#is magically better. also i have three publishers breathing down my neck for this book but i haven't been able to write in months because of

[morgynemberisagenderfluiddaddy]

I have a migraine 🤪

[atlafan]

a/n: okay, here it is! a lot of you really wanted me to post this on here, SO THAT MEANS I’M GONNA SEE LOTS OF FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS, RIGHT?! Can’t wait to know what you think of this one! [Patreon] [Buy Me A Coffee] (not proofread) I was inspired by a lot of different things with this, it’s sort of like Scarlet Witch meets The Dragon Prince meets ATLA??? Also, Harry is a major himbo in this, and we love that for him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, flirting, magical fighting, smut (rim job)

Words: 22K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Amber Hale)

Song Inspo: High For This - The Weeknd

“What do you do with a BA in English?” The age-old question that was coined from the hit musical, Avenue Q. Harry thought he had the answer to that question, and it was go to graduate school to get his MEd in English. He’d get his K-12 certification, not that he wanted to work in a K-12 school system. No, he wanted to be a literary professor. He wanted to be able to have high level discussions about the classics, post-modernism, film adaptations, and more. He loved reading, ever since he was a little kid there was a book in his hands. There was just something about getting lost in a world that someone else created for a bit, and then analyzing the shit out of it.

He had already done a semester of student-teaching as a senior, he didn’t love it. He took a gap year trying to find a publishing company to work at. He thought he could maybe be an editor. Harry soon realized he didn’t like being told what to read, and the pay was pretty low. He even tried working at a bookstore for a bit. It wasn’t as much fun as he thought. So, at the age of twenty-four, he enrolled in a master’s program to get his Med in English. At least this time when he’d have to student-teach, he’d be doing it at a collegiate level. He knew he’d get stuck teaching a couple of sections of first-year composition, but he had no problem teaching students how to properly construct a paper. There were three classes he needed to take in the fall, all of them being online-asynchronous: Social Behavior in a Diverse Society, Philosophy, Ethics, & Education, and Teacher Action Research.  

Since Harry had a semester of teaching under his belt, he was able to get a better paying grant, and wouldn’t have to just TA, he could actually teach. He’d still be subject to observation, but at least he could be trusted. So, he’d be teaching two sections of Composition, and one section of Fiction Workshop, where students would read texts Harry picks out, and discuss them. Fiction was his favorite, so he was really excited to be teaching this particular course.

The university he was attending was on the east coast in the states, a very picturesque college town by the seacoast. Harry loved fall, so he was happy about getting to be immersed in the season. So, he had his courses settled that he had to take, he knew what he was teaching and set up his Canvas pages, the last thing he needed to figure out was a place to live. He had been staying at a motel in the area, but that was starting to get pricey. He looked around online, but there wasn’t much out there. He also didn’t want to get stuck living with a bunch of undergrads that were loud and partied. He asked the other faculty in the English department if they knew of anything, but they didn’t.

Harry decided to go for a walk in the downtown area, and see if there were any ads in some of the shop windows. A lot of the buildings looked to be apartments up top. On his walk, he noticed an interesting looking café. There were other coffee shops in town, and this one looked to be almost deserted. Harry shrugs his shoulders and heads inside. A chime sounds as he walks in, and he sees that it’s almost like a country store. There’re tee shirts, sweatshirts, scarves, gloves, books, knick-knacks, and treats. This seemed like a neat little place, why wouldn’t there be a lot of people here? It was still summer, maybe it was more of a college student hangout?

Even though it was still summer, the place smelled like cinnamon and apples. The fresh smell of coffee wafted through the air as well. From the back comes a woman wearing a green apron over her clothes, dusting her hands off. Harry stops in his tracks as he looks at her. She had these piercing blue eyes that resembled sapphires. Her hair was up in a loose, wavy ponytail, the color being one of those silver/lavender mixes, a contrast to her dark eyebrows. She was a short thing, couldn’t have been a little more than five feet tall. Her nails were painted black, and she had this gorgeous necklace hanging around her neck. She also had various piercings in her ears, and a silver hoop in her left nostril.

“May I help you?” She asks Harry just as a Siberian husky comes trotting out by her side.

“Hi! I’m new to the area, and I was just strolling by and saw your shop…um, do you have iced tea?”

“Yeah.” She nods slowly. “Come over to the counter.” The dog circles around Harry, sniffing at his legs. “Are you okay with dogs?”

“Love ‘em! Boy, girl?”

“She’s a girl, her name is Opal.”

“That’s a lovely name.” Harry smiles, and leans down a bit to let Opal sniff his hand. “She’s a beautiful dog.”

“Thank you. So…you said you wanted an iced tea? Here’s the list of flavors.” She taps a laminated paper that’s taped to the counter.

“Right, yeah, um…what do you recommend?”

She furrows her brows at him for a moment, studying his face.

“I just drink the plain, black tea with a dash of sugar syrup.”

“Then I’ll have that.” He smiles.

She nods, gets a cup to fill with ice, and goes into one of the small fridges where the tea was chilling. She adds the syrup and then the tea, then snaps a sippy-cup style lid on top.

“Here you go. That’ll be $3.99.”

Harry sets a five-dollar-bill on the counter.

“Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She puts the rest in the tip jar.

“What’s your name? You’re not wearing a tag or anything.” He says before taking a sip of the tea.

“It’s Amber.”

“Amber! Oh, is that why you’re wearing one?” He points to her necklace.

“Well, I was given this when I was a little girl.” She says as she looks down at it, then back up to him.

“Do you mind if I peruse around the store a bit? Although, I shouldn’t be buying any trinkets until I actually find a place to put them.”

“What do you mean?” She blinks at him. Who was this man and why was he being so friendly with her?

“I’m new to the area, and I’ve been having a tough time finding a place to live. I’m at one of the nearby hotels, but I can’t stay there much longer. You wouldn’t happen to know of any vacant apartments, would you?”

“Sure she does!” Another woman comes out from the back. “Amber owns the whole building, which means she owns the apartments upstairs.”

“Penny.” Amber seethes, and then looks at Harry. “I’m sorry, I don’t rent to college students.”

“I’m a graduate student, and I’m also going to be teaching. M’not loud, and I keep things tidy. I’d be happy to fill out an application if you like.” He smiles. “Plus, I could be a walking advertisement for the place because this tea is incredible.”

“The shop does well for itself.” Amber mutters.

“Oh, just give the boy an application.” Penny says.

“Fine.” Amber sighs, and ducks down to grab an application. She hands it to Harry reluctantly. “My email is on the bottom. Just scan it and send it to me that way, and I’ll get back to you.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Penny smiles. “Parking’s included.” Amber glares at her. “Well, I’m just going to head back to the back, take stock of things.”

“You do that.” Amber says, shaking her head, and then looking at Harry. “She’s a good worker, but she’s nosey as shit. So, you’re a grad student?”

“Mhm, and I’m twenty-four, so I’m not fresh out of undergrad either. I’m going for my MEd in English, and I’ll be teaching a few classes as well. I’m excited to get started.”

“English, huh?”

“Mhm.” Harry smiles.

“You must really like to read.”

“I do.” He nods. “Do you?”

“No, I hate it actually.”

“But…there are so many books here.”

“Yeah, the majority of them are cook books, or informational books about the area. I’ve never really cared for reading. It’s a waste of time, if I’m being honest.”

“A…a waste of time?” He blinks at her.

“If I’m reading, it’s so I can learn something.”

“But even if it’s fiction, you can still learn so many life lessons.”

“Maybe worry about teaching that to your students instead of me. I’m a lost cause.” She smirks. “I need to finish up what I was doing in the back, so if you still want to peruse…”

“No, uh, I’ll get out of hair. I’ll email this over to you later tonight. It was nice meeting you.” He looks down at Opal who was eyeing him carefully. “And it was nice meeting you too, gorgeous girl.” He smiles, and leaves the shop.

Amber takes a deep breath and heads into the back where Penny is. She glares at her, and it makes Penny laugh.

“You could use a new tenant.” Penny says to her.

“I don’t need you finding one for me.”

“He’s cute.”

“He’s annoying.” Amber deadpans. “Practically told me his whole life story!”

“He clearly felt comfortable around you.”

“So? He’s an English professor or something, how pretentious.” She makes a disgusted noise.

“Just give his application a fair shot, would you?”

“I will, but only because if I don’t I know you’ll keep bugging me about it.”

//

Harry couldn’t believe that he just heard with his own two ears that reading was a waste of time. He knew there were people that didn’t care for it in the way that he did, but Amber said she hated it. He couldn’t fret over it too much, though, because either way he still needed an apartment, and she had a vacancy open. So, when he got back to the hotel later that day, he worked on his application, and emailed it over to Amber. The name of shop was cute: Opal’s Café & Convenience. He found it endearing that she named it after her dog. Amber seemed rough around the edges, but maybe Harry could be the one to smooth her out a bit.

//

Much to Amber’s dismay, Harry was the perfect applicant. He didn’t have any pets, he wouldn’t be throwing wild parties, his credit checked out, and his references were solid. Amber would be stupid not to let him take one of her apartments. She emailed him back and let him know it was his if he wanted it, and when he could move in. In the email, she attached a list of rules he’d need to follow when being one of her tenants. She lived in the building as well, and she valued her privacy. She explained that she would often make a lot of tea in her own apartment, so Harry might catch a whiff once in a while.

Harry was so thrilled he’d have an actual place to live just in time for school starting that he agreed to all of her conditions. So what if he’d smell tea once in a while? There were far worse smells out there. Harry packed everything into his car, and headed over to the building as soon as he could. He found his parking spot, and started moving things up. His apartment was on the floor beneath Amber’s. She had the entire top floor to herself. Harry was surprised that he’d have the whole second floor to himself. It was a spacious one bedroom that he was grateful for. He was drenched with sweat by the time he got the last of things upstairs. The first thing on his list was to install his air conditioner. He tore his shirt off, kept the front door open for some airflow, and got to work putting the air conditioner in the main window of the living room. It was the space he’d be in most, so he wanted it cooler in there. He could always leave his bedroom door open or just use a fan at night.

Amber was heading down the stairs with Opal, and noticed Harry’s door was open. She was about to get to work opening the shop. Her eyes widen when she sees that he’s shirtless, littered with tattoos. He just happens to turn and see her standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hi!” He smiles, and walks over to the door, bending a bit to pet Opal.

“Everything going okay so far?” Amber asks.

“Mhm.” Harry nods, crossing his arms. “Just got the A/C installed, so it’ll be nice and cool soon. Thanks again for letting me rent from you.”

“Yeah, well…it’s money.” She shrugs. “Look, uh, there’s a basement here too, don’t go down there. It’s locked anyways, but I keep all of the supplies for the shop in the basement, so…it’s off limits.”

“Oh, no worries. I’ve got plenty of space up here. I don’t have a bike or anything, so I don’t think I’d even need the extra storage.”

“Good.” She nods. “Well, I’m headed down to open up. See you around.” She snaps her fingers to get Opal’s attention, and they go downstairs. Once they’re down in the shop, Amber notices Opal looking at her. “Don’t even start, I already know you’re on Penny’s side.” She sighs.

“He is awful cute.” Opal says. She and Amber could communicate telepathically.

“I have more important things to focus on, we have more important things to focus on.” Amber crouches down to her dog. “You realize we can’t just chat freely with him around.”

“It’s the same with the college kids. He might think it’s cute that you talk to your dog.”

“I don’t really care what he thinks.” Amber rolls her eyes and stands up. “I have to get the coffee and tea going. Could you check the shelves and see what herbal teas we’re low on?”

Opal nods, and heads over to the aisles to take stock of everything. Amber gets the coffee and tea brewing so it’s fresh for the customers. Penny comes in an hour or so later to make some fresh biscotti while Amber was working on making more herbal tea. Amber’s herbal teas were quite popular with the college students. Were they laced with a little magic? Maybe, but it was all for a good cause. She had special anti-stress and anxiety teas, sleepy time teas, wake-up teas, and some teas that could put someone in the mood, but she didn’t advertise those often.  She didn’t want anyone taking advantage of anyone else, she only sold it to people who knew to ask for it, and they had to sign a waiver.

Certain coffees had some magic involved too. There were coffees that were ground with something to help people focus for long period of time, coffees for all-nighters, and more. She lived in a pretty liberal area where people were super into different types of “wellness”. There were so many people that would rather try drinking an herbal tea, than take a pill, so she used that to her advantage. No one ever really questioned why her products worked so well.

Amber had been living pretty peacefully the last few years, but as of late she felt this odd disturbance. Something bad happened in the spring. Something came after Opal. Amber almost lost her best friend in the world. She had been trying to track down whatever the fuck it was, but the trail had run cold. She took the time to train and work on some of her spells. Opal explained that Amber should be able to just think and cast instead of having to say the spell out loud. She had gotten a lot better at it, and she had gotten a lot better at throwing a punch. Whatever the fuck that thing was, she’d be ready for it. Amber also didn’t want anything bad happening to the college students. They were so vulnerable as it was, but a lot of them would walk around intoxicated at night, making them the perfect target. She felt protective over her college town, she wasn’t going to let anything happen to anyone.

That’s why she had a chip on her shoulder when it came to Harry. She didn’t exactly trust the new guy, especially since he came right to her shop, and asked about a place to live. It was rather peculiar, but she thought it would be better to keep a close eye on him, so she accepted his application. No one else seemed too bothered by him, and she didn’t exactly appreciate the glances Penny and Opal gave her when it came to him. Yes, he was cute, but Amber had a hardened heart that couldn’t be so easily sueded by a handsome man with a kind a smile.

//

Harry couldn’t believe how packed the shop was once the college kids were back in town. Amber did really well for herself. He liked living above the shop a lot. Sometimes he’d buy a coffee, find a place to sit, and get some grading done, or do some homework of his own. Sometimes he’d catch Amber looking at him, a deep furrow in her dark brows. He’d give her a soft smile, and she’d just look away. Opal liked sitting by his feet. Any time he’d sit down for a bit to get some work done, there she was. He loved dogs, so he was happy she seemed to take a liking to him.

“Hey, Professor Styles!” A girl in one of his composition classes, Zoey, says to him.

“Oh, uh…it’s Zoey, right?” He looks up from his laptop.

“Mhm.” She nods. “You like to hang out here?”

“I live upstairs, actually. I like to come down here for a change of scenery. Do you come here a lot?”

“Oh, definitely. My friends and I come here almost every day. Amber has some of the best tea and coffee I’ve ever had. I was just stopping in to stock up on her sleepy time tea.”

“Sleepy time tea?”

“Yeah! Puts me right to sleep after having a small cup. You should try it.”

“Zoey, come on!” One of her friends says.

“I better go, it was nice seeing you!”

Harry waves to Zoey as she leaves to go down one of the aisles. He gets back to his work. He was doing some research for his philosophy class. He had to look into the different philosophies of various educators from a list his professor gave him. Without even realizing it, he skipped dinner, and ended up being the last person in the shop.

“Glad to see you’re making the most out of having free Wi-Fi.” Amber scoffs as she crosses her arms. “We’re closed.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” Harry scrambles to pack up his things. “Time must have gotten away from me.” He looks down at his watch and sees that it’s nearly 9PM. “Fuck, I need to get to sleep. Hey, could I buy some of that sleepy time tea you sell? One of my students was telling me about it earlier.”

“Sure, you can buy a pound for fifteen dollars.” She grabs a bag of it and they both go up to the counter so she can ring him up.

“Must be good stuff if college kids can afford that.” He hands her exact change.

“It lasts a while.”  She purses her lips briefly. “You may have some…vivid dreams. It’s really, um, potent, especially if it’s your first time drinking it.”

“Do you make it yourself?”

“I do.” She nods. “I promise it’s all FDA approved.” She smirks.

“I trust you, no worries.” He chuckles. “Do you need any help cleaning up?”

“No, I’m all set. Penny’s in the back still, I’ve got all the help I need.”

“Alright, well, have a good night.” He smiles.

“You too.” She watches as he heads out the door in the back to go upstairs. Amber looks down at Opal. “You need to stop sitting by him so much. He’s going to think I’m staring at him every time I look over at you.”

“I can’t help it! He smells nice.” Opal says.

“I don’t care what he smells like. We need to be cautious.”

“You worry too much. Whatever that thing was caught me on a lunar eclipse, so I couldn’t transform fully. Had I been able to, I never would have gotten hurt.”

“Yeah, and it probably knew that. Probably want to make you transform into a wolf full time. You’d become rabid.”

“I’m well aware of that. I’d be able to sniff out anything demonic about him, especially by now. He seems genuine.”

“Good for him.”

“Amber.”

“Opal.”

“Would you two give it a rest?! You’re giving me a headache.” Penny says as she comes out from the back. “We have receipts to go over.”

//

Harry took a quick shower when he got up to his apartment, and then made his tea. It tasted really good, like, the best chamomile he ever had. He only drank about half of it when his eyes started to droop while watching to TV on the sofa. So, he got his butt into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. Amber was right about him having vivid dreams.

There he was, walking through a forest at night. He had no idea where he was going, but let his legs take him there regardless. There was a glowing light that intrigued him, so he made his way over to it. As he approached, he saw a woman from behind, her hair flowing in the breeze and her hands glowing with what looked like electrical currents. He steps on a twig by accident, catching her attention. She looks over her shoulder at him, her eyes glowing a white-hot blue.

“What are you doing here?” She says, floating in the air above him. He falls to bum and looks up at her.

“I…I don’t know.” He swallows. “What are you doing here?”

“You need to get out of here it isn’t safe!” She scolds him.

“M’sorry, I don’t even know how I ended up here.” He scrambles to his feet, and she lowers herself to the ground. Her hair was still flowing, her eyes and hands still glowing. “I saw the light and just followed it I guess. Is there a way for you to turn that off? It’s pretty bright.”

The woman takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes. Her hands stop glowing, and when she opens her eyes, all Harry sees is a familiar sapphire color. He realizes who it is once her hair settles. It was that same silver/lavender color that Amber had.

“Amber?” His eyebrows shoot up as he looks at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing that you need to concern yourself with. Get out of here, now.” Her eyes glow again, as well as her hands, and she shoots up into the night sky without another word.

“What in the actual fuck?” Harry says to himself.

Harry woke up to his alarm the next morning not feeling groggy at all. In fact, he had never felt so refreshed after a night’s sleep! He quickly grabs his phone and opens the notes app before forgetting his dream. It was so bizarre and weird, he wasn’t quite sure what it meant, if anything at all. Why would he have a dream about Amber? And why would he dream about her glowing the way she did? He hadn’t watched Harry Potter recently, or anything of the like.

He gets dressed for the day, and decides to go into the shop for his morning coffee. The place was already bustling with early birds. Amber was behind the counter getting coffee and tea orders out. It astounded Harry that she was able to do so much by herself. He waits in line, saying hello to some of his students in the process.

“Good morning, what can I…oh, hi, Harry.” Amber sighs. “What would you like?”

“I’ll take an iced coffee, please, black.” He smiles as she nods. “That tea really put me to sleep last night. You were right, I had an odd dream.” She freezes for a moment as she scoops the ice cubes into the cup. “You were in it, actually.”

“That’ll be $3.50.” She says flatly as she sets the cup of coffee down on the counter. He hands her his card, and she runs it through the machine.

“You’re not even the least bit curious as to what I dreamed about?”

“Nope.” She smirks. “I don’t need to hear about your wet dreams.”

“It wasn’t a…I didn’t…” He shakes his head as his face flushes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I’ve got a line of customers waiting.” She slides his card back to him.

“Can we talk later?”

“Harry, whatever it was, it was just a dream. So I was in it, so what? I’m flattered you were thinking of me, but don’t worry about it.”

“It’s just that…the strangest thing happened. Your eyes were glowing, and your hands were too, but, like, a different type of glowing, and we were in this forest. Oh! And you were, like, flying or floating, or something like that. Your hair was kind of glowing too.”

“You read too much fiction.” She rolls her eyes. “Buh-bye.”

“But-“

“Next!” She shouts, and it makes him flinch. He grabs his drink and leaves. Amber looks down at Opal, who was about to say something, but Amber shakes her head as to warn her.

“Amber, we need to talk about this.”

“Later, I have customers.” She whispers down at Opal, and looks at the next person in line. “Good morning.” She smiles.

Harry was so distracted during his classes, he ended up showing the movie version of The Grapes of Wrath to his fiction workshop class. It worked with the unit they were since they were discussing historical fiction. He wanted to know why Amber was so cold to him even though she was plenty kind to just about everyone else that stepped through her shop. He also wanted to discuss his dream with her. It felt so real, and he wanted to know why. He had a few students come see him during his office hours, and he tried to be as present as possible for those. There was one girl in his fiction class that came to just about all of his office hours, and normally he didn’t mind, but he had a lot of course work to do, and some grading to get done. He was also in a rush to get back to the shop.

“Hi, Professor Styles.” Whitney smiles.

“Hi, Whitney.” Harry sighs as she sits down.

“Are you feeling alright today?”

“Just a little stressed. I’ve got some work for the classes I’m taking to get done.”

“It’s so cool that you’re a grad student. You’re so good at teaching, I never would have guessed you weren’t a full professor.” She had a tendency to flirt with him. She was a senior, and twenty-one. In any other scenario, Harry probably would have gone for it since he was only a few years older, but he wasn’t about to start dating a student.

“Thanks, that means a lot. Listen, uh, I know we usually chat for a bit, but I really need to get some work done, so unless this is class related…”

“Oh.” She sits up a little straighter. “Um, I guess I don’t really have any questions…I will say, watching the movie helped me understand the book a little better. I was supposed to read it in high school, but I just used spark notes back in the day.”

“Good! I’m glad you have a better understanding of the themes.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later. Have a good weekend!”

“Thanks, Whitney, you too.”

They smile at each other before she leaves. He runs a hand through his hair, and attempts to get some of his grading done. Once he makes a decent enough dent, he packs his things and heads to the shop. He finds an open table to sit at, and gets to work on his courses. He was sitting near one of the aisles with the mood enhancing tea.

“I’m telling you, I’ve never been so wet in my life.” Normally, Harry wouldn’t eavesdrop, but a sentence like that was something he couldn’t just ignore. “This stuff really works.”

“Okay, but how was Robbie?”

“Hard as a rock, and desperate to please. He went down on me for, like, twenty minutes! He said I never tasted so good. We fucked for, like, an hour total. It was incredible. I’m definitely buying this stuff again. I couldn’t recommend it enough.”

“Does it taste good?”

“Mhm, like strawberries. I think that’s why it makes for such a good aphrodisiac. There’s a chocolate flavor too, but Amber said that one’s really strong, and it’s better to start out with the strawberry flavor.”

“Oh, damn, I’ll have to ask her about it then. Look, she restocked the anti-anxiety tea! The blueberry flavor is my absolute favorite.”

“I like the lemon, personally, but to each their own.”

Harry couldn’t believe what he heard, more so at the beginning of the girls’ conversation. How the fuck was he supposed to concentrate on his work now? He needed to wait out the customers like he did the night before. Opal comes trotting over to him like usual.

“Hey, there, pretty girl.” He pats the top of her head. “Thought about you today. You gonna curl up around my feet again?” Opal does just that and lets out a such that makes Harry chuckle. As the sun sets, and less people are in the shop, Harry finishes up his work. He notices Amber wiping down the tables. “Hey.” He says to her, standing up and walking over to her. “Could we talk?”

“Is this still about your dream? I told you might have some weird, vivid ones with it being your first time drinking the tea.”

“It’s just…I don’t know why I would have dreamt something like that. I asked you what was wrong, and you told me it was nothing I needed to worry about.”

“Hm, sounds like dream me is a lot like the actual me.” She smirks. Harry frowns slight, and she sighs. “You’re really worked up about this, huh?”

“A little, yeah.”

Amber looks down at Opal, and then back to Harry.

“I wish I could be more help, but it was just a dream, Harry. Try having some more tea tonight and see what you dream about.” She looks down at her watch. “I need to close up early, I have somewhere to be in a bit.”

“Oh, uh, do you have a date, or something?”

“What? No.” She scoffs. “I take Opal for a long walk on Friday nights. She gets antsy if we don’t leave on time.”

“Is that safe?”

“Of course it is.” She blinks at Harry. “We just go walking through some of the neighborhoods with the students live off campus.”

“Could I join you? Haven’t explored the area all that much.”

“Wouldn’t it be weird for you? In case you run into your students?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “Doubt they’ll recognize me in the dark.”

“Let him come with us.” Opal says, and Amber glares down at her. “I know we were going for a hunt, but it might be good to get to know him better. His dream could mean something.”

“Ugh, fine!” Her voice startles Harry a bit. “Be at your door in ten minutes with some sensible shoes on.” She looks down at the loafers he’s wearing. “You’ll wanna wear sneakers, Grandpa.”

//

Ten minutes later, Harry was waiting outside his door for Amber. He decided to wear his light-wash jeans and a windbreaker, along with his glasses. Amber came down the stairs with Opal wearing a long black jacket, and black jeans tucked into a pair of combat boots. Her hair was down for a change, Harry thought it looked beautiful.

“Ready?” She asks him.

“Mhm, you’re not going to put a leash on Opal?”

“Nah, she’s not the type to run away.” They both head down the stairs and out the back door to the street. They make their way to the off-campus neighborhood.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, how long have you been dying your hair that color? It’s really pretty.”

“Huh?”

“Your roots never show either, do you touch it up at home?”

“I don’t dye my hair.”

“Amber, remember who you’re talking to.” Opal says.

“I mean, uh, I have a hairdresser do it.” She smiles weakly at Harry. “I go every six weeks like clockwork. My hair’s, uh, naturally blonde, so my roots don’t show.”

“Really? But your eyebrows are so dark?”

“Dye those too.” Amber hated lying about herself, but there was nothing she could really do about it. “I don’t really like talking about myself, um, let’s talk about you. How come you’re going to grad school here and teaching?”

“Well, I love literature, reading and whatnot. I have a degree in English Education, but I wanna teach at a collegiate level, so I got into the master’s program here, and they’re letting me teaching. I’m technically a grad assistant, but I have my own classes.” They cross the street, and head up a slight hill. “Sort of hurt a bit when you said you hated reading.” He chuckles.

“I’m not going to apologize for that. I genuinely hate it if it’s not for research.”

“Did something make you not like reading as a kid?”

“I didn’t have much of a chance to read as a kid.” She mutters. “I went to an agricultural boarding school growing up, not much time for reading fantasy books when you’re working the land.”

“Wow! Why’d you do that?”

“I didn’t really have of a choice.”

“How come?”

“I just didn’t. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Well, is that how you got so good at making tea and coffee? I overheard some girls talking earlier, uh, you make an aphrodisiac?”

“I make a few, yeah. What did you hear?”

“That they work really well.” He smirks.

“They do. I only put out the best.”

“What would make you put out a product like that?”

“Sex sells.” She grins at him.

“Have you ever tested your product?”

“Sure, I test all of them to make sure they work properly.”

“And you found that it worked properly?” He smirks.

Amber is about to make a smart remark when she hears a blood curdling scream. She and Opal look at each other before sprinting off in the direction of the scream. Harry’s puzzled, and concerned, so he runs after them. He couldn’t believe how fast Amber could run. They all hear the scream again, and run towards the beginning of one of the walking trails. Harry loses sight of Amber and Opal as they run deeper into the woods. Harry’s stumped on where they could have gone. He uses the flashlight on his phone to help him see better.

“Help!” He hears a woman yell, and runs towards the sound.

When he gets closer, he starts getting major déjà vu. It was just like his dream. He stops short when he finds Amber and Opal. Opal’s eyes were glowing a striking blue and so were Amber’s. Amber’s necklace was glowing bright orange too. There was a woman on the ground, knocked unconscious. There was some odd shadow looming over her. All of a sudden, Amber’s hands start glowing, and what looks like electricity comes from her fingertips. It latches around the shadow like shackles, and it bellows a horrible sound.

“Who sent you?!” Amber yells to the shadow, but before she can get an answer, it vanishes. “Son of a bitch!”

“Amber.” Opal says. “Harry…”

Amber looks over at Harry, who she had completely forgotten about. Her necklace, eyes, and hands stop glowing. She looks down at the woman on the ground. She looked like a college student. Amber sighs, and raises her hands up, thus levitating the woman.

“Can you carry her? I’ll explain later.” Amber says.

Harry nods, and cautiously takes the woman in his arms, carrying her bridal style. Amber puts her hand on one of Harry’s shoulders, and blinks. Next thing Harry knows, they’re back on one of the streets in the neighborhood. Amber places her hand on the girl’s forehead, and takes a deep breath. Her eyes glow for a moment before she takes her hand away. She snaps her fingers, and the girl disappears from Harry’s arms.

“What the fu-“ Amber snaps her fingers again, and they’re in her apartment. “Fuck!” Harry pants, totally freaked out.

“Okay, calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! How do you expect me to calm down?!”

“If you don’t then she won’t be able to explain.” Opal says.

“Did she just talk?” Harry points to Opal.

“Yeah…she must be allowing you to hear her.” Amber shrugs.

“Right.” Harry’s eyes roll back, and he faints, dropping to the floor.

“And here I was thinking I’d have to force him to drink some tea to make him think this was all a dream.”

“Don’t you think he deserves an explanation? He literally had a dream where something similar happened! What if he’s some sort of mage too, but just doesn’t know it?”

“How could he not know it?”

“Not everyone’s born into it like you were. Maybe something drew him here, and maybe things activated when he drank the tea.”

“What do you want me to do, wake him up and explain everything to him? No way, I’m not diving in deep with a stranger.”

“But if you just-“

“Enough!” Amber’s eye glow warningly. “What I say goes.” She snaps her fingers, sending Harry down to his own bed. “He’ll just think he had another wild dream.”

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious?”

“Not if I give him something.” She grins. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Amber snaps herself down to Harry’s bedroom. She sprinkles some dried strawberry dust over his open mouth. “Sweet dreams.” She nearly cackles, and snaps herself back upstairs. “With the dream he’s about to have, he won’t be recalling a damn thing. It’s better if he doesn’t know.”

“We’ll see about that, stubborn girl.”

//

Harry wakes up Saturday in a cold sweat. He couldn’t remember how he ended up in bed, or taking his clothes off. He rips the blankets back and winces when the cold air hits his stiffy. He was used to being hard in the morning, but not like this. His prick was swollen and throbbing, begging to be taken care of.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He spits into his hand and grips himself.

He hisses from his own touch. He tries to remember last night. He recalls going for a walk, and then not much else. He jerks himself off until he comes. When he does, he swears a wank has never felt so good. He makes a proper mess of his tummy and heads for the shower. As he’s washing his hair, he notices he’s still hard, like, really hard. Not the post orgasm hard before he softens, it was like he hadn’t come at all. He sighs heavily, and starts pumping himself again. He grips at the tile on the walls as he whimpers and whines until he comes again.

When he gets out of the shower, and walks towards his dresser, he feels a throbbing between his legs. He looks down and sees that he’s hard again. Now he’s just annoyed. He had no idea what was going on. Unfortunately, he knew it wasn’t gonna go away on its own, so he jerks off a third time. He gets dressed, and goes upstairs to Amber’s apartment. He knocks on the door, but doesn’t hear anything.

“Amber, you home?!” He knocks again, but there’s nothing. She didn’t open until noon on Saturdays, where could she be?

He heads down the stairs, and peers into the shop, but doesn’t see anyone. He hears some noises coming from the basement door. He sighs and goes over to it. He knows he’s not supposed to go down there, but he needed answers. He knocks on the door loudly.

“Amber, you down there?!” He jiggles the door handle, and much to his surprise, it’s unlocked. “Amber?” Harry makes his way downstairs, and is stunned with what he sees. There were dozens of bookcases filled with old looking books, and bottles full of different liquids and leaves.

“Harry!” Amber shouts as she storms towards him. “You’re not supposed to be down here!”

“The door was unlocked.”

“Fucking.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have to talk with Penny. Go upstairs, now.”

“What is all of this stuff?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Is this a weird meth lab or something? Are you a drug dealer? Is that what you’re really selling to the students?” He gasps for a moment. “Are you selling them ecstasy?”

“What?! You’re a fucking moron!”

“Then explain what’s going on because I woke up with a raging boner this morning, and it took a really long time for it to go away, and I also can’t remember a thing that happened last night, so I want some answers!”

“Wait, you woke up the boner?”

“How is that the thing you’re focusing on?”

“You were supposed to have a wet dream. Did you dream about anything?”

“No, one second I was on a walk and the next I woke up in my bed all sweaty and hard.”

“Weird.”

“You’re telling me. Now-“

“No, it’s weird because what I gave you had a delayed effect.”  She walks over to one of the shelves and pulls out a book. She flips through one of the pages. “Ohhhh.” She nods, closes the book, and puts it back. “I sprinkled some strawberry dust in your mouth from my dried stash, it’s extremely potent, that’s why I make it into a tea. Um, when it’s used the way I used it…it’s supposed to make you have a wet dream. I think it delayed because you passed out last night.”

