) here

[beyondforks]

Release Day Review! Nights at Seaside by Addison Cole

Nights at Seaside (Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers #6) by Addison Cole Genre: Adult (Contemporary Romance) Date Published: December 13, 2017 Publisher: World Literary Press

Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers features a group of fun, flirty, and emotional friends who gather each summer at their Cape Cod cottages. They're sassy, flawed, and so easy to relate to, you'll be begging to enter their circle of friends!

Nights at Seaside by Addison Cole is the sweet edition of New York Times bestselling author Melissa Foster's steamy romance novel Seaside Nights. The stories and characters remain the same and convey all of the passion you expect between two people in love, without any explicit scenes or harsh language.

In NIGHTS at SEASIDE...

Sky Lacroux has finally realized her dream and opened her own tattoo shop in Provincetown, Massachusetts. She’s happy as can be, preparing the shop for its grand opening and renting a cottage in the Seaside community while renovations to her new apartment are being completed. The only thing missing is the one thing she longs for, and has no control over—love.

Sawyer Bass, a professional boxer, plays his guitar at a local bar to escape the painful reality of his father’s deteriorating health and a recent health warning of his own. But when he spots a stunning brunette across the room, escaping reality goes out the window, and the beautiful woman becomes the focus of his next song—and maybe even the rest of his life.

When Sawyer walks into Sky’s tattoo shop and sees the woman from the bar—Sky—the chemistry between them is instant. Sawyer is everything Sky could ever hope for in a man. He’s honest, loving, sensitive, and potently virile—but boxing goes against everything Sky believes in. The closer they become, the more she realizes that her alpha boxer is waging his own emotional battle—only the battle she thinks he’s waging isn’t the one that threatens to tear them apart.

Nights at Seaside is the sixth book in the Sweet with Heat: Seaside Summers series by Addison Cole. This is Sky and Sawyer's story. We've met Sky before. Now, we get to know her better and met Sawyer too. These two had some crazy palpable chemistry going on. Definite Sweet with Heat! They had a major cuteness factor going on too. They had an insta-love thing, but it worked for them. I could feel their heat even before they officially met. I just liked these two a lot. There were so many clever little details added into this story. From the meaning behind the name of Sky's tattoo parlor to the poetry link they have. Sky and Sawyer have so much heart. They are so different, yet they are the same. 

