society has progressed past the need for girlboss greek mythology retellings

Hello! I am a creeper who LOVES your work! I have had this idea for an Az fic, but as I am not a writer, I cannot do it justic!

So its an Azriel x Reader. They both have a thing for each other but obvi neither know about it, but the whole Inner circle know . So the inner circle are having fun and some shenanigans happen, and somebody asks the reader about the person that she likes. Reader gets flustered, Az gets ✨jealous✨ and says screw it and kisses the reader. Im talking the kind of kiss that makes you forget everything and your brain melt. Lots of fluff, some angst because they are silly and maybe some smut at the end? 😎😎😎

Youre incredible!

Happy New Year!

A/N - HOORAY! I am so sorry for writing this BEYOND late, I'm battling a sinus infection and was in no mood to write when I was hurting, but I finally finished it and I hope you like it!

Intertwined

Warnings - Fluff with a some smut towards the end, so 18+ for this one!

“Okay, now that we have the presents out of the way, I think we should move onto a hot topic,”

“And what would that be?”

“A certain person’s love life,” 

You saw several pairs of eyes looking over at you as you were mid-sip with your glass of wine.  It suddenly felt like you were the topic of conversation, much to your dismay as you slowly lowered your wine glass down and stared at the others that were gazing at you.  As if you weren’t in on the joke.  Perhaps you weren’t, and clutching your wine glass a bit too tightly you looked to your right to see Nesta grinning at you.

“Nesta…..what’s going on?” You asked her tentatively as she linked arms with you.

“Nothing at all,” She replied smoothly as she gave you her signature smirk, “We are just inquiring about your personal life since you never tell us, your friends and found family, anything about your love life,”  

Of course, this was not how the night was going to go.  It was the Annual Winter Solstice Party amongst the Inner Circle in Velaris, the second one you have been a part of since you were the newest member of the Inner Circle.  Nesta became fast friends with you when she walked into your little bookstore, striking up a conversation with you about new books that caught her attention.  

You showed her a few titles, and you two have been friends ever since. 

After Nesta came her mate Cassian, the suave and yet kind Commander of the Illyrian Army.  He was dragged in by his mate, amused at the sight of Nesta almost sprinting to the New Arrivals section and he hung back and started a conversation with you.  You liked his attitude, the calm to Nesta’s storm, the sun to her moodiness, and he almost seemed like a lovable younger brother to you.  

Not too long after that, you were surprised to see Nesta again, but she was not alone.  She brought along both the High Lord and the High Lady of Night Court.  It never occurred to you that she was sisters with High Lady Feyre, to which you were beyond entranced to meet her.  Feyre was beyond kind, wishing to find art books and some other novels for her.  High Lord Rhsyand was more curious about the historical novels you had, along with adventurous fiction pieces to help him pass the time.  

You gave him a great recommendation, and your life was forever changed.

Rhysand hired you to help fill his personal library with books from the bookstore, paying you handsomely for your assistance and recommendations.  You were shocked to see the mass sum he placed in your hands, to which you were able to not only get more books for the store but to get a bigger apartment for yourself since you were living in a cramped hole in the hall.  After stocking his library with novels and volumes in every genre that he could ever want, Rhysand kept you in the Inner Circle.  Being alone for some time and having to survive with no one to lean on, it felt surreal to have a new family.  

A support system, and lifelong friends, it overwhelmed your heart tenfold. 

Nesta brought you around the first Winter Solstice party with the Inner Circle, you were wearing a modest yet captivating dress.  You were beyond nervous to meet the rest of her friends, but Nesta reassured you that you were going to mesh well with the group.  So when you and Nesta walked in together and you saw the rest of the guests, you felt so small compared to the rest of the beings there.

Especially with Azriel, the Illyrian Spymaster.

He took your breath away from the moment you saw him perched by the fireplace.  He cool demeanor contrasted with the roaring fire, the brooding stare he had on his face, and even the small licks of shadows that were hovering against his body and his wings that were tucked tight against his backside.  Nesta spoke plenty about him and his duties for Night Court, Being the Spymaster of Rhysand and seeking out information from other courts.  To anyone else, he would be intimidating and almost frightening to gaze at.

But not to you, you weren’t frightened at all.

Nesta introduced you two, walking you over to him and saying your name to him.  He simply stared at you, you seeing the bright hazel eyes he had brightening from the cracking fire as he held out his hand for you to shake.  You took it instantly, feeling the warmth of his hand and the scars that were etched along his skin as well.  

“Pleasure to see you,” He said to you, his voice deep and soothing like a balm against a fresh wound.  It felt it along your own skin, the tremor of his tone and how he was gazing at you with both intrigue and interest.  You couldn’t help but smile, something inside of you told you not to be afraid of him.  No matter that he could be a killer or someone who brings torture.  That’s not what you felt in that moment shaking his hand, and you always relied on your intuition in the past. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” You said to him, and you saw him smile.  It was the most beautiful smile you have ever seen from another being in your life.

Since then, you have been taken by him.  The way he walked into a room and was cool and collected, how he would conduct himself in conversation and with the others in the Inner Circle.  Although you never saw with your own eyes how he would conduct himself in meetings or during his missions, you knew he was someone not to be trifled with.  But then again, anytime you two were in the same room, he showed none of those. 

He was introverted at best, willing to watch from a distance as the rest of the group would joke and chit-chat.  But he was also consistent in his opinions and banter with Rhysand and Cassian, showing the long relationship he has had with them.  You admired it all the more, seeing the love they shared for one another, not to mention the kindness that was laced with his stubbornness and determination.  

Something drew you to him, like a moth to a flame, wishing to discover him more and more as you two became friends over time. He never minded talking with you, wishing to know more about your knowledge of books and history and even coming to your shop every once in awhile to purchase something for himself.  He looked over very book that intrigued him, taking his time with the purchase that he wanted to do.  It showed that he was not going to waste his time in anything he did, he took precision and never jumped to chance.

Another trait that drew you in more with Azriel was his attention to detail.  He could analyze a person for a certain amount of time and get more information about them than anyone else can do.  It was a true gift, one you wish you had since his ability was more advanced.  He knew the precise information to give to Rhysand, the right paints to gift Feyre for her birthday, even the exact number of soldiers to tell Cassian in one of their Illryain training sessions.  It was his way in showing that he cared for the other person, listening to them and picking up and what they would say in passing.

He did that with you one time in the summer, hearing you talk with Mor about a broken window pane at the shop and some creaking floorboards that were on the verge of snapping.  You were mostly venting to her, knowing that you were going to have to fix it yourself since you weren’t going to overpay someone to fix it.  But the next morning, you heard Azriel knocking on your door with some tools in hand.  

“You don’t have to fix it for me, Azriel.  Honestly, I can—“

“It’s not trouble for me.  Better for you to be safe than an injury happening,”

He fixed the floorboards and the window pane within a few hours, you paying him with a homemade lunch and you two perched on the front porch of the bookstore gossiping about Cassian and Nesta’s upcoming wedding.  You hear him laugh from a comment you made, a whole-hearted laugh with his eyes crinkling and his teeth glistening in the sun, making you fall for him harder.

As the months passed, your friendship deepened and your crush on Azriel was still present, but it was placed on the back burner.  It felt like a fever dream for you to be on the same platform as him, only seeing yourself as a bookkeeper and nothing more important than that.  Azriel had power, he had a past of using that power on others to gain knowledge and intelligence.  His cool demeanor and uneasy stature would make others flee and run away, but you felt closer to him than anyone else in the Inner Circle.  Even with Nesta, who would tease you about how you two would be perfect together.  But of course, you would push those possibilities and dreams away with a wave of your hand.

“I don’t think he would be interested in someone like me,”

“Like who?!  Someone kind, intelligent, and beautiful from the inside out?  I think he would, and he would be a fool to think otherwise,”

Leave it to Nesta to build you up when you feel low.

This led you to this night, a snowstorm roaring outside the Townhouse while you were all sitting together in one of the casual sitting rooms.  With all eyes on you, you were still looking at the wine glass in hand as you were now the center of conversation.

“My love life is…..complicated to say the least,” you said aloud to the group, all of whom were simply smiling as you spoke again, “I am interested in someone, but nothing past that,”

“Oh, do tell!” Elaine said in glee as she was perched on a loveseat with her Mate, Lucien.  Feyre and Rhsyand too seemed interested, wrapped in each other’s arms while Cassian was grinning widely from his perch in an armchair.  You didn’t see Azriel, who was over on the other side of the room leaning against the wall, clutching his whiskey glass in a death grip as his hazel eyes were drilling into your own orbs.

“I doubt she wants to talk about it in a room filled with gossipers,” Cassian joked as Nesta glared at her mate.

“As if any of this will leave the Townhouse,” Feyre countered with him, though she gave you a knowing look, “You don’t need to tell us if you don’t want to.  I know how secretive you are,”

“Yes, she does!” Nesta said with a smirk as she clinked her wine glass with yours, “I know you far too well, and you are in need of some love in your life.  So tell us, what is he like?”

“Or she,” Rhysand hummed, though you rolled your eyes, “I’m only leaving it open, who are we to judge?”

“It is a male,” you corrected, seeing some smiles all around as you blushed.  Once again, without you knowing it, Azriel was standing so still as he was drinking in this information of you being smitten by someone else.  It was making his cool demeanor almost snap.  You had no idea that he was fuming inside, the thought of another capturing your heart and making you feel loved and adored, the notion that another could take you away from him and leave him high and cry.  

He was using all of his willpower to not stalk across the room to claim you as his, having months of practice in him pining over you and wishing you to be his.  

He found you infectious to his soul, whether it was your laugh or your smile that made your freckles pop and your face light up in joy.  He would find reasons to visit you at your little shop, just to talk to you for minutes at a time because it would fill up his soul with hope and love he missed out on for years.  Azriel thought of you as beautiful in both image and in heart, a shining ray of light in his dark world.  Yet he knew deep down he had to be careful, letting in people who were close to him would automatically link them to his dangerous life and his dangerous job.  The last thing he would ever want is to bring potential danger to someone he loved.  