“I did?!”

“Yes.” She sighs, and snaps her fingers, bringing them to her apartment.

“Amber, I’m about two seconds away from-“

“Have a seat.” She points to her couch, and sits down. He sits down next to her, but not too close.

“Where’s Opal?”

“Out shopping with Penny. She upset with me because of last night. She wanted me to tell you everything, but I didn’t want to. I guess I don’t really have a choice now.”

“What do you mean she wanted you to tell me?” Harry blinks.

“May I press my forehead to yours? It’ll be easier to explain that way.”

“Um, sure?”

Amber grips the back of Harry’s neck, pulling him closer. It was almost like she was about to kiss him, but she doesn’t. She presses her forehead to Harry’s, and her eyes start glowing. Harry suddenly has flashes of everything from the night before. She lets go of him, and gives him a moment to process everything.

“Holy shit.” He says, blinking a few times. “So my dream did mean something.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. You had some sort of vision, and I have no idea why.”

“What are you then?”

“I’m a mage.”

“Which is what?”

“Well, it’s sort of like a witch, but less spooky. I can cast spells, and I have other abilities. I was born into it. My hair color is naturally like this, that’s why you haven’t seen my roots grow out.”

“Your necklace was glowing last night too. Does that have anything to do with it?”

“I’ve had this since I was born. It helps enhance things.” She grips the jewel for a moment. “It also keeps me safe.”

“From who?”

“People who might want me for their own selfish needs. I’ve been trying to track this…this thing down. A demon of some kind attacked Opal last spring. I thought I was close to finding it last night, but that shadow was just a minion.”

“Do you know why something might have attacked her?”

“We’ve…wait a second, you’re taking all of this in a little too easily. You’re not freaked out?”

“Most of the fiction I read is fantasy based.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s hard to doubt something when you see it with your own eyes. So, why do you think something attacked her?”

“We’ve been trying to figure it out for months! We were out in the woods at night collecting some leaves. I turned my back for a second and I heard her yelp out. It was terrible. Luckily, it left before it could do some real damage. I don’t want it hurting her, or any of the college students. Seems like it’s back.”

“Can I ask…why have a shop that’s so obviously full of magic?”

“A lot of people are into natural healing methods these days. And this is a pretty granola town.” She shrugs. “I’ve been here the last four years. Things took off quickly.”

“Where were you before?”

“I told, you I went to an agricultural boarding school. It was for kids like me. I…don’t really know my parents, and I don’t have any siblings. They kind of just send you off once you’re of age to go to pre-school.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“It wasn’t.” She shakes her head. “Well, it was and it wasn’t. I learned how to keep myself safe, and learn how to properly use my powers. They let you leave when you’re twenty. I had all my firsts there. My first kiss, my first love, my first heartbreak.” She sighs.

“Is Penny a mage too?”

“Sort of.” Amber smiles. “She’s more a mother to me than my own. She practically raised me. When I left the school I asked her to come with me, and she agreed.”

“When did you get Opal?”

“When you’re little, around the age of six, they take you to a farm so you can connect with an animal. She was the cutest puppy I had ever seen. I bonded with her right away. We ran around and played and laughed. Opal’s my everything.”

“And she can talk with you and others telepathically?”

“Correct. She has to feel bonded to the people she allows to hear her. She’s felt comfortable with you since you got here…I’ve also been trying to figure that out. It pisses me off to no end that she likes you.”

“Why?” He chuckles.

“Because I can’t stand you. You’re so fucking positive and bouncy. You’re always in a good mood, it’s disgusting.” She grimaces.

“Well, I know being a mage can’t mean you’re crabby because Penny’s always delighted to see me.” He smirks. “It disgusts you that I’m happy?”

“Very much so, yes.” She nods.

“I can’t help it. I’ve got a great job, I’m studying something I’m interested in, and I get to see you every day. What could be better than that?”

“You’re happy because you get to see me every day?”

“Well, sure. You’re so interesting, and…I’m very attracted to you, but I’m sure that’s been obvious to you since I walked through the door.” He rubs the back of his neck as he blushes.

“I’m flattered, but I’m not really one for dating. I don’t have the time for it. Not when there’s a fucking demon on the loose that I can’t seem to track down.”

“Maybe I could help. Two heads are better than one.” He smiles.

“No, the only thing you can help with is keeping all of this to yourself. You can’t say a thing to anyone.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

She nods and takes her necklace off. Harry watches as she moves her fingers above the stone, and crates an amber ring from it.

“Here, you like to wear rings, so put this on.” She grabs one of his hands and slides the ring onto his pinky. “This will keep you safe. It’ll keep us connected.”

“Thank you for trusting me with all of this. Um, so about this morning…did you think I was going to be distracted by a saucy dream?” He smirks.

“It was supposed to make you forget everything entirely. I’m sorry it didn’t work right, that must have been painful. How many times did you, uh, you know, before it stopped?”

“Three.”

“Poor thing.” She pouts. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m still a little tired, yeah.” He chuckles.

“Why don’t you go to take a nap? Penny and Opal should be back soon, and I need to catch them up on everything.”

“This isn’t some trick, right? You’re not going to try to cast a spell to make me forget?”

“No.” She chuckles. “I don’t see much use in it. Your body was clearly trying to fight off what I gave you.”

“Does, um, does it always last like that?”

“Oh, you mean staying hard after you come?”

“Yeah.” He blushes.

“Not if you fuck someone. If you’re alone and have to take care of it yourself it takes longer for it to wear off since you’re not exerting as much energy.” They both stand up and she walks him to her door. “Should have come knocking sooner, I could have helped you out.” She winks at him.

“That’s not funny.” He deadpans.

She laughs anyways, and sends him out. She snaps herself back to the basement where Opal and Penny are already waiting for her.

“Before so a word, I told him what he needed to know.” Amber tells them.

“The powder didn’t work?” Penny asks.

“No, apparently it didn’t kick in until just before he woke up. Poor thing had to jerk it three times.” Amber shrugs.

“See! This is why I think something is dormant within him. First, your tea causes him to have a vision. Second, the powder didn’t work. What did he say when you told him what was going on?” Opal says.

“He took it really well. The questions he asked were more for his understanding, to piece things together. He wasn’t freaked out at all.”

“Then that’s a third thing. We need to figure out what he is.”

“I know, but how? It’s not like I can experiment on him.” Amber sighs.

“I’ve heard of this before.” Penny says, padding over to one of the book shelves. She makes a motion with her hands to get one of the books on the top shelf down. She brings the book over to the lectern so she and Amber could look at it together. Penny flips through the pages, and finds what she’s looking for. “Ah-ha! Here it is. Long ago, there were families that left the coven, wanting to leave the magic behind. It was when a lot of those awful witch hunts became popular. After a few generations, the families became unaware of their abilities, thus the magic lying dormant within. Apparently, all it takes to ignite the magic is meeting another witch, and drinking something magical they made for them. You’ve been making him tea and coffee for almost two months! Then you gave him that tea sleepy-time tea that’s laced with magic. No wonder he had a vision.” Penny shakes her head.

“I wonder if deep down he felt a pull here…to Amber.”

“Could be.” Penny ponders. “I’ve seen that happening too. Certain covens did have truces back in the day. You two could have been from two separate covens, but bonded nonetheless.”

“If you’re getting into some weird soulmate shit, I’m gonna have to head out.” Amber says.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Penny shakes her head. “When’s his birthday?”

“Um, February, I think.” Amber says.

“Then is birthstone would be an amethyst.” Opal says.

“If you look at any color wheel you’ll see that purple and yellow are polar opposites.” Penny says.

“But they’re also complimentary colors.”

“Can one of you just get to the point?!” Amber huffs.

“You’re not soulmates, but you are connected. In our various covens, those with citrine birthstones, like yours, and those with amethyst birthstones tended to make great pairs. They’re good at problem solving together.”

“I made him a ring from my stone…should I add an amethyst to it?”

“No.” Opal says. “No, he’ll need that ring to stay as it is for safety. We need to get him his own necklace with the stone. Then we can see if it glows.”

“If it glows…he’s a mage.” Penny states.

“Great, where the fuck am I supposed to get a pure amethyst on such short notice?” Amber pinches the bridge of her nose. “Not to mention getting it welded into a necklace.”

“You’ll have to take him out to the Four Peaks Mine in Arizona. I can run the shop while you’re gone. You’ll take Opal with you, simple as that.”

“It’s not simple. He has classes to teach, and there’s a demon on the loose!”

“Yes, but you might be able to ward it off together. It’s Saturday, we could get there quick, and be back by tomorrow night. Plenty of time.” Opal says.

“That’s a long way to snap us there. We’ll need to sleep there tonight so I get gain my strength back.” Amber says.

“Then so be it.” Penny says. “I can handle things here. We’re only open a half day tomorrow as is. Where is he now?”

“Napping.” Amber sighs. “I’ll go wake him up. Opal, be ready in five?”

Opal nods, and Amber snaps herself into Harry’s apartment. She walks into his bedroom where he’s sleeping soundly. Poor thing was knackered. She sits on the edge of his bed, and gently pulls him out of sleep. His eyes flutter open slowly.

“Amber?”

“Hi.” She smiles softly. “We have to go to Arizona for the night to get you an amethyst stone.”

“Um, okay…why?” He sits up a bit.

“It’s your birthstone, just as this is mine.” She points to her necklace. “We need to test something, and we need the pure substance to do so. We may be connected somehow, yellow and purple are complimentary colors.”

“Can I ask you something? If the birth stone is so important, why don’t you glow yellow instead of blue?”

“Blue and yellow are also complimentary colors, just as green and purple are. I was born in November, so it was already obvious what my stone would be, but when my parents saw my eyes for the first time…they knew I’d be powerful. Not all citrines are born with such blue eyes, only the most powerful. Your eyes are very green, so you may be quite powerful yourself, but we won’t know anything until we get to the mine. Pack an overnight bag, and be downstairs in five minutes.”

Without another word, she snaps herself out of his room, leaving him speechless.

“I’m really starting to hate it when she does that.” He says to himself before getting out of bed.

//

It was dusk by the time Amber was able to snap herself, Harry, and Opal to Arizona. Their first task was to find a motel to stay at for the night before heading to the mine. The biggest challenge was finding one that was pet friendly.

“The mines will be too dangerous for you two. I’ll go and bring back what we need by morning.”

“I can’t let you go alone.”

“Amber, you’ll know if something’s wrong. I’ll check in with you. Just get a room and rest up.”

Opal sprinted off into the night while Amber and Harry went to the check in area of the closest motel. They go inside to see what the vacancy situation is. An older gentleman was behind the desk.

“Good evening, folks.” He smiles warmly.

“Hi, we’d like a room with two queens please.” Amber says.

“Let me just double check if we have that available.” The man goes onto the computer on his desk. “Unfortunately, our last available room with two queens has already been reserved by a family of four coming in. I do, however, one room with a full left. Would that work?”

“A full is so tiny.” Amber frowns. “Is there at least a couch in the room?”

“A small loveseat.”

“Ugh, alright, we’ll take it.” She sighs, and gives him her credit card. Harry can’t hide the smirk on his face as the man types away at his computer. Amber glares at him briefly before taking her card back, and getting the room key.

“Enjoy your stay.” The man smiles at both of them.

“Can’t you just cast some sort of spell to make the bed bigger?” Harry asks once they’re in the room.

“No, that’s not how that works. I can’t change the molecular composition of a mattress like that. I’m also too weak to perform that kind of magic even if I wanted to. Snapping us across the country took a lot out of me, and I need to rest so I can get us home tomorrow.” She closes and locks the door behind them.

“What exactly will finding this amethyst do?”

“Well, I’ll turn it into a necklace, put it on you, and we’ll see if it glows.”

“And if it does?”

“Then you’re a mage, and we’ll have some bigger fish to fry.” She sits down on the edge of the bed and takes her boots off. “I’m gonna go wash up, and then I’m turning in. I brought some tea so we can get to sleep.” She makes her way into the bathroom. Harry goes in after her. When he’s done, she hands him a cup of tea.

“Thanks…do you think I’ll have a weird vision again?”

“You could.” Amber shrugs. “I have no idea.” She goes through her bag and pulls out a night shirt and pajama bottoms. “Turn around.”

Harry does so quickly while she changes. He grabs his own pajama pants to throw on, and stays in his tee shirt. Once they’re done with their tea, they both climb into bed. It wouldn’t be a big deal, but there was little wiggle room, and Harry was a broad, tall guy. They were shoulder to shoulder, squished in the small bed.

“Could be worse, could have been a room with just a twin.” Harry says to break the tension.

“Why in the fuck would there be a motel room with just a twin bed in it?”

“I don’t know, I was just saying.” He shrugs, and turns his head to look at her. “Clearly, there are stranger things out there than that.” He smirks.

“Go to sleep, Harry.” She rolls away from him onto her side.

“You’re making a bigger deal out of this than it needs to be. You’ve never shared a bed with someone before?”

Amber sighs heavily and rolls back onto her back to look at him better.

“I have, but these are tight quarters if you haven’t noticed, and you told me you were attracted to me-“

“So? You think I’m going to disrespect you and take advantage of the situation? I’m not that kind of guy.”

“I didn’t say you were. I just feel…nervous. It’s been a while since I shared a bed with a man, that’s all. You’re pretty, um, attractive yourself, so…there’s that.” Her face had to be beat red right now, she could feel it.

“Well, look who’s expressing their feelings!” Harry gasps. “Who knew this side to you even existed?”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me, Harry. You don’t know what it was like growing up the way I did. It was really hard at times. We were basically like grounded nomads.”

“M’sorry.” He turns on his side to face her easier. “Would you, uh, would you want to have a cuddle while we drift off? Doesn’t have to mean anything, but I know you’re worried about Opal, could help you calm down some.”

Amber nods and turns back over so Harry can spoon her. He doesn’t fully press his pelvis to her bum, he didn’t want to push it and make her uncomfortable. She did feel better having his arm wrapped around her. They both drift off easily after settling, the tea kicking in.

In his dream, Harry’s brought to a large estate, like a mansion from 1800’s London. There was a large field as well, a gentle breeze flowing. It looked like it was a beautiful day. He goes walking for a bit and finds this gorgeous tree that had a few tire swings attached to it. He stops short when he sees Amber. She looked a little younger, her hair was much longer, tied back in a flowing braid, and she was wearing a black, off the shoulder maxi dress with buttons running down the front. She had her arms crossed over chest, and she didn’t look happy with the young man she was speaking with. Harry creeps a little closer to hear what they’re talking about.

“Is what Opal told me true, yes or no?” Amber says to him.

“Amber-“

“Yes, or no, Max.” She scowls at him.

“What exactly did she tell you?”

“That you’ve been practicing dark magic in the woods at night.”

“She’s never liked me.” He scoffs. “I can’t believe you’re going to believe that mat over me.”

“Be very careful with how you speak about her.” Amber’s eyes start glowing.

“Settle down.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes, okay, yes…I’ve been practicing dark magic.”

“Why?! You know it’s against the rules.”

“Well, it shouldn’t be. It does more good than harm, everyone is just too scared because it’s powerful.”

“You’re going to get expelled if one of the elders catches you. Do you want to be thrown out into the world before you’re ready?”

“We’re eighteen, Amber, we can do whatever we want. We could leave here together, and never come back. This place is a prison.”

“This place keeps us safe. You know as well as I do we can’t leave until we’re at least twenty.”

“Since when do you follow every single rule, huh? Where’s the girl that sneaks off into my room at night?” He steps closer to her, caressing one of her cheeks.

“That’s totally different.” She swats his hand away. “You shouldn’t be messing with that shit. If Opal saw you, others could too.”

“So I’ll be more careful.”

“Or you could stop. If you don’t…if you don’t then it’s over between us.”

Max’s dark brown eyes start to glow, along with the jewel hanging from the chain around his neck. It looked like aquamarine. Brown and blue were opposites as well. Maybe those gems had a connection too? He couldn’t be sure, a lot of this was confusing. Amber’s eyes were glowing again to match Max’s energy. Both sets of their hands started glowing as well.

“You’d throw away everything between us over something so small?!” He yells at her.

“This isn’t small, this is serious! Don’t make me strike you, Max.” There were tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

With a flick of her wrist, she blasts him, knocking him down to the ground. She hovers over him, ready to serve another blow.

“I’m so disappointed in you.” She says to him.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started.” He grits his teeth.

“Actually, pretty sure I just finished it. Goodbye, Max.”

Harry blinks, and all of a sudden he’s in a forest at night. He could hear growling. He runs in the direction of the noise and sees Opal growling towards a man. It was Max. Harry’s eyes widen as he watches Max chant something, striking a blow towards Opal. Harry tries to save her, but he’s frozen in his place.

“Opal?!” He hears Amber yell, and Max disappears. “Opal! Oh my god!” She drops to the ground, her body going over Opal’s and snapping them away from the scene.

Harry’s eyes burst open, and he sits up right away. Amber’s not in the bed anymore. Before he has a heart attack, he hears her coming out of the bathroom.

“Morning.” She yawns. “Opal’s about five minutes away. How’d you sleep?”

“Amber, uh, when Opal got attacked, did she ever say what it was, or who it was that attacked her?”

“No.” Amber shakes her head. “She couldn’t remember a thing. I think whatever it was put a hex on her memory of the event. Why?”

“I had a really unsettling dream.” He blinks a few times and looks at her. Before he can say anything else, Opal appears in the room, letting a large amethyst fall from her mouth.

“You wouldn’t believe the digging I had to do to get this, but it’s a good one.” She says. “You both slept in that tiny bed?”

“Not the time. Go drink some water.” Amber snatches the amethyst. It hovers above her palm. Her eyes glow, and in seconds it’s transformed into a slide on a necklace. “Let’s do this first, and then we can talk about your dream, okay?” She says to Harry as she comes over to him. Opal hops up on the bed, and Amber sits beside Harry. “Close your eyes.” She says softly, and he does so. She places the necklace over his head, and the gem rests on his chest.

The amethyst starts to hover and glow. Amber and Opal look at each other.

“Is anything happening?” Harry asks.

“Open your eyes.” Amber says.

Harry opens his eyes, and they’re glowing a bright green. He gasps when his looks down at the floating amethyst. He looks down at his hands and sees that they’re glowing too.

“How do I turn it off?!” Harry yelps in fear.

“Don’t panic! Give it a moment, the gem is bonding with you, just breathe.” Amber says.

A few moments pass before the gem rests on Harry’s chest once more. He eyes and hands stop glowing as well, and he takes a deep breath.

“What does all of this mean?” He asks them.

“You’re a mage, your abilities have been dormant for quite some time. You’re definitely more powerful than most, you’ll have to learn how to hone in on it.” Opal explains.

“I guess that would explain the vision-type dreams. I…Amber, I saw your break up with someone named Max. You got into a fight because he was performing dark magic. Then I was in the woods where Opal was attacked. It was him who attacked her, not some random demon.”

“What?!” Amber’s eyes flash for a moment. “I’ll kill him, I’ll-“

“No, Amber, that’s the exact rage he wants you to feel.” Opal says. “But we do need to track him down before he does more damage around town. Those college kids don’t deserve his wrath.”

//

When they all got back Sunday evening, Amber explained everything to Penny. She was beyond infuriated, and reached out to the other elders back at the boarding school to let them know what was going on. Harry was taking in a lot of information in, but he was doing well at not freaking out. Penny took him aside to calmly explain to him was his powers meant, and that there was a code of ethics he’d need to read up on and follow. Now that Amber knew Max was involved, she needed to figure out a way to track him down, and fast.

//

The weeks go on, no shadows lurking, no demons, and no Max. Amber, Penny, and Opal take advantage of the quiet to train Harry in their spare time. Lucky for them, he was a fast reader, and a quick learner. He was picking up certain spells naturally. He knew it would take a while to get as good as Amber at all of this, but he was happy with the progress he was making. He had never felt more like himself in his life. Penny had them working on combination spells, and boy were they powerful. The blue and green glows mixed beautifully.

“I have a feeling he may strike on Halloween.” Opal says to them one evening.

“Wouldn’t that be sort of cliché?” Harry asks.

“Please, Max lives for shit like that. He probably thinks it’ll be the perfect cover since we usually go out on Halloween.” Amber says.

“What do you do?”

“Penny stays back to hand out candy to the little kids, and Opal and I usually go around making sure there aren’t any creatures looking for trouble.”

“If Opal thinks he may strike on Halloween, then I think I know where we could wait for him. If I draw out where I had that original vision, do you think you’d know where in the woods it is?”

“It’s worth a try.” Opal says.

Opal knew exactly where Harry was talking about after looking over the picture he drew. Halloween was only a few days away, they needed to prepare. Harry was about to get ready for bed when there was a knock on his door. He looks through the peephole to see Amber, and he smiles.

“Hi, there.” He says as he opens the door.

“Hi, may I come in?”

“Of course.” She nods and comes inside. She had on an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Harry smirks to himself as he closes the door. “So, what’s up?”

“Nothing, I just…well, I just wanted to say that I’m really proud of you.”

“For what?”

“Taking all of this so well, for jumping in without a second thought. You’re doing really well with the lessons, and I know it’s got to be stressful because you’re trying to balance this whole mess along with getting your master’s and teaching.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I know Penny is really good at giving praise, but I’m not always so good at it…that’s what the kids at the boarding school used to tell me when I’d work with them anyways, so I just wanted to make sure I told you how proud I am. I really couldn’t stand you when we first met, but I like you a lot more now.”

He knew the last part was a joke, so he laughs before responding.

“Thanks, that means a lot. When I’m passionate about something, I tend to just dive right in, and I usually aim to please.” He steps a little closer to her. “Is that all you came down here for? To praise me?”

She narrows her eyes at him while her cheeks turn a bright red. He was making her nervous, and she hated feeling that way.

“What else would I have come down here for?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know, you tell me. Typically, when a girl comes knocking at my door after midnight, she’s looking for something very particular.”

Amber scoffs and shakes her head. She crosses her arms as she smirks at him.

“Mm, I bet you’d love it if I came down here to seduce you. You strike me as the type that likes to hear a woman beg for your cock. Am I right about that, Harry? You’re so nice and sweet all day long, do you like to get a little mean in the bedroom?” She raises her eye brows playfully. “No, maybe you like it when your woman gets a little mean, or maybe it’s a mix of both.”

“You know what I think?”

“Tell me.”

“I think that whoever you’ve slept with in the past never pleased you in the way that you need to be pleased.”

“And how do I need to be pleased?”

“Probably with a lot of tongue, I’m guessing.” He watches as Amber’s pupils dilate just the smallest amount. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To feel all warm and wet between your thighs.”

“I’ve got a toy that does that for me. Perfectly mimics the feeling of someone sucking on my clit.”

“Can’t beat the real thing.”

“Sure it can.” She shrugs. “It gets me panting, mining, screaming. And it gets me absolutely soaked. Probably squirted for all I know.” She pushes past him to walk towards his door. “Sleep well, Harry.”

“How am I supposed to sleep knowing that right above me you’re soaking your own sheets?” He pouts at her.

“Drink some tea, you’ll sleep just fine.” She winks, and out the door she goes.

Harry groans to himself, and heads to the kitchen to make himself some tea. There’s no way he’d sleep on his own tonight.

//

“I should be going with you two.”

“No, you’ll stay here with Penny where it’s safe. Dark magic can’t infiltrate the shop. You’re his target, so we’ll have a fake you set up.” Amber says. Both her and Harry were dressed in all black. She takes his hand in hers, and she snaps them out to the forest. “We’ll have to travel the rest of the way on foot.” She tells Harry.

“When we get there, and we catch him…what exactly are you going to do.”

“I’m going to take his powers away. I should have done it a long time ago.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Yes, Penny taught me how. It’s only for extreme circumstances, but I know how to sort of, like, bend the energy from him. His stone will go black, and that’ll be it.”

“So…all of this is because he thinks you broke up with him because of something Opal saw him do?”

“It’s more than that.” Amber sighs. “He was always jealous…I put Opal first a lot. He didn’t have the same relationship with his animal guide, and eventually he parted from it. That can break something within you. It’s probably why he turned to the dark magic in the first place. I tried to be there for him, but we started fighting a lot more, and when Opal told me what she saw, that was the last straw for me.”

“How long were you together for?”

“Well, I’d known him my whole life, but we got together when we were sixteen, so two years. He was my first everything. I’ve had other relationships, but it’s tough dating a non-mage. Everything has to be a secret; it’s exhausting.”

“Hearing you say that helps me make sense of my own dating life. I never felt fully connected to any of my girlfriends, even when we were having sex. I felt like I was trying to force the passion or something.”

“God, you’re such a romantic.” She says in a disgusted tone. “It’s all that damn fiction you read.”

“Are you telling me you don’t want to have passionate sex?”

“No, but sometimes sex is just sex. You get your rocks off, zip back up, and get on with your day.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“Have you ever fucked someone you hated?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone to be honest with you. I’ve not liked people before.”

“Okay, have you ever fucked someone you didn’t like?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You can be attracted to someone and hate their guts. It’s hot and lustful.” She smirks.

“Too bad we didn’t fuck when you hated me then. Could have been pretty steamy.”

“You’re an idiot.” She laughs. “Wait, I think we’re here. Get into positron.”

The two of them huddle behind a large tree. Amber’s eyes glow, and with a few twists of her fingers, a fake Opal is created. Amber acts as if the dog is a puppet, making her sniff around and dig. Harry quietly watches in amazement. Before long, a shadow appears, then a few more. Max appears with the shadows, his eyes glowing a reddish brown.

“You must think I’m a real idiot.” Max chuckles lowly, snapping his fingers and making the fake Opal vanish. “Come on out Amber.” Amber and Harry stand up, coming out from behind the tree. “Oh, look! You’ve brought a friend. Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between your mutt and an illusion?” He smirks.

“No, we knew you’d figure it out.” Amber says. “You’re such a sick fuck trying to hurt her when really it’s me you’re mad at. I broke your heart, and you blame her, but you did it to yourself. You knew I wouldn’t tolerate all of this.”

“You broke just about every rule you could at that boarding school!”

“Yeah, like sneaking into your room after hours, and breaking curfew, not messing with dark magic! It’s possessed you, your eyes aren’t supposed to glow red. I’ve grown fond of this town, and I won’t have you terrorizing defenseless kids because of me. This ends now.”

“Well, you’re about that, but I don’t think you’ll be satisfied with the outcome. See, I’m going to find Opal, and I’m going to make sure she learns that eavesdropping isn’t okay. I know she’s gotten older, but even old dogs can learn new tricks.”

Max’s hands and eyes start glowing, and he charges towards Amber.

“Harry, handle the shadows, I’ll take care of Max!” She yells just as she jumps into the air to avoid Max’s blow.

While Amber and Max cast spells at each other, Harry springs into action. He couldn’t fly or float, or whatever the fuck Amber’s able to do just yet, but he had gotten pretty good at casting key defense and offense spells. Max’s shadows were strong, getting the better of Harry a few times, but Harry’s eyes start glowing along with his gem, and then all bets are off for the shadows. He’s impressed with himself when he’s able to make them vanish. He looks over and sees Amber and Max rushing towards each other with an immense amount of rage. The blow they strike at the same time explodes, causing them both to be flung backwards. Amber’s back slams into a tree, making her fall to the ground.

“Amber!” Harry sprints over to her, cradling her face in his hands. “Come on, Love, wakeup.” He’s panicking now.

“I should have known.” Max says as he scrambles to his feet. Harry looks over at him. “An amethyst and a citrine, how cliché.” He scoffs. “You’re new to all of this, I can feel it. Why she’d spend her time with a mongrel like you is beyond me.” His hands start glowing again as he walks over to Harry. “Not to worry, once you and Opal are out of the picture, she’ll be all mine once more.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken.”

Harry lunges forward, tackling Max by the legs. He pins him down, and punches Max in the face. Max telepathically throws Harry off him. Harry casts spell after spell towards Max, but they’re all blocked.

“You’re weak, what could she possibly want with you?” Max laughs as he blocks another strike.

Amber’s eyes flutter open, and she sees the two men fighting. She rises off the ground, and gets high enough to have an arial view of them. She watches as Max throws Harry into a tree. That was the last straw. She takes a deep breath, and nose dives towards Max. He doesn’t see it coming as he’s forced into the ground. She pins him down and snatches the gem around his neck, and breaks the chain.

“What are you doing?!” He shouts.

“Something I should have done a long time ago. You’re too dangerous.” Amber shoots back up into the air, and Max follows her.

“Give it back!”

“No!”

She wraps the chain around her fist, and points her other arm out at him. The blue glow leaves her palm and goes right to Max’s heart. First, a red glow starts to leave his body, and soon it turns into Max’s original brown glow. They both start lowering to the ground. He’s screaming at the top of his lungs, and she has tears streaming down her cheeks. There’s a large flash of light, and then nothing.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He says weakly on his knees looking up at her.

“I know exactly what I’ve done.” She throws Max’s gem on the ground and steps on it, breaking it into tiny pieces. “I can’t believe I thought this would actually be a challenge.” She pushes him all the way down to the ground with her boot, and steps on his chest. “Only the weak turn to dark magic.”

“What am I supposed to do without my powers?” He asks weakly.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask your friends?” The shadows come to surround Max. Amber steps back from him and watches as they circle around him. They look to her. “Unless you want to end up just like that, I strongly suggest you take him far away from here.” They all vanish. Amber had a feeling this fight was long from over, but for now Max wouldn’t be able to do any more damage. She rushes over to Harry who was still laying on the ground. “Harry!” She cradles his head into her lap and places her hand on his forehead.

“Amber?”

“Hey.” She smiles down at him.

“Did we win?”

“We did.” She nods. “You were so brave trying to battle him. I took his powers away, we should be safe for a while.”

“I bet Opal will be relieved.”

“Yeah, she will be. Let’s get back to the shop, yeah?”

Harry hums his response just as Amber snaps them to the shop. Penny and Opal were cleaning up from the trick or treating.

“You’re back!” Opal exclaims, running over to the two of them. Amber drops to her knees to hug her friend.

“I took his powers away. We could easily see him again, but not for a long time.” Amber says.

“I’m so proud of you.” Opal nuzzles her forehead to Amber’s. “I’m proud of you too, Harry.”

“I’m glad you’ll be safe now.” Harry scratches at Opal’s head.

“You two look knackered.” Penny says. “Here, I made some tea for you both, go upstairs and unwind for a bit. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

“Good idea, thank you. Where’s the tea?” Amber asks.

“I snapped it up to Harry’s apartment.” Penny smiles. “Go on, Opal and I can finish locking up.”

//

Harry and Amber make their way into his apartment. They see the tea on his coffee table, and sit down on his sofa. They’re quiet for a moment as they take a sip. It had the faintest hint of a coffee smell, which was peculiar. It should either taste like chamomile or vanilla. Amber was too tired to question it.

“I’m going to head up.” She says after finishing her tea. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Alright.” He smiles at her. “We can keep training together, right? I’d like to keep learning.”

“Of course.” She smiles. “You still have a lot to learn. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, sleep well.” He walks her to the door and watches as she heads upstairs.

Amber takes a quick shower, and changes into a tee shirt and bed shorts. Opal was already asleep on the daybed in the living room. Amber crawls into bed and sighs with relief. She tosses and turns for a bit. She felt wide awake now, like she had just been given a burst of energy. She huffs and puffs, getting more and more uncomfortable. She feels hot all over, and kicks her blankets back. Her thighs felt sweaty, so she dips her fingers inside her shorts and gasps. She was wet, incredibly wet. She sits up and remembers the tea.

“Fucking, Penny.” She groans. Coffee had a way of masking other smells. Amber gets out of bed, getting more and more frustrated with each step. Opal pops an eye open.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Why’d you let Penny give me the mood tea?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Seems like your problem will go away faster if you see Harry, though.”

“You’ll face my wrath in the morning.”

“Mhm, go have some fun.”

Amber makes her way down the stairs to Harry’s apartment. She bangs on his door, preying he wasn’t asleep already. After a few moments, he opens the door only wearing a pair of boxer briefs. He was holding a pillow over his crotch. Amber places her hands on either side of the doorframe.

“We have a problem.” She huffs. “Penny slipped us the wrong tea.”

“Was wondering why I got so hard once I got into bed.” He looks her up and down. “Why’d you come all the way down here?”

“Because if we don’t take care of it properly then we’ll be up all night, and I don’t feel like masturbating for hours on end until it stops.”

“Here I was thinking I’d have to wank off to just the thought of you.” He steps closer to her, dropping the pillow to the floor. Her eyes flicker down to his strained prick.

“I wanted us to go out on a proper date before we did anything like this.” Amber mutters. “Penny’s so pushy whenever she wants me to be with someone.”

“Do you ever listen to her?”

“No.”