ARCs of Secrets at Seaside by Addison Cole were kindly provided to me by the author for review. The opinions are my own.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE in a few short weeks the apartment and the tattoo shop will be completely renovated. Blue, you’re amazing!” Sky Lacroux shoved her favorite poetry book into her patchwork purse and locked the front doors of her shop. She waited for a few people to pass before stepping back on the busy sidewalk to admire it. She still had to paint the exterior and the sign above the doors and wait for the interior renovations to be done, but as she took in the narrow building she now owned, pride swelled inside her chest. Inky Skies was located on Commercial Street, the busiest street in the artsy community of Provincetown, Massachusetts. It was sandwiched between her friend Lizzie Barber’s flower shop, P-town Petals, which was painted light blue with flowers and greenery climbing up the columns out front, and the bright purple game store, Puzzle Me This. Sky planned on painting Inky Skies bright yellow, and as Blue Ryder, one of her best friends, threw his arm around her and dragged her away from the shop, she felt like she was walking on a cloud. Now, if only the universe would magically step in and find her the perfect man to share her joy with. Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen in a primarily gay and lesbian community, especially with the way she worked all the time. Not likely. Her brother Hunter fell into step on her other side. Definitely not likely with these two guarding me closer than Fort Knox. “Are you still planning a big grand opening, even though the shop has been open since you bought it?” Blue asked. He’d been one of Sky’s best friends since she’d moved back to the Cape from New York three summers ago, to run her father’s hardware store while he went into rehab to deal with an alcohol addiction. Thankfully, her father had remained sober after rehab and was back to running his store, which had enabled Sky to move out and fulfill her dream of opening her own tattoo shop. Two months earlier she’d purchased the tattoo shop where she’d been working part-time, and Blue, a specialty builder, was renovating both the shop and the apartment above it for her. “Heck, yes, I am. It doesn’t matter that it’s been open during renovations. I still need to celebrate Inky Skies—my dream, my passion, my…” Blue groaned, and Sky laughed and poked him in the side as they crossed at the corner on their way to meet their friends. “And you’re both coming,” she said. “Like it or not.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m proud of you, sis.” Hunter put a hand on Sky’s forearm as they came to a curb and a bike whipped past. “Hunter, I know how to stop at a curb, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes at her protective older brother. She was used to being watched over, considering her four older brothers—and her slightly overprotective friend, Blue—had been doing it for years, but at twenty-six, with a new business and a new apartment, she was ready to spread her wings. “Hey, just keepin’ you safe.” Hunter kept his dark hair shaved close to his head, and with his dark eyes and bulky muscles, he had an edge to him, but the playful grin he flashed softened all of that edginess, revealing the bighearted brother Sky adored. “Hey, sugar!” A friendly drag queen, who went by Marcus during the day and Maxine when he performed, waved from across the street. He’d lost his lover, Howie, to cancer a couple of years ago, and as much as Sky wished he’d fall in love again, she knew from the look in Marcus’s eyes when he spoke of Howie that what they’d shared was a once-in-a-lifetime type of love. Ever since four of her friends had gotten married last summer, she longed to experience that kind of love, too. “Hi, Marcus,” Sky called. “No show tonight?” During the day, families came to shop, sightsee, and enjoy street performers, but at night, P-town turned into a colorful world of drag queens, dance clubs, and comedians. “My night off.” Marcus said something that made the man he was with laugh. Then he hollered, “I see you have your bodyguards with you again. Hey, Blue. Hi, Hunter. When you get tired of watching over Sky, come watch over me.” Blue laughed. “You couldn’t handle me, bro.” “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to try,” Marcus teased. Blue was straight as an arrow, but Marcus loved to tease him. Sky had quickly fallen in love with the whole community when she’d begun working at the tattoo shop. It might not be conducive to meeting a guy she’d want to actually spend time getting to know in a romantic sense—it had been forever since she’d met a guy like that—but she loved the diversity of the area and the warmth of the people. Provincetown felt like home. They weaved through throngs of people toward a crowd gathered outside of the Governor Bradford Restaurant, where Blue had handled renovations last year. At six two and six three, with linebacker shoulders and movie-star good looks, it was easy for Hunter and Blue to part the crowd as they guided Sky inside. Governor Bradford’s was dimly lit, with