It would kill him to bring you harm, the one person he would face danger for.

“All I will say is that this male is someone I feel will not wish to be with someone like me,” You said to the group with a shrug, Nesta rolling her eyes as Elaine looked at you almost in remorse.

“You speak so low of yourself!  You are far too beautiful and intelligent for any male to pass on,” Feyre reasoned with you as she smiled sweetly at you, “That male is a fool to pass you by,”

“You are a catch,” Cassian agreed, then throwing up his hands in defense, “And I say that as a friend!”

“And I agree with my mate,” Nesta said to you, “I find males who cannot make up their minds on what they want to be fools,”

“Babe,” Cassian sighed as she gave him a knowing look.

“You are no longer a fool, sweetheart,” She said to him as she winked at him before looking back at you, “Your heart is far too sweet and far too kind for any male, no matter how they are, to simply cast by.”

Perhaps it was the one thing that Azriel needed to hear, the one phrase that made him throw out the rational side that he was trying to hold onto.  The thought of some other male casting her side, or using her as a pawn in their game, it made his blood boil.  The affection he felt for you over the year grew day after day, and it got to the point of it coming to a head at any moment.  No matter the scenarios he played in his head in how he would ask you to dinner or to an outing in the park, nor the talks he confided in with Cassian in how he wished to talk to you about his affections for you.  All of that was out of the window.

He had to act, and he did just that.  

He moved before he could stop his feet, walking across the room with his eyes on you like you were a target for his mission.  Everyone was floored by how fast he was moving, you were almost spooked by the way he walked swiftly and his shadows were attempting to catch up to him.  He took your hand in his own, making you stand up from your spot on the loveseat and look at him with shock and worry.

“Azriel? What is—“ you were about to ask him.  But he instantly silenced you, reaching up to frame your jaw in his hand as he kissed you.

Nothing else mattered, everything ceased to exist, and you felt your heart bursting.

His lips, soft and yet firm in how he was kissing you, ingested a fire in you as you were still frozen in your spot and in his embrace.  The thoughts and daydreams of kissing Azriel were all out the window since this was real, breathing in his cologne and the scent that was etched on his skin and feeling his body temperature mingle with yours.  The way he kissed you was both gentle and possessive, maybe he was claiming you as his and at the same time wishing to show his affection to you.  Either way, you were filled with love with that simple kiss, filled to the point of almost overflowing, and then some.  

Before he could pull away, thinking he made a huge mistake in kissing you in front of all of your closest friends in such a brave declaration, you kissed him back.  He heard the others intake a short breath from the gesture, your fingers reaching up to touch the front of his shirt to feel his rapid heartbeat that was threatening to burst out of his body. His mind was on overdrive, not believing what was occurring.  You kissed him, and the gentle kiss against his lips unleashed a new sensation deep within him that he never felt for another.  Affection, protection, possession, and most importantly love.

He loved you.  Cauldron he loved you. 

It didn’t occur to either you or Azriel that the rest of the room was watching on bated breath, both in shock and in pure happiness as you two finally pulled away from one another and gazed at each other.  The realization of what happened sunk in, but in the best way possible.  There was a glow about the two of you, almost like a new shade of emotion over the pair of you like a blanket to shield you from the rest of the world.  Azriel smiled, in which you grinned in return as he laced your fingers together and gulped.

“Come with me,” he said, you nodding without you realizing it.  He then moved, having you follow him like a puppy as he led the two of you out towards the hallway.  Yet he looked over his shoulder at the rest of the group, all of whom were still looking in shock at what happened.

“Thank you for the party,” he said abruptly, and then you two walked into the darkness of the hallway before the faint sound of him winnowing was heard.  You both were gone in a second.

Silence was heard in the room, everyone looking at each other.  The only sound heard was the fireplace, but it only took a few solid seconds before Cassian gulped down the last of his whiskey and placed the glass on the mantelpiece.

“Fucking finally!” He said in a sigh of relief, the others grinning as Nesta shot up and glided over to her mate, “I swear to the Cauldron, It took too damn long for them to get together!”

“Aren’t they simply lovely together?” Elaine asked with a sweet grin to Lucien, who nodded at his mate in agreement, “They both deserve to be happy together!”

“It was getting them both to realize it that took too long,” Rhsyand snorted as Feyre slapped his arm, “What?  It’s true!  Cass and I had a running bet on how long it would take for them to get together.  Which reminds me, you owe me some money, Cassian!”

“Damnit,” Cassian groaned with a rub of his eyes with his fingers as Nesta grinned in victory.

“Well I am glad they finally realize they are meant to be together,” Nesta said with her smile, “Those two are meant to be.  I know they are.”

“To the lovebirds!” Rhsyand announced, raising his glass in the air as the others did as well, “And a life filled with happiness and love for the two souls who deserve it the most out of all of us!”

The group raised their glasses, knowing deep down, that your future together was bright and full.

“Here, for you,”

“Thank you,”  

You sat up in the bed, your bare body covered by the bedsheets as Azriel fell back into bed with you with no care of covering himself up while he handed you a plate filled with some fruits and crackers.  You were blushing like mad as he played kisses along your skin and shoulders, you giggled as he wrapped you in his arms.

“Are you going to let me eat?” You asked in a teasing tone, though he passed and stared lovingly at you.  Just being there, bare and glowing in both bliss and happiness after spending a few hours in pure pleasure and euphoria, it was all life-changing for him.  Even with his hair askew and a thin sheet of sweat on him, there was no sign of fatigue on him.  He was far too happy, too energetic even, to have another moment without you.  After a year of pinning over you and seeing you from an arms’ reach, he would never let you go from now on.  

“Are you willing to share?” He teased back, you rolling your eyes as he fed him a few grapes.  You loved seeing this side of Azriel, the playful and gentle side that you knew was buried deep down under his tough exterior.  But Hours before when he winnowed you both to the House of Wind, pressing you against the wall and kissing you deeply, you were unraveling with no sign of resistance.  If the kiss in front of the Inner Circle erased your mind, the kisses he gave you when you two alone erased your sanity.  He was possessive with his arms around you, his kisses along your neck, and your pulse racing.  

No longer were you two just friends, you both knew it.

He flipped your world upside down, it was no simple fuck.  No, with Azriel, he was precise in how he brought you pleasure and made you moan his name like a prayer.  From the way he undressed your and perched you on the edge of an ottoman at the foot of the bed, to the way he licked your folds with his wicked tongue and made you watch his lips and tongue get your beyond wet just for him.  You were on fire, chanting his name and tugging at his locks as his hands were bracing your hips to keep you still, even with your thighs perched on his shoulders and shaking in pleasure and madness.  

There was no daydream that you ever had that would compare to the real thing, even when you came in a shout and Azriel grinned against your now sensitive pussy before he ascended to stare at your blissed-out face. He kissed you softly, you trembling against his lips while your orgasm was slowly coming down, but you moaned once again as his fingers sunk into you.  It made you realize he was simply warming up, and the night was just getting started.

That night was the best night of your life.

“How long have you liked me?” You asked as he placed the now empty plate away and had you snuggle in his arms, you half on top of him as his fingers were tracing your bare back and along your spine.  He grinned at you, scanning your eyes and your messy hair.

“Since the moment Nesta introduced you to me,” He answered, you blushing like mad as he kissed the tip of your nose, “I knew then, even in that smile on yours, that there would be no one else for me in this life.”

“From a smile?” You asked.

“You can tell a lot from a person in how they smile,” Azriel explained, “Those who force a smile are not to be trusted.  But those who have a real smile, a kind smile, are those who can depend on in hard times.  Your smile entranced me, and I never wished to see another smile since it would never compare to yours,”

“Well, for me, it was when we shook hands,” You explained, reaching over to take his spare hand and lace your fingers together gently and look at the scars along his skin, “Your hands were warm, and you were gentle in shaking my hand.  I knew then, because of the warmth I sensed in you and the goodness you had in you.”

Even bathed in the moonlight, bare with no abandon, Azriel’s smile he gave to you was beyond beautiful.  Your love for him was shining bright no sign of darkness or blemish, it was making everything else in your life seem dull in comparison.  He made you feel loved, not just with the physical pleasure he gave you but the emotional too.  You knew he adored you, loved you beyond reason, and you were feeling just the same.  He would walk through fire for you, experience pain so you wouldn’t, and there would be no hesitance when It came to bringing you love.  All because you loved him for who he was and brought him pure joy.    

And as he sat up with you in his lap, guiding his cock into you to make you cling onto him and moan in bliss, you both knew there was no going back as your lives were forever intertwined.  

The End

in the bookstore

It's a strange feeling when you recognize a place you have never seen before in person. It seemed like a lucky day when I happened upon a bookstore I was following on Instagram. Why was I following a bookstore I didn't think I would ever visit? Why was I following a bookstore that had no cats? Probably because Charlie Jane Anders is a goddess.

No cats, but it was dog-themed, sort of. It is called Dog-Eared Books. It's on a corner in the Mission District of San Francisco, the lower level of a Victorian style building with apartments above. (And I wonder if someone has written a novel of someone living in an apartment above a bookstore, but maybe it was a movie. Was it the first lesbian movie I saw, Better Than Chocolate? Did she just work at that bookstore or also live above it? Maybe the movie was based on a book...)

Normally, I would walk right by. Normally, I have no money and I have no room in my small library. But there are a few books I feel I need to have in the tasting room library, and I should pop in and see if they are available. And at that moment, there was no where I need to be.

The shop is in great contrast to three blocks east, where it is chaos and grime and pain and poverty. It is neat and clean and orderly and all the books look new, and likely arrived in the bookstore unattached to any crime. The sections are heralded by sharpie written on cardboard, like the panhandler with a sign on Octavia Blvd with the scrawl, "HIRE ME". So much light comes from the front windows and the windows lining the high ceiling. Bright and cheerful and, yes, slightly dog-eared. I thought of how the big box bookstores cannot embody the charm of this place, with its history and haunted books and long-haired clerks. I wonder if all the clerks are budding writers, or have a podcast about books. I thought of how much I missed Leon's Books in the town where I went to college, how it's a hair salon now. They kept cockatiels and parakeets that would titter cheerfully while you browsed the shelves.