“Seems like she took the necessary steps.” He hooks an arm around her waist, pulling her into him. “I’ll take you out to breakfast tomorrow morning, how’s that sound?”

“I’ve always wanted to go on a breakfast date.”

“You wanna do this? I can kiss you, touch you?” His lips ghost over hers.

“Please, take care of me. M’dripping.”

“For me?”

“For you.” She confirms. “This stuff is potent, but it works better when you have someone in mind that you really want to fuck.”

Harry groans and slots his mouth over hers. He brings her further into the apartment, and kicks the door closed. His hands cup her cheeks as they bump into various walls. She bites down on his bottom lip and he moans into her. He licks into her mouth and starts sucking on her tongue. She tugs on his hair and jumps up so he can carry her into his room. Her legs wrap securely around his waist, moaning into his mouth as he sucks on her bottom lip. He drops her onto his bed, a whine escaping her from the loss of his body. He smirks as he moves to hover over her, attaching his lips to her neck. He sponges wet kisses along her skin, and nibbles on her earlobe.

“What do you like, Amber?” He says into her ear, and her hips buck up into his.

“Anything right now would be good, I’m soaked.” She whimpers, and he moves to look at her.

“Because of the tea, or because you really want me, because I can’t fuck you if it’s just from the tea.”

“It’s a mix of both. The tea can bring out things you’re already feeling for someone else. I want you, I mean it, I’m not just saying it so you’ll fuck me. I…I like you, alright? I really do like you. I think about you when you’re not around, and the best part of my day is when you come into the shop after you’ve finished working for the day. You set up your stupid laptop and work on your stupid assignments, all while looking unapologetically handsome.”

“Why would you keep all of that to yourself for so long, hm?” He coos, brushing some hair away from her face.

“Because romance makes me sick, and so does being vulnerable.” She pouts at him.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m pretty good at both.” He presses his lips to her once more before shifting down her body. He tugs on her shorts, and she lifts her hips to help him take them off. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, which made things much easier. His eyes widen when he sees how slick she is between her legs. “Christ, you weren’t kidding.”

“It hurts, please, just do something.” She whines again.

Harry smirks before licking over one of her inner thighs, and then the other. He licks over her slit, and she moans out in relief. He licks up to her clit and sucks harshly on it. He moans into her and presses down on her lower stomach. He slides two fingers inside her, and her head rolls back into his pillows. Harry thought she tasted amazing, and she was so wet and warm around his fingers. He was leaking into his boxers, he could feel it. He knew part of it was from the tea, but he also knew how he felt about her. He had been dreaming of this moment since the day he met her, and he couldn’t believe it was finally happening. The tips of his fingers pet against her g-spot, and her hands fly to his hair to grip onto. He continues to suck on her clit, trying not to bust in his boxers too soon. She cries out as she comes around his fingers. She gets her shirt off while he rids himself of his boxers. He comes back down to hover over her. He licks into her mouth as her arms wrap around her his neck. He ruts his hard cock against her folds.

“Do you want me to wear a condom?” He asks her as he starts to knead her breasts.

“N-no.” She shakes her head. “Are you okay with that? I…I’m clean.”

“So am I. Are you on the pill, or something?”

“I have an IUD, so you can come inside me if you want.”

“Is that what you want?”

“We’re going to be able to go for multiple rounds, and I want you to fill me up each time.”

“Fuck.” He groans, and spreads her legs farther apart.

He rubs his tip along her clit before pushing inside. Her nails dig into his shoulders, her mouth falling open from the stretch he was giving her. Her heels dig into the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to her. Her hands trail down his back until they reach his bum, sinking her nails into the plushy skin.

“You feel so fucking good.” She gasps as he thrusts in and out of her.

“So do you.” He groans. “You’re so fucking tight, don’t know how long I’ll last.”

“It doesn’t matter, you’ll get hard again.”

“Thought you said since we were taking care of it properly it won’t last quite as long?”

“It won’t last as long, but it’ll still last for bit.” She pulls his face down to hers to kiss him. “Let me get on top, yeah?”

He nods, and rolls them both over. She readjusts, and starts bouncing up and down on him. She throws her head back and scratches down his stomach. His hands find her hips, thrusting up into her to match her pace. He watches as her tits bounce up and down. He sits up a bit so he can suck on one of her nipples. Her clit rubs against him perfectly, and she’s coming again in no time. With another thrust, he come inside her, biting down on her shoulder in the process.

“You’re amazing.” He mutters into her neck. “I can feel how hard I still I am.” He groans as he looks up at her. “It’s like I’ve got a cock ring on or something.”

“I know, don’t worry, we’ll make it go away together.” She smiles and lifts herself off of him. “Um…there’s something I’m sort of into, and I was wondering if you might be too?”

“Well, what is it?”

“Could I…would you be comfortable if, I, uh, got behind you and lick you? Maybe use my fingers? I can conjure up some lube.”

Harry’s eyes visibly dilate, making Amber smirk.

“You have no idea how okay with that I am.”

“Yeah? Have you done it before?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to. I think I actually have some lube here. Let me just double check my side table.” Harry eagerly leans over and reaches into his side table drawer. He finds a bottle of lube and tosses it to her. He gets onto his stomach for her, and she giggles as he wiggles his bum at her.

“M’gonna make you feel so good.” She says lowly, giving his bum a little smack before leaning down to spread him apart.

She licks a strip around his hole, swirling around his him. He grips the blankets on the bed, moaning and whimpering into his pillow as she suckled and slurped around his hole. She sits up for a moment to get some lube on her fingers. She starts with her middle finger, rubbing it around his rim, and then slowly slipping it inside him.

“Fuck.” He groans.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, feels good, don’t stop.”

Amber bites her bottom lip as she slips another finger inside him. She pumps them carefully, she didn’t want him to be in any sort of pain, this was supposed to be pleasurable. Her fingers get deep enough to reach a particular part inside of him. She reaches a hand around front to grip his throbbing cock.

“Doing so well, Harry.”

“Think you found my prostate, shit, feels so fucking good.” He grits his teeth as her thumb rubs over his tip. “M’gonnna come again, fuck!”

Amber presses his prick as close to his stomach as possible to make less of a mess as he comes. She slowly retracts her fingers from him, and lets him roll onto his back. He was sweaty and panting. She licks the palm of her hand that was full of his come, and then leans down to lick his stomach clean. His prick hardens back up instantly.

“Harry, I’m so wet, I almost came watching you enjoy yourself.” She says after licking her lips. “And your come tastes so good.” She pouts.

“I eat a lot of fruit.” He breathes. “Lay on your side for me.” He pats the spot next to him, and she does what he says. They get into a spooning position. She raises her leg a bit, and he slips inside.

“Oh, wow, you’re in so deep.” She arches into him. He grips her hip and starts moving in and out of her.

“Yeah? Like feeling me like this?”

“Yes.” She gasps when his fingers slip to her clit.

“You like it dirty, huh? You don’t like have vanilla sex.” He says into her ear, nipping at her lobe.

She moans out, unable to form an actual response. Once he gains a little more energy, he has her turn onto her stomach so he can fuck her properly from behind. He sits up on his knees, and starts pounding into her relentlessly.

“Oh my god!” She gasps. “Keep going, just like that!”

He grips the back of her neck with hand, and reaches around front to rub her clit with the other. He strokes are fast and deep, beating up her g-spot. She was chanting his name, and it was just egging him on more. He needed her to come again, and he needed her to come hard. As good as she felt, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do it again after this.

“Want you to soak my sheets.” He growls. “Come all over my cock, Amber.”

“M’close, m’close!” She cries out.

Everything feels overwhelming all at once, and she finally lets go. He comes inside her at the same time, and does soak his sheets. His cock is absolutely drenched. He collapses next to her on the bed. He sighs with relief when he feels his cock actually start to soften.

“I have a spare set in the linen closet.” He says to her, and she giggles.

“Don’t bother, that was just the first session.”

“Um…what?”

“That was just the first session. You’ll probably come two more times.”

“But, that other time I only came three times.”

“Yeah, and it hurt, right? Did these last few hurt?”

“Not at all. Felt amazing.”

“We could 69 for the next one. You’re really good at going down.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Wouldn’t mind feeling your mouth around my cock either.”

“Seems like you’re almost ready again.” She looks down at his hardening cock.

“Fuck, please, come sit on my face.”

“You don’t want me to clean up first?”

“You just licked my asshole, I’m not too concerned about tasting my own come while it drips out of you.”

Amber whimpers and scrambles her way to hover over his face, leaning down over his cock so she can lick over his tip. Harry immediately starts sucking on her swollen clit, making her gasp before she’s able to wrap her lips around him. They went at for hours, switching between a number of positions, making an absolute mess of Harry’s sheets. Amber realizes that Penny must have given them a combination of the strawberry tea and the chocolate tea; that’s a strong combination. They couldn’t get enough of each other, and instead of being upset with Penny’s antics, they decided to just roll with it. Harry ate out Amber’s ass, she rode him reverse, he hit it from the side, they were like animals. He had scratch marks all over his chest and back, she was littered in bite marks, by the time the tea wore off, they were exhausted. Neither had the energy to magically make the sheets clean, so Harry stripped the bed while Amber helped make it back up. They fell asleep curled up with another completely naked.

//

Opal woke up to an empty apartment, to which she laughed. She headed down the stairs to go see Penny, and let her know their sneakiness paid off. The only thing was, there was no sign of Penny. Opal couldn’t get a scent on her.

“Oh, no.” Opal says to herself, and goes upstairs to Harry’s apartment. She scratches at his door. “Amber!”

Amber sits up quickly in bed. She wraps herself in one of Harry’s blankets and sprints to the door, rattling Harry awake.

“Come back to bed.” He groans, but she doesn’t hear him.

Amber opens the door, and Opal rushes in.

“What’s going on?” Amber asks her frantically.

“I’m sure you’re tired, and rightfully pissed off, but Penny didn’t show up this morning. I don’t even have a scent on her.”

“Shit.” Amber groans. “This has Max written all over it. He probably bagged her on her walk here this morning. Why she doesn’t just live here, I’ll never know.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asks them.

“Penny’s missing, get dressed.” Amber says firmly before snapping herself and Opal upstairs.

Harry wanted to talk to Amber about everything they did last night, take her to breakfast like he said he would. But Penny was missing, so that meant their nightmare from the night prior wasn’t over. He gets himself dressed and down to the shop. Amber was already waiting downstairs with Opal.

“Where do you think they took her?” Harry asks.

“I have an idea.” Amber sighs. “He probably sent those damn shadows after her.”

“Penny’s so experienced, I don’t understand.” Harry shakes his head.

“She’s old, Harry.” Opal says. “She wouldn’t stand a chance alone.”

Amber’s eyes start glowing out of nowhere, and she starts hovering in the air. Just as soon as it happens, she’s back on the floor.

“I know where she is, she just sent me a signal.” Amber says.

“I know where she is, she just sent me a signal.” Amber says. “It’s essentially a trap, they know we’re coming for her.” She looks down at Opal. “Are you strong enough for this?”

“I’ll have to be. Let’s go get her.”

//

Amber snaps them to where they need to be. Mac had the shadows take her to an old, abandoned building on the outskirts of town. Amber brought them just down the hall from where Penny was being kept. Harry had so many questions, but he knew now wasn’t the time. He stays close to Amber and Opal, walking down a dark corridor.

“Harry, stay with Opal. I’m going on the room.”

“I can’t let you go in there alone.” He tells her.

“I wasn’t asking.” She says before snapping herself into the room. Penny was chained up to a wall. “For the love of god.” Amber sighs before snapping her free.

“Behind you!” Penny shouts, and Amber gets zapped by what looks like red electricity. She gets knocked to the ground, but picks herself back up. Max’s eyes were glowing red.

“I told you that you had no idea what you did.” He grins evilly at her. “Give me the dog, now.”

“It’s me you want, not her. You have me, okay? Just take me.”

“The thing is…” He walks towards her. “I don’t have you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffs. “You wreak of that dolt’s scent, Amber. What did you do, go home and fuck him to celebrate? I found this one because she was wearing one of your sweaters, thought it was you.”

Amber looks back at Penny with wide eyes. She had to have known that Max was going to come for her. Penny set the tea up so Harry’s scent would mix with Amber’s, and make her hard to find. Penny essentially sacrificed herself.

“And to think I was mad at you.” Amber smiles softly at Penny.

“I’d never trick you on purpose.” Penny says.

“Blah, blah, blah.” Max rolls his eyes. “Either way, I’ve lured you here.”

“What do you even want from me? Do you think forcing me into a relationship is going to be much fun?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Max chuckles. “You think you’re such a prize, but you’re not. I’ve had women far better than you. This really is about Opal, so hand her over.”

“No.”

Amber’s hands glow, and she strikes a blow at Max. He blocks it and sends it back to her.

“Like the new powers? My friends gifted them to me.” He grins.

“Red’s never been your color, sorry to say.”

They both run towards each other to duke it out. Shadows start to crowd around Penny, and she tries to deflect them, but she needs help. Harry and Opal storm in to help her. Harry’s able to zap them away. He looks over at Max, and runs towards him, striking him with a powerful blow. Amber’s eyes widen as she watches Harry try to face off with Max.

“Amber, get Opal and Penny home, now!”

“Harry, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go!”

“Listen to your foolish boy, Amber, you won’t want to see this.” Max says as he strikes Harry.

Amber fights back tears as she snaps herself, Penny, and Opal out of there. She starts crying because she knows she doesn’t have the strength to snap back right away.

“If I lose him, I…I don’t know what I’ll do.” She cries. “I finally opened up to him, and I-“

“Don’t waste your energy on panicking.” Penny says. “I tried to stop him so you wouldn’t have to worry. I wanted to ward him off, I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault, it’s mine.” Opal says. “I was in the woods that night because I was following him. I had caught wind of dark magic usage, and my suspicions of it being him were true. I had no choice but to tell you.” She says to Amber.

Amber drops to her knees, and wraps her arms around Opal. Amber didn’t blame Opal for anything. This was all Max’s fault. She could feel herself getting angrier. She needed to know if Harry was alright.

“I have to get back to him. He can’t face Max on his own.” Amber looks up at Penny. “Do you think I’ll be able to do it?”

“You are the strongest girl I know. If anyone could muster up the energy to do this, it’s you. Don’t rely on the anger, rely on the love that feel for that boy.”

Amber wants to protest, but she couldn’t deny it. She loved Harry, a lot. She’d fallen for him, and she needed him to be okay. She takes a deep breath, and snaps herself back to where Harry is. She gasps once she’s back in that room. Harry was levitating Max in the air with his powerful green glow. He was holding Max in some sort of bubble.

“Harry!” Amber shouts.

“I’m okay! I don’t know how I’m doing this, but I’m okay!”

“Let me help!”

She blasts her blue glow up at Max, mixing with Harry’s. Max shouts this goulash sound, and a bright red light shines, filling the room. A loud explosion occurs, blasting Harry and Amber back. Max falls to the ground with a loud thud. Amber scrambles to her feet, and dusts herself off. Harry was totally knocked out. She wants to tend to him, but she has to make sure Max can’t do any more damage. She rushes over to him, and stands over him, nudging his body with her boot. His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at her.

“You’re so far gone.” She shakes her head. “You could have been such a wonderful mage, now look at you.”

“I’ve always envied you.” He says weakly. “You were given the best companion, one that could actually help you and bond with you. You’re one of the most powerful citrines out there. We could have been something together.”

“You ruined it. I feel nothing for you, absolutely nothing.”

“I can tell. Your heart belongs to that one.”

Amber steps on his chest, making him wince.

“And don’t you forget it. I showed mercy by taking your powers away. Walk away while you still can, or I won’t show you such kindness again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

She rushes back over to Harry, and immediately snaps them back to the shop. He was still unconscious. Penny and Opal crowd around the two of them.

“Harry, please wake up.” Amber whispers to him. “I need you to be okay, please, I need you.” She cries into his chest.

“Amber.” Penny puts her hand on Amber’s shoulder. “Let’s get him up into your bed. You have some things in your kitchen we can whip up to help him.”

Amber nods, and Penny snaps them all upstairs. Amber gets Harry tucked into her bed. His breathing was steadily, and his blood pressure was normal. He used so much energy to keep Max at bay, he must be so drained, especially after the night they had. All he wanted to do was take her to breakfast, Amber hoped they’d get the chance. She goes into her kitchen with Penny while Opal stays curled up next to Harry.

“So, what are we making?” Amber sighs.

“Here, crush these mint leaves up, I’m making a watermelon tea, so I’m reducing some watermelon over the stove to make a syrup. We’ll use the mint leaves for the tea itself.”

“What will this do? He can’t drink this if he’s not awake.”

“He’ll need it for when he wakes up. It’ll be like an energy boost.”

“How do we wake him up?”

“We don’t. He needs to sleep whatever this is off. You’ll be there when he wakes. I’m sorry again about last night. When you told me what Max did, I knew he’d try to find you today. I just wanted to help, and-“

“I understand why you did it. It’s okay.” Amber smiles softly. “It could have been worse. Please, sleep here tonight in my guest room.”

“Alright.” Penny nods. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Once the tea is done, Amber brings it into her room, sets it down on the side table closest to Harry, and crawls into bed. It was only the early afternoon, but she felt sleep pulling her in. She succumbs to it, letting her eyes droop as she rests her head on Harry’s chest.

Hours later, she stirs awake when she feels the weight shift in the bed a bit. She looks over to see Harry knuckling at his eyes, and sitting up. He looks at her and smiles softly.

“Hey.” He says.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, reaching to caress his cheek.

“M’alright. I woke up a little while ago, Opal had me drink the tea you made. She’s downstairs with Penny running the shop. I fell back asleep after I drank some of the tea.” He presses a kiss to her palm, and she smiles. “How are you?”

“Better now.” She sighs. “I’m glad you’re awake, I was worried. We got blasted backwards after our magic combined. I don’t know how you were able to hold him off for as long as you did.”

“He…he was trying to egg me on. He was saying all of these awful things about you, but I remember reading it wasn’t good to harness anger to make yourself more powerful, so I just sort of thought about how I wanted to keep you safe, how I wanted Opal to stay safe because I knew that if anything happened to her you’d be devastated.”

“I was really worried about you.” Her voice cracks, and her eyes widen. “I thought he was going to try to kill you. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t make it out of there.”

“Amber.” Harry cups her cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe her tears away. “I…I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me. We haven’t had a chance to talk about last night. I know we did a lot last night, and we had a bit more, um, gusto thanks to that tea, but everything I said to you last night I meant. I want to be with you.”

“I want to be with you too. I…I don’t want to know what it’s like to be without you. I was scared that I would. I know I pushed you away in the beginning, but I was fighting off something bigger than the two of us. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.” She looks down for a moment, and then back up at him. “I think…I think we were supposed to find each other, like, there was some sort of pull between us. I mean, there were plenty of other stores on this strip with vacant apartments, but you came into mine.”

“I always thought this stuff only happened in the books I’ve read, but it all sort of makes sense. I mean, I had no idea I was a mage, or whatever. Clearly, whatever this is inside of me was trying to bust out. And…amethysts are drawn to citrines, right?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” Amber smiles. “Usually, um, it’s a male citrine that goes for a female amethyst, not the other way around.”

“What about same sex couples?” He smirks.

“Same sex couples usually share the same gem, it’s rare if they don’t. I’m not sure what the science behind it is, you’d have to ask Penny.”

“Oh, is Penny…?”

“Mhm, she’s a widow, but her wife was the kindest woman. The two of them basically raised me.”

“What was her name?”

“Luna.” Amber smiles fondly. “They’re both garnets.”

“That’s really cool. I want to keep learning more about all of this; it’s so fascinating.”

“You’ll definitely learn more. I’ve got shelves upon shelves of books downstairs that you haven’t even touched yet.”

“Do you think I should tell my family about any of this?”

“God, no. Sometimes these things skip generations, they’d probably think you were nuts.” She chews on her bottom lip for a moment. “We’ve digressed a bit, um, I feel really strongly about you.”

“I feel strongly about you too.”

“Like…I…I’m in love with you, Harry.”

“Oh, thank god.” He sighs with relief. “Feel like I fell in love with you from the second we met, but I’ve been trying really hard not to come on too strong. You’re not the biggest fan of romance.” He smirks.

“No, I’m not.” She leans in to peck his lips. “I’m the stoic one, and you’re the cinnamon roll.” She grins.

“Mm, your dirty talk is impeccable.” He rolls his eyes, and it makes her laugh.

“Let me continue. You’re the only one this stoic girl becomes soft for. You turn me into a little cinnamon roll, one of those really sweet ones with a ton of icing.”

Harry chuckles and leans in to kiss her. He sucks on her bottom lip, smiling into the kiss.

“Definitely sweet.” He mutters against her lips.

“We should probably get out of bed before we completely throw off our sleep schedules.”

“You’re right.” He sighs. “M’also starving. I don’t think I’ve eaten all day.”

“Same here.”

“I owe you a breakfast date.”

“It’s already past five, no restaurant would serve us breakfast right now.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure I could whip something up. You got groceries?”

“Yeah, plenty of food in the kitchen.” She blinks. “You want to make us breakfast for dinner?”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again. “Do you like pancakes?”

“Love ‘em.” She nods.

“What about chocolate chip pancakes?”

“Those are my favorite.”

“Mine too.”

//

Turns out Harry made some of the best pancakes Amber ever had. After they ate, they went down to the shop to see how Opal and Penny were doing. Amber decided to close down early. Harry needed to finish up some homework, and make sure he had his lesson plans ready to go for tomorrow morning. It was weird getting back to reality, but it was a routine Amber was sort of craving. For so long their main focus was training to prepare for Max’s eventual strike. Amber couldn’t be certain that he wouldn’t try something again, but she looked him dead in the eyes when she threatened him. She saw fear, she could feel his fear. She wasn’t worried about him anymore, nor was she as worried about Opal. She could exhale for the first time in a while.

She had a new concern: Harry. Over the next couple of weeks, she wouldn’t let him sleep alone, which he didn’t mind one bit. Harry liked that Amber was being so affectionate towards him, he reveled in the attention. The kisses, the soft touches, the hugs, the smiles, everything Amber did, Harry loved. He couldn’t wait to finish up his office hours most days so he could get to the shop. Even though Amber had to work, Opal would still curl up at his feet, and Penny would drop off an extra biscotti at his table. Harry felt like he had formed this new little family. It made the little town he decided to call home actually start to feel like home. He even got to see how Amber made her many teas.

The only thing that wasn’t so great was that Harry’s student Whitney tended to keep him late, and Amber didn’t like it. She trusted Harry with her whole heart, but she didn’t quite like the idea of someone else thinking they could try to flirt with him. Whitney came into the shop all the time, Amber knew exactly who Whitney was. She was a senior, so not much younger than herself or Harry, but still, it wasn’t appropriate for a student to be so forward with her professor. So, much like with everything else, Amber took matters into her own hands.

One evening, Harry had made Amber a late dinner after she closed up the shop. After they ate, they made their way to his sofa. Harry thought they were going to just cuddle for a bit, but Amber had made her way into his lap, straddling him and running her fingers through his hair while she sucked on his neck. Normally, Harry would be more cautious about having a mark in such a public spot, but it was getting colder out, so he could wear a turtleneck or scarf to cover it up. He was also just enjoying her body on his too much to care. She was rolling her hips into his, and his hands were kneading her ass.

“What’s gotten into you tonight, huh?” He pants as her teeth really start to sink into his skin. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She pops off him with loud, wet noise, catching her breath as she looks at the red mark forming on his neck. She runs her thumb over it in hopes that it’ll turn a delightful dark purple.

“You just smell so good, you know your cologne drives me wild.” She says as she latches back onto his neck. He moans out as she nips at his skin. She rolls her hips down in a way that grins her center right over his bulge.

“Fuck, Amber, can we move this to the bedroom? M’about ready to explode here.” He groans, squeezing harder at the skin on her hips. She tugs his head more to the side to make the mark even bigger. “Can mark me up all over, yeah?”

“Mm, that sounds nice.” She mumbles into his neck, and kisses her way over to his lips. “Maybe we could take a quick shower, and I could lick you all over too.” She wiggles her eyebrows at him, and his eyes visibly darken.

“Should make you dinner more often.”

//

Harry was on cloud nine the next day at school. He couldn’t stop smiling even if he tried. Amber made good on her promise to lick him all over, especially where he liked it most. He liked that they both enjoyed a good tonguing, and he liked that they were so good at taking turns. He wasn’t even mad about how fucked up his neck looked. Harry knew what Amber was doing, she was clearly marking her territory, and he didn’t mind one bit. If he wasn’t into her dominant personality, he wouldn’t be with her. The sweater he was wearing covered up most of it anyways, and his students never seemed to hide the marks on their necks, so what was the big deal, really?

After he finishes his classes for the day, he heads to his office for his office hours. He dives into the papers he needed to grade. He assigned a ten-page paper for his fiction workshop, and now he was regretting it. He got about a third of the way through his stack when Whitney came to his office.

“Hi, Professor Styles.” She smiles.

“Hey, Whit.” He smiles back. “I’m actually glad you’re here, could use your help.”

“With what?”

“I have a ton of grades to put into a spreadsheet from my physical gradebook. Think you could do that for me?”

“Sure!”

Harry unhooks his laptop from the docking station so she could dive into the spreadsheet he started. Things were quiet for a bit, but she was having trouble reading his writing. Harry had horrible penmanship.

“Professor Styles, I can’t read this.” She says, getting up from her seat and walking over to him. She leans over him slightly, and points to some of his scribbles. “See, I can’t tell if that’s an 87 or an 81.” Her cleavage was practically spilling into his face. He was about to say something, but someone else beat him to it.

“Maybe you should get your eyes checked.” They both look up to see Amber leaning against the door frame.

“Hey!” Harry smiles brightly, and Whitney stands up straight. “Amber, this is Whitney, one of my students. Whitney, this is my girlfriend, Amber.”

“Girlfriend, oh…um…I didn’t realize you were seeing someone, Professor Styles.”

“Course you did, how else would he have gotten that mark on his neck.” Amber smirks. “Now, why don’t you do everyone a favor and put your tits away because he’s not going to suck on them, alright?”

“Amber.” Harry looked mortified.

Whitney looked frightened, and she was speechless. She quickly gathers her things and walks out of Harry’s office. Harry stands up and goes to close his door. He was upset, Amber could tell.

“What?” Amber asks.

“You can’t talk to one of my students like that!”

“Why not? She was practically shoving her tits in your face, and you were letting it happen.”

“I was about to tell her to back off, but then you showed up. Why are you even here?”

“I came to surprise you, but I can see I’m unwanted. Why was she even here?”

“She comes to help me most days after class. She was working on a spreadsheet for me. And you’re not unwanted, you just don’t come to see me here often. It would have been a nice surprise if you hadn’t come in guns hot.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks at her. “Are you seriously jealous?”

“I can’t help that I feel protective over you. I don’t like that other people think you could be theirs when you’re mine.”

“And to think you didn’t want anything to do with me just a few months ago.” He smirks.

“That joke stopped being funny after the first time you made it.” She rolls her eyes, and stops towards him. Harry was just under a foot taller than Amber, and yet she commanded every room she walked into. She grips the collar of his sweater and tugs him down to her face, her eyes glowing.

“You’re so sexy when you’re like this.” He wraps his arms around her, lifting her up and sitting her down on his desk. “But don’t think it gives you a pass for acting like that. You need to be nice. She’s one of your customers, remember? You’re nice all the time at the shop, why can’t be nice where I work?” He pouts.

“Because no one flirts with me at my place of business.”

“Oh, please.” He scoffs. “I’d be a very rich man if I had a dollar for every time I’ve caught someone checking you out.”

“That’s totally different. No one’s shoving a part of their body in my face.” She pouts back at him. “Why does someone so pretty have to be one of your frequent flyers?”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. The only tits I want shoved in my face are yours.” He plants his hands on either side of her thighs, getting nice and close to her face. “And even though Whitney might be pretty, no one could ever compare to how incredibly beautiful you are.”

He always knew exactly how to melt her heart. He leans in to kiss her, sucking on her bottom lip, and licking into her mouth. Her hands move up to his chest, tugging on his sweater to pull him closer. She wraps her legs around his waist, and slowly lowers herself back onto his desk. He follows her, helping her keep her legs around him.

“Wait.” She pants as he kisses down her neck. “Go lock your door.”

“Shit, you’re right.” He says, quickly going over to the door to lock it, and then going back to her. “This is going to hurt your back, do you wanna do it on my chair, on the loveseat?”

“I really want you on top.” She whines.

“Yeah? Want me to be in control right now?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s sit on the loveseat, even if you’re on top, I’ll thrust up into you.” He kisses her. “I’ll rub your clit.” He kisses her again. “Suck on your glorious tits.”

“Fuck, okay, just get my clothes off.” She huffs.

He picks her up, and undoes her jeans quickly. He tugs them down, along with her underwear. Harry drops his own pants and rips his sweater off. Amber gets her jacket off and wraps her arms around his neck. Harry tugs her back to the loveseat, turning her around so she’ll sit on him reverse. He pumps his cock a few times before lining himself up with her. Her jeans were around her ankles since she didn’t bother to take her boots off, so things felt a little tighter than usual; neither of them were complaining.

He bites down on her shoulder, and her head rolls back into his chest. His hands grip Amber’s hips, and he starts thrusting up into her. They needed to be quick and quiet, so he takes one of his hands and it brings it up to her mouth so she could suck on his fingers. Her eyes roll back as she sucks on his digits. His other hand slips between her thighs so his fingers could work her clit. She moans around his fingers from the sheer pleasure. His tip was pummeling her g-spot, and his fingers were working magic – excuse the pun. His palm was pressing into her bladder, and she was starting to panic. She didn’t want to make a mess of his loveseat.

“Can feel you squeezing around me.” He says into her hear, nipping at her lobe.

“H-Harry, I-“ She mumbles around his fingers.

“Hm? What’s the matter, gonna make a mess?”

“Mhm.” She whines.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” He stops all motions immediately, and lifts her off of him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” She asks as he grabs a tissue to come into.

“You said you wanted me in control.” He says as he pulls his pants back up. “Can’t have you squirting all over my office. I’ll take care of you when I finish work for the day.” He smiles and kisses her forehead.

“Harry, this isn’t funny.”

“M’not trying to be, Babe.” He helps her pull her own pants back up. “I have a lot to do, and since you sent my little worker bee away, I may be here a little later than usual. I’ll come to your place when I’m done.”

“You’re sure you wanna play this game with me?” She asks as she puts her jacket back on. “I don’t think you’re prepared for what you’re coming home to by denying me of an orgasm.”

“I’ll take my chances.” He smirks. “I can’t have you thinking you deserve a reward for acting up in my office.” He pecks her lips and opens his door. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

She narrows her eyes at him, looks him up and down, and nods.

“Okay.”

Harry felt a chill run through him as she left. Maybe he should have let her come.

//

Harry wasn’t kidding when he said he had a lot of work to do. He didn’t get home until after the shop closed. He drops his things off in his apartment before going up to Amber’s. She was sitting on her couch watching TV when he came in.

“Hey, Baby, sorry I’m back so late. Where’s Opal?”

“Staying with Penny tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Told her we needed some alone time.” She stands up and walks over to him, giving him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“Huh.” He swallows. “Well, we’re alone now.” He puts his hands on her hips. “Did you, uh, take care of yourself at all?”

“I’ll admit, I almost did just to spite you, but I thought it would ruin the fun.” She slides her hands up his chest. “That being said, I’m not quite in the mood for you to be so in control anymore.”

“What a relief.” He sighs. “M’exhausted, I don’t think I could keep up the façade of being so in charge right now.” He pouts at her and she giggles.

“You made a very good point earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to your student like that. Bring some coupons with you tomorrow to give her as an apology, but make no mistake, if she keeps hitting on you I will not hesitate to fuck her up.”

“I can live with that. She’ll only be my student for another month or so.” He presses his forehead to hers. “So, what would like to do instead of playing games tonight?”

“I’d very much appreciate it if you ate me out for a bit. You denied me of what would have been a rather powerful orgasm and I think you should make up for it.”

“Fair enough. Then will you go back to bouncing on my cock the way you were? Felt so nice.”

She nods, and takes his hand to lead him to the bedroom. She takes her night shirt off, revealing her naked body to him.

“You’re wicked.” He grins. “Lounging around with that glorious bum of yours out for anyone to see.”

“Good thing I was home alone.” She grins, and gets onto the bed, spreading her legs open for him. She snaps her fingers to light the candles in the room.

Harry rids himself of his clothes, and knees onto the bed. He kisses on her belly, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind as he makes his way between her thighs. He hooks his arms around her thighs and dives in. He sucks on her clit immediately, making her moan out. She cards her fingers through his hair as he eats her like he hasn’t eaten in days. The noises he makes as he sucks and licks on her are filthy, and they only spur Amber on more with her moans and whimpers.