a bar to the left, a small stage and dance floor across from the entrance, and a restaurant area to the right of the stage. The scent of fried foods and sage hung in the air. She followed Blue around the dance floor, stopping at a table of bearded guys who had come into the shop earlier in the day for tattoos and leaned in to hug one of them. Sky got to know most of her customers while she tatted them up. “Hey, guys. I hope you’re going to sing for open mic night.” “Trust me, you don’t wanna hear us sing,” the burliest of them said with a laugh. “Chicken,” Sky teased as Blue took her hand and dragged her to the far side of the dance floor, where her sister-in-law, Jenna, and their friends Bella Grant and Amy Black were waiting for them. “Finally.” Jenna stood up to hug Sky. She was four foot eleven, with curves that rivaled Marilyn Monroe’s, and at five months pregnant she looked even more voluptuous. “I see your bodyguards got you here safely.” Sky laughed. “I love your haircut!” Jenna had cut a few inches off of her long brown hair. It now hung just past her shoulders. “Thanks. It’s my summer cut,” Jenna said, patting her hair. Sky reached around Bella’s burgeoning belly to hug her, then did the same with Amy. “You guys are like the beach-ball-belly twins. I can’t believe you’re both eight months pregnant—and that your hubbies are still letting you go to open mic night.” “They know we need our P-town nights. Besides, they’re all out on Pete’s boat with your dad.” Bella looked at Hunter and Blue. “Why didn’t you guys go?” Hunter was busy ordering drinks from a raven-haired waitress. “I worked late on Sky’s renovations.” Blue pulled out a chair for Sky. “I’m sorry,” Sky said, patting his back as she sat beside him. “But I do appreciate your hard work, and I even tried to get Lizzie to meet us tonight.” She wiggled her brows. “I tried to hook you up. The way you and Duke were lusting after Lizzie at the wedding, I thought for sure you’d ask her out by now.” “She is hot,” Hunter said, eyes locked on a group of blond women across the bar. Blue ran a hand through his thick dark hair and shrugged. “I’ve been busy.” “For a year?” Bella asked. “She’s come out with us several times over the past year,” he said as he draped an arm across the back of Sky’s chair. “Yes. Us. I said you should ask her out.” Sky shook her head, and a disconcerting thought hit her as the waitress brought their drinks. “Oh, gosh, Blue. Do you think we spend too much time together? Am I monopolizing you? Have I blocked you?” “No, you didn’t block me,” Blue said with a laugh. “Have I…blocked you?” Relieved, she said, “No. I’ve just decided that the next guy I date has to be someone who’s really soulful and gets me, and around here, that’s slim pickin’s.” Blue raised his beer with a smirk. “Guys are not exactly soulful.” “No kidding,” Hunter said. “Oh, come on. There are soulful people all around. It just takes some looking,” Jenna began scanning the bar. “I’m on a manhunt for Sky.” “Okay, enough find-my-sister-a-man talk,” Hunter said. “I looked at the sign-up sheet. They have a great lineup tonight. Comedians, karaoke, and see that guy over there?” He pointed to a guy sitting by himself at the bar with a guitar leaning against his leg. His dark T-shirt revealed sculpted biceps and strong forearms, and the fabric clung to the contours of his muscular chest. One arm rested casually on the arm of his chair, the other across his lap, his finger wrapped around the neck of a guitar. He had hair the color of night and thick scruff covering a strong jawline. His eyes were narrowed and locked on a group of people across the room, like he was studying them or deep in thought. Sky couldn’t tell which. “He played about two months ago, and he’s amazing.” Hunter glanced at his sister. “You’ll love him, Sky.” “Holy mother of hotness.” Jenna grabbed Bella’s arm. “Where did that guy come from?” “You’re married,” Amy reminded her. “And preggers.” Bella patted Jenna’s belly. “Pete would kick his butt if he even looked at you.” Sky’s brother was a little protective of his wife. “My interest is already piqued by that handsome creature,” Sky said more to herself than the others. “I don’t want to hear that. I just thought you’d like his music.” Hunter eyed the man across the room. “He looks a little rough, Sky. Not your hippie, earthy type.” Sky ignored her brother’s evaluation. Yes, she had an earthy style and believed in fate and destiny and all things a little bit magical, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t ogle a hot guy who might not be her typical type. While Bella, Amy, and Jenna talked about their plans for their babies and Blue and Hunter talked about work and women, Sky went back to checking out the dark-eyed man who hadn’t so much as shifted his position. The host announced the next karaoke singer, and they listened to a squeaky rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin.” People danced and sang as they moved through several other moderately talented singers. Sky was about to pull out her poetry book, which was far more interesting than the singers, when the host called out, “Sawyer Bass,” and the guy with