It's pretty crowded for a Tuesday, but it is after 5pm. I wonder how many people just stopped by on a whim like me. I wait patiently for people to move, so I can follow or pass them by, making sure we all have our space. Most of the patrons are masked, which is good, because there is another surge of covid infections.

I find myself surprisingly overwhelmed though it is calm and quiet. My mind is racing with all the things I want, all the authors I love. I could easily assemble a pile, but I talk myself out of most before I reach for their spines. I haven't read that yet, am I sure I want it on my very selective shelf? Is this book on-brand for the tasting room? I should probably have this book there for representation, but is it the best one? Oh, look, Edgar Allen Poe. W was just asking me if I remember The Mask of the Red Death. And I thought of all my book loving friends. My new friend, K. I thought of Hal. And IMG. And I thought I should put this one book back, but definitely buy these two to support this little neighborhood gem. I stared longingly at the Miyazaki movie book with Totoro on the cover. I thought maybe I should buy their only copy of Blood Child by Octavia Butler, an author that continues to blow my mind with her writing. But I don't. I've already bought it once. I should probably have a list with me, so I'm more focused the next time I happen across a used bookstore, because I'm sure there is something special I'm leaving behind.

I wonder if anyone else experiences bookstores this way...

"Would you like a bookmark?" the clerk asks me. It seems likes like you have to call the person working in a bookshop a clerk. I wonder what they like to be called.

"Um," I say. "Okay."

"I don't mean to pressure you," he teases me.

"I don't feel pressured," I laugh. And I wonder if it's a shtick, like, you could have this bookmark... or you could just dog-ear the page.

Precious Love [Obey Me! Satan x Reader]

Love?

Could it happen to me too?

When will it be? Who will it be?

Will love come to me someday? I couldn't wait for that moment to arrive. Is it going to be like any other romance film I've seen? I sincerely hope so.

Back then, I was just imagining and dreaming about such things. I was struck by how much this love affects individuals. Isn't it wonderful to be in love? However, you should not expect all love to be rainbows and cupcakes. That is why some stories have both tragic and happy endings.

My feet kissing the ground and footsteps reverberate in my ears as I walk down the sidewalk. My hair is being blown by the wind, and I am feeling the warm breeze slap against my skin, making me feel like I am in the filming scene, and I am the main character of the story. Today, I'm heading to the library because my most-anticipated book has just been released, and it's a limited edition, so I'll have to hurry, and I'm hoping Lady Luck is smiling on me today.

I could see the bookshop from a short distance away, and not only that, but I could also see individuals coming in and out of the bookstore's door. I could also tell that a large number of people were arriving, and I assume they were waiting for this freshly released book to be added to the library. The author of the book I'm talking about is well-known, and his work is excellent. It's no surprise that so many people want to buy this new book.

As I go into the bookstore, I am greeted by a cool breeze from the air conditioning. Because of my beige trench coat, I didn't get too cold. I choose to wear black skinny jeans with a loose peach short sleeve chiffon top and white sneakers. I don't have a great fashion sense, but I think this one made me look even better.

The source of light from the outside peeking through the posters and the curtains of the quaint bookstore. The book shelves are beautifully organised, and the smell of the books lingers in my nostrils. I enjoy the fragrance of books as much as the smell of petrichor. To be honest, I didn't enjoy reading novels at the time. When my life and perceptions changed, everything changed. When they sent me to the Devildom as part of an exchange student program, everything changed in the blink of an eye. And then there's this one person who had a significant influence on my life. I had not anticipated falling in love with a demon. Especially Satan, the demon who bears the title of Avatar of Wrath.

I walked to the last section of the bookshelves and went through each shelf, trying to find my objectives here. Then my eyes caught sight of the book I'd been looking for. I walked in that direction right away, and I can see that there is only one left. ‘Ahhh! Thankfully, I arrived just in time. You’re mine now~!’ 

I reached for the book with my dominant hand, but it was taken by someone else before I could grab it. I shifted my sight to the person who had caught my eye, but I didn't expect to find him here. Satan. ‘What is he doing here in the human world?' Instead of thinking about why he's here, my heart begins to dance around in my circulatory system. Before summoning the guts to speak with him, I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Satan?”

'Of course, it's Satan himself. Why am I interrogating it as if I'm confirming whether or not it's actually him?'

“What are you doing here?” I questioned. Instead of responding to my query, he simply stared at me down. Oh, God, please don't let him melt me right now. “What do you think, why am I here?” He responded with a question.

5 years ago…    

“It doesn’t matter if I am a demon and you’re a human. The only matter is that we’re both in love with each other,” Satan stated earnestly, as if he wasn't himself, but this is Satan speaking. His tender and sweet smile curved on his lips as he said, "I love you, MC." I could tell it was a genuine smile rather than a ruse. It's unusual to see Satan smiling like this.

Satan moved closer to me, reaching both of my hands. His emerald eyes lingered for a moment in my hands, rubbing them with his thumbs. We’re now at the very top where you can see the whole Devildom. The darkness of this world and the lights of each place made the Devildom look very beautiful. And this whole place made the situation more romantic. The wind blows my hair, same with Satan. I'm not going to deny that he is extremely attractive. The way the wind blew through his hair added to his allure.

“I’ll ask you a question, MC. Will you be my girlfriend?” When Satan asked the question, he was peering intensely into my eyes. I'm sorry, but I can't help myself. The allure of the tempest rising in those damnable eyes draws me in. “Isn't this what people do when they admire someone in the human world?” Rather than responding to his follow-up inquiry, I simply stared at him, blinking a few times. I was attempting to comprehend what he had just said. Yes, we both know we're head over heels in love with each other, and he's my ultimate crush. “So, what would your response be? It's fine if you don't want to—”

“Yes! Yes, Satan, my answer is yes!” I interrupted him. I could hear my heart wailing, and I prayed that Satan wouldn't hear it. It's screaming at me that I made the right choice. He takes a step forward and brushes his hand on my left cheek. I also touched his hand resting on my cheek and I found it to be quite soft and warm. I even closed my eyes so I could feel his warmth and affection.  Love… I like this love so much.

“Do you mind if I kiss you?” Satan inquired, and I opened my eyes to meet his two lovely emerald orbs. As an answer, I grabbed his nape and brought his head closer to mine, our lips mashed together. His lips are as soft as cotton candy and as warm as a freshly baked pancake. Between kisses, we closed our eyes and felt the thrill. I enjoyed how the kiss was slow and passionate. “You’re mine now.” He breathed between our lips and wiped my lips with his thumb.

Present…

Satan flashes a blinding smile; it's like sunlight: dazzling and blinding, yet wonderful because it brings light into your existence. “I hate to say this, but I’ve missed you.” He averted his attention from me, a reddish tint noticeable on his cheeks. “I really missed you.” 

‘Aww! He’s blushing. How cute! ’ 

“And of course… for this book too,” he said, pointing his forefinger on the book that we are vying for.

I put my arms around his shoulders and smiled sweetly at him, sensing that he was heating up. “Fine! You can have it,” I said, fixing some strands of his blonde hair. “But you want it, right?”  Satan asks for confirmation, and his long arms wrap around my waist, drawing me closer to him. I could feel my cheeks getting hotter as a result of what he had done. But I'm delighted no one is coming in this portion; I did see one person, but they stepped back as soon as they noticed us. ‘Ahhh! This is kinda embarrassing’

“Yeah, but if you want it, go ahead and take it,” I said, returning to my former stance. I assume Satan is pondering something when he places his forefinger on his chin; this little habit of his is so appealing, and I admire everything about him. “Hmmm… what about we go to your place and read this together? You know…uhh… we c-cuddles while reading this.” There again, he’s blushing. “Of course, we could do that!”  I walked to his side and clung to his arm. “Let’s go! Let’s pay for it and before we can go to my place, let’s buy some snacks of course.”

Fallen Draco, Pt. 7

This story follows a prompt by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 7): 3,634

Word Count (Total): 21,794

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), this part also includes semi-graphic discussion of past torture.

***

12th April, 1998 (continued)

The walk to wherever it is we are going is draining. Having not left the house in a while, I blink a couple of times at the street in front of me. Somehow, I forgot where we are. I forgot that I am staying with Harry Potter, in a dingy street in muggle London. I worry about my appearance. But not in the way I would’ve used to. It’s not the vain, arrogant concern I had earlier this year, but rather being terrified of standing out. If someone caught a glimpse of my white-blond hair, or the distasteful and regretful tattoo inked across my arm, I would be in trouble. But as we pass an abandoned house with the windows still in tact, I glimpse my reflection. Somehow, I had managed to forget that I am covered head to toe in Glamours. Forgot that my platinum hair is now strawberry blonde, and that my tattoo is invisible underneath red skin.

“Where are we going?” Not where are you taking me? Like it would’ve been a week ago. Before I realised he thought of us as equal. As my deserving to be an equal. I shudder and hope it’s not noticeable.

“A bookstore.”

“A bookstore?” I turn my gaze to the man—no longer a boy, despite his young age—and raise an eyebrow. “That seems kind of random.”

“It’s a special bookstore,” he shrugs. I hold my laugh in, choosing to hide from his gorgeously green eyes. He hasn’t wrapped himself in Glamours like I have. Instead of the cropped sandy-brown I’ve become used to seeing in public, his black hair is hanging loose around his ears. It looks good on him. Oh Merlin.

“What’s so special about it?”

He turns to me, his hand slipping from mine and grabbing my shoulder to make me face him. All for the people who may or may not be watching. Keeping up appearances. “It has books you won’t, you can’t, find anywhere. If you catch what I’m saying.”

I think I understand. Well, it could be one of two things… “Please tell me it’s the former,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head. Thinking out loud now too? What is happening to me? Aside from the obvious bone-wing thing.