“Oh my god, Harry.” She whimpers. “You’re so fucking good, Baby, so fucking good.” She was near tears. His tongue was so wet and warm, fucking in and out of her. “Fuck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, Harry!” She comes hard on his tongue, and he laps it up, moaning at how good she tastes.

“Fucking hell.” He breathes when he sits up. “Do you want me to give you another this way?”

“God, you’re insatiable.” She groans. “Please, I need you inside me now.”

Harry sits up against the headboard, and Amber sits on him reverse she like had earlier in the day. This time they could both be as loud as they wanted, and this time Harry could grope freely at her breasts. She uses her knees to move up and down on him. She was moving fast, wanting him to fill her up. He uses one of his hands to rub circles into her clit.

“Amber.” He moans into her ear, thrusting up into her. “You’re so fucking wet for me, feels amazing.”

“Only ever want your cock, no one else’s.” She had never said anything like that to him before. “Don’t want anyone else ever again.”

“Fuck, I don’t want anyone else either. M’all yours.”

“Yes!” She gasps as she comes around him. He follows right after, filling her up. “Yes.” She whispers.

“Are you all mine?” He whispers into her ear before kissing on her cheek and shoulder.

“Mhm.” She relaxes into him, and looks up his face, admiring his features. “You’re all I want.”

“You’re all I want too. I’m so glad we found one another.” He wraps his arms tightly around her.

“So am I.” She sighs happily.

Eventually, she gets off of him, and they both clean themselves up before getting into bed. Harry tells Amber about his classes and coursework, and she tells him about some of the funny customers that came in that day. They lay there giggling and chatting, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Harry?” She asks as she traces over his tattoos with her finger tips.

“Hm? What is it, my love?”

“You mean the world to me, I hope you know that.” She snuggles into his chest. “Jealousy is quite ugly, but when I love, I love hard. It’s just who I am.”

“I’m so honored that you’ve welcomed me into your small circle. I see the way you are with Opal and Penny, the love you have for them radiates off you. I can feel what you feel for me.”

“And I can feel what you feel for me.”

“We’re connected.” He says, and kisses the top of her head.

“We are.” She nods. “And it feels wonderful.”

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply Chapter 5

Genre: Arranged Marriage Fic. Fluff turning into angst?

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

Summary: The story of two deeply feeling nerds who find themselves in an arranged marriage. (Details here). Our OC is called Brishti. It’s a Bengali name meaning rain. Namjoon calls her Rim (short for her pet name, RimJhim which means the pitter-patter of rain). She calls him Joon.

Warnings: NOT THE NAMJOON OF OUR DREAMS. Argument. Fight over tiny discrepancies that turn out to be a huge problem. Domestic violence. Not a happy chapter.

A/N: Have you ever felt this, reader? When you watch something and realise exactly what you need to realise in that moment? I’ve had that so many times - seeing my feelings mirrored in a show. That’s something that I’ve tried to have Brishti feel here. Also, this is how I see the natural progression of this Namjoon, the one who obliged to duty rather than his dreams. It took me a long time to write this but I love what’s come out. Let me know what you think!

Current Chapter: London, late 1963. Love fully blooms between Namjoon and Brishti. And yet, something’s not right. A visit to the ballet and a conversation brings forth realisations. The inklings that Brishti was trying to avoid transform into writing on the wall.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

The magic about new love isn’t really in romance or even in true intimacy. It’s in how violent new love is… and just how much time it takes us to feel it’s impact.

In the new love between Namjoon and Brishti, everything had been roses and honey, overflowing, swaying in a gentle breeze. They spent every second possible in each other’s arms. They had to tear themselves away from each other when they had to leave home. And even then, it hurt as though they were part of the same cloth.

Brishti had thought about how they had become woven, their souls an ornate tapestry. Namjoon had told her then about a Japanese tradition of weaving that was a sort of meditation and a kind of worship to a god called ‘Musubi’. The disciples say it is like being part of the cosmic tapestry. Being tied to each other.

“Just like we are… I felt a pull toward you and I followed it. I was scared… so full of doubts about who you were and how this was all going to go… I had promised myself that I would fulfil my duty… whatever happened ” Namjoon had said, petting Brishti’s hand gently, “And I… I still can’t believe it… It… you make me feel like I can… trust myself.” Brishti had looked at her genius then and wondered what a strange world it must be that made a man like Namjoon doubt himself, “Always, always trust yourself, Namjoon-ah.” and settled into the crook of his neck.

It was indeed a strange world that caused Namjoon to build an armour around himself. Because ‘London’ and ‘Lonely’ sounded just the same to him. His years alone in this strange place had been unkind, unrelenting. Brishti had been the only softness he had felt in a long long time. Armours built over years can break in an instant, though. For him, it was the moment when he and his wife had crossed the threshold to becoming lovers. High on the magic of new love, he had not realised it.

Sitting across from each other after that fateful evening, Namjoon and Brishti were both wide awake in the early hours of the next morning. Brishti buttoned up the shirt they never fully took off. Namjoon had tickled her with his toes. They propped their feet against the other’s to see just how vast the difference was (he melted seeing how small her feet were and hadn’t stopped playing with them since). Caressing each toe, he remembered something he wanted to ask -

“How did you know what Saranghae is?”

“Mm…” she stretched her arms, “I know what it means…” Brishti said.

“I know you know… from the way you… after I said it… You asked Yoongi about it?” Namjoon cautiously asked about the only other Korean Brishti knew. To his surprise, she nodded no, still denying him any information. Namjoon had to tickle her foot for the answer.

“Okay! Okay! Wait! Pleeeease!” Namjoon stopped and Brishti bent down to the bureau next to her bed and pulled out a textbook - LEARN HANGUL THROUGH ENGLISH. Namjoon looked more shocked than she had expected. “I asked Yoongi about the book-”

“You don’t need to Rim… I’m not learning Bangla, am I?” Namjoon said. He was touched but he didn’t want his love to do anything he couldn’t reciprocate.

“I would have asked you to learn it… if I wrote poetry in my mothertongue...” Brishti said. Namjoon was shocked. She went on, “You really think I didn’t know?”

Namjoon blushed and smiled and flopped over in Brishti’s lap. She brushed his hair as she explained, “You light up at the mention of lyrics and poetry, you keep a notebook by your side at all times, you’re moved by the things that people usually don’t pay attention to… I know you’re a poet, Joonie.”

Namjoon looked up at her and said, “No one has ever called me that…”

Brishti leaned down and kissed her gorgeous husband. “You are... From what I know, I bet all my books that you are a great one... And… I… I would love nothing more than to be part of your world of words, Joonie… It must be strange… to be understood but in a foreign language. If you would let me, I want to understand you in your language… Do you think that’s something maybe--”

He got up and all but jumped on Brishti, pinning her down to the bed with the cutest puppy-yell she had ever heard. “Yes! Of course, yes!”

They both understood that this was a proposal. The truest kind - a gentle request to explore Namjoon’s universe. They would later joke about how she proposed to him after a month of being married. Namjoon was completely delighted by this person with him, his person… one who really saw him.

He pulled her to him saying, “You’re the best part of my world, Rim...” and kissed her.

Each moment of love flowed through the next. When they had to be separated, they couldn’t wait for the next one, their moment again. On weekends they would visit museums and find their favourite paintings and sculpture or their favourite prehistoric relic and animal. Brishti hated the fact that Namjoon had to work overtime to compensate for these weekends and she often voiced how unfair it was.

In response Namjoon would just give her a peck and say, “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” This pricked her but she was too taken by the man before her to pay heed to it.

Namjoon was just about able to keep a straight face at work but everyone around Brishti was acutely aware of how much she loved Namjoon.

At one point, her colleague and best friend, Min Yoongi had yelled at her, “Yhaaaaa! Stop blushing?! It’s just a clock… what could be romantic about a clock?!” Sayuri-san, and she were hanging around Yoongi’s table when Brishti looked at his new flip clock and started blushing.

Brishti laughed along with everyone else but explained, “It’s involuntary… that’s what happens when you’re married to a poet.”

Sayuri-san corrected, “I know too many wives of poets to know that’s not necessarily true… It is true though, when you’re in love with a poet… Go on… tell us how exactly poet Namjoon makes you blush about a clock...”

Brishti blushed even more at that. Yoongi rubbed his arms and demanded, “Tell us because there’s some really weird things coming to my mind… like you guys have an exact time when...”

Brishti stopped his imagination, “No no no… it’s nothing like that… he loves digital clocks... because he loves to watch the time turn to 00:00… zero o’clock he calls it… and on days he feels sad, it’s like zero o’clock is always there to comfort him… like it’s a point when the whole world holds its breath and he can feel happy again… but these days… with me… he said he wants the clock to keep going after 23:59… he wishes time would stretch on… beyond 24:01…”

Yoongi sighed and sat back down, “You’re making me fall in love with Namjoon… ahhh that is beautiful. He should be published...”

“Imagine him saying this directly to you and you might know how I feel… I can’t stop talking about him...”

“Oh, we know. But honestly none of us care… your poet-librarian romance is getting us through our single-ness.” Yoongi reassured her.

The three of them continued to talk about the ways in which Brishti could repay Namjoon’s wordsmithing in graphic ways.

It was that evening, wasn’t it, when Namjoon had enveloped her back in the warmest hug as soon as he’d entered their flat. Brishti was in the kitchen when she heard him enter but hadn’t expected this. He kissed her neck while telling her the good news, “We got our first Korean client today… because of me… Mmmm… Why do you always smell so amazing?”

Brishti turned around and hugged him again, “That’s amazing! Namjoon-ssi! I’m so proud of you!”

“He’s from a wealthy family… so he can actually afford our firm… its not exactly the work I wanted to do--”

“It is a step toward that idea, right? It’s still good work, fighting for justice?” Brishti asked, stopping him from undermining his own work.

Namjoon nodded, “Yeah… He’s a dancer… Park Jimin. All the posh types know him as one of the best dancers in the Royal Ballet. They call him Jim… as if it’s too difficult to say Jimin?” Namjoon shook his head in disapproval. He began helping Brishti with the chopping and continued, “He was born in the UK and trained since he was 5... He got into the Royal Ballet but he’s been passed up to be a principal over and over even though everyone who has seen him dance apparently knows that he’s far far better… So recently he spoke to the director there... and of course the director made a racist slur and asked not to bother him with this again. He can’t even quit and work at another company because of the contract they have him on. There’s a non compete clause… meaning he won’t be able to dance with any other company. That’s all he wants… to be able to get out of that contract… I’m hoping to convince him to press charges on racial discrimination too. We’re not in the 20s anymore.”

When Brishti didn’t respond, Namjoon looked up at her. “That’s horrible… I’m so so glad you’re taking up the case. But please tell me what you ate when you were alone?” He looked down at the carrot he’d been failing to cut.

Namjoon scrunched his nose and admitted, “Canned food mostly.”

Brishti said, “I’m really really glad you’re getting to do work that you are passionate about, Joonie, you deserve it. Now, you should know how to cut a carrot.”

Namjoon pressed up against Brishti’s back. She reached back up to the nape of his neck and made him moan into her. Then… then Namjoon made her forget how to cut carrots.

He had these ways… Namjoon, with his touch, his voice, his languages both spoken and soundless. He was lighting new paths into her self. She loved learning him. Paths she didn’t know existed, that she’d been longing for.

The scars of the loneliness, emptiness that Namjoon had experienced had turned his longings into a kind of starvation. He needed to be nourished and also devoured. Brishti was just the creature to do it. He could feel her warm fingers trace rows of pleasure onto his skin. He felt them bear down and singe when the two of them had to move away from each other. He felt those ropes tug at him as the end of his workday neared. Namjoon closed his eyes each night at her touch, the feeling and fragrance of her body. He felt blooms of intimacy spring up like seedlings out of the soil of his skin. And deeper. In the earth of his soul. So he did the only thing he could. Reciprocate. Namjoon sowed his love, his desire, his need onto her, into her every night.

There were times, though, when she would feel his absence in the middle of the night and see him working in the dim light of a lamp. She knew he had to work hard to do what he wanted but she also saw he had to continually prove himself to people who weren’t even paying attention. The reason they weren’t paying attention was painfully clear to Brishti but she was yet to experience it’s full stab.

Namjoon wanted to shield her from it. He was counting on an armour that didn’t exist anymore to protect himself and his wife… the reason he liked his life again. Whenever she came out and switched on a brighter light, reprimanding him for straining his gorgeous eyes, he saw that it did prick her - this world and the unfairness he had to endure. She would say something small, an almost-complaint that alerted him… against her for some strange reason. She would say something that would be easy to ignore and yet would prick him, like - “I don’t know why they haven’t promoted you yet.” or “Why haven’t they taken up Jimin’s case yet? You’ve worked so hard on it.” Everytime she did that, he would have to pacify himself.

‘I’ve told her so much about the Jimin case… she’s just really invested’ Namjoon thought to himself. Just so he would avoid thinking, ‘I shouldn’t have told her.’

He would have to calm himself, give her a peck and try to convince her to stop worrying. “As long as I have you, I’m happy.” Namjoon would always say.

Then, Brishti smiled as she always did. While trying to understand why that sentence bothered her so much. After almost five months of exploring this wonderful man, some part of him still felt unfamiliar… like it didn’t fit in with the rest. Still, these things take time, she had heard from so many women over the years. Besides, she was blessed with a man far far above the norms. So, how could she prod? These are things Brishti had told herself - until the night she couldn’t stay silent.

The couple was coming up on their fifth month together and Park Jimin had gifted Namjoon a ticket to the final show of the season as a token of gratitude, for having heard his story.

Brishti was nervous about going to this kind of a gathering and had told her husband to meet her there.

She had enlisted the help of Sayuri-san to look appropriate for the event. Her slightly longer hair was clipped and her eyes were kohled. She wore a burgundy knee length fringe-ended dress that she had received from her gracious host, stylist and make-up artist - an inheritance of her brilliant life tucked into the black pearl beading and deco design. It was a big departure from the usual tie-die or band tees and jeans with her baggy coat. She had carried the coat but felt this strange sort of compulsion to stand in the cold air in the noodle strap dress, for him to see her.

She felt butterflies in her stomach and kept fiddling with the coat she had draped over her arm. It was electric when she saw him.

Namjoon looked gorgeous in a tux. All of Brishti’s nerves were soothed just by looking at him. He had brushed his hair back. Tall and dashing - better than any heathcliffe could ever be. And with his reading glasses, he looked like the lead of a romance novella that would make all the women swoon. Indeed she was swooning. Brishti was suddenly warm in the chilly, windy night. And when Namjoon saw her, blood rushed to her cheeks. Everything inside her was running helter skelter in a panic. Brishti felt everything drop in the few moments it took for Namjoon to reach the top of the stairs. Dolled up like this, outside of her element, she felt like an imposter. Some angel needed to be standing in her place. For the first time, feigning beauty, Brishti felt like she wasn’t worthy of her husband.

She was finally able to keep her feelings aside when he reached her.

Namjoon kissed her palm like a gentleman and whispered in her ear, “Let’s go home… I need a private kind of dance…” Brishti blushed. Namjoon put his arm around her and felt the chill that had settled on her skin. “Aren’t you cold? Why didn’t you wear the coat?” Namjoon asked. Brishti just shook her head no and the two of them walked in.

Brishti assumed that the ballet would be a welcome distraction from the storm that brewed within her. She had read up about the show, the piece they were going to perform -

Tchaikovsky’s venerated Swan Lake. The story of a young girl who falls in love with a prince who promises to save her but fails. Ofcourse there were finer nuances to the story but this was the basic plot. As the lights dimmed, Brishti felt pulled in by the music, the eerie beauty of it’s melody played in perfectly with the questions that were swirling around in Brishti’s mind -

Why do I feel wrong?

Is this what Yoongi was talking about? Anxiety…?

Why does Namjoon look so... different?

Why is he so quiet, so… distant…It’s like he’s keeping himself away from me despite being right next to me, arm in arm, like the true Namjoon is somewhere in a glass case? Deep deep beneath whatever this creature is who is next to me?

I’m thinking too much. No. What is this? Why am I feeling this way?

It’s the music… no its not just the music… something is fucking wrong because all I feel like doing is breaking that glass case that’s locked away My Namjoon and presented this fucking imposter. What the hell is going on?!

Brishti barely managed to keep it together. She kept her eyes on stage…

It was like seeing a moving painting being created by invisible hands and the music was the sound of the brushstrokes, amplified. Park Jimin was playing Rothbart, the owl-like magician who curses Odette into a swan until she finds someone who would promise to love her forever. The questions in her mind and the power of the spectacle before her forced her tears to keep flowing.

Namjoon saw Brishti cry and held on to her. But the more he tried to comfort her, the more uneasy she became, the more she coudln’t contain the tears in her eyes.

The curtain fell at the end of Act three when the prince realises he has been tricked. Brishti, somehow, mirrored his grief. The prince was cheated by Rothbart into believing that his daughter, Odile, was Odette. Rothbart relished his plan so despicably it made Brishti’s stomach turn. The prince had already declared to the ballroom full of people his vow to love and marry the maiden by his side - Odile, not Odette. Park Jimin played Rothbart so skillfully, so beautifully that despite being the villain, despite being covered from head to toe, he was the star. Rothbart giggled delightfully as he revealed to the prince that the girl in his arms wasn’t Odette at all. That Odette was waiting for her prince by the lake. The curtain fell as the prince felt the stab of betrayal and rushed to Odette.

Brishti rushed to where she did not know. She wanted to get away from Namjoon, from this feeling that she couldn’t understand, couldn’t explain. She was angry. She wanted to break something. Tears still flowing down her face, she found a corner that was hidden away in darkness. She went in. Brishti sat on the couch there, for what seemed like eternity, breathing heavily. Nothing made sense. It felt like her insides were twisting into each other. Suddenly, though, a door creaked open and out came an angel. A man, glowing, having just freshened up. He saw her, saw her fear and instead of pulling back in shock, approached with a strange kindness. He held her wrist and stayed silent for a moment.

His beauty was also a kindness to her. In that moment, Brishti could breathe a little bit better. He sat down by her knees, on the floor and when he spoke, his voice flowed like a tonic, “First time at the ballet? It’s overwhelming… I know. You’re okay. You are safe. Rothbart is not here. Talk to me… what are you feeling?”

The tears kept flowing. This man was different, she knew he understood what she was feeling like. She felt safe, but not as if she was with a saviour, rather as though she was with another victim.

“What are you feeling…” Park Jimin repeated. The pieces were falling into place in her head. This is Park Jimin, the man who danced as Rothbart. The man who should have danced the Prince. Who should have played Odette and Odile.

“I feel… rage.” Brishti trembled as she spoke. She could breathe again.

“Yes… Rothbart is… evil… I’m sorry-”

Brishti nodded her head no. “At the prince.”

Jimin was surprised. “Let it out. You can scream in here and no one would know.”

Brishti didn’t need another invitation, but her rage wasn’t a scream, it was a whisper - “I want to hit the prince. How could he not now? He couldn’t see that that girl was not Odette? Is he blind? The way she moved, the way she danced… which only means… it means that the prince knew… somewhere he felt doubt but he… He couldn’t fucking trust himself enough?! I don’t know why this is breaking my heart… Why can’t people trust in themselves?! It’s a pathetic fucking excuse and I can’t buy it… I just can’t. Why did the prince...” Her hands covered her face as she wiped her tears. She composed herself.

Jimin pulled out a kerchief. “May I?” Brishti nodded and he dabbed her face with care.

“The prince trusted his sight more than his soul. And now, Odette will die because of it. As always, the woman pays the price.”

“He dies too, you know.”

“What a waste…”

Jimin smiled, “Thank you… for watching the show, for feeling it so much.”

Brishti managed a weak smile, “Thank you.” Jimin stepped away and sat next to her, at a respectable distance. “I’m being lied to.”

Jimin nodded, “I know what that’s like. I feel that rage against the prince too. And still, we must be kind to our liars.”

Brishti clenched her teeth, “Why? Where’s the fairness in that?”

Jimin moves away, in a dejected kind of daze and pours himself a drink, “That’s the biggest lie, fairness. Cruel joke.”

Brishti walked toward the door. “I should go… Thank you.”

Jimin raised his glass to her.

Brishti wore her coat and walked toward the exit. She found Namjoon in a panic and suddenly felt like she could reach him. He looked so relieved to see her. She couldn’t help but feel awash with love as he crashed into her in the warmest hug. It was as if he was the one who was lost.

“Are you okay? Why were you crying?” Namjoon asked her as he stroked her head and held her in the hug for as long as she needed.

“I need to ask you something.” Brishti whispered as she pulled away. They began walking down the stairs of the theatre.

“Änything.” Namjoon replied.

“Your firm… they refused the Jimin case, right?”

Namjoon froze. His jaw locked up. “Let’s go home.”

The rest of the way, neither of them spoke a word. They entered their home in a cold silence. They washed the night off themselves and entered their bedroom, which was completely devoid of the heat and desire that usually filled it right up to the ceiling. What used to feel like an ocean, now felt like a vacuum.

When Namjoon walked in, Brishti reminded him, as kindly as she could,“I said I need to ask you something. You said, ‘anything’.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about it.” Namjoon was cold again. Unfeeling. Unreachable.

Brishti tried her best to be calm… “When would you want to talk about it?”

Namjoon breathed in - “Why? Am I answerable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we disagree. I don’t think I am answerable to you. What would you have done if I wouldn’t have told you about it in the first place?”

“I would still be feeling what I’m feeling… I would be even more furious though.”

“Fu- why would you be furious? I have to work there, I lost the account. I’m feeling hurt and disappointed in myself and instead of helping me, you’re angry?! What the hell could you be angry at?!”

“I’m being lied to. I’m being tricked.”

“What?!” the contempt on Namjoon’s face made her head throb. He was angry now.

“There are two Namjoons here. I’m being told there’s only one and--”

“That is some philosophical trash that you learned from one of your books. Real life doesn’t work that way. But how would you know?! You don’t have a real job. You have a hobby. A hobby of stacking books in order. You’re just plain lucky that someone is paying you for your hobby. That’s not a job. You of all people cannot tell me about the things I have to do to keep my job. I have tried my best to be as honest as I can be--”

“As honest as you can --”

“Listen to me!” Namjoon thundered. His loud voice might as well have been a punch. It rang through her body and rattled her bones. She had tears in her eyes but clenched them down as Namjoon continued yelling, “Enough… enough with the fucking tears. What the fuck are you so sad about?! I don’t need you to pity me. I don’t need anyone to feel sad for me. I have tried to be a good man - do you even know how much other men don’t even mention to their wives?! I told you everything. EVERYTHING. And now I’m being punished for it. Time and time again I tried to console you… even though I was the one hurting… I tried to be there for you and tell you… as long as I have --”

Brishti couldn’t take it anymore “Don’t. Say that.” She didn’t yell. Her voice was just above a whisper and yet it sent a chill down Namjoon’s spine. She wiped her tears. “I didn’t ask to be consoled. I was just… curious. If a few questions from me hurt so much maybe you should ask yourself why. I’m not lucky that someone decided to pay me for my hobby. It’s nice to know what you really think of my job. But whatever you think, I created my job. I created my life. I fought to come to london. I fought for the right to earn--”

“Oh please... spare me the feminist lecture...” scoffed Namjoon.

“Sure. Take up Jimin’s case.”

Namjoon felt the burn of white hot rage. He wanted to strangle her. He was so used to touching her… and she was his… in this bedroom, he had made her his. He wasn’t thinking. Namjoon strode toward her and held one massive palm over her mouth and the other on her neck and pinned her to the wall. “YOU WOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN ABOUT THAT IF I DIDN’T TELL YOU.”

It took him a few moments to realise what he was doing. Brishti was shocked and tried to scream but no voice came out. She was trying to get him out of his daze when he finally saw her, saw his Rim, horrified… by him. Namjoon pulled his hands back instantly. He saw a red bruise bloom where his hands were - on her face and on her neck.

“This is how you make your conscience shut up?” Brishti’s voice was hoarse. “You think this has nothing to do with your conscience? With the best part of you? The part that you made me fall in love with? Are you really telling me you don’t know that this is why you can’t write the way you used to… You’re killing my Joon and asking me to stay silent. I can’t.”

The searing anger still hadn’t died and it burst out of him, “Why are we fighting like this… over Jimin… why don’t you take up his case if you fucking love him so much?”

“What do you think I’m doing right now?”

“You… Why are you fighting for him against me?!” It was here that Namjoon realised his armour was gone. The idea of who he is... suddenly vanished. And the one thing that had made him feel safe, like his true self, was slipping away. “You’re saying… just tell me… you’re saying what I think you’re saying.”

Brishti did him the only kindness she had left in her, she explained, “Jimin wants to leave but can’t. He stays because he needs to dance. He stays because he cannot get out of his contract. You say you want to help people like Jimin, you roll your eyes at white people who can’t pronounce our names, you feel guilty for asians who have much less than we do… but then you also don’t raise an issue when your boss holds meetings in clubs where people of other races and dogs and women are not allowed. You work overtime for the privilege of weekends… You say you are trying but… as far as I know… you don’t have a non-compete clause in your contract, Namjoon.”

That hit him like an iceberg. Namjoon’s legs gave way and he just sat on the bed.

He watched as Brishti put on her coat and left, covering her bruises with a scarf.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 6 - to be posted.

[acnelli]

The Speech

Hermione becomes the first female Minister Of Magic, so Ron has to hold a speech about it. 

Just in case you’re wondering...I was never very interested in Pottermore or anything that got published after DH, so there might have been a female MoM before Hermione but I think this little detail is not important to enjoy the story ;-) I also don’t really see Hermione as a MoM. For me Hermione works at the Ministry, creating and pushing for laws to protect and improve the life of those oppressed and fighting for equality. But I liked the idea of a very nervous Ron talking about his wife in front of a huge crowd.

You can also find this story on FFN and AO3.

I'm so screwed.

This sentence was stuck like a mantra in his head ever since Kingsley talked him into this nonsense.

Who in his right mind would want him, Ron Weasley, to hold a speech? Sure, it was his wife that becomes the next Minister of Magic and she also will be the first female one. Which makes him the first husband to hold a speech about the new Minister.

But why couldn't they just skip this stupid tradition?

Not that he wasn't able to talk a lifetime about Hermione. But he sure wasn't ready to talk about her in front of half the Ministry, his entire family, a bunch of friends and not to forget these annoying press people.

Ron was fairly confident that he would say something stupid. He was Ron bloody Weasley after all and if anyone would describe him to a stranger this would be in his character description: Saying and doing stupid and/or inappropriate things.

Kingsley was about to end his speech and Ron knew that it will be mere seconds before he was called up to the stage.

Oh Godric, please don't make me embarrass myself in front of my children.

He thought back to this morning when his fifteen-year-old daughter made him a cup of tea to calm his nerves.

"Don't worry, Dad. You will do just fine. And please eat something." Hugo said, as he shoved a slice of toast at him. He picked his breakfast up and even took a bite, mainly to appease his son.

 Hugo stared at him, determination and worry on his face. It never failed to amaze Ron, how much his son was like Hermione, both in looks and character.

 Ron sighed and took another bite before shoving the plate away from him. "I' m sorry, buddy. Might eat this backwards if I'm having one more bite."

 He sipped his sweet tea and wondered why the hell he was such a nervous wrack. It was the Quidditch games at Hogwarts all over again.

  Ron thought he was over his insecurities, but old habits die hard, right? Looking at his two children made him feel a tiny bit lighter though. They both got his ginger hair and freckled skin with the tendency to get burned easily when out in the sun. Hugo got the warm brown eyes of his mother, Rose Ron's blue orbs. Rose sat beside Ron on the kitchen table, sipping her own tea. She was already in her dress for the ceremony, her long wild locks pinned up at the nape of her neck. She rarely touched her breakfast. Ron knew she was feeling the same anxiety he felt. Two years ago, during summer break, Hugo told Ron that Rose never eats breakfast before a Quidditch match and would sometimes spend the better part of these mornings in the bathroom. Rose was in many ways like him. She was funny, loved Quidditch, normally eats on behalf of a whole Quidditch team and had a temper similar to Ron's. Thank Godric, she got the brains of her mother.

None the less, she could easily comprehend what Ron was going through.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Ronald Weasley.", Kingsley announced and stepped back for Ron.

He took a deep breath before he finally entered the stage and went to the podium. His family clapped excitedly in the front row, even cheering for him. He looked over to Hermione, who smiled and winked at him. Of course, the whole Weasley family joined the festivities today to celebrate with Hermione. They were all sitting in the second and third row along with his parents-in-law, who looked both proud and just the tiniest bit nervous.

For a short second he feared, that his impulsive decision from this morning. to ditch his sorry attempts of the prepared speech, was probably the worst decision of his life, but when the applause died down, he hadn't much time to panic over it. So, with a final deep breath and a look into Hermione's eyes, he started to speak.

“Th- thank you”, he said after the applause died down and tried not to flinch about the noticeable tremble in his voice.

“Well, as tradition demands, I'm expected to hold a speech about our new Minister of Magic. Speeches are not exactly my strong point and, in all honesty, I dreaded this moment ever since Kingsley asked me to hold it.” Ron threw a pointed look at the former Minister who just gave him an innocent smile.

Over the soft laughter of the audience, Ron heard a snort and quickly located the source. Harry was smirking at him and Ron supressed the urge to flip the tosser off. He hated The Daily Prophet with a passion, but for this headline he might forget about his principles for a day and actually buy this piece of garbage. Nevertheless, he decided against it, mostly because he didn’t fancy to be on the receiving end of some rather nasty hexes performed by his wife and mother.

“Some of you might be surprised to learn that I haven’t prepared this speech during todays breakfast, but for the better part of the last weeks evenings. Though certainly not perfect, I thought the outcome was quite passable. But last night I went over my words and realized that I would tell you things about Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley that all of you already know. Actually, you could have found the better part of my words on a chocolate frog card. Instead, I would rather tell you about the first day Hermione and I met.”

As Ron let his gaze wander over to his family, he saw a smiling but slightly puzzled Hermione looking at him. “The day I met Hermione was, of course, the very first day at Hogwarts. On the train ride I already met Harry Potter. You’ve probably heard about him at some point, saved the world or something like that. Anyway, in that train compartment Harry and I immediately became best friends and while we stuffed ourselves with a ton of sweets, a girl opened the door to our compartment, asking us about the lost toad of a fellow student. I was showing Harry some useless spell my dear brothers told me about, that of course, did not work. This girl though, performed an actual spell just perfect and informed us that she read every first years school book over the summer as preparation for our upcoming classes. Sure enough, she outshined everyone in every class and there wasn’t a teachers question she had no answer to. Back then and especially on that first day, I could never imagine to be friends with Hermione Granger. I thought that she’s a bossy know-it-all and on Halloween, two months after our first day at Hogwarts, she heard me calling her just that. As an eleven-year-old boy, it never seemed possible to me that Hermione could be sincerely hurt by my words. But of course, it upset her. Very much.

That being said, I’ll never regret these nasty words, because this Halloween night was the beginning of a life-long friendship between me, Hermione and Harry. If I hadn’t said that in front of her, she would have never locked herself up in the bathroom to cry and Harry and I would have never ran to this said bathroom, because a mountain troll was wandering the halls of Hogwarts and Hermione was the only one who hasn’t been warned about it. Ever since the three of us beat that troll, I could not imagine a good day without Hermione as a friend by my side. She still nagged us about doing our homework and scolding me for swearing too much and said things like ‘Ron, it’s Hermione, Harry and I’, but when I look back, the unhappiest times were when we didn’t speak to each other or when I wasn’t able to talk to her.”

He paused for a brief moment as surely the darkest time of his life came to mind, when he abandoned Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux hunt, his heart full of pure fear and hopelessness when he thought he would never see them again. Or the weeks of Hermione being petrified, as he could still see this young red headed boy talking to her in the hospital wing, desperately wanting her to tell him off for staying out after curfew.

“Hermione did and achieved a lot of great things in her life. Most of these things you might already know, like her helping to defeat Voldemort and his Death Eaters or her success in freeing the House Elves. Although these are amazing and exceptionally brilliant achievements, Hermione is so much more than the brightest witch of our age and a war heroine. Did you know that the beginnings of her efforts to free House Elves lay in our Hogwarts years? Back then, she started a campaign to free them and it didn’t stop her, that for a very long time, it had been a one-woman-movement. Her courage and ambition to help the defenceless and her undying sense of justice are exceptional and even more admirable, if you consider, that as a Muggleborn, Hermione had been in great danger herself, being the main target of Voldemort’s Death Eaters. Regardless what she went through herself, she never stopped to look out for others, especially her family and friends. And this is what she’ll continue to do as the leader of Wizarding Britain. Hermione will fight for a better life for everyone, for all of you and for those, whose suffering is still invisible to us.