the guitar rose and stretched, giving Sky an eyeful of just how hot he really was. Black biker boots carried him across the floor. His guitar strap was slung casually over one shoulder, as if he were carrying an old piece of lumber. Blue bumped her with his elbow and handed her a napkin. “What’s that for?” she asked, eyes still on Sawyer Bass. He even has a hot name. “Drool.” She snapped the napkin from his hands, unable to tear her eyes from Sawyer as he sank onto a stool in the middle of the stage—which looked way too small for a man of his size. He was completely relaxed, shoulders and jaw soft, eyes downcast, as if sitting in front of a roomful of people was something he did every night. He rolled his thick shoulders back and cracked his neck to either side, which for some reason amped up his sexiness. Sawyer lifted dark eyes to the crowd, scanning everything and somehow looking as though he were seeing nothing at all. His eyes skimmed over Sky, and for a beat she held her breath, but he quickly moved on, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “This guy’s got serious mojo.�� Bella’s eyes moved around the room. “Half the women’s eyes are on him. Heck, most of the guys are staring at him, too.” Sky sipped her drink and looked away from the guy who held everyone’s attention. She reached into her purse and pulled out her C. J. Moon poetry book. Better to concentrate on something she enjoyed than to gawk at a guy everyone wanted. He probably wasn’t laid-back anyway. He was probably playing it cool, the way guys did when they knew they were hot stuff. “You’re not really going to read, are you?” Blue put his arm across the back of her chair again and pulled her in closer. “She’s mooning again,” Jenna teased. “Blue, take that away from her. She’ll never meet a guy if she’s mooning.” Jenna always teased her about mooning over C. J. Moon’s poems. Blue leaned closer to Sky. “You seem a little out of sorts. Is it the renovations? They shouldn’t take much longer.” Sky was renting a cottage from Amy down at the Seaside community, where Bella, Jenna, and Amy all lived. Blue had found a leak in the apartment pipes a few weeks ago, and it seemed easier for her to rent there rather than be in his way on a daily basis. She loved staying at Seaside, and she loved Blue for caring enough to ask. “You really are a great friend, Blue. It’s not that. You’re doing a great job. I don’t know what it is.” Sky dropped her eyes to the book and began to read her favorite poem. A moment later, a deep, impassioned voice filled the room, bringing Sky’s eyes up to the man it had come from. Sawyer sat on the stool, eyes closed, strumming his guitar and singing with an intensity that sent a shiver of seduction rippling through the room. Sky watched his fingers move confidently over the strings. His brows knitted together on the longer notes, he bowed his head as the words turned sad, and the muscles in his neck grew thicker. Passion poured out of him with every verse. “What song is this?” Sky asked, the lyrics settling into her bones like a lonely ache. Darkness isn’t enough. Miles are too close. Nothing can erase you, wipe you clean, take away the pain you’re leaving behind. “No idea,” Blue answered. “Never heard it before.” Hunter’s eyes were locked on a blonde across the room. Sky shifted her gaze back to Sawyer. His voice was getting softer as he came to the end of the song, and it drew her in deeper with every second he held that note. ** SAWYER ** THE LAST NOTE lingered in Sawyer’s lungs, weighing heavily on his heart and in his mind. He didn’t want to stop strumming his guitar or open his eyes. He needed this release—to live in the center of this dusky bar, surrounded by people who didn’t know him and who didn’t know what had led him there. But when he’d sung his last note, he had no choice but to end the song and open his eyes to a loud round of applause. Still thinking of the meaning behind the words, he looked past the tables to the window across the front of the restaurant, which looked out over Commercial Street. People walked by outside, oblivious to the storm brewing inside him, like everyone else in this place. He’d found himself looking for answers—more so in recent months as his father’s illness progressed. And in that moment, as the crowd clapped, he conjured up the image of his father’s face from his childhood, before the remnants of the war had claimed him. His lips curved up at the memory of his father’s bright eyes smiling upon him—that was the part he still couldn’t accept. He’d never again see his father smile. Parkinson’s had stolen so much of his father’s abilities to be the man he once was, it seemed unreal to Sawyer. Even though the illness had taken root several years earlier, the loss of those pieces of his father that he’d taken for granted for so long still haunted Sawyer on a daily basis. And now, looking at his father was like looking into a mirror of what his future might hold. Sawyer was running from that truth, trying to dodge it like a bullet, because it wasn’t Agent Orange that might steal Sawyer’s cognition like a thief in the night. Sawyer’s fate wasn’t being driven by the