It starts to rain softly as we walk, but eventually Potter drags me into a little shop in a quaint street. It’s a lot bigger inside than I would’ve thought, and I think of Undetectable Extension charms. The walls are coloured a soft off-white, and the carpet underfoot is a light grey. The whole shop is warm and cozy, welcome despite being the middle of spring. Rows and rows of bookshelves fill the room. There are paper-bound books, leather-bound, and hardcovers. Books that cover every topic imaginable. Some are clearly muggle, with science books explaining the world as well as their range of history. And then there’s books called ‘fantasy’ which seem to be mocking the Wizarding World and twisting it. But muggles don’t know about our world, so maybe they made these all up?

“Draidan?”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by a hand on my shoulder. Shaking my head, I look up and see Potter and a woman with light brown hair staring at me. “Sorry. May you repeat that?”

Potter fights a laugh and opens his mouth to speak again. “Draidan, this is Madame Cynthia Owens. She is the owner of Bottomless Books.”

I offer the woman my hand, and she shakes it gladly. “Mr?”

“Malloi. Draidan Malloi.”

“Well, Mr. Malloi, what would you like me to do for you?”

I glance at Potter for a moment. He looks surprised by my quick thinking. Malloi is so similar to Malfoy, I figured it’d be easy to remember. It also helps that I used it as an alias whenever I left the Manor, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“I was hoping you had some books on-”

“Salazar Slytherin,” Potter cuts in. I shoot him a glare. That wasn’t at all what I thought we were doing here.

“Oh, well if you would come right this way.” Madame Warren’s behaviour totally shifted. She stood up taller and lead us to the very back of the shop and behind a curtain. “Now boys. This is just like Platform 9 ¾, so run through if you must.”

I’m very confused, but all the same I walk behind the wall. On the other side is another bookshop. It is massive, filled with more books than the Hogwarts Library. They are all neatly arranged and organised, listed alphabetically and in topic.

“We have a very wide range of books from the Wizarding World, what are you after?”

Madame Warren comes back into view behind me, and I stop in my tracks. Her appearance has totally changed. In the first store she looked to be in her late fifties, but here she is clearly in her thirties. Her hair has grown longer and thicker, a sheet across her back. Her clothes have shifted into modern Wizarding attire and her skin has cleared. She catches me looking and nods, a small smile on her face.

“The muggles trust older women the most, so I disguise myself for the front shop. It’s really just a façade, the entire store. My main business is back here, with people like you.”

“So the front bookstore is a muggle one?”

“Correct,” Potter agrees beside me. When did he get so close? “It is designed to lure people in, and if you say something clearly Wizarding you are taken back here.”

“Why did you choose Salazar of all things?”

He has the sense to look a little sheepish.

“A week ago after we bought your potions, I sent Cynthia a letter. We agreed that Salazar Slytherin would be our password so she’d know it was us.”

“Yes, it saves me having to question customers about who they are.” Madame Warren smiles. “So, back to business,” she quirks an eyebrow, and I remember her asking what we were after.

“Of course. We were hoping you might have some books on fallen angels.”

“Ooh. I’ll have to ask you some questions then.”

“Peter is really the one to ask,” I say, quickly drawing her attention away from myself and towards the man next to me.

“Draidan’s right, but he will have to answer some I can’t.” His stern gaze turns to me before looking back at Madame Warren. “It’s for his friend,” he rushes to explain.

“Of course,” she readily accepts the lie. “What specifically were you after?”

I watch as they both turn away and walk along one of the rows near us. There is a black sign reading ‘Fantastical Creatures’ in white letters above the place they stop. Deciding that I don’t want to watch them contemplate books any more than I have to, I turn around and scan through the books. The section I’m in is labelled ‘Dark Proceedings’. I’m instantly reminded of my father and the reason why I’m here in the first place. A shiver races up my spine and I hurriedly move down the shelf. The new section is ‘Solving Inquiries’ and I sigh to myself in exasperation before reading through the titles. I’m so predictable. The only books I ever read are Auror novels, wizards trying to crack murder cases. It helps make me feel more in control, reading about people taking down men like the ones in the Manor.

One of them stands out to me. It is a book bound in a beautifully deep red, with black letters spelling out ‘Coloured Veins’. Well, that explains the colouring. I flip it over and read through the blurb. It’s about a world not unlike my own, but one of the witches can see people’s emotions by the colour of their veins. She goes her whole life thinking everyone can see them, only to bring it up and be shot down by others around her. Both figuratively and literally. It seems really interesting, so I charm it to float behind me as I continue searching.

***

“You were talking to Madame Warren for a while,” I point out to Potter as we arrive back at his house.

“Yeah, the circumstances are apparently really unusual, so it took a while to find something relevant.”

“Well. What did you find?”

He shakes his head exasperatedly. “There is a book dedicated to fallen angels in recovering. Or rising angels, as you know I call them.” I don’t bite back my chuckle, and he smiles at me for a second, making my chest ache. Why though? “Anyway, it details a few things we can do to ease the process and just other information.”

“Great, okay.” I sound a bit flustered to my own ears, and pray Potter doesn’t notice. If he does, he doesn’t say anything.

“I think I’ll read it first, and then tell you the relevant parts for you to read first. Of course, you can read all of it if you’d like.”

That said, he turns away and walks up the stairs and into the drawing room. I follow after him and take a seat in the armchair next to the sofa. Potter looks up as I sit down, gives me a smile, and opens the book. I pull out my own and flick to the first page of Coloured Veins. In front of the fire, we are very cozy. The silence drifts around us, only broken up by breathing and the occasional crackle.

Hours pass of us sitting kind of near, but also kind of far, from each other. I get through the first few chapters and become hooked, and Potter has been taking messy notes with a weird muggle thing that acts like a quill. He rushes to stand up, the book falling off his lap with a thud.

“I forgot!” He exclaims.

“You forgot what?” I ask without looking up from my novel.

“I need to talk to Hermione!” With no further explanation, we races out of the drawing room and down the stairs. In the distance, the sound of a stone door banging closed reaches my ears. What would he have forgotten about to run to the kitchen? Unless… Surely not. Why would he?

Scolding myself for thinking about it, I return to my book. There was no way he’d told Granger about my back. Either the wings, or the crest. Hopefully not the crest.

***

An hour or so later, Potter returns to the drawing room. Someone follows behind him, and I watch as Granger enters too. She spares me a glance before taking a seat next to Potter in front of the fire. She tsks before raising her wand to it. “Honestly boys. It’s far too hot.” She flicks her wand, but the fire doesn’t go out. Instead, she forms a shield around which catches some of the heat from the flames. It fades from purple to clear, and a smile crosses her face. “Much better.”

“It really didn’t matter…” Potter tries.

“Nonsense. Look at Malfoy.”

He does, and he clearly sees something because he shakes his head and grins. “He looks like Malfoy.”

“I’m right here you know.” I don’t look up from my book, but I can feel him grin and roll his eyes simultaneously.

“We’re aware.” Granger says. “I was merely pointing out that your pink skin has already become whiter.”

I scrunch my nose up before slamming my book closed and standing. “If you need me I’ll be in my bedroom.”

“Actually,” Potter interrupts. “I think you should hear this.”

“Don’t see why…” I murmur. Placing my book down onto the coffee table, I sit back down and glance up at the people in front of me for the first time.

“Because,” Potter explains with an annoyed tone, “it’s about your issue.”

“My issue? Which one?” I ask him in a deadpan voice, eyes meeting his.

“The one concerning your father and Voldemort.” Granger looks amused at our exchange, but I recoil when she says the Dark Lord’s name.

“That quite a few of my problems…” Regardless of my shock, I carry on.

“Haha,” she says, face humourless. “The one where in half a month they want to scream bloody murder in the Unspeakables’ Department.”

“Oh.” That one. I was getting rather good at ignoring it. Guess I have to go back to having nightmares about somehow ending up there and being tortured. Fun. Oh Merlin.

“Yep.” Granger’s voice is way to cheery, and I want to strangle her.

“I was thinking, Malfoy. Could you tell her everything you know about it?”

“But I’ve already told you…?” Potter really wants me to repeat our conversation. The last time I said this I felt awful. Helpless and useless.

“I know, but I want to make sure everything is covered exactly.” His emerald eyes soften, telling me that he knows the pain, but that it’s necessary to take him down.

“Okay, fine.” I take a deep breath and prepare myself to speak.

“The Dark Lord and my father called me into one of their meetings in about, um, the beginning of March?” My hand starts shaking, so I pin carefully move my left to cover the wrist and gently squeeze it. It acts as an anchor, something else to focus on then the conversation I’m being forced into having. Potter is nodding opposite me, his eyes flickering to my wrist for just a second before travelling back up to my eyes. His face turns grim, mouth a thin line, but Granger just nods and jots down notes with her version of Potter’s muggle quill. “They plan to crash the Unspeakables’ Department, which you already knew… The plans were for the start of May, but that could’ve changed.”

“Do you know the exact date?” Granger questions, glancing up at Potter and I.

“If I knew at some point I don’t remember now. It’s definitely in the first week though.” I recall something about it being planned for April, but having to be moved. I think. Replaying that to Granger, I watch as Potter stands and stretches. His muggle shirt lifts and a sliver of stomach is revealed above his jean’s waist. I tear my eyes away, but not before he notices. Fuck. I’ve become slightly addicted to seeing things like that in this past week. Just accidental clothing movement, each time revealing a little bit more skin than is usually visible. And he’s become quite good at catching me. At least he never brings it up.

“I’m going to go fetch tea. Do you want some?” So that’s why he’s getting up. Granger hums in agreement, and I politely accept. Horror races the length of my spine at being left alone, I’m with Granger, but it’s close enough. I force myself to stamp it down.

“Is that the extent of what you know?” Granger asks.

“I think so, yeah.”

“Okay. Could you tell me about their way of life in general?”

“I could. To an extent, of course.”

“My first question will be why, then.” She draws a line across the page and scribbles down a new heading.

“While I was there I was a prisoner. Not a son, or an accomplice, or whatever you probably thought. I was kept in my bedroom all day, and the food was passed in and out in intervals. That was always the scraps of what they fed to their workers. Basically inedible by the time I got it.”