I once read an article about Hermione inheriting the title of the brightest with of our age. It said, that she sure is intelligent, but mainly book smart. If you ask me, a person, who is simply book smart could never use the knowledge in real life, right? Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Hermione’s quick thinking and brilliance at everything she does, saved Harry’s and my life more times than I care to admit. Even in the most dangerous and horrible situations she was in, her highest priority had been to keep us safe.”

I was wrong. These were the darkest hours of my life., Ron thought and Hermione’s screams echoed through his mind.

“Hermione saved me in more than one way. She taught me self-worth and confidence, which, especially as a teenager, I hadn’t much of. She believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was there for me when I needed her the most. And the best thing of all: for some unbeknown reason, she loves me. And in the end, this makes me the luckiest bloke in the world.”

For the next words Ron looked only at Hermione, who gave up to hold back her tears for quite some time now. “Befriending you had been the best thing I had ever done. I heard a lot of people say that they married their best friend. Well, I certainly did. We went through so many adventures -good and bad- together and I`m happy to say, that the good ones outweigh the bad ones big time. I love you, Hermione and I`m ready for this next adventure to come our way.”

[hrbumga]

Review: Deathless, Cathrynne M. Valente

Overall Rating: 2.5/5 stars.

This review contains heckin’ spoilers. I had about as mixed feelings as you could have about this book. On one hand, I can see where it gets it’s hype—a lot of the descriptions are beautiful, Valente manages to weave a rich tapestry of images and situations so that each page dazzles you anew. The thing is, I think I liked this book. Think. To be honest, I’m not totally sure. While rewritten fairytales for adults is a genre I’m drawn to, I think there were a lot of issues I had with this book, and furthermore some of the strangest things about Deathless actually didn’t take place within its pages at all. Let’s put a pin in that.

Structural Integrity

I can’t tell if the structure was the thing I took the most issue with, or if it was just the first thing I noticed. I’m mostly going to focus on the prologue and parts 1 and 2, since that’s where I have the issue.

The prologue opens with a boy (when I say boy I mean little kid, I think he was like 9 or 10) standing trial for not being available to fight in The War(TM). One of the people trying him is Marya Morevna, our protagonist. In a moment of kindness, she tells the boy to turn, run, and never look back, letting him escape punishment. Are we going to remember this? Of course, it’s the prologue, an introduction to the core of the story. Does it come up again? Kinda. In part 6, we loop back around to it, which makes me think part 6 should’ve been more of an epilogue to pair with the prologue.

So anyway, all we really derive from that is Marya is either a traitor to whatever war she’s a part of or is sympathetic to children. Or both. Which, okay, having a prologue mainly focused on the character we’ll be following makes sense. We either see who she is or who she was, and we get a sense that this Marya is/was a strong yet kind hearted character. Put a pin in that.

Part 1 is Marya’s upbringing, taking place either right before or during the Bolshevik Revolution. There’s a lovely, fairytale-esque portion in the beginning where as a little girl, she watches from her window as birds hop down from the tree outside, transform into handsome, wealthy men ask to marry the girl in the window and in turn, each of Marya’s three older sisters are married off. She waits for her turn and is teased by schoolmates for believing in magic. As time goes on, more families move into her cramped home for communal living and she visits the house elves that live between the walls, who tell her that Papa Koschei, the Tsar of Life (a kind of god/demigod figure in folklore from what I can gather), will come for her soon. She visits a creepy widow next door who turns out to be the Tsaritsa of the Hour who tells her pretty much the same.

Finally, on cue, a handsome young man named Koschei, who is in fact an ancient, old, old man comes to the door to take her away from this life of poverty and be his fiancée. Marya is roughly sixteen at this point. The part ends with him grooming her while spiriting her away to the magic land of Buyan. When I say grooming, I mean he’s literally taking her willpower away as though it’s an object, slowly, over time. Part 1 ends with Marya disobeying his order not to speak (literally all she says is she’s feeling a little better after being violently ill all journey) and he punishes her by biting her tongue til she bleeds.

Then part 2 kicks off! The beginning of part 2 begins with Zemlehyed the leshy and Naganya the vintovnik bickering. Classic them! Then Madame Lebedeva hops off her horse from a firebird hunt.

If you just said, “wait, back up, who are these people? What’s a leshy?” you are not alone! Oh, eventually Marya turns up too. Yeah, turns out there’s been a major time skip from the point where Marya was a starving, impoverished child to a magical being’s bride-to-be, who’s dressed in jewels and gold, has three whimsical pals that are framed as though we’ve already been endeared to them, and is super into her kinky BDSM lifestyle with her ancient groom. This transition has taken a year. Mind you, Marya isn’t just our protagonist, she’s the one the narration follows, so any internal monologue with her grappling with whateverthehell happened in that year is just something the reader doesn’t get.

Sure, her and her whimsical folktale fae friends have snappy dialogue and seem close, but we see literally nothing of how they get there. It’s a neck-snapping tonal whiplash from part 1 and frankly, had this not been a book club pick I would have DNF’d at the beginning of part 2 so quickly.

That’s a big issue I have with this. The parts don’t have much of a narrative through line, not really. The time jumps are janky and messy, we’re tossed in the deep end constantly. I think if the book had begun with part 2, I wouldn’t have minded the deep-endedness, that’s how books are at first. Have part 1 be a prologue or split up in flashbacks. But no, you read part 1, get accustomed to what the book is, and then quick as a whip you’re in a completely different novel altogether. It doesn’t read as cute or clever, but rather awkward and annoying.

While the beginning of part 2 has flimsy explanations of what leshy and vintovik are, as well as other Russian creatures and characters, it’s all missile launched at you so quickly you don’t have time to actually absorb any of it.

The Book Doesn’t Breathe

Boy howdy, for a story with Buyan, where the buildings literally have flesh and blood, it sure doesn’t leave space for air. Like I mentioned before, it often tosses unfamiliar terminology, stories, archetypes, and situations at you all at once without a moment’s notice. If the book is trying to cater to a new adult demographic in America, it doesn’t do an adequate job of hosting the reader in this new strange world. It’s a shame, really, because Valente describes things incredibly vividly and beautifully. Description in this book? Great. However, it feels as though character and plot development were sacrificed in the process. You’re yanked from one cast to the next, and Marya has very little impact on anything at all.

Okay, so, Naganya is this spunky steampunk-like troll creature. One of the main (thus, new) characters in part 2. She’s introduced as a close friend of Marya’s, which, okay. Moving on. They go on a wacky adventure! You see their relationship organically. While you’re still frustrated there was no build, you’re kinda on board. Okay, great. End of part 2? Naganya’s murdered. Slaughtered, in fact, pretty brutally. Gone, dead. Didn’t matter. Moving on to part 3’s cast!

While Naganya’s ghost is referenced and Marya’s like, “F in the chat, that was a bummer dude,” that’s about all we get. Again, there’s no insight into whether she gives a damn. She uses sentences like “I loved my friends, them being dead is a downer” but it’s extremely tell-don’t-show. The thing is, in part 3, it’s ten years later and Marya is a hardened war general in her late 20s who simply doesn’t have the time or emotional energy to deal with that stuff.

Marya, Paperdoll Protagonist

I was watching a video essay where the essayist mentioned that Disney princesses in the Disney Renaissance were passive protagonists. Even if they were the main character, the story wasn’t about their growth and development, but rather it was about them being a free spirited teen who eventually settles down with a man. The heroes get the emotional arcs, not the heroines. Nearly all princesses from this era were more just placed in a setting and waded through it as things happened around them. Flat, unchanging, stagnant, like dolls.

Marya is like that.

Our protagonist never has any agency in the book. She’s groomed as a child, pushed around by Baba Yaga in part 2, pushed around by her husbands in part 3, and so on. She literally is just rolling with the punches. At a couple points she mentions wanting to free a bunch of sweatshop workers, but the narrative doesn’t budge, but rather tells her “no,” and railroads her forward in the predestined plot line like a bad D&D Dungeon Master.

Now, real quick, I don’t necessarily think this is inherently a bad thing as a narrative. Highlighting Marya’s lack of agency could be interesting and lead to a story that’s satisfying to read. It might not be how I would want a heroine to be treated but hey, different strokes. Here’s the problem: some Russian readers and reviewers have pointed out that this is absolutely antithetical to who Marya was in original Russian folklore. She was a warrior queen. She didn’t have to beg and cajole her way to power, she had it all along. Subverting traditional fairytales is also not inherently bad, though it’s been pointed out that this subversion in particular does a disservice to the character. Not to mention that Valente isn’t Russian herself, didn’t grow up listening to these tales, but rather seems to have appropriated them for her own gain. I’m not Russian, I can’t speak to whether or not Valente mistreated original texts, but I encourage readers to look into reviews written by Russian people who’ve read and reacted to the book. (Note: in the interest of attempting to be balanced, there is a review from a Russian who really liked Valente’s treatment, so there’s also that.)

Here are some of the more critical reviews:

Nastassja’s Review

Kogiopsis’s Review (which links to a couple others as well)

Liz’s Review

Did I cherry-pick these reviews because they aligned with my feelings? Yeah, admittedly, I did, and I encourage anyone to read through all of the reviews at their leisure if they’re really interested in potentially reading, because most of the reviews are good ones.

The Diptych Conspiracy: A Space Opera

The strangest thing I found while reading Deathless actually has nothing to do with the text itself, but rather the metatextual… idk, nature? of the book. As of now, and seemingly since very early after Deathless was published in 2011, it’s been marketed as part of a series called the Leningrad Diptych.

Valente announced on her personal blog that there would be a companion book of sorts that didn’t follow the same storyline as Deathless, but was made to act as a spiritual parallel.

She announced that Deathless would have a twin, Matryoshka, which was picked up by Tor, the same publisher who published Deathless, to be released in 2015. That’s where things get sticky.

If you google “matryoshka valente,” you get a couple of hits. When you click those hits, they take you to webpages that allegedly are selling Matryoshka according to titles and headers on the page. However, the book listed was published in 2019, not 2015. And the book’s description has nothing about Russian folklore or historical fiction, but something about a metagalactic space empire. And also, the book cover says it’s called Space Opera.

???????????????????

I wasn’t alone in my confusion though, thanks to this gem of a comment on Goodreads:

Apparently, at some point, the twin in the Leningrad Diptych was listed as an entry on Goodreads at one point. It was unnamed at the time, perhaps the title wasn’t announced for publishing yet. Then, inexplicably, Valente (who is a Goodreads author and therefore is able to edit her profile and her book entries) overwrote the entry entirely. Apparently, Matryoshka has been “postponed indefinitely.” I can’t find official word on this, but nothing has been mentioned about this book since 2013, so I have to assume that’s correct.

Okay, then why overwrite the entry? Why transform Matryoshka into Space Opera, this confusing some auto-updated websites and more importantly confusing me, 7 years later, at 2am when I have COVID and can’t sleep?

I have absolutely no basis for this, but I have a theory. Valente announces Matryoshka and creates a listing on Goodreads for the upcoming book (was the book actually okayed for publishing? Could she have announced it before it was played so her following pushed the publisher into okaying it? Probably not likely and I don’t know, but that’s besides the point). Anyway, she gets all this hype up about this new book, and Goodreads users add it to their to-read lists.

Then, something happens. The book is trunked, writer’s block happens, 30-50 feral hogs destroy all the existing copies, the publisher cancels it, whatever. It’s a bummer (no, really, I know I dumped on Deathless earlier but I’d be interested in the companion novel). Life goes on, Valente writes a new novel, sci-fi this time. That’s a completely different genre though, and fans might be antsy if you announce Space Opera while Matryoshka is theoretically still on the table.

So you simply overwrite the entry. Wipe Matryoshka from Goodreads, swap it with Space Opera when no one is looking.

Now, a bunch of people have your new sci-fi book on their to-read list and are none the wiser. When the book is finally released in 2019, they all get notifications that the book they want is ready, hooray! Most don’t bat an eye, maybe reserve a copy. Some might go, “oh, I don’t remember saving this book, but here it is. And it’s an author I like, so I must’ve done it.” Plus, everyone on their friends list gets a lil nudge in their algorithms that’s like “hey, Sue marked Space Opera as want-to-read. I’ll bet you’d like it too.” Your unknown sci-fi novel is suddenly in front of a lot of eyeballs and on a lot of wishlists, while the previous book is quietly swept under the rug. Success. You never mention the other book again. Matryoshka, who?

But again, I’m looking waaaaay too far into this. As of first writing this It’s 2am, I’m on day three of COVID-aligned symptoms, still waiting for my test results which is scary, therefore I can’t sleep. Also I’m a little bored.

Anyway, Deathless was alright I guess.

[jillianreneewriting]

A Wicked Game, Chapter One

Hey! So I’ve decided to publish the first chapter of my novel here, just wanting to try something new since Wattpad ain’t it anymore. Enjoy!

Andromeda’s POV

She has the exact likeness of Selene. Save for her olive-toned skin, the youthful glint in her deep blue eyes, and what’s more, she was alive. The young woman in question balances on the balls of her feet, rocking onto her toes, as she reaches for a leather-bound journal. From her view down on the floor, in the dark room, the journal appears to at the very least look similar to Selene’s. The very same one that she and her sisters have been looking for - for weeks now. Her fingertips claw at the binding of the book, nearly causing her to fall when she is unable to grip the book to pull it down.

 It’s late. Or is it early? It’s been hours since Andromeda was last able to gauge the time of day by barely glancing out the window beside her. All she knows is that one glance out the windows allows her to see the sky enveloped in a velvety darkness, nothing else visible but shadows and the blue tinged twilight. 

Nevertheless, one thing is certain. It is much, much later than Andromeda had anticipated staying up. Time had run away from her - an occurrence that had been becoming more frequent in the past few weeks. Andromeda abandons the hauntingly beautiful view outside the large windows, in favor of the chair positioned beside the very same window she’d been gazing out mere moments before. 

Andromeda instinctively pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, trying to figure out how to get up to the book without alerting her sisters. She recalls her evening promise to the pair of sisters, how she had guaranteed to be in bed at a reasonable time, at the very least in her room. Clearly her sisters were catching onto her unhealthy coping mechanisms. With a sigh, she pushes the small wave of guilt away for breaking her own promise.

She lifts back up onto her toes, attempting to get a better look at the bookshelf she’s been reaching for. No matter how hard she might try, there’s no way she can stifle the groan that she responds with, upon realizing that the journal - is most certainly not Selene’s. It’s not the centuries - hell - eons-old spellbook that Selene had been given by her mother, as was the tradition in witch customs. 

It’s leather-bound, and even has nearly identical golden-bronze foil that Selene’s spellbook has always been covered in for as long as Andromeda can remember, not that her memory was always correct, nor complete. The only object missing from the journal, proving that it is far from the correct book, is the center, embossed semi-precious crystal. Andromeda recalls how she had seen the closed journal on the table one morning, remembering how the crystal caught the sunlight and sent it in hundreds of different directions, making the room warmer as she had felt as though she were freezing. 

Andromeda can’t help but feel her veins flood with absolute ire, her head dropping into her hands as she sags onto the couch a few feet away from her. The cold draft blowing in from an open window somewhere in the house swallows her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms quickly rise, Andromeda shuddering momentarily in response. 

Earlier the cold air might have made her rush to her room to get warm. Instead, she realizes, the air is no longer cold enough to raise the small hairs along her arms, instead it’s a mere gust of cool wind about the room. There’s nowhere else the damned spellbook could be. They had already lost the most important thing that was in Selene’s possession. She feels her jaw automatically tense, clenching in frustration, fists tightening as well. 

She suddenly begins to feel a wave of exhaustion take over, most likely from the pent up frustrations she has kept from what little of her family that remains. She is nearly certain that the complexity of the sudden waves of emotions have to be caused by the different relationship she had with Selene compared to either one of her other sisters. For once, Andromeda welcomes sleep with nearly open arms. Just for a moment. She thinks to herself, knowing that the second her eyes shut, she will slip away into an obscure, muscle-aching slumber. 

---

“She’s still making a mess out there, isn’t she?” Cressida mutters to her twin, keeping her eyes closed, trying not to allow herself to fully wake up just yet. She can still sense the jet black darkness resting just outside of the window, knowing that once she blinks the sleep from her eyes, that she won’t be able to easily fall back asleep for some time. The only response she gets from her sister is a few grumbles and the reminder to leave her alone muttered under her breath. Cressa can’t help but let out a soft laugh, but it’s not a light-hearted one. She can just about feel the anger radiating off of their sister through the walls of their one-room, hoping that the intensity might die down soon so she might get some real sleep soon. 

She knows just how Andromeda is feeling right now. She feels the need to prove herself, she feels the need to find their mother’s book all on her own. Cressida twirls a few already curly strands of red hair around her index finger, concentrating deeply on her own racing thoughts. 

She can’t help but wonder what would happen if Andromeda actually managed to find the oldest piece of magic within the manor that they had practically torn apart searching for. Is it possible? Could it mean something? Would she be the one who has to open it first? What if someone else finds it and she is meant to, and opens it first? Cressida grits her teeth, trying to ignore the swift thoughts passing by in her head, attempting in earnest, to fall back asleep. 

The most she manages to do before the sun starts streaming through the parted blinds across the room, is to pull the blankets over her head as if she were a child, and roll over onto her stomach, squeezing her eyes shut - willing herself back to sleep. 

---

Viper isn’t genuinely asleep, nowhere near the calm darkness of dreams and harmonious memories. She hasn’t been all night, unlike her twin - who appears able to sleep through nearly anything and everything. Not because of her younger sister stressfully searching for their late mother’s magical journal, but because of deafening thoughts that grow louder with each passing second, making her feel the need to slam the pillow over her ears. 

She can hear the springs of her twin sister’s mattress beside hers, as she tosses and turns, making Viper wonder if she might be having the same sleeping problem as she currently is. She’s about to open her mouth to call out through the darkness of their shared room. She quickly thinks better of that decision, realizing it might be more of a disturbance to try to talk to her sister, however softly, when the springs finally stop creaking. 

Viper doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until she finally exhales just as her twin falls silent once more herself.  She wishes that she could block out the dark thoughts just as everyone else around her appears to be able to do. Finally she decides to simply give up, sitting upright in her bed, combing her fingers through her silky, straight hair that sits just above the nape of her neck. 

----

When Andromeda is roused from her shockingly soothing rest, the first view her eyes adjust to, are of her two older sisters in the same room as her. The only difference is that they’ve clearly been awake for some time, and they sit ladylike at an antique table in the center of the room, the legs of the table and the chairs digging into the aged rug beneath them. Not surprisingly, Viper’s hair is calm, undoubtedly taking mere moments to brush out, having it rest so short on her neck, unexpectedly blonde compared to just about every family member they had ever met. 

Her hands are folded delicately onto the table, as she locks eyes with her twin. Cressida’s hair definitely must have taken a great deal longer than Viper’s. With her auburn-coppery hair that just so happens to also be thick, and twice as curly. Her hair rests against the middle of her back, swinging a bit when she lifts her arm to elbow Viper. 

With a second soft nudge from her twin, Viper clears her throat, gesturing towards Andromeda, to join them. Now they all perch around the same centuries old table that has been in the same place in their house their entire lives. Viper glances down and watches as sunlight hits the table just right; bringing out the ageing scars brought about by the three of them as children. Some are complete carvings into the underside of the dark and mismatched wood stains, others are simple permanent ink spills from over the years that their mother had been unable to get to in time. 

 Viper has to exhale slowly to help re-focus her attention. It is far too early for this bullshit. She absentmindedly traces each of their initials underneath the table  

“We have an obligation to find that book. Whether or not it gets buried with Selene. We must work together, or else we may never find it - certainly not in the length of time we currently are working with. We have to be willing to start as early as possible. We have to find it before Eleanor arrives.” 

“I stayed up all night in here rummaging around, I about knocked the entire bookcase onto myself and would have if I wasn’t careful. If that book was still in this manor, on a single acre of this land, don’t you think we might have at least found some sort of clue that she would leave behind? You know that she was expecting her death, it’s the one vision she could never see, same as when we were children.”

Cressida and Viper exchange a glance, full of both worry and fear, but also with the thinnest layer of optimism and hope. Andromeda looks at them confused, and they quickly turn their attention back to her, hoping that she might not have noticed the silent conversation occurring between the two. 

“Selene would never have left a power vacuum this strong - not on purpose.  You know how protective of the family magic and heirlooms she was. She must have left it with someone else,” Andromeda insists, leaning her forearms onto the table. Viper fights the urge to tell her to take her elbows off the table, a rule she has always found to be odd. All Viper can appear to think of is everything and anything that she wants to tell Andromeda, but doesn’t know it would be safe enough to let her know about her history. 

Selene might be dead now, but that doesn’t mean that everything can just change with a snap of her, or anyone else’s fingers. Not until they find out which of them is the rightful heir, and in order to do that, they have to find the gods-damned book. Viper feels her chest tighten at the idea of telling her everything, of helping her remember everything, and the relief that would finally wash over all three of them, the tension finally gone. Yet, she is roughly pulled from her fantasy by the conversation continuing. 

“Who else could she possibly send it to? She specifically outlined in the will that we were to have possession of the journal.” Cressida is the only one to respond to Andromeda’s inquiry. Viper sits there quietly, looking back and forth between the two sisters, not wanting to interject just yet. 

“We’re not her only family. Eleanor herself is coming. She’s made sure that the entire town is aware, and then some, of her looming presence. She’s up to something, that we know thus far. What if she has the book?” Andromeda retorts, already impatient, pushing herself up from the table. 

“What are you insinuating?”

“I’m simply suggesting that perhaps our aunt has access to the book, and that’s why she never came for either the funeral or the will reading because she knew she would have to give us the journal at some point.” 

“Then why come now?” 

“Something must have changed.”

Viper runs her fingers through her surprisingly short hair, finger grazing the back of her neck as her hands fall from her hair, thinking, and worrying. It’s finally no longer an ungodly hour of the morning. Andromeda notices this and leaves without another word - to get ready for the day, so she might be able to make a trip to town. 

She throws her closet doors open wide, taking no more than a few inhales to find the dress she plans to wear, or rather, tunic. She takes it, and tosses it onto the bed, knowing to curb Viper’s motherly concerns and tendencies, that she’ll still have to wear a corset underneath. Why can they never make these laces be in the front of the corset? Why make life so much more complicated than it needs to be? 

The more that she gazes at the soft fabric of the casual men’s garment, the more that she longs to touch it, to feel it hanging off her body, wishing that women could get garments such as that. Her thoughts grow scattered quickly, no train of thought in sight as the telltale sound of someone walking to a stand outside of her bedroom door can be heard. A few moments later, and there’s a knock at her door. 

Andromeda sighs, as she begins to button up her tunic, from bottom to top, thankfully in the front, unlike her corset. How she had managed to tie the laces on her own she has no clue, she’s only been able to a few times. She pulls her hair all onto one side so that it can’t get in the way. She quickly follows the movement by pulling her hair off of her neck, and into a small piece of ribbon. One more glance at her reflection in the mirror, and she goes to answer the door. 

“Viper, what are you doing here?” Andromeda asks, confused and startled, as to finding her sister standing mere inches in front of her. Viper looks her up and down, lips pressing into a thin line. Andromeda can nearly see the worry lines creasing in her sister’s forehead. 

“I need to ask you to do something for me.” Viper doesn’t wait very long, if at all, before going and sitting on the bed, leaving Andromeda in the doorway of her bedroom. Andromeda frustratingly presses her lips together, gesturing for her to continue what she had to ask her. 

“Go on.” 

“Take Cressida with you,” she insists, gesturing back to the door she came through. She then pulls out a small leather pouch, the initials obvious, yellow embroidered “S,” “A,” and “M.” Selene Andromeda Mejia. Andromeda doesn’t love seeing the all too obvious reminder that Selene had decided to name her after herself in a way or another. Viper shakes the bag so that Andromeda can hear multiple coins clinking within the bag. 

“Is that all?” Andromeda responds, incredulous, as Viper pushes the bag into her hands. Viper hesitates at first, wondering if she should bring up the thoughts racing through her mind. She decides against it, at least for the moment, and shakes her head. 

“That’s all for now. Try to be quick, I don’t want to have to worry about you or Cressa catching a cold right now.” Andromeda simply puts the small bag of gold, silver, and bronze coins into the deepest pocket of her coat. She reaches into her other pocket, and tugs on her gloves, as she walks out towards Cressida. 

---

The hard cobblestone street is cold beneath their feet, as Andromeda has her hair done up off of her neck, and Cressida’s auburn hair whips around in the frost-bitten wind. The pair walk in silence, only the occasional cleared throat or cough to remind the other that they weren’t alone. Andromeda, for the most part, keeps her eyes trained to the ground, watching her own feet move among the iced over, snow-covered ground. It isn’t until she looks over at her older sister beside her, that she realizes that her gloves are worn through in the fingers. Practically useless. She stays silent about it though - they both do.  The closer they get to the heart of the town, the warmer it starts to become, and the louder it grows. 

Andromeda slips a hand into the coat pocket that holds the bag of coins, still standing beside Cressida. Just as she notices the fabric vendor has a few extra pairs of gloves for the season, so does just about everyone else, and the pair is nearly knocked to the ground as everyone near them push past them to get into line. Cressida grabs a hold of Andromeda’s arm, helping to keep the two of them together and to stop her from falling. 

Without another word, Cressa holds a hand out to her younger sister, bending her fingers to gesture for her to give her the money bag. Andromeda remains close to her sister after placing the bag in her open palm. Cressida walks off away from Andromeda, letting her know that she’ll be right back to reassure her. She can see her sister milling about the other vendors as she walks up the rest of the way toward one of the fruit stalls. Well, not just any fruit stall. Cressa glances around her, searching for one, in particular, the strawberry stand. Where Aaliyah stands every weekend, usually with her aunt, sometimes completely alone, and Cressa is hoping for the latter. 

She sees the stand, but no one tending to it whatsoever, and she can’t help but begin to fear the worst. Until she catches a glimpse of caramel brown hair just below the top of the stall, a young woman bent over, trying to pull boxes full of ripening strawberries out from underneath the countertop of her stall. Cressa drops the bag of coins onto the tabletop, somewhat patiently waiting while gently tapping a foot against the cobblestone below.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be right with you!” Aaliyah’s honeyed voice soothes over Cressa’s ears, such a reassuring sound that makes her smile - even if she doesn’t want to. Even her soft feminine grunts as she tries to get up without hitting her head, and without falling, are precious. As is common for the young woman, she is so beautiful, worth obsessing, daydreaming, and losing sanity over. Her dark skin glows a honeyed brown under the bright rays of the sun, with her slightly darker hair gently sitting against her shoulders, a few tendrils curling and plastered to her forehead and temples. 

Aaliyah has yet to realize that the patron in front of her is Cressa until she clears her throat. The other woman glances up for a moment, then looks back down at her full basket of fruits, and then the image of Cressa before her finally registers. She lifts her head once more, face lighting up, the pointed tips of her ears turning a bright red, as she lifts the ledge into the stall, inviting Cressida in. She humors Aaliyah, and lets her glance around, making sure no one is watching before she brings a hand to her jaw, pressing her lips to Aaliyah’s, quickly grabbing the coin purse off the counter so that no passerby can simply grab it, assuming it’s unattended. 

Without a single gesture, Aaliyah’s lips part so that Cressida can take the lead and deepen their kiss, kissing her as if she might never see her again, as if she hadn’t seen her in months. Which was true. They don’t pull apart until one of them nearly trips over a chair leg in the back of the stall. 

“I heard about your mother,” Aaliyah starts, pulling up two chairs from under the storage area of her vendor, making Cressa sit. Cressida can’t help but be distracted by her soft plump lips a few feet away from her, even though the gorgeous girl is offering her condolences, begging to help them. “How are you feeling? Do you or your sisters need any help? Is there anything I can do at all? I can bring fresh fruits and bread by tomorrow-” 

Cressa cuts her off gently, realizing where she’s trying to go with her series of favorable questions, and quickly leans forward, palms flat against Aaliyah’s knees as she moves closer - kissing the corner of her mouth. Before Aaliyah can let the cup of tea slip from her dainty hands, Cressa takes the steaming mug of liquid from her sun-kissed hands so that she is unable to drop it in favor of lacing her fingers through Cressida’s thick curls, rather simply being able to just bring her hands into Cressa’s hair, no tea problems in sight. 

“We’re fine. There’s just a surprising amount of loose ends that we need to tie up before any relaxation can happen, and Eleanor is supposed to arrive soon.” As soon as tomorrow even. Cressida doesn’t dare linger on her thoughts, rather - her fears, knowing that Aaliyah will quickly pick up on them if she isn’t careful. 

“That bitch is coming back after the funeral?” Cressida can’t help but laugh at the innocent-looking woman as the vulgar language leaves her mouth. Yet, she also agrees with every word hanging in the air. “Don’t laugh, I’m serious! She left you all to deal with the hard shit, but then once everything is calming down, she returns? What reason could she possibly have to return?” Cressida shrugs. 

“I adore your enthusiasm, thank you, Aaliyah,” she responds, picking up the mug she poured for her and taking a small sip to test the heat and the strength of the taste. Perfect as always. Cressida can’t help but smile softly to herself, as Aaliyah quickly jumps up as a knock is heard against the counter of the stall. Time begins to slip away from her, fast enough that she forgets that she didn’t come alone. 

---

Andromeda walks from stall to stall, a handful of loose coins in her closed fist which resides in her pocket. She has one bag full of fruits and vegetables, some breads and dairy products, yet she still hasn’t been able to make it back over to get her sister the gloves she knew she would like, that at the very least would keep her fingertips much warmer than they were being kept at the moment. Kicking up a small bit of melting snow, Andromeda begins to walk over to the strawberry stand, where she is aware that Cressida will most likely be. 

“Aaliyah?” She calls out, leaning her head into the stall. She watches as the girl in question’s eyebrows shoot upwards, before collecting herself and walking to the front desk, having Andromeda sign her name as she accepts the basket of fresh strawberries. Then she turns her head over her shoulder, calling out to someone in the far back of the stall. 

“Cressa, Dromeda is here!” Aaliyah’s sweet voice calls from the front of the stall, gesturing for her to hurry over to them, and she does, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek as she does so, promising to see her the next time they’re in town. Cressida tries to ignore Andromeda’s open mouth, gaping at her, for the gall to kiss Aaliyah right in front of her. 

---

“What was that about?” Andromeda asks as they walk not-so-silently back home. Cressida can feel her heart in her throat, hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with more issues while they have yet to figure out their pre-existing family drama with their beloved aunt. 

“That was nothing, she was just an old friend, Aaliyah,” Cressida quickly insists, as Andromeda slows their pace down. 

“I’m not going to judge you if you’re in love with her, Cressa,” she insists, a hand on her shoulder. 

“Well that’s not something you have to worry about, now, is it? Because I’m not.” Andromeda looks like she’s about to open her mouth to argue with her sister, but upon second thought appears to know better, and closes her mouth promptly, returning her focus to the street in front of them. She is aware that they have exponentially worse problems to worry about, all three of them, not just Andromeda, nor her and Aaliyah. She can’t bear to hide her love for Aaliyah from anyone, but for now, she knows she’s going to have to for just a little while longer. 

Copyright © 2021 Jillian Renee. All rights reserved.

[redbelles]

kastle prompt ficlet

for the lovely @ltfrankcastle (tumblr ate the ask when i tried to answer it, wtf!!!!!!) for the prompt “frank comes over one day and just... doesn’t leave. karen isn’t prepared for it, or just doesn’t consider it, but one day they run out of coffee and frank literally cannot function.”

also for @karenpage b/c she’s had a hell of a time recently and i love her muchly

title from “leather and lace” by stevie nicks and don henley because of reasons, okay? okay.

stay with me (stay)

He shows up at her door three months later, flowers in hand, complete with hangdog expression. She shouldn’t let him off the hook so easily, but shouldn’t hasn’t ever really mattered much when it comes to Frank.

“I had no idea The Punisher was so old fashioned.”

“Karen—”

“Just— shut up and come inside.”

Frank may be a goddamn idiot sometimes, but he’s far from stupid. He shuts up and comes inside.

The flowers go in a vase on the coffee table. White roses again, dotted with carnations. He’s either figured out her favorite flower or he’s the luckiest idiot in New York. Probably the former, given how their luck tends to run. It makes her chest ache just thinking about it.

She sets the vase down and turns away before her hands start to shake, fumbling with her phone. The number for Ming Wah Chinese is saved in her contacts. Good thing, because she’s not sure she’d get it right if she tried to dial from memory. She and Frank share approximately half the menu and a beer or two, sitting quietly on her couch.

She stays up as long as she can, until her eyes are gritty and she can’t stifle her yawns, and then she has to call it a night. He stays put as she moves through her nightly routine, scrubbing away the last traces of makeup, wrestling with the toothpaste because she keeps forgetting to buy a new tube; at the end of it, she stands in the doorway to her room, trying to commit the sight of him to memory.

No blood, no bruises. Frank Castle at rest.