country he served. Sawyer’s nemesis was the one thing that he’d lived and breathed since he was thirteen years old. It was his chosen career. Sawyer had boxed competitively since he was eighteen. He was a formidable competitor, a monster in the ring, and boxing was the perfect outlet for his anger toward the disease that was stealing more of the man he loved each and every day. Boxing had not only been his emotional savior on too many occasions to count, but now it was going to be his parents’ financial savior as well. Sawyer was challenging the current Northeast Boxing Association champion for the title, and the match carried a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar purse—enough money to pay for in-home health care for his father for the next thirty years. That goal kept Sawyer training harder than ever before and had him even more fiercely determined to win. After a grueling training session for his upcoming title fight, he’d gone to see Dr. Malen, his physician, for his quarterly checkup. Stupid doctors. They were always covering their butts, warning about worst-case scenarios. Brains weren’t meant to take beatings, the doc had told him. He’d painted the grimmest picture—one or two more blows and Sawyer could sustain permanent brain damage. Sure, he’d had a few concussions, but didn’t every fighter? They’d been giving him the same warning since he was a teenager, and he knew from his boxing buddies that they’d all received similar warnings, too. But this time the doc told him something that he’d never said before—Think about it. This is your future. You’ve only got one. How could one sentence pack more power than an uppercut to the jaw? Even if the doc was right, how was he supposed to decide between ensuring his father’s financial future and well-being and his own? As the applause died down, Sawyer pushed those agonizing thoughts aside. He was invincible. Too good of a fighter to end up with a head injury. He looked out at the crowd and held up a hand in gratitude as he rose to his feet. His eyes shifted to the dark-haired beauty sitting off to his left. He’d seen her looking at him from across the room earlier, and now her eyes were on him again even though the guy beside her had his arm around her. Sawyer disliked people who disrespected those who cared for them and to do it in plain sight rubbed him the wrong way. But something in the way she was looking at him made it impossible for him to look away. The exotic-looking woman with olive skin and long, windblown dark hair intrigued him. So much so that words sailed through his mind—languid, peaceful, wounded. Words were as much an outlet for Sawyer as boxing was. He poured his emotions into songs, scribbling them on whatever he could get his hands on when the feeling hit. And now, as he drank in her mismatched necklaces, the word enchanting sounded in his mind. She had the look and presence of someone who was comfortable in her own skin, and that was something Sawyer had always been attracted to. In the space of a breath, he took in her almond-shaped eyes, the slight uptilt to her nose, and the sweet bow of her lips. He’d been watching her for only a few seconds, though it felt like several minutes had passed, and her eyes were now focused on a book, making him even more curious. Who read a book at open mic night? Sawyer felt his muse pulling, taunting, vying for his attention, and the songwriter in him began putting a song about the woman together in his mind. He’d come to the bar tonight because life was pressing in on him and he’d desperately needed to get out of his own head. The song he’d just played had practically exploded from his fingertips earlier in the evening, and the longer he’d played it in his house on the dunes, the worse the ache that had accompanied it had become. He’d moved outside, but even the sounds of the bay, which usually soothed the chaos in his mind, were no match for the doctor’s warning and the other pressures whirling around inside him. Being out tonight should have calmed his thoughts, but now his mind was racing again. Only this time, bits and pieces of the beautiful woman’s fictional life were tumbling into verses he had to write. He picked up his guitar and headed to the bar as the host announced the next act. Sawyer pulled a pen from his shirt pocket, grabbed a stack of napkins, and climbed atop a barstool to let the words flow.

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Addison Cole is the sweet alter ego of New York Times and USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Melissa Foster. She writes humorous and emotional sweet contemporary romance. Her books do not include explicit sex scenes or harsh language. Addison spends her summers on Cape Cod, where she dreams up wonderful love stories in her house overlooking Cape Cod Bay.

Addison enjoys discussing her books with book clubs and reader groups and welcomes an invitation to your event. Addison’s books are available in paperback, digital, and audio formats.

To learn more about Addison Cole and her books, visit her website.You can also find her on Goodreads, Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Twitter.