“I see. What effect did that have mentally?”

“I'm not finished with the way they treated me, but if you want to move on…?”

“Oh. I thought that would be all, given your blood and where your loyalties lie.”

I scoff. “They stopped caring about blood. Mine, at least. And my loyalties were proven elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, a look on her face saying that we’ll talk about that last bit later.

“Don’t be.” It was maybe a little harsher than I’d intended, but I’m not taking it back. “I was tortured constantly. That was the only time I was let out of my room. It would last for hours, and nothing, nothing, was considered too bad. Legilimency, the Cruciatus Curse, breaking bones, threatening to bleed me out. I could be here all day,” I explain, the last bit bitter. Extremely so. “I was occasionally permitted leave. I usually took my broom and flew somewhere far away.”

“Why did they let you leave? What if you hadn’t come back?”

“They has trackers on me. And in me. They always knew exactly where I was, and if I wasn’t back in the time limit I’d be cruelly beaten and isolated for days.” Granger’s eyebrows drawn down. “That kept me on schedule every time but once,” I chuckle cruelly.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did they do as punishment?”

Taking a deep breath, I nod solemnly. “I understand that it needs to be said.” She gives me an encouraging but sad smile and ducks her head to write. “I was beaten into unconscious, for a start. Then I was confined to my room, which is pretty normal, now that I look back. Anyway, they came up with some extreme wards. No one except for my father and the Dark Lord could come and go from my room. If I tried I would be electrocuted. And not gently. If that happened four times, I would’ve been instantly killed.” Granger sighs as she writes. “As an extra form of torture, physcological this time, they allowed me to write letters. Allowed me to beg for help on paper, with no way of getting it to someone.”

She takes her muggle quill off the parchment and looks at me. “But you did. You got a letter to Harry, and you are safe. I’m sorry I had to dig this up.”

I nod shakily, clutching at my wrist tighter. “Should I tell you how I got it out? It’s a weak spot into the Manor.”

“If you feel up to it.”

I make myself speak. Everything needs to be out there, in the open, if we are to take them down. “There was a vent in my bedroom’s en-suite. I used some sort of charm, one that emitted green sparks, to push it along the vents. It flew through the kitchen, to the dining room and out of the window. When it blasted through the wards,

somehow undetected, the sparks rebound back into my wand.”

Granger is gobsmacked. “That’s amazing. I’ll need you to tell me about that spell later.” She makes a scribble at the bottom of her page. “So you’re saying, that if we hypothetically shrunk someone down, and somehow got them through the wards, that there’d be a direct route into your bedroom?”

“Yep. Although, it’s quite a long route with many turns. It’d take ages for someone unfamiliar with the Manor to get there. And once there, they wouldn’t be able to do anything. That end of the Manor is essentially just bedrooms for my family. Not to mention the wards.” I shudder.

Granger’s face seems to light up. “What if we, hypothetically again, sent you in?”

“The wards would probably shred me into a million pieces. I’ve no doubt been removed.”

She hums, thinking out loud. “We’ll have to find someone else then. Someone you could help from the outside…” Her muggle quill moves across the page again.

Granger starts firing off more and more questions, this time about the Manor in general. She sketches out a rough floor-plan of the ground level, adding details about the rooms as she goes. Halfway through, Potter returns with three cups of tea. Each of them look and smell different, and he passes them out to all of us. Mine is Peppermint. My absolute favourite at Hogwarts, as my father wouldn’t allow me to drink it at the Manor. Something about it not being actual tea. I smile at Potter as he passes it to me, our hands bumping for a second too long. As I take a sip, I allow the warm liquid to soothe a path from my mouth to my stomach. Granger absentmindedly hands him the parchment for him to look over as she turns the conversation away. It becomes happier things like Quidditch. Not that even Quidditch calms me down anymore. I now associate it with flying back from Skiddaw Mountain, and the ensuing torture that was the next week.

By the time we finish our tea, and Granger has drawn up the entire Manor, it’s grown dark outside and is starting to become light again. Muffling yawns, Potter says goodbye to his friend and she rushes out via the Floo. I have no idea where she is staying, but it’s not with the Weasley’s. Something about too many casualties if anything was to go wrong. And she isn’t with her parents either, as she removed all knowledge of herself from them. I can’t imagine how difficult that would’ve been for a lot of reasons. Mainly because I’ve never had a parent, or anyone for that matter, care enough. Sure, my mother cares, but not enough to let me switch worlds and become entangled with a war. No, mine made me.

“Alright, Malfoy?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

Potter smiles, a gentle lift of the corners of his soft-looking mouth. “Well, goodnight then. If you need potions to sleep there should be some in the bathroom.”

“Goodnight, Potter.” How did he know I would need potions? Then again, he might need them too, after the things we spoke about.

“Oh, and Malfoy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do I have to keep calling you that?”

“Calling me what?”

“By your last name. Surely you don’t want to be associated with your father every day.”

I swallow around the sudden lump in my throat. “Call me Draco.”

***

A/N: I am beyond sorry for the long wait 😣. As I said last time, this break has been for my physical health. It has drastically improved though, and this should be back to a regular schedule 🥳. I hope you enjoyed this (belated) chapter! Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @megggg12 @edgy-things @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @tony-stark-prorection-squad @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @uniquehorn167

Tale As Old As Time Chapter 1

Note: @lrnightingale is the sweetest bean in the world and has done me the honor of allowing me to work on this AU with them. Check out their artwork they already made and something coming soon ;)

Pairings: Prinxiety and Logicality

Trigger Warning: Guns mentioned, hunting, homophobia, dead animal, Deceit (referred to as Decarus), lying, cursing (let me know if I missed anything)

Previous

Roman Beltrius Sanders woke up to the sound of the birds chirping. He stretches and smiles at the birds flying outside his window. It was so peaceful in the morning.

But, like every morning, the sound of a hunting rifle going off disturbed his peace and quiet.

Roman sighed and shut his window. He really needed to stop going to sleep with it open. Especially since winter was just around the corner.

Roman got up, went to his closet and pulled out his outfit. He decided on his white shirt, a red vest and black pants. He headed down the stairs to collect his black boots.

“Dad?” Roman called out once he entered the living room. He got no vocal response, only a tap coming from under his feet. Roman smiled, his father was already hard at work.

Roman grabbed his boots and headed to the kitchen. On the table, there were two plates, one with food and one without. There was a note next to the full plate that read: I ate already so don’t worry about me, go out and have some fun! -Dad

Roman chuckled at the note and sat down to eat his breakfast slowly. He ponders over what he will do today, deciding to return the book he borrowed from the library then get another one to read.

He sighed and mumbled to himself “I don’t even know why I pretend like I’m going to do anything else. There’s nothing remotely interesting about this town.”

Roman finished his breakfast and headed to the door. He paused to pick up his basket and put on a fake smile before heading out.

He hummed as he headed down the path from his secluded home to the “busy” town. “Busy” because it was the exact same amount of people, every day, doing the exact same things.

It wasn’t that Roman necessarily hated the town, he just found it to be boring. Very boring.

Roman walked to the corner and began to count down from five. Once he hit one, he pointed as the baker turned the corner. Roman smiled, it was like clockwork “Bonjour Sean!”

The baker named Sean smiled back “Bonjour Roman! What are you up to today?”

“Oh! I’m going to the book shop to return this book I borrowed. It was an amazing read, you should--”

Sean waved him off “That’s nice. MARK! WHERE ARE THE BAGUETTES?!”

Roman sighed. The same conversation from the day before, ending at the exact same point. He continued his walk. Every time he counted down from five, someone would walk out of their shop and greet him. First Sean the baker, then Justine the merchant, next Ethan the farmer.

Then it was the twins Gabby and Lilly, who not-so-subtly whispered about him which Roman did not react to, only kept walking. Roman was used to this. It happened every day, from everyone in the town.

It was no secret the town did not like Roman. For as long as he could remember, they thought he was different, odd, a freak. When he was young and naive, it would bother him to no end. He tried his best to fit in, to be popular. He decided to do what most of the young boys in town did and picked up a sword. There were also guns but his father strictly forbids him from ever touching one.

He trained day and night to become the best fighter in all the town. He was close to even rival Decarus, the most popular guy in the town. He was the best hunter, the most athletic, and the most handsome.

Roman didn’t see the appeal.

One day, Decarus and Nat invited him to join them hunting. Nat was Decarus right-hand man. He followed him around like a lost puppy. They took Roman to their favorite spot.

That’s when Roman learned the truth.

Decarus was ruthless, a conman, and an overall jerk. He killed the animals he hunted mercilessly, he extorted money and every other word he spoke was a filthy lie. Even the story behind his scar was a gigantic lie. Everyone in town would tell the story that Decarus fought valiantly to protect the town from bandits. The truth was Decarus was trying to rob a pirate ship and was caught in the act.

The whole day would forever scare Roman. It scared him so much that he went to his father, put down his sword in front of his father and state he will never pick it up again.

It was the best decision he had ever made.

He should really thank Decarus. Putting the sword down took a giant weight off of Roman’s shoulder. He stopped caring what people thought about him, he was happier and he could discover new things. He took up reading to past the time that he wasn’t using to train. He was able to escape this horrid town through his books.

It also had another side effect.

Roman’s beauty began to evolve. He didn’t notice but the town did. Since everyone else was running around and trying to fit in, Roman easily became the most beautiful person in the town.

But it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

Decarus did not enjoy the new attention on Roman and loathed that the man did not care about said attention. So he did what he did best, he lied.

He told everyone that Roman had given up the blade and took up studies, very advanced studies that no one truly needed in life. That he didn’t care for the people of the town.

What? Don’t you know the best way to lie is to tell the truth?

So the rumors began. People would stare and whisper more cruelly when Roman walked past and people stared for longer. Some even came up to Roman and asked him questions such as “How’s your training going?”, “Where’s your sword?”, “Don’t you miss it? You were so happy when you had it!”