She can’t fight down the lump in her throat, but she forces herself to speak around it. She wants to go to bed and pretend he’ll be there in the morning. Wants to pretend he can stay. Three months ago, she might have taken it on faith, trusted him and just— swallowed down the hurt if she was wrong. Now…

So make it mean something.

He couldn’t. Can’t. Now, she needs ground rules.

“Frank?”

“Mmm?”

“Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

A grin pulls up the corner of his mouth, ragged and rueful.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, more apology in those two words than she can handle at 11 pm on a Thursday.

Her heart clenches in her chest. This is why she forgives him again and again, her own better judgment be damned; he’d rather face a bullet than offer himself a little kindness. Still, she can’t bring herself to regret it.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy that night, but when it does, it’s dreamless.

The apartment smells like fresh coffee when she wakes up, the familiar scent drawing her out of bed before her alarm even has a chance to go off.

Frank is leaning against her counter, staring at her janky old coffee maker like he can will it to work faster. He’s nicked the throw blanket off the back of her couch, wrapped it around himself like a shawl. The sight is so unexpected that she bursts out laughing.

He blinks at her like an owl, sleepy and vaguely disgruntled.

“Here,” she says, taking pity on him. She prods the machine with the ease of long practice until it finally starts percolating in earnest.

“Don’t know how you live with that thing,” he mutters, voice raspier than she’s ever heard it.

“I work with a pair of broke lawyers and I freelance as a journalist on the side. You’re lucky I’ve got a working coffee maker at all.

Frank grunts in response, but it’s a familiar sound, fond.

He’s on his second cup when she leaves for work. She can’t quite bring herself to say goodbye—afraid she used up all her luck last night, and this time he’ll take it more literally than she means it—so she takes a page from his book and presses a gentle kiss to his cheek. He smells like coffee and apple-scented laundry detergent, the kind she uses because it’s always on sale. From the blanket, no doubt, but it makes her smile all the same.

She carries the smile with her all the way to the office, where it lingers until Foggy gets suspicious and starts asking questions.

“A date, Karen? Snagged your favorite pastry at the deli this morning? The New York Post finally published that retraction you’ve been after? C’mon, spill. What’s got you grinning like a loon over there?”

“Apples,” she says, like that’s a reasonable answer. Matt and his super senses aren’t in yet, so Foggy can’t look to him for back up, but he doesn’t let that stop him. He scoffs and keeps at it, like he can ferret out the secret if he’s just persistent enough.

“It’s no big deal,” she promises, still grinning.

“Denial! That means it’s absolutely a big deal.”

“If the court reporter reads back my remarks, you’ll see I did not—”

“—hey, hey! Don’t you John Mulaney at me, Karen, we’ve talked about this!”

Frank stays.

He comes and goes during the day—either that or groceries have started magically appearing in her fridge—but he stays.

The first weekend is hard, a little awkward. He fumbles through an apology for the way things played out in the hospital, winces when she tells him if he’s making amends he has to make them to Amy and Curtis and probably Madani. He draws the line at Mahoney, and she lets it slide. Brett’s had enough of them for a while; she’ll let Foggy ply him with cigars before they try anything else. Let him get his equilibrium back.

“You scared me,” she admits. “If Amy hadn’t been there, if Dinah and I hadn’t come back in time—”

She breaks off, sucks in a shaky breath. Tries again. “Maybe it was selfish of me to ask you to fight through it, to live with it, but you can’t do that again. You can’t just— lay down and die. You have to promise me you’re past that.”

His eyes are glassy with unshed tears, but he meets her gaze without flinching.

“I’m never gonna be past it, but I’m here.”

He reaches out, cradles her hand between both of his. His palms are warm and callused, achingly familiar. She’s in so goddamn deep.  

“That enough of a promise for you, Karen? Because right now that’s all I got.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, that’s enough.”

So he stays.

He’s there when she goes to bed, there when she wakes up. He gripes about her coffee maker, folds the throw with military precision when he’s not wearing it like a cape, and tries to get her to eat something homecooked at least once a week. It’s— nice. More domestic than anything she’s imagined since he burst into her life in a hail of gunfire and graveled promises, but. Nice.

She kisses him on the cheek like ritual now, every morning before she goes to work. He never denies her, never tries to dodge away, but he never takes her up on the implicit invitation. Never turns to meet her halfway, never gives into the mutual ache between them and just— kisses her.

Maybe once upon a time, she’d have pushed, but not now. He’s here; that’s all that matters, really. He’s here, and he’s safe. Anything else is just... wishing. She’s greedy for him, for everything and anything he can give her, but she can live with this.

Still, she leaves the bedroom door open at night, just because. A silent offer, easy enough for him to ignore if it’s too much. And maybe it is, but there’s a part of her that’s always going to hope.

She falls asleep listening to the sound of his breathing, just a room away, and lets herself dream.

A case blows up so badly that she spends a week and a half working past close. It doesn’t bother her—she worked stranger hours at the Bulletin—but when the schedule is finally back to normal, Matt and Foggy (mostly Foggy, let’s be real here) tell her go ahead and take the rest off the week off. Karen’s many things, but she’s not a fool. Desperate for a shower after a night spent at the office, she takes them up on it, breezing out the door just before noon and hailing a cab.

It’s quarter to one by the time she makes it through midday traffic back to her apartment. She still doesn’t really know what Frank does with his days, but if he’s around, she’s thinking maybe a late lunch? She’ll even try her hand at cooking if he’s willing to risk potential food poisoning.

Instead, she walks into her apartment to find Frank sprawled out on the couch, dead asleep. He stirs when she shuts the door, the click of the deadbolt making his eyelids flutter.

“Karen?” he rasps, and her heart beats out of time. Former Spec Ops soldier, comfortable enough in her apartment—safe enough—to let his guard down. To trust that it’s her.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Her voice is admirably steady.

He makes a pathetic noise and rolls to face her, sleepy and disgruntled.

“Coffee maker’s broken,” he mumbles. The combination of gravel and petulance in his voice is fucking adorable.

“Want me to go take a look?”

She expects him to say yes. She’s already moving toward the kitchen when he reaches out and snags her hand, pulls her close, until she’s directly in front of the couch, struggling against the urge to cradle his face, run her fingers through his stupid fluffy hair.

“Nah,” he says instead, tugging gently at her until she folds herself down onto the couch with him. It’s not a perfect fit, not by any means. Her couch is tiny, and she and Frank are about the same size, give or take some muscle. A lot of muscle. The point is, it’s a squish, but—

She scoots down until she can rest her forehead against the crook of his neck and just breathes, savoring the warmth and the calm, the quiet of the moment.

Frank Castle at peace.

“Nah,” he says again. “Got everything I need right here.”

“Mmm. That so?” It’s a good thing he can’t see her face right now, because the hope on it right now would shatter him. She knows that in her bones.

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah, that ah, that open door mean what I think it means?”

“Anything,” she tells him, so honest she nearly chokes on it. “Anything and everything. Whatever you want it to mean.”

His fingers tighten around hers, his other hand moving to stroke down her back, gentle but lingering. Just past this side of platonic. Karen bites at her lip, fighting back a shiver when his hand settles on her hip, warm and full of promise.

“Okay,” he says, all traces of sleep gone, nothing now but heat and smoke.

Still—

“Okay,” she echoes back. Presses a kiss into the skin beneath his jaw, once, twice, three times, then stands, tugging at his hand until he unfolds himself and joins her. She grins, made helpless with delight at the sight of him, whole and safe and hers. “But first, let me show you how to defeat the coffee maker,” she teases. “ I don’t want you falling asleep on m—”

Frank cuts her off mid-word, a sweet kiss that turns sly and filthy halfway through, both of them too hungry for each other to bother going slow.

He’s panting when he breaks away, the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin as he hoists her up into his arms, cradling her against his chest like it’s nothing.

“All due respect, ma’am,” he says, moving toward that open bedroom door, kicking it shut behind them as soon as he’s across the threshold. “Coffee can wait.”

[read on ao3] // [buy me a coffee?]

[runningwolf62]

@wardencommanderrodimiss @pachelbelsheadcanon

The new chapter is here featuring emotional whiplash and allegiances finally.

On AO3

What happens next is a series of incidents so coincidental and yet so perfectly aligned Larry would be tempted to call it fate. He had headed to a book store to chill and he would swear he’d just gone in to look for a book for Nick or Edgey as a Christmas present. Nothing dramatic, he’d just been caught up on his word count for the day and he’d wanted to shop and treat himself and get things out of the way so he didn’t come out of December confused and lacking presents for anyone.

And while he was there he’d remembered his promise to himself to get Tallstar’s Revenge, after WolfDragon had recommended it. So there he was in the children’s section, looking through the Warrior cats section - which he had half a mind to sort because someone respected neither series nor numbers and honestly it was a disaster trying to find anything, was this supposed to be alphabetical, because he was not going to find Tallstar’s Revenge at all like this - when the book caught his eye.

The Magic Bottle.

A simple title really, but the art on the cover was beautiful. Larry abandoned the Warrior Cats books for a moment to pick up this one, whoever the cover artist was they were fantastic at their job because Larry was for sure curious now. He flipped it over to scan the back, and cracked it open.

Well it turned out Elise Deauxnim could both write and draw, and Larry was enthralled. God where had she been when he was a kid, this shit was fantastic. He ended up buying it and after asking a worker, maybe making an excuse of shopping for a niece (listen that was the simplified version of what Pearl was and if he liked the book this much he might tell Nick to get it for her for Christmas so you know, valid) he also got Tallstar’s Revenge.

Now Tallstar’s Revenge was great, especially by Warrior standards, but he kept coming back to The Magic Bottle, the art, the characters, the pacing, it was fantastic. It made him want to write kid’s books.

Why not? You’re a really good writer and it’s not like you’re unfamiliar with kid’s lit

Thanks!

But she’s super good and I wouldn’t even know where to begin!

Stripes stop selling yourself short you’re a fantastic writer

Stripes?

I’ve mentally called you that for years deal with it

I guess it beats Orange.

“Graypaw what have I told you about talking to basketballs”

What?

Okay I’m sending you that parody as soon as I find a link to it but you should go for it! You’re talented currently inspired also unemployed

Thanks

Hey, I meant now more than ever is your chance

So what should I do?

Google this author see what else she’s written and maybe write her some fan mail

“Hi I’m a twenty-something dude, huge fan”

Look Mr. smartass if you don’t want my help

I’m just worried I’ll come off as weird!

Then lie, say it was for a nephew or something and you were really impressed too and it made you want to try writing children’s lit, how did she get started

Think she’ll answer?

She might

Worth a try

Well I did read it so only fair I review it.

Atta boy, go get ‘em

Larry grins to himself and does exactly as Wolf suggested, googling Elise Deauxnim to find that she had a PO Box. With some help and a little more encouragement from Wolf, he sends off the letter. Then he tries to calm down by focusing on his NaNo, which is mostly just him writing oneshots and a chapter or two of the fic. He hasn’t brought in Godot yet because he’s not sure what the absolute hell is going on there and he doesn’t like thinking about that day in court. He keeps sending out his resume but after how he lost his last job he’s thinking it’s a good thing he has as much in savings as he does, and he’s thinking about emergency commissions.

Until the letter arrives. He’s not sure he believes what he’s seeing but a photo sent to Wolf on discord proves that not only did Elise Deauxnim not think he was a creepy loser, she was encouraging him. She wanted to see some of his art and writing so she could tell him where he might find some agents interested in him.

DUDE

RIGHT I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW!

AGGHHHH!

That’s amazing!

AGGGHHH!

I told you you were an amazing author

OH GOD WHAT DO I SEND HER

Not the Warriors Fanfic

OBVIOUSLY

Look, take a deep breath, and like, think of a story

Doesn’t have to be great, just some kids story thing

Do some art with it

Oh god, dude that’s terrifying, every idea I had just vanished.

Alright, listen you don’t have to write the damn thing just the first three pages of something

Uh, what are kids into these days?

Great question

I’m super good at drawing cats, what do I do with that?

Write Warriors but gay

Don’t we call that Wings of Fire?

Shots fired

More seriously, what do I do with that?

Well you’re good with a very open world series with a set of rules that is easily adapted to a setting

And cat anatomy

So I’d take those elements and make it into something

That’s a horrifying Chimera.

…

You know, that could be a plot hook

What?

Well like kids love monsters right?

Write a series with a Chimera as the main character, it’s part lion

Dude, you’re a genius, I owe you my life, and the response of “no thanks I’ve seen it, I don’t want it” is probably valid

Well get to it writer-boy, you’ll do great

What he ends up with is a book series about various mythological monsters on an adventure, and an offer from Elise Deauxnim to be an apprentice under her. He says yes, of course. He moves out of his apartment and to a smaller and cheaper one closer to where she works.

It’s awkward at first, on both ends. He can tell he’s not what she expected but he tries. She helps him with his writing, telling him what his strengths are first and then slowly moving to where he needs some polishing. It’s still strained though.

The breakthrough comes one afternoon, when Larry’s phone alarm goes off. He reaches over, swipes it off, and then flips the sketchbook page he’s on to start drawing something else.

Elise, - she insist he call her Elise which is weird to him but she’s a firm but matronly woman and so he obeys – looks up at the sound.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers a quick sheepish grin but she only looks more confused.

“Did you force yourself to get a drawing complete in a certain amount of time? You know that won’t make it turn out well.”

“Oh, no,” Larry flips back to the previous drawing to show her that it’s far from complete, “I got art block so rather than sit here and think about how I had the perfect image if I could only draw it for the next hour I worked on something else for ten minutes.”

“You’re quite talented at drawing cats,” she remarks, and Larry grins.

“I’d hope after how long I’ve been drawing them.”

“So this ten minutes of drawing, does it help?”

“Kind of yeah,” Larry pulls his sketch book back to him, looking at the sketch of Cherrywing and Spiritstar, he should draw Maya and Mia sometime. Maybe- no probably not for Christmas but at some point he should. “It forces me to relax and focus on something else, and get the creative juices flowing while I work on something that’s just for me so there’s no pressure or anything. That’s why I can only do it for ten minutes or I’d never get any actual work done!”

“That’s very clever,” she’s focusing on him now and Larry can only shrug, it’s just something that’s worked for him.

“Are those your cats?”

Oh no.

“Uh no, they’re-” he scrambles for a moment, “they’re just cats.”

Elise looks at him with a look of doubt but doesn’t press, instead she turns her focus on the picture, her eyes softening as she looks at Spiritstar and Cherrywing sitting together, “you have a real talent for capturing the emotion of a scene, there’s something very peaceful and loving about it, even for a sketch.”

Larry blinks in surprise, “thank you!” That was very much what he had been going for and he was pleased that he had succeeded at such.

Elise smiles at him, “you have such a talent for landscapes too, the nature looks natural while still framing them.”

Larry rubs the back of his neck with a grin, “now you’re going to give me an ego,” he jokes but he hopes she understands how grateful he is.

By the way she looks at him she does.

-

Merry Christmas Nick!!

merry xmas

 Hey Maya, Merry Christmas!

Message failed to send.

Figures.

Message failed to send.

-

You okay man?

I

I appreciate your concern Larry but yes, I am fine

If you need to call just let me know

Before you joke yes I’m single this Christmas

That’s a kind offer but I am with my sisters

THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!?

Her daughter has a dog named Phoenix

Holy shit

Quite

-

Merry Christmas Stripes!

Merry Christmas Wolfman!

-

Larry has to say, having your mentor frame and hang your finished and signed piece because she likes it so much is like having your parents hang art on the fridge but somehow a thousand times better.

They spend the winter working, her on her story and on helping Larry grow as an artist and writer and working on her own story.

Larry helps where he can with that, mostly by trying not to bother her when she looks busy but she does ask him to do some illustrations for her, citing his abilities with landscapes. He accepts and pours his heart and soul into it.

SHE’S GOING TO HATE IT

NO SHE WON’T JUST GIVE IT TO HER

AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH

Dude

Fine! Fine!

You’ve got this, you’re a really good artist and you’ve said she’s proud of you

As she should be

So you’ve got this

Thanks man

Go get it writer-boy

You gonna buy my book Wolfman

Of course

Larry can’t help but smile at that.

But you’ve got to publish it first

Rude.

Larry tucks his phone into his pocket and hands the portfolio over to Elise. She accepts them with a smile and begins to flip through them, seeming oblivious to Larry’s nervous shuffling. She pauses at one and studies while Larry does his best to not explode or start nervously babbling.

“These are beautiful,” she remarks and Larry can feel his shoulders sag in relief, “you’ve done fantastic work.”

“Thank you, I went to the park a lot to try and get all the details right.”

“It shows,” she continues to leaf through them, Larry feels more confident so he begins to point to details he feels proud of or wants to make sure she notices.

“These are just the illustrations my book needed if you’ll allow me to use them.”

“I, uh, yes!” Larry stares at her eyes about to jump out of his skull, wait until he tells Nick! He’s successful now, look at him!

Elise laughs fondly and hands them back, “hold on to these and let me talk to my agent but that’s exactly the kind of work I couldn’t find anywhere else, your watercolor style is just what I needed.”

Larry is going to cry and just manages to thank her long enough for him to slip out and tell Wolf everything.

I’m proud of you Stripes

I’m proud of me! I feel like I’m really making myself a new person!

He’s tempted to also tell Nick but he decides to wait. To drop the book on Nick’s desk at his office. That’s how he’ll do it.

Okay so get this

Yeah?

Apparently my last name “can’t be taken seriously by publishers”.

And I thought elementary school kids were hurtful.

Oh my god

So she’s going to have me use her last name.

WHAT

Her publisher loves the idea too.

Makes me look like family.

Which sells or something?

Hey I’ll take it, I’m getting paid.

So what name should I keep an eye out for

Larry pauses, they’ve never told each other their real names, years of being Wolf and Stripes and now occasionally Writer boy and Wolfman on top of having internet safety drilled into them has always stopped them.

Look for Laurice Deauxnim.

As your number one fan I want a signed copy at some point

-

“Larry,” he looks up from his typing craze at the sound of his name, he’s made a lot of progress on this chapter and with Elise’s help he’s hoping to get it done and sent to publishers by May. That’s his new year’s resolution, getting published this year.

Elise pauses her typing and he hears her sigh. He looks up to her, her face is set and determined but when she looks to him he thinks he sees regret.

“Larry, I’m afraid a situation has come up and I know it’s very last minute but unless you want to come to a monastery with me I’m afraid you’re going to have to spend the next week or so without me.”

“What?” Larry feels a surge of panic not unlike the time he discovered he hadn’t saved in an hour, “a monastery? Why are you- where are you going?”

“Hazakura Temple,” she replies with a pause, Larry has never heard of it but he pulls it up on google quick enough. A teaser for an upcoming edition of the “Oh! Cult” Magazine pops up with some lovely images. Looks cold but interesting.

“Sure I’ll come. I’ve had art block for the past week maybe trying to do some temple scenes will help!”

Elise pauses and smiles kindly, “if you really want to…”

“I need some winter scene practice too,” Larry is not looking forward to wandering around the cold but Elise was going there for some reason, maybe he’ll find a muse there as well.

He flicks his finger over the picture hanging on the wall, the one that still made him smile to see there, “and I’ll give you a winter scene to compliment the summer one.”

Whatever hesitation Elise seems to be having vanishes as she laughs softly, “alright. Make sure to dress warm.”

And in honor of @pachelbelsheadcanon‘s fantastic art, here’s a list of the allegiances. 

SpiritClan

Leader

Spiritstar – a cream she-cat with darker paws and face

Deputy

Darkleaf – a dark brown tom

Medicine Cat

Cherrywing – a cream she-cat with darker striped paws and face

Apprentice: Splashpaw

Warriors

Firebirdstorm – a bright orange tabby with spikey fur

Orangestripe – an orange tabby tom with scruffy fur

Beetlelight – a brown tabby tom with a white chin

Apprentices

Splashpaw – a white she-cat with brown paws and face

 Demon’s Group

Demon – a dark gray tom with thick fur, especially on his chest, formerly Sharppaw of SpiritClan

Viper – a gray she-cat with cold blue eyes, formerly a rogue

Timber – a brown tabby tom with messy fur

Bird – a calico she-cat with mostly dark red patches

Wolf – large thick furred gray tom

[thomastair]

Alone 2/?

Summary: Helen has lived her entire life lonely (despite her six siblings). The entire world seems to be rigged against her, or maybe she’s rigged against the world. Aline is the first person in years who simply exists and doesn’t demand anything of her. The first person who makes her feel less alone.

(Alternatively the angsty haline fic no one asked for)

Chapter 2/?

Chapter Two:

“The day I give a shit about what people think of me is the day I retire.” Aline said to her cell phone. The exasperated voice of her manager Freeman Mayhew filtered through the line.

“I’m just saying it’s not the best PR for you.”

“That I’m lesbian?”

“Yes that you’re-yes-”

Mayhew was a balding man with a thin gray mustache. His pastimes included complaining about the newest generation and denying science. His voice often sounded like he was about to spew an ignorant comment at Thanksgiving. Aline didn’t have the patience for him on good days, and this was not a good day.

“I just remembered I have a lunch date.” Aline said to the phone, propping her feet up on her desk. She studied the toes of her shiny black shoes while Mayhew droned on for another thirty seconds.

“And some publishers might turn you down-”

Aline groaned and pulled her feet down, swiveling in her chair to look out her window. “As much as I’d love to discuss homophobic publishing companies I really need to go,” She hung up to Mayhew’s muffled protests.

Standing, she texted Alec. Lunch at The Oracle? Honestly she just needed to get out of her apartment.

Aline’s apartment was a whirlwind or papers, used coffee cups, and books with well loved covers, spread out in a mini hurricane. She claimed that the mess added to her “one of the most famous writers in the world” aesthetic.

Yeah that’s right, with three bestselling novels and two bestselling trilogies, Aline Penhallow had her name in the mind of any avid bookworm. It was a little exhilarating, like taking a swig of too strong vodka when you were expecting water, to know that so many people knew your name.

Not that that would amount to much if she didn’t get inspiration for another book or series soon. Aline had been in a writing slump for a year, and people were starting to get antsy.

She sighed and made her way to the door of her apartment, winding through the varied clutter of clothes and rough drafts. The polished wood of her entryway shone like an angled CD in the light from one of the east facing windows. As she stepped out onto her front step she noticed a mangey tabby cat darting across the street, running from the clack of her shiny shoes.

Aline smiled and started down the steps to her car. A small breeze lifted the edges of her leather jacket. The sun beat down on the roof of her blood red BMW. The day was a good day again. For a moment she pretended there was no manager breathing down her neck, or looming deadline for her career. There was only the wheel of her car, the soft roar of the engine, and the music playing over the speakers.

“So at last you’re free

It’s the way you wanted it to be

And the price you paid

To become a woman of today

Is it worth the pain to see the children cry

Does it hurt when they ask for Daddy?” The radio sang. Aline rolled down her window and ran a hand through her dark hair. The trees lining the road cast dapples of light on her cheeks. It was only her and the pavement. Sometimes she dreaming of driving and driving and driving where no one would find her. Driving where the only sounds were the hum of her car and the beat of her heart.

The Oracle was a cafe frequented by hipsters, tourists, and people with nothing better to do. It had the carefully cultivated feel of a place that always had been and always will be. Aline had written her second novel ‘Why Not?’ primarily on one of the cafes’ faded armchairs. She’d also met her best friend Alec when he’d visited The Oracle on one grey rainy Saturday. The entire block was an area where inexplicable magic happened.  

Alec was waiting at one of the tables. As she watched he pulled out his phone- no doubt to check the time- and then glanced up and made eye contact with her. Alec was wearing an incredibly soft looking sweater with several holes in it. Alas, they were not artistically placed fashionable holes, but the holes of a sweater that has been worn within an inch of it’s life.

Aline squeezed into the chair opposite him and grinned.

“What’s up?”

Alec handed her a menu. “The sky.” He deadpanned. She made a face at him.

They ordered their food and lapsed into comfortable silence, occasionally peppered with off hand comments:

“Straight girls with the word gay in their usernames bother me.”

“I fell out of bed this morning and the first thing I said was, ‘I want to die’ and I think that sums up how my day’s been going so far”

“Do you want cheetos? Because I’m getting cheetos after this.”

“Are Republicans…okay…”

Aline winked at Alec over her coffee after he spilled his water and he burst into laughter.

“How are we still functioning human beings?” He asked, after wiping his lap gingerly with a paper napkin.

Aline pretended to think for a moment. “Define functioning.” He grinned at her and leaned back, running his fingers over the scratched surface of the table.

“How’s old Fuckman doing?” Alec asked, in regards to her manager. Aline groaned and began to pick at her nail polish.

“Same old, same old. He doesn’t want me to come out because he thinks it’ll be bad PR.” She said. Flakes of red were spiraling down, down from the tips of her fingers, like blood.

Alec made a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “Seriously?” He caught the look on her face. “Is he right?”

“I think so. Maybe some countries wouldn’t allow my books to be distributed there if I came out to the public.” Nail polish flakes rained down. “And I want to reach those closeted kids in those countries you know? Make them somehow see that they aren’t alone and that nothing’s wrong with them, and I can do that through my writing but…”

Alec nodded. “It sucks to be in the  closet. And you’re basically still in the closet.”

“Not to the people that matter, but yeah.” She abandoned pulling her nail polish off and swiped the flakes onto the floor.

Alec hummed. “That sucks dude.”

She grinned, “Ah yes, the ever helpful Alec Lightwood everybody.”

“Fuck off.”

Aline’s phone rang, a sharp cold sound in the warmth of the cafe. “That’s my cue.” She stood, brushing off her jeans.

Alec waved. “Text you later.”

As Aline stepped out of The Oracle a feeling of sudden importance washed over her, the waves of an oncoming storm. She shivered at something that had nothing to do with the cold. The way the wind was blowing the leaves of nearby trees seemed to signal a turning event. An event that could leave her for better or for worse.

And now you’re introduced to Aline! She’s a lot less angsty than Helen (but that’s soon to change). Did any of you guys get the meaning of the song that was in this chapter? (Will update soon or whenever I feel like it)

[thecontentedreader]

Wow! I can’t believe today is the last day of 2017. Is it just me or did this year just fly by? 

As a book lover, I find that with each passing year the book selections for the young adult genre just get better and better over time. There are so many books to look forward to in 2018 and I’ve rounded up a few books in particular that I can’t wait to get my hands on! 

My most anticipated books of 2018 are under the cut! 

January:

Book: Say You’ll Remember Me | Author: Katie McGarry | Publisher: Harlequin Teen | Pages: 400 | Release Date: January 30th

Synopsis:

When Driz was convicted of a crime - one he didn’t commit - he thought his life was over. But opportunity came with the new Second Chance Program, the governor’s newest pet project to get delinquents off the streets, rehabilitated and back into society. Drix knows this is his chance to get his life back on track, even if it means being paraded in front of reporters for a while. 

Elle knows she lives a life of privilege. As the governor’s daughter, she can open doors with her name alone. But the expectations and pressure to be someone she isn’t may be too much to handle. She wants to follower her own path, whatever that means. 

When Drix and Elle meet, their connection is immediate, but so are their problems. Drix is not the type of boy Elle’s parents have in mind for her, and Elle is not the kind of girl who can understand Drix’s messy life. 

But sometimes love can breach all barriers. 

Fighting against a society that can’t imagine them together, Drix and Elle must push themselves - Drix to confront the truth of the robbery, and Elle to assert her independence - and each other to finally get what they deserve. 

Book: The Upside of Falling Down | Author: Rebekah Crane | Publisher: Skyscape | Pages: 252 | Release Date: January 30th

Synopsis:

For Clementine Haas, finding herself is more than a nice idea. Ever since she woke up in an Irish hospital with complete amnesia, self-discovery has become her mission. 

They tell her she’s the lone survivor of a plane crash. They tell her she’s lucky to be alive. But she doesn’t feel lucky. She feels ... lost. 

With the relentless Irish press bearing down on her, and a father she may not even recognize on his way from America to take her home, Clementine assumes a new identity and enlists a blue-eyed Irish stranger, Kieran O’Connell, to help her escape her forgotten life ... and start a new one. 

Hiding out in the sleepy town of Waterville, Ireland, Clementine discovers there’s an upside to a life that’s fallen apart. But as her lies grow, so does her affection for Kieran, and the truth about her identity becomes harder and harder to reveal, forcing Clementine to decide: Can she leave her past behind for a new love she’ll never forget?

February:

Book: Tempest and Slaughter | Author: Tamora Pierce | Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers | Pages: 480 | Release Date: February 6th

Synopsis:

Arram. Varice. Ozorne. In the first book in the Numair Chronicles, three student mages are bound by fate ... fated for trouble. 

Arram Draper is a boy on the path to becoming one of the realm’s most powerful mages. The youngest student in his class at the Imperial University of Carthak, he has a Gift with unlimited potential for greatness - and for attracting danger. At his side are his two best friends: Varice, a clever girl with an often-overlooked talent, and Ozorne, the ‘leftover prince’ with secret ambitions. Together, these three friends forge a bond that will one day shape kingdoms. And as Ozorne gets closer to the thorne and Varice gets closer to Arram’s heart, Arram begins to realize that one day soon he will have to decide where his loyalties truly lie. 

In the Numair Chronicles, readers will be rewarded with the never-before-told story of how Numair Salmalin came to Tortall. Newcomers will discover an unforgettable fantasy adventure where a kindom’s future-rests on the shoulders of a talented young man with a knack for making vicious enemies. 

Book: Tess of the Road | Author: Rachel Hartman | Publisher: Random House Books for Young Readers | Pages: 544 | Release Date: February 27th 

Synopsis:

In the medieval kingdom of Goredd, women are expected to be ladies, men are their protectors, and dragons get to be whomever they want. Tess, stubbornly, is a troublemaker. You can’t make a scene at your sister’s wedding and break a relative’s nose with one punch (no matter how pompous he is) and not suffer the consequences. As her family plans to send her to a nunnery, Tess yanks on her books and sets out on a journey across the Southlands, alone, and pretending to be a boy. 

Where Tess is headed is a mystery, even to her. So when she runs into an old friend, it’s a stroke of lucky. This friend is a quigutl - a subspecies of dragon - who gives her both a purpose and protection on the road. But Tess is guarding a troubling secret. Her tumultuous past is a heavy burden to carry, and the memories she’s tried to forget threaten to expose her to the world in more ways than one. 

March:

Book: The Beauty that Remains | Author: Ashley Woodfolk | Publisher: Delacorte Press | Pages: 352 | Release Date: March 6th

Synopsis:

Music brought Autumn, Shay, and Logan together. Death wants to tear them apart. 

Autumn always knew exactly who she ways - a talented artist and a loyal friend. Shay was defined by two things: her bond with her twin sister, Sasha, and her love of music. And Logan always turned to writing love songs when his love life was a little less than perfect. 

But when tragedy strikes each of them, somehow music is no longer enough. Now Logan can’t stop watching vlogs of his dead ex-boyfriend. Sahy is a music blogger struggling to keep it together. And Autumn sends messages that she knows can never be answered. 

Each of them wonders: How different would my life be if this hadn’t happened? And now that it has ... what’s next? 

Book: Lost Crow Conspiracy | Author: Rosalyn Eves | Publisher: Knopf Books for Young Readers | Pages: 464 | Release Date: March 27th

Synopsis:

Sixteen-year old Anna Arden was once just the magically barren girl from an elite Luminate family. Now she has broken the Binding - and Praetheria, the creatures held captive by the spell, wreak havoc across Europe. Lower-class citizens have access to magic for the first time, while other Luminates lose theirs forever. Austria and Hungary are at odds once more. 

Anna Arden did not know breaking the Binding would break the world. 

Anna thought the Praetheria were on her side, content and grateful to be free from the Binding. She thought her cousin Matyas’s blood sacrifice to the disarm the spell would bring peace, equality, justice. She thought her future looked like a society that would let her love a Romani boy, Gabor. 

But with the Monarchy breathing down her neck and the Praetheria intimidating her at every turn, it seems the conspiracies have only just begun. 

As threat of war sweeps the region, Anna quickly discovers she can’t solve everything on her own. Now there’s only one other person who might be able to save the country before war breaks out. The one person Anna was sure she’d never see again. A bandit. A fellow outlaw. A man known as the King of Crows. Matyas. 

April:

Book: The Fates Divide | Author: Veronica Roth | Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books | Pages: 528 | Release Date: April 10th

Synopsis:

In the second book of the Carve the Mark duology, globally bestselling Divergent author Veronica Roth reveals how Cyra and Akos fulfill their fates. The Fates Divide is a richly imagined tale of hope and resilience told in four stunning perspectives.

Fate brought them together. Now it will divide them.

The lives of Cyra Noavek and Akos Kereseth are ruled by their fates, spoken by the oracles at their births. The fates, once determined, are inescapable.