However, it didn’t affect Roman in the slightest. He’d answer their questions with a simple “no” or a shrug. It bothered the ones who asked, but once again Roman did not care. The people who asked were older and small-minded while the people his age just found him beautiful.

No one dared approach him, his looks and his attitude gave him the title of unattainable. All except two people.

Well, three but that’s not until later in our story.

The first was a young girl about two years after Roman’s transformation. Most of the girls and a good amount of guys admired him from afar but no one dared touch lest they damage the living piece of art in front of them.

But one girl, ONE, decide that a man like that could not be single forever. So, she walked up to Roman, with a significant amount of their fellow peers around, and asked him to go to the town’s festival with her. It was a very important festival, celebrating the beginning of the summer season.

Roman flashed his gorgeous smile “I’m sorry, but I am going to the festival with my father, although you are free to join us if you want to.”

Roman didn’t miss the quick scowl that crossed her face. As much as people hated Roman, they hated his father Thomas more.

Thomas moved to the town when Roman was still a newborn. Like always, the town as accepting at first. The older women cooed over the baby and Thomas was given so much “Welcome!” food that he didn’t have to cook for a moment.

Then one nosey lady asked where Roman’s mother was.

Thomas simply replied that Roman did not have one.

Thus the rumors about Thomas began, but now we are getting off topic. We will get back to Thomas later.

The girl began to twirl her hair and spoke with an obvious flirty voice “Oh well I was hoping for us to have some alone time.”

Roman continued to smile, the whole conversation was going over his head “My father will probably not want to do any of the physical activities like dancing and the ring toss.”

The girl sighed, dropping her cutesy demeanor permanently “I’m trying to ask you out.”

Roman’s eyes widen in shock and he found his feet involuntarily moving back and away from her. “Oh, I’m sorry but I’m not interested.”

The girl and the people around him all gasped in unison. Roman looked around, more confused than nervous. “What?! You’re not interested in me?! Everyone’s interested in me!”

Technically it was a true fact, she was the most popular girl to attend their schoolhouse.

“What is there not to like?!”

“It’s nothing personal against you, I’m not attracted to women.” She stared at him blankly “I am a homosexual.”

Again, the group gasps. Whispers of “I should have known”, “Just like his father”, “Such a shame” circulated the room. Roman only turned around and headed back to his home.

~

Roman shook his head of the memory as he arrived at his destination, the bookstore. It was his sanctuary. No one in the town came there unless they needed something for school. It was quiet and Roman claimed a spot by the window where he could read. People would still look in but he could simply pull the drapes shut.

The bookstore owner was one of the only two people in the town that Roman actually liked. The bookstore owner’s name is Jon and Roman is pretty sure his father and he are more than just friends but neither would confirm or deny those claims.

Jon smiled as Roman entered “Roman! My favorite customer!” He stretched out his arms for a hug.

Roman smiled and graciously hugged him. “Good morning!”

Jon gave him a quick squeeze before pulling away “What brings you here?”

“Oh nothing, just returning the book I borrowed.”

 Jon laughed “I should be surprised that you are done already, but it is you.”

Roman chuckled “Then I guess that also means that you don’t have anything new for me?”

Jon backed up and pointed to the “Newest” section of the bookstore. To any other person, it was filled and they wouldn’t know where to start. To Roman, it was a been there, done that situation. Jon kept books in the “Newest” section up to three months due to the lack of casual readers, but by the time the three months were up, Roman would have read each and every book.

Jon found it impressive, Thomas chalked it up to no impulse control.

“Nothing new came in yesterday, sorry.”

Roman’s smile didn’t waver “Don’t worry, I know just the book to past the time until they do.” Roman placed the book he was returning back on the shelf he took it from. He walked towards the back of the bookstore and pulled a very specific book. It had a light blue cover, but no words on it. Roman traced his fingers over it and smiled.

Jon smiled “How could I forget about that one? It’s your favorite. I just started a pot of coffee. I could bring you a cup.”

“Thanks but I have to get back home.” Roman placed the book in his basket “If I’m not there to make him, he won’t move from his desk all day.”

Jon gave him a knowing glance as he dusted the bookshelf “New story idea?”

“Worse, deadline coming up.”

“Then you better get a move on.”

“I will.”

“Oh and don’t worry about returning the book.”

Roman turned around and raised an eyebrow “Wait, why?”

Jon smiled “I know it's your favorite.”

Roman smiled “Of course! Far off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise! It’s the whole package!”

“Which is why you should keep it.”

Roman gave Jon another hug, repeatedly saying thank you. After he determined he had said thank you enough, he headed out the shop. He didn’t miss the people who abruptly turned from the large shop window as he saw them watching him from the window. Roman opened his book and read as he walked to avoid making eye contact with anyone.

Smirking to himself, Roman decided to mess with the people watching him. Pulling the book up to block his face, he walked through the busiest street with ease. Dodging children running past, easily walking over obstacles in the road, even dodging water from being thrown on his head. The people followed him, completely in awe.

~

A group of geese fly peacefully over the town...before one was suddenly shot down. A young man, known as Nat, chased after it and attempted to catch in a ball. Though he overestimated how far he needed to be underneath it and the dead geese flopped onto the floor. Quickly stuffing it inside the bag, he ran back over to Decarus.

“Wow, that was a perfect shot, Dee! Like always, of course! You’re the greatest hunter in the world!” Nat made sure to compliment Decarus any chance he got to make sure he stayed on Decarus’ good side.

Decarus turned towards his weapon and tuned out Nat as he wiped down his gun. He had heard it every day anyway.

Decarus loved his life. He got everything he wanted without any effort. Every lie that exited his mouth meant a new thing to serve him. Large scars on your face are not attractive? Now they are. Being into guys is bad? Not anymore. Do you need to work to make a living? Not for Decarus, he needs to hunt and protect the town from all the dangers of the outside world. He had the town wrapped around his finger.

All except one.

Nat’s voice faded back “...And I bet you could get anyone you wanted!”

Decarus smirked and spoke loud enough for anyone close to hear, “You bet I can, and I want that one.” He pointed his rifle at Roman who only walked past. Roman was aware of the distance between him and the gun was short but he didn’t even look up from his book. Decarus was the second person who tried to romance Roman and continued to do so. Thus Roman was used to this kind of behavior on a daily basis.

Nat raised an eyebrow “The writer’s son?” It was an unspoken rule to not speak the last name of Roman and Thomas, that meant respect.

“Yup, because he’s totally the most beautiful person in town which is the only reason I want him.” Roman was the only person in the town that wasn’t madly in love with Decarus. Even Roman’s recluse of a father admires the young hunter. That made Roman a prize to be won. A toy he wanted for him to play with. That was the real reason.

Decarus was very aware that he could have any man he wanted. While people stared at Roman with judgment, they looked like Decarus with love and admiration. Some invited him into their homes or go hunting with. Still, he followed Roman, because that’s what he wanted.

Roman knew Decarus was following him, he did it every day. After ignoring Roman for days after the girl incident, Decarus went from ignoring Roman to coming up to him every day to try to romance him. Thus making him the aforementioned second person. Roman headed down the most crowded road in all the town, the main road. It was busy with people doing their morning shopping. Once again, Roman easily dodged them without looking up from his book.

Decarus smirked “Playing snake and mouse, are we? Well then. Run, little mouse, run.” Decarus took off, down an alley with Nat attempting to keep up with him.

Roman almost made it to his house on the hill when Decarus jumped in front of him.

Decarus straight his jacket out and leaned against the side of a building casually, as if to make it look like he hadn’t chased down Roman. “Hello, Roman~”

Roman didn’t bother to look up from his book. He pondered his options. He could ignore Decarus as always but he knew that the whispers would only get louder and he had a big enough headache already.

With a sigh, Roman answered, “Good morning Decarus.” With a smirk, Roman added, “Up to your usual stalking and general assholeness?”

The people around them gasped, in shock that Roman would dare disrespect such a great man. Decarus’ smirk didn’t waver, only grew “Oh yes, that’s exactly what I’m up to.” He snatched Roman’s book out of his hands and held it just out of reach “I see you’re still being a stuck-up bookworm prick.” Behind Decarus, Nate let out an “Ooohhh!” between his pants as he just caught up to the two.

See, there was yet another big lie Decarus told, this one was a lie of omission. What is the secret? He hates Roman as much as Roman hates him, even with Roman’s good looks. He found Roman to be an annoying know-it-all that never gave Decarus the attention he so deserved. But that only made Roman more desirable. Decarus wanted to fix Roman, make him exactly like everyone in the town. Then he would everyone wrapped around his finger for Thomas would do anything for his son. Plus, he always wanted a trophy husband.

Decarus flipped through Roman’s book, rather disgusted “Why do you subject yourself to such unnecessary boredom when you could be doing more important things, and important people.” He wiggled his eyebrows, only earning an eye roll from Roman.

“Some people like to expand their minds.”

Decarus and Nat shared a look then began to laugh at Roman. Roman tried to get his book back as they were momentarily distracted but Decarus had a fast reaction time and moved it out of Roman’s way, satisfied with the growl of frustration that escapes Roman’s mouth.

“I and the entire town despise that you do such a thing. It’s not right. You’re going come up with...new ideas.”

Roman raised an eyebrow “And that’s bad?”

“Extremely bad.”

“Goodbye.” Roman snatched the book away and headed over to his house, more annoyed than he thought was possible.

Decarus did not move from his spot but stretched out his arms “Come on, don’t be like that. Why don’t you join me and look at all my trophies and the other stuff I was given for being such an amazing hunter and the town’s golden boy.”

That should be a joke. That should offend the people around them. But no, Decarus was serious and no one cared. Roman should scream, should tell him off, but it wasn’t worth it.

So instead, he says, very nonchalantly as he looked over his shoulder “I can’t, I have to help my father, like a good son.”

Decarus let out a growl at that comment. Like everyone else in town, he has his parents under his thumb. Only he and Roman were aware that their adornment of him did not equal love. Just another lie.

Nate could feel the hatred emulating off of both men, so he intervened with a laugh. “Yeah, your crazy father needs help alright, mental--”

Roman spun around and shouted angrily “HOW DARE YOU?!” Everyone around him froze, Roman barely spoke up, much less yelled “HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT MY FATHER SO POORLY IN FRONT OF ME?! MY FATHER IS NOT CRAZY OR ANYTHING YOU PEOPLE CALL HIM! HE IS A GENIUS OUTSIDE OF HIS TIME! You don’t get to talk about him that way.”

Decarus couldn’t bite back his smirk “Yeah Nat, what were you thinking? How rude.”

Roman rolled his eyes and stomped home, ignoring Decarus’ catcalls. As soon as he was inside his house, he slammed the door shut and leaned against it, holding his face in his hand to cool down. He heard his father begin to sing and he couldn’t help but smile. Thomas’ voice was always a calming presence through his life and even inspired his love of singing.

Putting his basket on the table, he heads down to the basement book in hand, to his father hunched over his desk. He scribbled away, letting his greatest passion take control of his hands.

Thomas suddenly frowned and threw down his pencil in anger, making Roman laugh “Woah dad, what did that pencil do to you?”

Thomas turned and smiled at his son “It’s what it hasn’t done, it hasn’t finished the play for me.”

Roman laughed and gave his father a hug.

Thomas sighed and he gently patted Roman’s arm “I think I’m just going to give up on this one.”

Roman stood up and shook his head “Nope! You are going to finish this play, take it to the production company, they’ll say yes, we become rich and leave this place forever.”

Thomas smiled and looked around the room. Around his office are pictures Roman has drawn. Pictures of them living in mansions, castles, visiting different countries along with all the things they could buy. “You never give up on me, do you buddy?” Roman smiled “Sorry, it’s just how I am.”

“Then hand me a pencil! I’m finally going to finish this play!” Roman happily handed over the pencil and sat down in his chair. This was the only part of the daily routine Roman enjoyed. Thomas would write and Roman would read. They would escape their horrid world and go into ones only they could imagine. Plus, they were in the basement so if anyone came to the door, they would assume the two were not home. It was peace.

“How’s your day been so far, Ro?”

“Oh, it was amazing! I love been stalked, harassed, and whispered about every time I leave the house.” Roman rolled his eyes once he finished, adding effect to his statement. “Oh and Jon says hi.”

Thomas looked at him sympathetically, knowing there wasn’t much he could do for the son he loved so dearly. As he wrote, Thomas remembered how they got to this dreadful town.

Thomas was walking alone on a cold Christmas night, heading back to his empty apartment to spend his Christmas writing for the small newspaper company he worked for. Suddenly, a woman ran past him and knocked him to the ground. He got up and, just a few buildings ahead, he saw the woman put a small basket in front of the local city orphanage. He sighed as felt sympathy for the woman. Then the panic struck, the orphans and the caretakers were away to go ice skating across town. He knew this as he told stories to the orphan children who lived there every week.

As soon as the woman put the baby down, he began to cry as the warmth of his mother left him and the cold of the snow touched his face. Thomas called out to the woman but she only ran kept running. He tried to open the door to the orphanage but it was locked. He looked down at the screeching baby and felt his heart tugged. He gently scooped up the newborn and he immediately stops crying. Thomas smiles at the child, he has made up his mind.

He named him Roman.

As months past, Thomas decided a small cramped apartment was not a good place to raise a child. So Thomas quit his job, sold his apartment and moved to the very town they were in now.

In the beginning, it was amazing. As Roman recounted, the townspeople were very kind to them at first. Thomas worked at the bookstore with Jon part-time while spending his time writing his plays. The children would come to his door and he would tell them stories, like the children at the orphanage. When the adults found out, he made the mistake of inviting them to listen. They felt his stories were mad, unrealistic, and, of course, crazy. They told him to stay away from their kids and that he wouldn’t let them be corrupted. He should have known Roman would be next on their hate list.

Thomas smiled fondly at his son “Don’t worry son. It’s like you said, this play will be the start of the new life for us!”

Roman jumped up so quickly that his book went flying to the floor “You’re finished?!”

Thomas grinned and nodded, showing his creation to his son. Roman practically snatched the play and read it as quickly as he could.

Roman should be a biased critic since Thomas is his father. But Roman has read plenty of books to know what was good and what was bad. And he let his father know it.

“Dad...this is the most amazing play I have ever read! And the simple title of ‘Ultimate Storytime’ is just genius! You did it! You really did it! This is going to be the greatest play of all time.”

Thomas smiled shyly “You really think so?”

“I KNOW SO!”

“Then hitch up Foster! I have to get going!”

~

They spent the next hour getting all of Thomas’ things together for the trip. Food, a map, plenty of clothes, water, and his story tucked away in a secure briefcase.

Roman hugged his father goodbye “Good luck, and stay safe please.”

Thomas lovingly hugged back “Of course Ro. Now, remember to take care of yourself just as well as you take care of me. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, son.” Thomas jumped onto his carriage and rode off with Foster. Roman waved until he couldn’t see them anymore before going inside to make some tea.

Thus the events that start our tale were set in motion.

~

Next

~ Tag list:

@corkeecoderyt @Per-seph-o-nee @Ohshrekmyheck @3milystuff  @Asymmetricalgarbage8888   @fairytailtwists  @sanders-sides-rebloger  @sanderssidesfluffyangst  @unikornavenger @0callmevirge0 @gloomingwitch @roxiefox24 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo

in a café, i watched it begin again.

tagging: @harvberry @maricorcoran

location: The library and then the street. 

time frame: May 21. 

about: Harvey and Marissa see each other after years. 

warnings: this is very very cheesy. 

Marissa enjoyed getting to have a free afternoon, now that classes were wrapped. With that in mind, she moved easily around the city to her favorite spot: the bookstore. Summer was just starting and she needed to get some new things to pass the time, considering that Mia was probably gonna be a little busy, just as Jack. As she arrived, the girl walked around the place, going straight to the ya romance section. Normally, she would prefer to go into a more classic direction, but the sun and the new season made her want to read something more up to date. Easily, she picked four books, trying to hold them all in a little pile against her chest so she could go to the desk, but as soon as she turned, Marissa collided with someone else. The impact made the books go right to the floor and Marissa kneeled down, putting some hair behind her ear with one hand. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t...” Her words died on her throat as soon as her eyes caught a glimpse of the other person, feeling her heart jumped out of her chest. “Harvey?”

Harvey was having the time of his life. He had just finished up his shift at the gym and was walking home when he walked by the bookstore. It had been a while since he last read a book, so he decided to find something to amuse himself with. Looking around all excited, he forgot to look forward and accidentally bumped into someone. "My apologies! I was definitely not looking where I was going..." He immediately bent down and started collecting the books. When he heard his name, he lifted his gaze from the books to meet an all too familiar face. "Marissa." His eyes widened in surprise. Here was a girl that plagued his dreams for many moons before. He thought he would never be able to see her again. "Marissa!" He repeated, "Hi, wow, you look absolutely fantastic!" He said standing up, he reached out a hand to help Marissa stand as well.

Marissa didn't know what to do with herself, something she was clearly not used to. Normally, she had her thoughts welll put together, but with Harvey in front of her, she didn't know hot to act. It felt like they were in Europe a life time ago, that she was a completely different person. "Harvey" Saying his name was probably a good start and taking his hand, she stood up, pressing the books against her chest. "Thank you" She knew her cheeks were red, just like the color of the sky, but she stood her ground and made a smile. "You look good as well. I didn't know you were in town" Or in America, since you never called.

Smiling warmly at Marissa, Harvey simply stared at the brunette in front of him. It's been so long since he last saw her. Ever since his phone broke and he lost her number, he thought that was it - he was never going to have any way to contact her or see her again. But here she is! "You are even more beautiful than last time I saw you." He said softly. "Oh yes, it's been a few years? I got into an accident and I decided to move back home so here I am. What are you doing here?"

With the seconds passing, Marissa was starting to ease back into been a normal person. That's why Harvey's comment brought some softness to her smile, knowing that he was honest with his comment. "I'm glad you think so" It did made her feel great, that he still found her easy on the eye, but all those thoughts went out of the window. "Are you okay? What happened?" Unable to hold herself, she moved her free hand to rest on his arm, eyes quickly assessing him in search for any injury.

"I'm fine now, don't worry." Harvey said as he placed his hand over Marissa's in comfort. "I just can't run very fast anymore, so I had to change career. What brings you to Doveport, Marissa?" His heart has been beating double time since he laid eyes on Marissa. It's been years, but there's something special about Marissa that he just can't seem to forget. "I missed you." He blurted it out instead of waiting for a response.

Marissa kept her eyes on him, trying to see if there was any change in his attitude that told her that this was more painful for him that he let her see. He was a soccer player, she remembered and it must had been hard for him to just let it go. "I live here now actually, since a few months ago" How in the world had she missed him for this long if they lived in the same town? it wasn't like Doveport was the biggest place in the world. Her eyes moved right to his, her hand dropping lightly from his arm to be pulled back to her books. "It's very good to see you, Harvey" If he had missed her, why he didn't call her? After all this time?

Harvey looked down at the books in Marissa's hands and decided they should go somewhere else to continue this conversation. He wasn't ready to let her go just yet, not after so many years. "Do you want to get coffee with me? Or tea?" He asked instead.

She wanted to say yes, so badly. Marissa knew that they shouldn't have a long conversation in the middle of a bookstore, but there was some hesitation before answering. At the end, the fact that he was here in Doveport, of all places in the world, was enough to make her agree to it. "I would love to, if you are not busy right now" Her eyes moved to the desk, just before going back to him. "I just need to pay for this"

"No, not busy at all. I'm all yours!" Harvey grinned happily. He gets to spend more time with Marissa, that's always something to be grateful for. Hopefully he'll be able to reconnect with her and they could still be friends. What are the chances they would meet in a small town after all these years? He went to the counter with Marissa and watched as she checked out her books. He offered to carry them as they walked out of the bookstore. "There's a cafe not too far from here, do you want to go there? Or is there anywhere particular you have in mind?"