Akos is in love with Cyra, in spite of his fate: He will die in service to Cyra’s family. And when Cyra’s father, Lazmet Noavek - a soulless tyrant, thought to be dead, reclaims the Shotet throne, Akos believes his end is closer than ever.

As Lazmet ignites a barbaric war, Cyra and Akos are desperate to stop him at any cost. For Cyra, that could mean taking the life of the man who may - or may not - be her father. For Akos, it could mean giving his own. In a stunning twist, the two will discover how fate defines their lives in ways most unexpected.

May:

Book: Love and Luck | Author: Jenna Evans Welch | Publisher: Simon Pulse | Pages: 400 | Release Date: May 1st

Synopsis:

Addie is visiting Ireland for her aunt’s over-the-top destination wedding, and hoping she can stop thinking about the one horrible thing she did that left her miserable and heartbroken - and threatens her future. But her brother, Ian, isn’t about to let her forget, and his constant needling leads to arguments and even a fistfight between the two once inseparable siblings. Miserable, Addie can’t wait to visit her friend in Italy and leave her brother - and her problems - behind.

So when Addie discovers an unusual guidebook, Ireland for the Heartbroken, hidden in the dusty shelves of the hotel library, she’s able to finally escape her anxious mind and Ian’s criticism.

And then their travel plans change. Suddenly Addie finds herself on a whirlwind tour of the Emerald Isle, trapped in the world’s smallest vehicle with Ian and his admittedly cute, Irish accented friend Rowan. As the trio journey’s over breathtaking green hills, past countless castles, and through a number of fairy-tale forests, Addie hopes her guidebook will heal not only her broken heart, but also her shattered relationship with her brother.

Book: War Storm | Author: Victoria Aveyard | Publisher: HarperTeen | Pages: 400 | Release Date: May 15th

Synopsis:

Victory comes at a price.

Mare Barrow learned this all to well when Cal’s betrayal nearly destroyed her. Now determined to protect her heart - and secure freedom for Reds and newbloods like her - Mare resolves to overthrow the kingdom of Norta once and for all ... starting with the crown on Maven’s head.

But no battle is won alone, and before the Reds may rise as one, Mare must side with the boy who broke her heart in order to defeat the boy who almost broke her. Cal’s powerful Silver allies, alongside Mare and the Scarlet Guard, prove a formidable force. But Maven is driven by an obsession so deep, he will stop at nothing to have Mare as his own again, even if it means demolishing everything - and everyone - in his path.

War is coming, and all Mare has fought for hangs in the balance. Will victory be enough to topple the Silver kingdoms? Or will the little lightning girl be forever silenced?

In the epic conclusion to Victoria Aveyard’s stunning series, Mare must embrace her fate and summon all her power ... for all will be tested, but not all will survive.

Book: Legendary | Author: Stephanie Garber | Publisher: Flatiron Books | Pages: 416 | Release Date: May 29th

Synopsis:

Stephanie Garber’s limitless imagination takes flight once more in the colourful, mesmerizing, and immersive sequel to the bestselling and breakout debut Caraval, following Scarlett’s younger sister, Tella, on a journey to the empire’s capital to fulfill a mysterious bargain.

June:

Book: Save the Date | Author: Morgan Matson | Publisher: Simon Schuster Books for Young Readers | Pages: 480 | Release Date: June 5th

Synopsis:

Charlie Grant’s older sister is getting married this weekend at their family home, and Charlie can’t wait - for the first time in years, all four of her older siblings will be under one roof. Charlie is desperate for one last perfect weekend, before the house is sold and everything changes. The house will be filled with jokes and games and laughs again. Making decisions about things like what college to attend and reuniting with longstanding crush Jesse Foster - all that can wait. She wants to focus on making the weekend perfect.

The only problem? The weekend is shaping up to be an absolute disaster.

There’s the unexpected dog with a penchant for howling, house alarm that won’t stop going off, and a papergirl with a grudge.

There are the relatives who aren’t speaking, the (awful) girl her favourite brother brought home unannounced, and a missing tuxedo.

Not to mention the neighbour who seems to be bent on sabotage and a storm that is bent on drenching everything. The justice of the peace is missing. The band will only play covers. The guests are all crazy. And the wedding planner’s nephew is unexpectedly, distractingly ... cute.

Over the course of three ridiculously chaotic days, Charlie will learn more than she ever expected about the family she thought she knew by heart. And she’ll realize that sometimes trying to keep everything like it was in the past means missing out on the future.

Book: My Plain Jane | Author: Cynthia Hand, Brodi Ashton and Jodi Meadows | Publisher: HarperTeen | Pages: 464 | Release Date: June 26th

Synopsis:

You may think you know the story. After a miserable childhood, penniless orphan Jane Eyre embarks on a new life as a governess at Thornfield Hall. There, she meets one dark, brooding Mr. Rochester. Despite their significant age gap (!) and his uneven temper (!!), they fall in love - and, Reader, she marries him (!!!)

Or does she?

Prepare for an adventure of Gothic proportions, in which all is not as it seems, a certain gentleman is hiding more than skeletons in his closets, and one orphan Jane Eyre, aspiring author Charlotte Brontë, and supernatural investigator Alexander Blackwood are about to be drawn together on the most epic ghost hunt this side of Wuthering Heights.

August:

Book: The Towering Sky | Author: Katharine McGee | Publisher: HarperCollins | Pages: 320 | Release Date: August 28th

Synopsis:

The final book in Katharine McGee’s epic New York Times bestselling series, The Thousandth Floor.

It’s New York City, 2118.

In Manhattan’s glamorous thousand-story supertower, millions of people are living scandalous lives. Leda, Watt, Rylin, Avery, and Calliope are all struggling to hide the biggest secrets of all, secrets that could destroy everything, and send their perfect worlds toppling over the edge.

Because every rise has a fall.

With all the drama, romance and hidden secrets from The Thousandth Floor and the Dazzling Heights, this explosive finale will not disappoint.

Book: In Another Time | Author: Caroline Leech | Publisher: HarperTeen | Pages: 320 | Release Date: August 28th

Synopsis:

Love is worth the fight.

It’s 1942, and Maisie McCall is in the Scottish Highlands doing her bit for the war effort as a Women’s Timber Corps lumberjill. Maisie relishes her newfound independence and her growing friendships - especially with the enigmatic John Lindsay.

As Maisie and John work side-by-side felling trees, Maisie can’t help but feel like their friendship has the spark of something more to it. And yet every time she gets close to him, John pulls away. It’s not until Maisie rescues John from a terrible logging accident that he begins to open up to her about the truth of his past, and the pain he’s been hiding.

Suddenly everything is more complicated than Maisie expected. And as she helps John untangle his shattered history, she must decide if she’s willing to risk her heart to help heal his. But in a world devastated by war, love might be the only thing left that can begin to heal what’s broken.

October:

Book: The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy | Author: Mackenzi Lee | Publisher: Katherine Tegen Books | Release Date: October 2nd

Synopsis:

A sequel to The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue, narrated by Felicity and featuring travel, pirates, and a science girl gang.

December:

Book: Queen of Air and Darkness | Author: Cassandra Clare | Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books | Pages: 720 | Release Date: December 4th

Synopsis:

What if damnation is the price of true love?

Innocent blood has been spilled on the steps of the Council Hall, the sacred stronghold of the Shadowhunters. In the wake of the tragic death of Livia Blackthorn, the Clave teeters on the brink of civil war. One fragment of the Blackthorn family flees to Los Angeles, seeking to discover the source of the blight that is destroying the race of warlocks. Meanwhile, Julian and Emma take desperate measures to put their forbidden love aside and undertake a perilous mission to Faerie to retrieve the Black Volume of the Dead. What they find in the Courts is a secret that may tear the Shadow World asunder and open a dark path into a future they could never have imagined. Caught in a race against time, Emma and Julian must save the world of Shadowhunters before the deadly power of the parabatai curse destroys them and everyone they love.

So those are my most anticipated books for 2018. Comment on this post or send me a message about your anticipated books for 2018. Are there any that I missed that you think I should check out?  I’d love to hear from you!

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!

[narcissusneverknewme]

#wokeuplikethis

~It all started with that potion. Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions. There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that until the day he died. Which might very well be sooner rather than later, if he continued drinking experimental potions thrown together by a couple of half-wits in their first year of healer training. . .

Through callous disregard for safety and the rules of potion making/administration Draco finds his consciousness transported to a magical Otherworld, wherein he once made a Right Choice that changed everything. ~

It all started with that potion. Well, it may have been more like a cocktail of potions. There might also have been some alcohol involved earlier but Draco would deny any knowledge of that until the day he died. Which might very well be sooner rather than later, if he continued drinking experimental potions thrown together by a couple of half-wits in their first year of healer training.

None of it was his fault, to be fair. Hue Mai had discovered an old letter in the lining of an positively ancient textbook. The letter was written by a wizard called Sir Ackley Blythe and was addressed to his sister, Osma.

According to a book on the subject that Hue later drug up from Merlin knows where, Sir Blythe was a philosopher and a member of a group of wizards who held a firm belief in what would now be termed “parallel universes.” They had attempted a number of spells and potions trying to catch a glimpse of the “otherworlds” but had famously disbanded after some kind of near-death experience that lead them each to make dramatic life changes. One notable member of the group, Collin Breathnach, gave up alcoholism and donated half of his wealth to charity within only a year.

The letter itself was long and covered in dust, but the most interesting part indicated that the philosophers had been more successful than people thought.

… Charles remained to observe our physical forms and ensure our hearts and lungs remained functional. After the five had partaken and I myself drank from the cauldron we fell into a sleep-like trance.

I seemed to wake in my own body, but not in my own world. When I examined my surroundings I found I was sitting in my old chair, in our father’s hall. My old hound Spédig lay at my feet. To my surprise, Elizabeth Bonde was there. She came to me with a merry laugh and sparkling eyes. She spoke to me with a peculiar familiarity. As we talked I soon understood why, for she called me ‘husband.’ Soon, the children came. There were four, Osma. Me! With four children! They were wonderful and strange creatures, the lot of them, and they did seem to adore me. The littlest girl brought me a flower for my pocket and sat on my knee.

Too soon I felt I was unable to remain, and was pulled back to my own world. When I was conscious of myself I lept up to speak with my companions, who all reported similar experiences. They seemed to have each found themselves in a place where they had clearly made different choices in life. After much arguing, we agreed not to publish our work, fearful that others would find the temptation to attempt to remain in the otherworld too great. We determined to destroy what records we had and each to swear upon our lives that we would leave that better world as it was.

None of us believe that any of the things we saw nor the words we spoke in that trance were fantasy or drunken apparition- Osma, there is a universe somewhere in which Ms. Bonde and I are the owners of Blythe Hall, and she is Ms. Bonde no longer. Somewhere in some time, I have four children and am happy.

The hall itself, I care little for, and in this life at least the old dog is gone for good: but perhaps I was granted this sight for a purpose. I thought it impossible to mend with Father, but now I think it may not be. And perhaps I will spend some more time in Ms. Bonde’s company. Somehow I had not noticed before, but she does have wonderful eyes.

Love, Ackley

It sounded like utter rubbish to Draco, but the others were immediately fascinated and Draco decided it was better to meddle with extremely dangerous and volatile potions than face boredom. On one point he proved right: the potions were extremely volatile.

The first time the students succeeded in creating a potion that didn’t explode before the final stage, Hue had to drink it. She was out for two hours and when she woke up (with bleary eyes and a fantastic hangover) she reported seeing nothing but bursts of color like a continuous firework show.

Soon they were starting to get a obsessive. None of them were really trying to see into a parallel universe, they weren’t sure what they were trying to do, but they were invested. Eventually they had a weekend off, without even homework to occupy them.

Instead of spending it with friends or getting blathered like normal people, the seven of them brewed three different potions in two days. So far no one had been unconscious for more than a few hours and the worst side effects had been Don Pike broke out in warts. Saturday evening it was Draco’s turn to drink. They’d all had a bit of firewhiskey earlier but they were all sure enough time had passed that it should be safe to take a potion.

Pike handed Draco a haphazardly measured cup of the crimson liquid they’d brewed. It bubbled in an odd, viscous way that turned Draco’s stomach, but smelt fine. It did not taste fine.

As Draco threw it back, swallowing harshly, the potion caught in his throat as if reluctant to be drunk. His peers cheered loudly. A moment passed. Nothing happened. Draco looked around and shrugged. A few more minutes passed. The others exchanged disappointed looks.

“Bad luck, Malfoy,” one of the girls said. Draco shrugged again.

“It’s getting late,” he said, “we can meet again on Monday.”

Draco arrived home at nearly midnight. He prepared for bed automatically, his mind on Sir. Blythe and his mystical Otherworlds. What would Draco’s Otherworld look like? What would be his best life?

“Probably one that doesn’t include you.” He said aloud, sneering at the vials in his hand. Two potions, one for sleep and the other for the nightmares. He took them quickly, pulling a face. As soon as he lay down he felt sleep settle over him, heavy and oppressive like a weight pulling him under.

His nightly potions did their work, and he did not dream.

###

Draco woke up feeling like he’d spent the night treading water, like sleeping had been a chore. He was used to waking like this. It was one of the effects of taking sleeping potions nightly. What he was not used to was waking with the knowledge that he could lay in bed as long as he wanted to.

He had woken laying on his side, unusual since he usually slept on his back, but undeniably comfortable. He was wrapped around one of his pillows, it was blissfully warm and smelt wonderful. He wondered idly if Pip had charmed it for him without saying anything. Pip was an extraordinarily old and caring sort of house-elf that his mother had insisted on him bringing to London, and was exactly the sort of elf likely to do that sort of thing.

He smiled slightly to himself, curling tighter around the pillow, nuzzling into it and humming lightly to himself. It had really been a long time since he’d slept in. He sighed happily again.

The pillow let out a soft sigh in response.

Draco froze. Now that he was awake and paying attention, the pillow was moving slightly, almost imperceptibly. Like it was breathing. And while it smelt good, it didn’t smell like the lavender soap Pip used. It smelt rather like sunshine and a bit like Draco’s hair wash. And it really was very warm.

This is a person. Draco thought. There is a person in my bed. Unless my Potion for Dreamless Sleep isn’t working. Draco considered that possibility, but as the person in his arms shifted and took Draco’s hand and raised it softly to their mouth to place a brief kiss on it, Draco dismissed that idea. Even if his dreams could be this vivid, they were never this pleasant.

So either someone broke into my apartment, snuck into my bed, cuddled with me all night, and is now kissing my hand, or the potion worked. This is my Otherworld. My right choice.

Draco wanted to laugh. He had believed in Sir. Blythe’s words even less than his peers had, yet he was the one to taste the working potion. He was in an Otherworld. A parallel universe in which he’d made some all-important Right Decision. As he considered this, the figure he was currently snuggling tugged his hand from their lips to lay over their heart, fingers intertwining as they did so.

Ok, so they’re a sap, whoever they are.

Draco was too close to the body in front of him to be able to see more than the curve of a shoulder blade, the back of a neck, and a wisp of black hair. The fingers that wound through his were longer and larger than his own, and a lot warmer.

It’s a man. This is a man. There is a universe where Father knows. I’m out. It’s a man. The thought made Draco feel a little panicked. He took a few deep breaths. The man must not have been unused to Draco’s early-morning freakouts, because he immediately turned over to wrap his arms around Draco murmuring a soothing “shh ssh” as he did so.

Draco froze as he caught a short glimpse of a familiar face. A terribly familiar face. Draco’s nose bumped gently against the skin just below the man’s clavicle, a hand rubbed slow circles into Draco’s back. Draco blinked, hard. Hoping that maybe if he blinked hard enough he could erase the image of the man’s face from his eyes.

Dark hair, it looked as though it had been made messy by sleep, but Draco knew it always looked like that. Green eyes, startlingly bright even half-closed and sleepy. A thin, jagged scar shaped like lightning.

Harry Potter?

###

Draco was still freaking out when the soft noises Potter was making faded away. A moment past in which Draco thought furiously. If he was in an alternate universe, he really shouldn’t mess anything up. He shouldn’t curse Potter into a snaggletooth fish, shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t from that universe, shouldn’t even be there, really.

Potter interrupted his freakout yet again, this time by speaking, “Was it the dreams again?”

There was a long pause. Finally Draco said, “Yes.”

“A new one? Or more of the same?”

“... More of the same.”

“Which one?”

Oops. Apparently Harry Potter knew all of Draco’s nightmares by heart. Harry Potter rubbed Draco’s back when he had nightmares and did awful things like hold their joint hands over his heart. Harry Potter slept in his bed and smelt fantastic. Harry Potter was obviously a pathetic sap in every universe.

After a moment Draco said, “Same as last time,” and hoped Potter would drop it at that.

“I don’t like that one,” Potter said quietly.

“That makes two of us.” Draco said. Potter responded with a quiet hum that sounded both sad and amused.

Draco really wanted to not be right there. He very much wanted to not feel Potter card those fingers through his hair, to not feel the man’s breath ghost over his cheek. He very much wanted to not let Potter gently tug his face back from its resting place in the hollow of Potter’s throat where it had rested. He very much wanted to turn away as Potter leaned in. Draco never seemed to get what he wanted.

Potter’s lips brushed lazily against his, as though they had all the time in the world. There was a staggering familiarity in the gesture that made Draco wonder just how serious he and Potter were in this insane universe, how many mornings they had spent just like this. One of Potter’s hands moved to slowly caress Draco cheek. His lips were slightly chap (clearly, some things never change; the stupid boy had chronically chapped lips in school) but roughness only made everything feel more real, more intimate.

Draco was somewhere between preparing to jinx Potter and tell this whole crazy universe to piss off, and never moving again. He didn’t have the chance to do either. Potter pulled away and looked him directly in the eyes.

Absolutely asinine eyes. Much too green.

“Hungry?” Potter asked, but he seemed to be asking something else. Draco didn’t know what, so he raised his eyebrows and nodded. Potter flashed that stupid smile of his and rolled off the bed. All the way off. His back hit the floor as he let out a yell.

“Why… ?” Draco started, so dumbfounded at Potter’s idiocy he couldn’t even think up a good jibe.

“We’re usually more toward the middle,” Potter didn’t look embarrassed at all, “we were too far left.” We must have been together for a long time for him to not be humiliated by executing that feat of lunacy in front of me.

“No, you rolled too far left.”

“It wouldn’t have been too far if we’d slept in the center of the bed,” He said defensively.

“You’re ridiculous, Potter.”

Potter quirked an eyebrow at him. It took a minute for Draco to realize what was wrong.

“‘Potter,’ huh, Mr. Potter?” Potter said, making no so sense whatsoever, “I mean, the last time you called me ‘ridiculous’ was probably at dinner- you could use with widening your vocabulary, Draco- but Potter ?”

Draco shrugged and tried to look innocent. That was never his strong suit. Potter’s- Harry’s expression changed from amusement to worry as he took at Draco’s attempt at innocence.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, finally standing up off the floor. He leaned towards Draco, trying to hold his gaze, “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“Oh. Oh, no,” Draco said, trying his best to sneer and crinkled his nose at the same time, “‘Babe?’ Do I let you call me that?”

Potter laughed, his shoulders relaxing just a little as he did so, “Not generally, no. Come on, let’s eat.” They walked to the kitchen together, though Harry was slightly more relaxed, that green gaze of his was as annoyingly intense as ever.

Draco tried not to be alarmed when he noticed the state of his dress. He was wearing only a ragged old shirt and underpants. During his school days he’d have rather died than let Potter see him dressed like that. He tried to calm himself by focusing on the fact that Potter was similarly dressed, but that didn’t prove to be a particularly calming line of thought.

Pip appeared to offer them breakfast as the two arrived in the kitchen. They sat at the table with tea as they waited. Potter was playing with Draco’s hand on the table. It was both bizarre and distracting. He was still shooting Draco sharp looks, like he was waiting for Draco to tell him what was going on. Draco thought fast.

“P- Harry.”

“Yep?”

“Something happened yesterday…”

Harry waited a moment. When Draco didn’t continue he prompted, “At work? Was it Mai? Did she get you to try one of her experimental potions again?”

“YES!” Draco said, pointing at Harry emphatically, “Yes, she did.”

“Draco, we talked about this. I don’t care how important it is the bloody things get tested, you can’t do it at work with no advanced medical supervision. Hermione said-- “

“I know what Granger said,” Draco snapped untruthfully, “don’t need to hear it again.”

Harry took a calming breath. He’d always had such a terrible temper, Draco thought absently. Harry finally asked, “So. What happened, then?”

“Well, the good new is, no warts.” Draco said. Harry raised his eyebrows. “The bad news,” Draco continued, “I’ve suffered some memory loss.”

There was a pause, “Memory loss?” Harry said, a false evenness to his tone, “how bad?”

Draco silently congratulated himself on his cleverness, “I’m not sure, I can’t remember.” He smirked.

Harry looked like he was going to hit Draco for a minute, but then he grinned. “So what do you remember?”

“ Well… my name is Lucius Weasley and you’re Cornelius Fudge.”

Harry threw a spoon at Draco’s head, which Draco dodged easily. “It’s a remarkably good thing you weren’t a chaser, Potter,” he said conversationally, “You’d’ve been terrible.”

“Maybe you could’ve beat me then.”

“Touche.”

“That’s twice you’ve called me ‘Potter’ in one hour. Did you actually drink one of Mai’s potions?”

“Yes. And I am suffering some memory loss.” Draco said, “But if you ask her about it she’ll deny everything.” he added quickly.

“Did Mai at least try to assess the damage?”

“Yeah, she said it’s very pervasive but likely temporary. She says I’m missing big chunks of basic information. For example, I have no memory of this apartment.”

Harry was silent for a minute as he stared into Draco’s eyes. It was like being burned with a bright emerald flame, but his expression was worried and caring. That’s much scarier than anger.

“Do you… do you remember much about our life at all?”

Draco gulped at “our life” and shook his head. It didn’t looking like Harry was just visiting. Harry’s gaze was flickering between Draco’s eyes like he was searching for something.

Low and quiet he asked, “And… us? Do you remember? Us?”

“N-” Draco was about to say “no” but something in Harry’s expression changed his mind. Instead he said, “not really.”

“How much have you lost? Do you remember the Jumper Incident? That time in Wales?” As Draco shook his head Harry’s look of contained panic intensified and his words came slower, “Our first date? Or when I kissed you? Th- The wedding?”

“ARE WE MARRIED?”

Harry stared, leaning towards Draco, those green orbs searching again. “Draco,” He said with forced calm, “When you called me ‘Potter’ earlier… ?”

“Yes. That’s all I’ve ever called you.”

“To be fair, you never move on from ‘Harry,’ so. Not that far to go.” Harry said weakly. There was a long pause as Harry watched their hands. Now that Draco was looking, Harry wore a silver band on his hand. Draco’s own hand still bore a ring as well, but it was not his old ring, which had borne the Malfoy crest. It was a sleek silver band that matched Harry’s.

“Harry Potter.” Draco said to their kitchen table, “I married Harry Potter. That’s-- “

“Ridiculous?” Harry suggested, and when Draco looked up at him, he smiled.

“Listen, Draco,” He said, “I- we- you- you, and me- well.” His eyes fell to the tabletop and his cheeks flushed red and when he spoke again his words were a muffled, mangled mess, “I- I, er, I love you, and, um, that isn’t dependant on, er. The memories and, yes.” He took a deep breath and met Draco’s eyes, a spark in his own that Draco had never been able to identify if it was passion or madness.

Suddenly, Harry’s voice become strong and his words sure, “Our past doesn’t define us, Draco. It never has. You have to know that I believe that, you believe that, or we wouldn’t be here.” They were so close together now that Draco felt like he was drowning in those firey green depths. Harry’s breath fanned across his face his hand had reclaimed Draco’s.

Right then Pip arrived with food. They broke apart to thank her and accept breakfast, and the tension in the room dissipated slightly.

“Is it always that hard for you to say? I mean, we got married didn’t we?” Draco said, flinging his hand through the air so that his wedding band caught the light.

“What?”

“Is it always that hard for you to admit how loveable I am, or is it because I have no memory of any of this?”

“HA. Is that a joke?” Draco looked over at Harry to see him grinning, “It’s twice as hard for you and we were together for a year before you could say it at all. At least, not without punctuating it with insults.”

Draco looked away, biting the inside of his lips. That’s pathetic. Why would I marry someone as awful as Harry Potter if I wasn’t horrifically in love with the clot? How could I be afraid to say it if we’ve been married? And I trust him with my nightmares and things?

“Draco,” Harry’s voice had gotten weirdly soft. Draco looked up to see him blinking back at him, stupid, wild hair caught in his glasses. “It’s not always easy for us. Hermione says it’s because neither of us were ‘raised that way.’”

“My parents--”

“Yeah, they love each other, and you. But they’re not big on words, are they? If I remember, your mum thinks sentiment is ‘very middle class.’” Draco smiled at that, and Harry smiled back. He continued, “We do say stuff sometimes, because it matters. And we’re better than we used to be. Better with nice things, better with the difficult stuff, better at talking. We’re growing up, Draco. Together.” As he said this, Harry raised their joined hands like he had in earlier in bed, pressing the back of Draco’s hand to his lips, eyes still fixed on Draco’s.

“That’s disgusting. You’re a total sap, you know that?” Draco said. Harry grinned at him.

They spent the rest of the morning as ‘normally’ as they could. At any rate, Harry claimed it was normal. Apparently, Draco now does the crossword while Harry peeks over his shoulder and occasionally ‘helps’. How revoltingly domestic. Then there is a program on the muggle television they sit down to watch. Harry pulled Draco into his lap without a second’s thought.

Draco had to fight the urge to pull his wand on Harry, and settled for shrinking away from him. Harry tried not to look hurt, but just ended up looking like a poorly groomed puppy that’d just received a sharp kick. Draco did not feel sorry for it.

The injured puppy eyes lasted for the entire program. Harry periodically threw Draco sad little glances out of the corner of his eye, his bottom lip jutting out. Draco just smirked and rolled his eyes in response. Git .

They went for a walk after that so that Draco could see the neighborhood. Harry gave Draco more of the sad, blinking eyes when they first left the house, as Draco refused to hold his hand, but his foul mood didn’t last too long, as he soon got swept up in reintroducing Draco to all his favorite places and telling him little details about their life together.

In the center of a little park near their apartment was a large wooden bench, Harry informed Draco it was ‘their spot.’ As they sat Draco’s eyes fell on an old bronze statue of a large man with a heavy jaw and deep-set eyes. His teeth were bared in an ugly grin and held a garden hoe like a weapon. Something about the set of his shoulders and the tilt of his head made him look cruel.

“What is that?” Draco drawled, eyes roaming over the unattractive statue, “He looks like he’s half Spriggan. Even trolls would find that hideous.”

Harry laughed, “You come up with a new one every time we come here. Sometimes we just sit here and compete, see who come up with the most inane insults. I usually win, as you can imagine.”

“ Right. ” Draco said.

“Yep. Today, I think his face looks even more like the backend of a shovel than it usual.”

“It’s the lighting,” Draco said, “It does wonders. You should see what it’s doing for your features.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

And Harry kissed him. Just like that. With no warning, no reason, nothing. He just flashed that wild, unpredictable smile before burying his fingers in Draco’s shirt and slotting their lips together.

Honestly, Draco could have put up more of a fight. Or attempted to put up one at all. Or done anything, really, other than sigh and tangle his own fingers in that sodding mess of a kneazle’s nest Harry called hair. My Harry will never know , Draco thought disjointedly as he turned his head to deepen the kiss, and Other Draco’s Harry is in no position to judge. Draco had a split second to worry about the phrase “my Harry” before a pair of hands slipped under the hem of Draco’s shirt and Harry made a little noise in the back of his throat that drove every thought straight out of Draco’s head.

They made it back to the apartment sometime between noon and suppertime. Harry had this dopey grin on his stupid, beautiful face the entire way back, because Draco was grudgingly holding his hand. When they reached their own door, Draco turned to Harry, expecting him to open it.

Instead, Harry crowded Draco up against the closed door, pressing his hands against the wood on either side of Draco’s head.

Draco raised an eyebrow in an expression he knew had aggravated Harry since they were 11, “That supposed to impress me, Potter?”

Harry chuckled and leaned in to whisper in Draco’s ear. Draco tried to remember to breathe. He could feel Harry’s hot breath on his ear and neck and sense the heat from his body, their chests were mere inches apart then Harry murmured, “Doesn’t this feel easier than it should? I like to believe that’s because it’s was right.” He paused for a moment, nuzzling at the base of Draco’s throat.

“You said that before, you know.” He continued, just as softly, “Last time. The first time. When you called the statue a changeling and held my hand when we walk from that bench. And we did exactly this. You asked if you were supposed to be impressed. I didn’t say last time, but,” Harry trailed his lips up Draco’s neck and pressed a kiss just behind his ear, “yes. Yes, you were meant to be impressed.” Draco felt Harry smile against his skin and shivered in response.

“Harry-” Draco took one of the hands he had unwittingly put on Harry’s waist and placed it over his chest, pushing him away.

Harry’s smile just deepened, he bit his lip as though to contain it, “this is when you said goodnight.”

“Did I?” Draco asked, feeling a little dizzy.

“Well, I think you said ‘get lost,’ but the message was the same.” Harry stepped back a little and withdrew his keys, letting them into the apartment, “Only if you tell me to get lost this time it would be a bit inconvenient given that I live here.”

A few minutes later and they were seated at the table with Pip bringing them sandwiches and drinks. Draco started to feel a heaviness in his limbs and a light tugging sensation in his middle, almost like the instant just before being swept away by a portkey. I have to go .

This was what Sir Blythe meant when he said he felt “unable to remain.” I have to go, but I’m not sure I want to.

“Harry, I think I’m going to fall asleep very soon. I think when I wake up I’ll have my memories back.’

Harry sat up straighter, eyes fixing on Draco from behind his glasses.

“Before I go, could I ask you something? Well, three things.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“The war- which side did I chose?”

Harry paused a moment, looking intently at Draco. Then he sighed, “When I said our past has never defined us, I meant it... You chose your family and they chose Voldemort. But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ve chosen to save and to heal others everyday since then. We were just kids.”

Draco was surprised to feel himself give a sigh of relief. That wasn’t it. That wasn’t the defining choice. He realized.

“Alright.” He said aloud, “and my parents. I assume they know about… this?” He gestured around at the apartment.

“What, about us?” Harry asked. Draco nodded.

“Yeah,” Harry said, “they know. They weren’t thrilled but” He shrugged, “they’re your parents and they almost lost you in the war. They weren’t going to kick up a fuss so big they might lose you to me.” He smiled.

“What about…  in general?” Draco said. “For a bloke, you’re fairly advantageous in the current climate,” Harry huffed at that, “but how did they take the whole…” Draco paused. He’d never said the word out loud. “How did they handle the whole ‘gay’ thing?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You were so worried about it,” he sounded fond even as he tried to look annoyed, “When you told Narcissa she said she was proud of you. When you told Lucius he said, ‘Ah, Draco, I see… Potter, then?’”

Draco colored, “He did not!”

“I swear. It took you like a year to tell me he said that.”

Draco took a few breaths. “So,” he said, “They’re still… in contact with me? With us?”

“Yeah,” Harry snorted, “just a bit more than either of us would like, actually. We eat with time at least three times a month. You complain about it all the time.”

They were silent for a few minutes, Draco thinking and Harry quietly watching him.

Suddenly, Harry spoke, “What’s the third thing?”

“What?”

“The third thing you were going to ask me.”

“Nothing, Potter, forget it.”

“You don’t remember this, but you only call me Potter when you’re trying to distract me.”

Draco smirked, “I bet is generally works.”

Harry gave him a smirk in return, “Not this time. What’s the third thing?”

Draco felt his face warm slightly. “It’s just- I have to sleep soon. I can feel it’s time. I just wondered… wouldyoumindtogotobedwithmeIdon’twanttoalone?”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Harry’s face split in a grin, “I heard you, I’m coming.”

They walked up the stairs to their room. Draco didn’t know why he wanted Harry there. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared, he knew they hadn’t made the potion right and he didn’t want to be alone.

In case something goes wrong.

About halfway up the stairs Harry took his hand, and Draco let him without even faking a grimace.

They lay down on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Harry had not let go of Draco’s hand, but had insisted they lay in the very center of the bed. “So I don’t roll off.”

“If you looked before you rolled it wouldn’t matter.”

Harry gasped, “How dare you? I am a Gryffindor !” He said with mock outrage.

Despite his best efforts (so, maybe not his best ) Draco somehow inexplicably wound up on his side, with Harry James Potter’s face pressed against his shoulder, and his arm draped over Draco, still holding his hand. He was embarrassingly reluctant to leave, but he knew he had to.

Even if the tug to sleep, to return to his own world, were not growing stronger by the second, he knew that there was another Draco here, one that needed to come home to his Harry. One that this Harry needed to have back.

Draco closed his eyes knowing that no matter what happened when he got home, there would be a universe somewhere, somewhen, in which the startling, intense, much more patient man that Harry had grown up to be was happy with a freer, kinder Draco.

###

Draco woke up in his own bed, in his own flat, feeling extremely knackered. He was relieved that he had survived, that his heart hadn’t quit or his lungs collapsed, but he was also very irritated by how his whole body was tired and achy.

When he checked the clock it showed that he’d only been gone for seven-or-so hours, which made sense. He immediately fell back asleep.

When he woke up for the second time to his empty room in his empty flat, he was less relieved.

He spent the next few weeks putting off what he knew he had to at least try to do. Eventually, he got a day off and no longer had any excuse other than cowardice.

He stood outside the door to the auror department. He took a number of fortifying breaths, then pulling himself up straight and tall like any Malfoy, he strode in as though he owned the place, despite being only too aware of how far that was from true.

He ran into Weasley first, almost literally. “Ah, Weasley.” Draco said as Ronald gaped at him, “If you could point me in the direction of Potter’s current location?”

When did I get so posh? I sound like a ponce. The sight of Weasley must be making me regress.

Weasley said nothing, he just pointed silently.

-One Month Later-

“So I ran across a park when I was tracking this old wizard dealing in cursed memorabilia from the war.” Harry said casually, “There’s a statue right in the middle that I think you’ll like. If you want I could show it to you… ?”

[danithebookaholic-blog]

NEW RELEASE!

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Demon Magic and a Martini (The Guild Codex: Spellbound #4) 

By Annette Marie

Published by: Dark Owl Fantasy Inc. Publication Date: April 12th 2019 Genres: New Adult, Urban Fantasy

Synopsis:

When I first landed a bartending job at the local guild, I didn’t know a thing about magic. These days, I’m practically an expert on the different magical classes, but there’s one nobody ever talks about: Demonica.

Turns out they have a good reason for that. My guild is strictly hellion-free, because who wants to risk life and limb to control the biggest bullies on the mythic playground?

Well, some people do, and now a demon has been loosed in the city. My three best friends are determined to slay it, but even badass combat mages are critically out-magicked. And that’s not all. The monster they’re tracking—it’s not hiding. It’s not fleeing. It’s not leaving a trail of corpses everywhere it goes.

The demon is hunting too. And in a city full of mythics, it’s searching for deadlier prey.

If we can’t unravel the demon’s sinister motivations, more innocent people will die, but finding the answers means digging into dark secrets … and learning truths I never wanted to know.

— Note: The three mages are definitely sexy, but this series isn’t a reverse harem. It’s 100% fun, sassy, fast-paced urban fantasy.

— THE GUILD CODEX: SPELLBOUND Three Mages and a Margarita (#1) Dark Arts and a Daiquiri (#2) Two Witches and a Whiskey (#3) Demon Magic and a Martini (#4)

Goodreads

Excerpt:

Six face-down cards were arranged in a circle. Sabrina gathered up the remaining deck and set it aside, then studied the six rectangles I’d selected.

“In this spread, we start with the card that represents your current situation.” She turned the top card, revealing a woman wearing a crown and holding a sword and a scale. “Justice. An ominous beginning ...”

Why was I not surprised that we were starting with bad news? “What does it mean?”

“You will need to make a decision soon—something that will irreversibly change your future. A choice you can’t come back from.”

Oh goody. Who didn’t love those kinds of decisions?

She touched the next card. “This one represents the cause of conflict.”

Flipping it, she frowned at the horned creature that dominated the card. A naked man and woman stood on either side of it, loose chains around their necks, the ends held by the beast.

My stomach sank to the floor. Under the illustration was the card’s name: The Devil. Sabrina tapped her cheek. “Hmm, not what I expected. Are you having issues with addiction,

Tori?”

“Uh, no.”

“What about a new obsession? An unusual fixation? Wanton temptation?”

“No, no, and no.”

She studied my face, then the card. “Could The Devil represent someone else in your life? Someone trapped by addiction or a compulsion of their own?”

The heavy weight dragging my innards to the earth’s core grew colder. I said nothing.

“Let’s see what the other cards reveal.” Her fingers nimbly turned the next one. The air rushed out of her lungs. “Oh.”

Even if her dismayed exhalation hadn’t been a dead giveaway, the card’s illustration was hardly inspiring: a heart impaled by three swords. How much did I want to bet the heart represented mine?

“The Three of Swords,” Sabrina whispered. “Heartbreak. Loss.” I pressed a hand to my hollow gut. “Is someone going to die?”

“Let’s keep going.” She hastily flipped over the next card, revealing a robed man holding a wand in the air. “The Magician! Yes, this is good. This means the loss you’re facing is within your control—you have the power to affect the outcome.”

That was encouraging, but also terrifying. “So, you’re saying ... I can maybe prevent someone from dying, then?”

She nodded and flipped over the second last card. “Oh, hmm. The Seven of Swords.”

“I got that card in my first reading. It meant ... betrayal? Because someone was deceiving me?”

“The Seven of Swords is the thief.” She pointed to the image of a man sneaking off with an armful of stolen weapons. “In this position in the spread, it speaks of you, not others. You are the thief.”

“I am not a—” I broke off, distracted by the thought of my Queen of Spades artifact. I had stolen that ... and my fall-spell crystal too.

“The thief keeps secrets and moves with stealth.” Sabrina considered the card. “Paired with the Magician, which is the power to enact your goals, this card is telling you how to reach the outcome you desire.”

“By stealing?”

She gave me a long look. “By embodying the virtues of the thief—caution, cunning, discretion, and deception.”

I wasn’t great at the first one, or the second, or ... well, any of those things. Lovely. I pointed at the last card. “That one is the outcome, right?”

Nodding, she touched two fingers to the back of the final card in the spread, then turned it over. A crumbling tower struck by lightning and lit by flames sparked recognition through me. I recognized it from my first reading.

“The Tower.” She sighed unhappily. “A foreboding omen. Chaos and upheaval are coming— soon. Even if you succeed, your life will irrevocably change.”

In the card’s illustration, a man and a woman had leaped from the burning tower and were plunging toward the dark abyss below. Gooseflesh erupted across my skin and I sucked in an unsteady breath. “Your cards never have anything good to say.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I mean ... the Tower is also a card of redemption, so there’s that.”

“Oh, okay,” I replied sarcastically. “That makes it all better.”

Her gaze traveled across the spread, and she lightly touched the Devil card. “Do you know who the Devil represents?”

I studied the cards. The Devil holding a man and a woman in chains. A woman casting judgment. Two victims falling from a broken tower.

A heart pierced by three swords.

The tarot cards or the universe or whatever mystical force powered a diviner’s fortune telling was sending damn strong signals my way, and I could almost grasp it. The meaning hovered within reach—but the harder I focused on the elusive message, the higher my anxiety spiked.

Purchase:

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Author Bio:

Annette Marie is the author of Amazon best-selling YA urban fantasy series Steel & Stone, its prequel trilogy Spell Weaver, and romantic fantasy trilogy Red Winter. Her first love is fantasy, but fast-paced adventures and tantalizing forbidden romances are her guilty pleasures. She lives in the frozen winter wasteland of Alberta, Canada (okay, it's not quite that bad) with her husband and their furry minion of darkness—sorry, cat—Caesar. When not writing, she can be found elbow-deep in one art project or another while blissfully ignoring all adult responsibilities.

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From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

Have a book you’d like to suggest or one you’d like me to review? Please feel free to leave your comments down below.

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Craig Wallwork lives in West Yorkshire, England. His short stories have appeared in many journals, magazines and anthologies in the UK and US. He is the author of the novels, The Sound of Loneliness, and the story collections, Quintessence of Dust, and Gory Hole.

    1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story?

Too old. Probably about 30. The story was about my grandfather who died of dementia. It was picked up by Laura Hird, a Scottish writer moving in the same circle as Irvine Welsh. She gave me my first publishing break. No payment, and it was online only, but damn was I happy. I felt like I’d arrived and was soon to be a bestselling author. I’m 45 years old now. Fifteen years of having more rejections than acceptances. And I’m still waiting to write that bestseller. I don’t get disheartened much now if a story isn’t accepted. I just remind myself that William Saroyan received 7,000 rejection slips before landing his first short story. So I did better than him.

  2. How many books have you written?

Eight and counting. Half have been published by indie presses. The other half are like children staring out of the window of some orphanage every time headlamps flash by. I’m sure they’ll land a home soon, but until then I’ll keep each fed and watered. But never after midnight. Oh, man. I never feed any after midnight.

  3. Anything you won’t write about?

If you would have asked me that five years ago I would have said no. But time, and perhaps being a parent, has mellowed me. I’ve written some really terrible stories, not bad writing, just the subject matter was terrible. I’m sure they’ll come back to haunt me one day. Their my skeletons in the closet. My dirty family secret. The affair and misdemeanours. But I was a different writer back then. I’ve changed. Honestly, judge.

  4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc…

  In five years I’ll be fifty. When I was at school, my grandparents were fifty. They had grey hair, no teeth, and had lived through a world war. I have all my own teeth. Don’t even have any fillings. Any grey I may have is limited to my face when the stubble grows. As for war; Syrian, Iraq, Afghanistan – maybe not as close to home to what happened in Europe, but nonetheless. I will say I’ve aged more since having kids. My oldest is ten this year. My youngest is five. Being a parent accelerates the ageing process. It’s like that scene in Interstellar when Mathew McConaughey and Anne Hathaway go to that planet for about twenty minutes but when they return back to the spaceship, twenty-three years has gone by. Being a parent is like that, and you’re the one on the spaceship where time moves slower compared to everyone else around you. I’ve had friends drop off presents when my first child was born, returned a month later, and tell me I looked like I’ve aged five years. It’s scary. But hey, I love them now they’re sleeping in.

  5. What’s your favorite book you have written?

  That’s like asking, which of your ex-partners did you like the most? I liked them all at one point, but you always love the one you’re with right now. So I would say it’s the novel I’m currently editing. I won’t mention the title, only because I’ve said it before in interviews that go back about three years. Yeah, that’s how long it’s taken me to polish that baby. Once it’s done, I’ll start something new, which I’m sure I’ll love more than any of my others. Basically, I have commitment issues.

  6. Who or what inspired you to write?

I wanted to be a cartoonist but failed. Then I wanted to be a filmmaker and failed. I then attempted to be in a band, and I failed. Failure inspired me to write. And continues to do so.

  7. What do you like to do for fun?

  I enjoy grave robbing. Something about leaving the house late at night, sneaking into a cemetery with shovel in hand looking for a fresh grave. It keeps me fit too. Excavating six-feet of earth is a great workout. I’m thinking of releasing a fitness video: Tone and Bones, maybe. The bind is selling the bodies on the black market. People are so fussy. Does the body still have all its limbs? Is the skin attached? How many teeth does it have? Sheesh. And returns is just a nightmare. So I do that for fun. And I enjoy lying too.

  8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

Berate myself for not writing a better book.

  9. Where do you write? Quiet or music?

  I write at home. Mostly in the bedroom, sometimes in the living room, but it depends if the kids have had sugar. Writing is a bit like going to the toilet; you really need your privacy, but sometimes that’s impossible when you’ve got kids. But I do prefer quiet when I can get it. I used to buy those ear protectors, you know, those little orange foam things that look like thimbles. I’d push them into my ears so all I could hear was my heartbeat and blood in my skull. Now I have attained the ability to write anywhere in the house, even downstairs while the kids are watching Colin’s Key make slime or eat ultra sour candy. I can write to Victorious, Sam and Cat, Mr Bean, Hotel Transylvania 2, Sister Vs Bro and Funnel Vision. But I still struggle when they watch Ed Sheeran videos.I walk out then.

10. Anything you would change about your writing?

I’m trying to make it more accessible. By that I mean, a lot of my old stuff had a literary edge. There was plot, but the language and structure was more important to me because that’s what I love reading. To this day, I get very giddy when an author performs alchemy and creates these perfectly formed similes or descriptions out of very little. That was my goal back then, to seduce the reader with words. Now I’m trying to find a balance by retaining some of that magic, while at the same time offsetting it with decent good old fashion storytelling. Yes, it’s taken me fifteen years to reach this epiphany, and I’m hoping the time I’m putting in will be appreciated. If not, I’m going to begin writing trashy erotica.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

  If I’m being honest, I’d like to earn some money (any money) from writing so I can drop my hours at work. If I could go part-time and write for maybe, two days during the week, I’d be more than happy. That’s the dream. If that doesn’t come off, and please, no one hold your breath, I’d settle to see just one of my books in hardback, cloth bound, and in a library.

  12. Where do you live?

A small village in West Yorkshire called, Ripponden. It has three pubs, a couple of restaurants, a tea room and convenience shop. It’s semi rural, lots of agriculture and livestock grazing the fields that back onto moorland. I used to live in a large town growing up. People shot each other, whereas here they shoot grouse and pheasant. Before moving here the only deer I saw was in Stand By Me, but the other day I was picking my daughter up from school, and as I was backing into the parking spot, I saw something brown flash past my rear window. I then heard a large clattering noise and saw a fawn hurtle itself at the school fence. It must have got lost and the car spooked it. The car park backs onto a few residential bungalows for retired folk. There were steps leading down to a house close to the fence the fawn had struck. When I looked toward the bungalow the fawn sprang out of a hedge, kicking and flailing around on its back. I wanted to try to stop it, to tell it I wouldn’t hurt it and to calm down, but it was manic, frenzied. Then it just stopped and went quiet. I ran to the school to speak with one of the staff to get the number of a local vet or rescue service. A few of us went back to make sure it was still there. It was. But it wasn’t breathing, and flies were resting in its open eye. The speed and power of hitting that fence could have broken its neck, but I honestly think its heart gave out. It was such a beautiful creature. It’s fur was the colour of autumn leaves and its legs were long and graceful. My daughter cried all the way home when she heard. She’s got heart that girl. I guess this place is quite wonderful, but even in paradise you can’t help but have your heart-broken once in a while.

  13. Pets?

  A goldfish only. We used to have a rabbit but it went suicidal on us. It began chewing wires and trying to crawl up the flue over the open fireplace. I just don’t think it liked us. We treated good. Fed it, gave it a nice hutch, but It would stare at us all with this one black eye like we’d murdered its family. My daughter began to think she’d awake in the night and see it there at the end of the bed, staring at her with that one black eye. It was called Fluffy, but after about three months it also went by, Psycho Rabbit, Weirdo Rabbit, Stupid Rabbit, What the Hell, Rabbit?! We eventually took it to a sanctuary to be re-homed. We felt a little like that family at the end of Poltergeist once it was all over, but instead of wheeling out a TV, we wheeled out a hutch.

  14. What’s your favorite thing about writing?

  I enjoy the process. I mean, I actually love creating worlds, people and all the problem solving and outlining, adding depth and shade and listening to how the characters talk and where they take the story. To me, writing is a kind of medicine, it’s the cure to something broken inside me. Without it I’d be sick.

  15. What is coming next for you?

I’ve got a few stories coming out in anthologies this year and next. Right now I can only announce one called, Farewell Valencia, that’ll be in, Takes From the Lake vol 5, edited by Kenneth Cain and published by Crystal Lake Publishing in early November. The story was partly inspired by a real place in Sweden where euthanasia is legal. Around the same time I found out Terry Pratchett had been diagnosed with dementia there were a lot of documentaries the U.K. about people who wanted to end their life because they had no quality of life. These were people who were paraplegic, terminal, or were awaiting a slow and agonising death. One documentary featured this place in Sweden. I never saw the documentary but a friend told me about it the next day. In my mind I’m seeing this place as a plush hotel with Egyptian cotton sheets, Tempur pillows, turndown service, free porn, concierge, fine dining, the lot. I was never so wrong. It was described more as an industrial unit on a Business Park. Okay, low overheads, I get it. But surely it’s nice inside and the end is peaceful, right? Wrong again. You get a bed and a cup of poison. It sounded horrific. There was no dignity. No afternoon massage and favourite meal. No quick game of tennis followed by a gin and tonic on the veranda. You got poisoned and you died in agony. This felt wrong to me. It’s bad enough these people had reached a point in their lives where dying was the preferred option. So I set about writing a story where a hotel similar to the one I envisaged existed. Someplace nice. At least on the surface. Farewell Valencia is essentially about an euthanasia clinic, and because the subject is so heavy, I wanted to make it quirky, like the Shining seen through the eyes of Wes Anderson. But there’s a twist, which I won’t go into. You’ll have to read it to find out. I think people will like it. It’s dark, sad, with a little Gallows humour thrown in. It should fit well in the anthology. It’s already got some great voices in there; Tim Waggoner, Gemma Files, Lucy A. Snyder, Gene O’Neill, Stephanie M. Wytovich, Allison Pang, Paul Michael Anderson, Bruce Boston, Andi Rawson, Samuel Marzioli, Joanna Parypinski, Lane Waldman, Peter Mark May, Meghan Arcuri, Jason Sizemore, Robert Stahl, Marge Simon, Laura Blackwell, Lucy Taylor, Jonah Buck, Cory Cone, and Michelle Ann King.

  16. Where do you get your ideas?

Keep with me on this. There’s a magic trick where a street magician fans out a deck of cards and asks someone to choose one. They do, and they show it the camera. Queen of hearts, say. Then the magician asks the card be put back in the deck, and then in a display of madness they throw all the cards at the side of a building. One card sticks to the window. Just one. And yep, when he peels it off, it’s the queen of hearts. I don’t know how it’s done and I don’t ever want to know. It’s a great trick and to understand the trick would dilute the magic. That’s the same with ideas; I don’t know how they work, or where they come from, and I don’t ever want to know, because I fear once I discover the secret it won’t be as magical. Magic is great writing.

      You can connect with Craig Wallwork here: 

  My Amazon pages for the UK and US:

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Craig-Wallwork/e/B003VDNVCC

US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/s/ref=is_s?n=133140011&k=craig+wallwork+

A free ebook copy of Quintessence of Dust, a short story collection by me:

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/147029

And finally, Crystal Lake Publishing:

http://www.crystallakepub.com

  Some of Craig Wallwork’s books: 

      Getting personal with Craig Wallwork Craig Wallwork lives in West Yorkshire, England. His short stories have appeared in many journals, magazines and anthologies in the UK and US.

[mysteryshelf]

BOOK SPOTLIGHT - Murder in Little Shendon

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Book Publicity Services. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Fear grips the community as the investigation slowly progresses. Everyone is interviewed; everyone is suspect! From his housekeeper to Lady Armstrong and her household staff. Or could it be the shy librarian new in town? Or the defiant retired army major and his ladyfriend, the post mistress? Or perhaps the weird sisters who live on the edge of town? Then there is the couple who own the local inn and pub, along with the two Americans who are staying there? Even the vicar and his wife fall under the gloom of suspicion.

  Uncertainty, wariness, and terror reign as neighbors watch neighbors to discover the evil that permeates their upturned lives. No one feels safe in this charming little village. Who is the murderer? And why was this strange uncivil man dispatched in such a seemingly civil community?

  A murder mystery that will keep you reading until you learn the details, uncovered by Police Inspector Stanley Burgess and his two amateur detectives, Sir Victor Hazlitt and Beresford Brandon. The three sift methodically through the Alibis and life stories of the suspects until they uncover…

  You are challenged to discover the culprit before the last few pages. And no fair looking ahead — it’s the journey that proves the most enticing.

EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK

Chapter One

A Killing in The Bygone Era

  BARTHOLOMEW FYNCHE LEANED OVER HIS DESK, adjusted his pince-nez and peered down at the document on his desk. He gave a series of grunts, which culminated in a long “Hmmm”.

  He scratched a brief note on the pad in front of him. He always used a pen and ink because he did not approve of ballpoint pens and regarded them as signs of an uncivilized society.

  Mr. Fynche turned his attention to the small jade horse in front of him, running his fingers over it gently, almost lovingly. He frowned, took a deep breath, and removed a key from around his neck. He unlocked a drawer to his desk, placed the small statue inside and carefully locked it again.

  He glanced at the French Ormolu clock on the wall before consulting his watch, and pursed his lips together in annoyance. He didn’t like people who were not punctual. Time was money, and his time was particularly precious.

  The retired Mr. B. Fynche had been involved in a number of most interesting exploits in his life, not the least of which involved his extraordinary knowledge of rare documents, famous objets d’art, and rare paintings. It was rumored that he had been involved with MI5 just after the war, but no one was quite certain about this. Nowadays he puttered fairly contentedly in his antique shop, which he had named The Bygone Era.

  He did the occasional appraisal for some local villagers and was occasionally persuaded to go into London (a trip he detested) to authenticate something or other for the odd client he had. He was, as far as anyone knew, unmarried, quite without family, with the exception of a sister who was rumored to live in New Zealand and a brother who was deceased.

  At first glance, Fynche’s little shop seemed to be an untidy mass of bric-a-brac, consisting of small statues, framed documents, interesting looking things in glass cases, paintings of all descriptions, prints, watches, chains and… much much more. Mr. Fynche however, knew exactly where everything was, referring to it on occasion as organized clutter.

  Today was Thursday, better known as early closing day when most if not all the shops in the village closed about noon, and The Bygone Era was no exception. Fynche liked to lock the doors, put up the CLOSED sign and busy himself with his latest project, and he had many of those.

  The little man glanced down once again at some notes he had made. For the first time in his life, he was not quite sure how to deal with this. Probably the best policy was to be frank and explain that this was not something with which he chose to be involved. He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. Perhaps no mention of the police should be made at this juncture, for he felt instinctively that he would have to be careful here.

  A knock on the door interrupted his reverie and Fynche’s eyes again darted up to the clock. He frowned, realizing that the knock was coming from the back door, which was rarely used. Thoroughly disgruntled, the old man unlatched the door.

  “Come in,” he said curtly, “and see that you close the door behind you.” He paused, then growled in a surly manner, “You’re late; we need to talk.”

  “I’m sorry. There was some work left to do,” answered the other. A breeze blew through the open window behind Fynche’s desk.

  “Close the window, please. That wretched cleaning woman always leaves the window open, and it blows my papers all around.”

  “Very well.” His visitor closed the window obediently.

  “Come around to the front, where I can see you. Something quite interesting has come up and we need to talk. Clearly, decisions have to be made here. Did you hear me…?”

  Fynche made a half-turn, threw up his hands defensively, and gave a smothered cry, but it was too late. The broad brass base of an Edwardian candle holder was wielded aloft and came crashing down with a sickening thud into Mr. Fynche’s skull. Blood flew everywhere, seeping into the dark wood of the desk and into some papers and puddling on to the floor.

  Mr. Bartholomew Fynche, open-mouthed and eyes glazed, his hands futilely clutching at the air, slumped over the side of his chair and onto the floor… very very dead.

  The visitor spent a moment or two looking around the cluttered shop, hunting for something, but then thought better of it. With a sudden gesture, the visitor pried a large gold ring from Mr. Fynche’s finger, hastily made the decision to leave and, used The Bygone Era’s back door as the avenue of escape. The door was closed quietly, and the visitor slipped out noiselessly into the anonymity of the bustling throng of last-minute shoppers in the High Street. It was a bright sunny day in late spring.

nd onto the floor… very very dead.

  The visitor spent a moment or two looking around the cluttered shop, hunting for something, but then thought better of it. With a sudden gesture, the visitor pried a large gold ring from Mr. Fynche’s finger, hastily made the decision to leave and, used The Bygone Era’s back door as the avenue of escape. The door was closed quietly, and the visitor slipped out noiselessly into the anonymity of the bustling throng of last-minute shoppers in the High Street. It was a bright sunny day in late spring.

  ABOUT THE SERIES

  The Hazlitt/Brandon series of murder mystery novels follows a pair of clever, colorful and charismatic sleuths – Sir Victor Hazlitt and Beresford Brandon – as they scratch their heads searching for clues to figure out whodunit.

  The first book in the series, Murder in Little Shendon, is a thriller murder mystery which takes place in a quaint little village in England after World War Two.

  Picture, if you will, a picturesque village called Little Shendon, suddenly caught up in dealing with a murder of one of its citizens — not a particularly well-liked one at that. Which makes it all the more intriguing because the list of suspects becomes very long. This tantalizing tale unfolds with twists and turns to find out whodunit to Mr. Bartholomew Fynche, the murdered shopkeeper.

  Fear grips the community as the investigation slowly progresses. Everyone is interviewed; everyone is suspect! From his housekeeper to Lady Armstrong and her household staff. Or could it be the shy librarian new in town? Or the defiant retired army major and his ladyfriend, the post mistress? Or perhaps the weird sisters who live on the edge of town? Then there is the couple who own the local inn and pub, along with the two Americans who are staying there? Even the vicar and his wife fall under the gloom of suspicion.

  Uncertainty, wariness, and terror reign as neighbors watch neighbors to discover the evil that permeates their upturned lives. No one feels safe in this charming little village. Who is the murderer? And why was this strange uncivil man dispatched in such a seemingly civil community?

  A murder mystery that will keep you reading until you learn the details, uncovered by Police Inspector Stanley Burgess and his two amateur detectives, Sir Victor Hazlitt and Beresford Brandon. The three sift methodically through the Alibis and life stories of the suspects until they uncover…

  You are challenged to discover the culprit before the last few pages. And no fair looking ahead — it’s the journey that proves the most enticing.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A.H. Richardson was born in London England and is the daughter of famous pianist and composer Clive Richardson. She studied drama and acting at the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art. She was an actress, a musician, a painter and sculptor, and now an Author.

  She published her debut novel Jorie and the Magic Stones, a children’s chapter book, in December 2014. At the request of those who loved the first ‘Jorie’ story, Richardson has written a sequel titled Jorie and the Gold Key, and she is currently working on the third book in the series.

  A.H. Richardson also enjoys writing murder mysteries and who-dun-its. She is the author of the Hazlitt/Brandon series of murder mystery novels. The series follows a pair of clever, colorful and charismatic sleuths – Sir Victor Hazlitt and Beresford Brandon. The series includes Murder in Little Shendon, Act One, Scene One – Murder, and Murder at Serenity Farm.

  H. Richardson lives happily in East Tennessee, her adopted state, and has three sons, three grandchildren, and two pugs. She speaks four languages and loves to do voiceovers. She plans on writing many more books and hopes to delight her readers further with her British twist, which all her books have.

  Readers can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.

  To learn more, go to https://ahrichardson.com/

  BOOK SPOTLIGHT – Murder in Little Shendon was originally published on the Wordpress version of The Pulp and Mystery Shelf

[danithebookaholic-blog]

COMING SOON!

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Magic Harvest

By Mary Karlik

Published by: Ink Monster LLC Publication date: September 18th 2018 Genres: Fantasy, Young Adult

Synopsis:

Young fae girls are disappearing.

Layla has never belonged to the fairy realm – at least, half of her hasn’t. She’s never known anyone with human blood, not even her father. When she was three, the dragon Fauth attacked the fairy festival, murdering her fae mum & stepfather. Frankly, some fairies think she should’ve been eaten too.

As she grew, despite being called names like “fuman” for being a half-blood, she’s discovered that being half-human isn’t terrible. She may lack magic, but she is immune to iron sickness, and she can wield a sword with elven skill.

Magic in the human world is disastrous.

Sixteen years later, when Layla’s half-sister is kidnapped and taken through a portal to the forbidden human realm, Layla rushes to the rescue. She’s older and stronger, and she’s not about to let her last living family member be taken from her without a fight.

Only someone who belongs to both worlds can find the truth.

The portal spits her out in the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, but neither her sister or the kidnapper are anywhere to be found. Stuck in a world she only knows from school books, Layla forges unlikely alliances to find her sister. As she becomes tangled in the dark world of fairy trafficking, magic harvesting, and murder, Layla will have to find the strength within if she is to survive and save her sister.

Goodreads

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Excerpt:

Chapter One

It was early morning, but already the sun had filtered through the leaves to warm the fairy cottage nestled between the twisted roots of the cottonwood tree. A cloud drifted away from the sun, allowing a single ray of light to make its way through the window and on to the wooden planks of the tabletop.

Layla poured tea and slid a cup through the sunbeam to rest in front of her sister’s empty chair. “You’re not going to the fête. The dragons would like nothing more than to make a fine afternoon snack out of unsuspecting fey.”

“Dragons. Seriously? There haven’t been dragons for years.” Ignoring the tea, Esme stood behind her chair and continued her plea. “It’s the biggest celebration of the year. I’m sixteen. Well old enough to go without you or your permission.” She unfurled her wings adding an extra flip at the tips as if to prove the point.

Layla choked the cup cradled in her hands—better that than her sister’s neck. Aye, Esme was old enough to go alone and had been for three years, but had never pushed it before. Just the thought of her sister’s going brought a variety of bone-chilling, breath-stealing, heart-stopping scenarios to mind. But clearly, telling Esme she couldn’t go wasn’t going to stop her.

No. To keep her sister home and safe, she’d have to stay calm and try reason. “The whole thing is madness. Year after year, fairies too drunk and distracted to see danger coming. It should have been stopped after the massacre.”

Esme jutted her jaw. “Are you really my sister? Because you sound more like a grandmother. Aye, there’s drink and dancing because we’re celebrating the harvest. It’s not meant to be a dirge.” She placed the heels of her hands on the table, dropped her wings low on her back, and bent at the waist until she was eye to eye with Layla. “The rest of the clan has moved beyond the past. Why can’t you?”

Moved beyond the past? A searing streak of anger flashed through Layla and exploded in a double-fisted pound on the table, rattling the cups in their saucers. “This isn’t a piece of history that should be forgotten!” She hit the table again and tea dripped like a fountain from cup to saucer to tabletop. “How can you dance upon the ground where so many fey died? Where our parents died?”

Filigreed shadows splashed across the floor as Esme straightened and popped her wings wide. “Because I don’t remember that day or our parents, and especially not their deaths. To me it’s no more than a legend.” The words blasted straight into Layla’s heart.

“No more than a legend?” Layla’s hands flew to her chest as if they could protect her from the stabbing cold reality that her sister didn’t care. “The mass murders of our people, of our parents, no more than a half-forgotten legend?”

“Why are you so affected by this? You weren’t even there.” Esme’s voice strained with the drive behind the words.

How could Esme not understand? Layla wanted to shout, to beat the table again and again, to throw dishes against the wall and revel in the sound of porcelain shattering into shards.

Instead, she forced quiet into her voice. “Aye. I was. I was there. I was with Mum and Dad.”

Esme’s wings stiffened as she gripped the top rung of the chair back. “What do you mean? Everyone’s always said you were with Kenna and me.”

“You were too young to remember. I think Auntie Maeve hoped I was too, or maybe she tried to create a memory for me.”

The cràdh—the ethereal entity that lived within Layla to feast upon pain, criticisms, and doubt—surfaced in her chest. Anguish poured from it, squeezing her heart until she struggled to breathe. Tingles started behind and beneath her eyes and marched to her nose and mouth. And she knew that as soon as she spoke, tears would fall and sobs would follow. But it was a story that had to be told. “But I was there. And I remember.”

Layla stared at the dust suspended in the beam of light that washed over the spilled tea as visions of the massacre played in her mind. “It was my first fête. I was so excited. The smell of the food, the sound of the music, laughter, and Mum and Dad on either side of me holding my hands. It was magical. And then it all changed. We heard shouts as a shadow flew over the crowd.”

“Fauth.” The word croaked from Esme’s throat.

“Aye. Mum dumped out a citrus crate, shoved me inside, and told me to stay hidden. I lay there among the straw and the smell of rotten fruit with my hands over my ears to block the sound.” She ran trembling fingers across her lips. “But it didn’t block the cries. And, I smelled dragon and blood and death.”

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Author Bio:

Mary Karlik has always been a dreamer. When she was a teen, she read The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, and then sat in every wardrobe in her Nanna’s home, trying to open the door to Narnia. She didn’t find it, but she did discover her voice as an author: one filled with her young adult self, and grounded in her roots as a Texan and her Scottish heritage, nourished by obscure Scottish folklore. 

You can find her Texas roots in her YA contemporary romance Hickville series , which has been described as “100% solid storytelling,” and begins with Welcome to Hickville High, a “lovely story about growing up.” She digs deep into her Scottish roots – there is magic there, she just knows it – for the forthcoming YA epic fantasy Fairy Trafficking series, beginning with Magic Harvest. She makes her home in the beautiful Sangre de Cristo mountains of Northern New Mexico where she is a certified professional ski instructor, but she also loves visiting Scotland where she is currently studying Scottish Gaelic at the University of Highlands and Islands in Skye. Mary also earned her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, has a B.S. degree from Texas A&M University, and is a Registered Nurse.  Mary currently serves as the President of the Young Adult Chapter of Romance Writers of America and looks forward to raising a glass or two of gin and tonic with her fellow writers every year at RWA’s national convention. 

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From one bookaholic to another, I hope I’ve helped you find your next fix. —Dani

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