Her hand itched to take her phone and text Mia, but she resisted as they finished their business inside the bookstore. "I'd love some coffee. Anywhere is fine" It was insanely weird to walk beside him, mostly because the whole situation felt something out of a strange dream. "It's been a few years, hasn't it?" She didn't know what to say or how to act around him, but there was no point in lying or not going straight to the point.

Harvey forced himself to look ahead but that only resulted in him taking glances over at Marissa every other step. “Yeah.. at least two years.” He lamented “ but looking at you now makes it seem like it was just yesterday we said goodbye at the airport.” He said with a smile. “I never thought I’d see you again! This is definitely something worth celebrating!”

So he did remember. Marissa had a great memory and she was sure about dates and times, but it made her confused that he did. There was some part of the story that was missing from her point of view, something that made Harvey actually looked sad about not keeping in touch with her when it was all his doing. "Well, I did want to see you again, after we return" Marissa commented casually, not truly matching his enthusiastic tone. At least not yet. "I remember I gave you my number"

His smile quickly turned into a grimace when he realized Marissa caught on. “I know, and I made sure to text you the moment I landed! But the sad news is that I bumped into someone when I was texting you.. and my phone fell out of my hands and a car ran over it.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he regaled the story. “I hadn’t had time to memorize it yet so when they told me they couldn’t get my old phone to work, I lost your number.” He said sadly as he turned to look at Marissa. “I really wanted to see you again! But then when I lost your number... I was very upset for a while afterwards.”

Whatever that Marissa expected him to say, that was definitely not that. For the short time she knew Harvey, she had been able to pick up his complete inability to lie and it seemed that, years later, it was still the same. "A car" She repeated, just for clarification. "I... Well, I have spent the last few years thinking that either you didn't want to call or that you were simple an invention of my mind. I can say I'm happily surprised by the turn of events" To punctuate her words, and the fact that light teasing was her way to calm him, Marissa pressed her hand against his arm, just like she had done at the bookstore, but this time she kept it there as they walked.

Harvey sighed heavily as he thought back to the events that led to him losing whatever chance he had with Marissa. If only he paid more attention as to where he was going. “I am a terrible person, I know. I should’ve been more attentive to my surroundings. Or at least write down your number somewhere else!” His lower lip jut out slightly. “I’m sorry. Truly. Will you ever find it in you to forgive me?”

At least for Marissa, it was impossible to not be charmed by him. "I think it's something that can happen to anyone. Would you hold it against me if the roles were reversed?" Now it was actually a bit funny, if she thought about that. Specially if you considered that, at the end, they have found each other in Doveport. "There is nothing to forgive, Harvey. I promise. I do feel a lot better to know that it wasn't just a ghosting situation"

“I would never ghost you!” He said urgently. Harvey needed Marissa to know that she was very important to him. He had spent days and weeks thinking about her when he came back from his trip to Europe. “I wanted so badly to find you again, but I didn’t even know your last name.” He trailed off sadly. “I would never hold it against you if you don’t want to see me again after this. After all I was the one who didn’t contact you for years.”

Marissa sighed, knowing that light conversation wasn't going to be enough. "Harvey" Her hand moved down to his, stopping him in the middle of the street so she could actually stare directly at him. It was her luck that there weren't many people, so they weren't truly blocking the street. "I believe you and I promise, we are fine. It was something that was on my mind but now I know that happened and we can move pass it" The corners of her mouth lifted up lightly, head titling to the side. "And it's Corcoran. My last name. In case you miss me again"

Harvey held Marissa’s hand in his and looked directly at her eyes. He nodded after a good minute. “I’m Harvey Berry. And this time I’m not letting you go so easily.” He added firmly with a smile.

It felt final, somehow. Like everything he was saying was set on stone and for some reason, she felt right back in Europe, in the middle of a that particular dream. "Alright, then" Her eyes moved down to their joined hands. "I believe coffee is waiting for us, is it not?"

His smile grew into a full blown grin as he raised their joint hands forward. “Off we go!” He said as he gently swung their arms together. “You’ll have to tell me everything that’s happened ever since we parted! I want to know everything!”

Now that the serious part was out of the way, and that by some miracle her heart had stopped working extra hours, Marissa was able to relax back to her normal self. "You seem to forget who are you talking with" She comment lightly, letting him drag her around the street. "'m sure you have more entertaining things to tell me"

Harvey let their shoulders bump into each other as he replied “What? Me? No way. I don’t live nearly as exciting as you do. I’ve been spending the last two years here in Doveport working at the gym. Oh, I got a dog! There’s that. But other than that, I don’t think there’s anything you don’t already know.”

She couldn't help but let her eyes shine a little bit brighter. "You have a dog? I got one too, since I got here" And just because she was the proudest dog mom in the world, she used her free hand to take out of her cellphone and showed him her wallpaper. "This is Anne, I got her just when I move here"

Harvey peered over to see the cutest dog on Marissa’s screen. “She’s adorable! A few months then. I recently got Pancakes with my roommate. I think it’s been a few weeks? Here let me show you. We had pictures professionally taken to celebrate her joining the family.” He took out his own phone and showed her all the puppy pictures he’s stored in his phone.

Professional photos? How had she never thought about it? "Oh my god" Her voice went higher than normal, taking his phone out of his hand and watching the little photo, moving them along with her finger. "She is so beautiful, Harvey. And she looks truly happy too"

Harvey ran his hand through his hair and chuckled happily to himself. It's always nice to hear that people thought Pancakes is happy with him. He knew some dogs didn't particularly like their owner, but he was glad that he lucked out on his new friend. "She's the best thing that's happened to me. She's really cute. She tries to jump on me but apparently the vet said I should curb that habit since she's a big dog. She might hurt someone by jumping on them, but she's just so cute!" He gushed. "You should come by sometime and get to know her! I knew she would just fall in love with you."

It was adorable to hear him talk about his dog, making her really happy that she agreed to go get a coffee with him. "Oh, I'm sure she just wants her hugs. Poor thing" The smile that appeared on her face was big and bright. "I would love to. I'm sure Anne would love to have a new friend, she is so much more extrovert than me" Now that she thought about it, most of the new friends she had made her in Doveport were thanks to lovely Anne.May 26, 2020

As they approach the coffee shop, Harvey made sure to hold the door open for Marissa before inviting her to order. "It'll be on me. It's not every day I bump into someone special in the streets." He said with a bright smile. Once they placed their order, Harvey found them a place to sit. "So have you been travelling much these past years? I've always wanted to go to Australia, but I never got to. I might take that trip now that I'm settled back in."May 28, 2020

Happy to follow his lead, Marissa smiled grateful and gave her order, letting him pick a place where they could sit peacefully and talk. "I haven't, actually. The last trip I had before coming here was the one that we made together" That's how Marissa always thought about it, like Harvey was always part of that little adventure, not an accidental addition. "Australia sounds like an entertaining destination. Not exactly my type of scenario, but I can see the appeal"

#Hannigraham Meet-Cute Challenge

Breathing in the tantalizing sea breeze on this wonderful merMay, we’re certainly enjoying the slow arrival of summer. There has been a lot of rain, so we spent our time in front of a computer, writing about the improbable ways in which our favourite characters would be meeting to share an umbrella, to find shelter from the ugly weather in a nice café, or simply staring at the dark sky and finding someone with whom to share its beauty. Hoping for the storm to actually provide some inspiration to you, let us present some very interesting prompts that could be combined with these menacing clouds and grey days 🌧

#1: B works at a bookstore and offers assistance to an embarrassed A, a customer carrying a large stack of self-help books.

#3: A walks into the kitchen, half-asleep, and mistakes B for her roommate. B knows the roommate and stayed overnight; makes breakfast for A. Need more details? Click on the post.

#22: A is having a quiet night at home – that is, until A’s apartment neighbour begins blasting music. Frustration levels rising, A goes to knock on the neighbour’s door to ask them to keep it down… at the same time B, the resident on the other side, is about to. Need more detail? Click on the post.

#32: A checks into a cozy inn while on a cross-country road trip, beyond tired and ready to collapse. When A gets to the assigned room, he or she is in for a surprise! Someone else, B, is already in the room. Uh-oh.

#50: A is at his/her cousin’s wedding. At the reception, A wanders over to B, a stranger, and in the spirit of the romance and happiness in the air, asks if they’re here for the groom or the bride. B’s answer is both simple and, ultimately, confusing: “Neither.”

#116: Although A normally goes to the cafe on Thursday evenings, A’s sibling had called in tears, and s/he had been forced to miss it. So instead A goes the next evening, sitting down at a table with a fresh cup of tea, and then abruptly realized that Friday night was Speed Dating night as B slides into the chair opposite and says, “They say you and I only have five minutes, but I can tell we’re going to need longer.”

#117: A is a professional assassin hired to take out a client’s cheating husband. But the client also spoke to B, a close friend, who has made it his/her’s own mission to also kill the husband. Unfortunately, both A and B have chosen the same night to do so, and it just so happens that B is a bit clumsy… and keeps getting in A’s way.

#143: A’s blind date just left, mumbling some sort of excuse about leaving the stove on. Confused and feeling rejected, A sits orders another beer at the bar, wondering where s/he went wrong. B, who had witnessed the situation, goes over and says sympathetically, “I think I know what went wrong… there’s something in your teeth.”

#162: A is interviewing potential roommates and is having very little luck. When it comes to B, A says, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think this is going to work. I can’t live with someone that I’d like to ask out.”

#166: A is at a coffee shop and sits down at a table, only to find a book on the chair. Intrigued, A starts flipping through it, and realizes it’s actually someone’s journal that had been left behind! And it’s fascinating. Unfortunately, B, the journal’s author, rushes back to retrieve it… and is horrified to see A reading it. But A, having gotten a feel for this person through his/her writing, asks if they want to go out sometime.

#176: A works at a pet store and is utterly surprised when B bursts through the door in a hurry and walks up to the cash without looking around. Out of breath, A says, “Please don’t ask why, but what do capybaras eat?”

#180: There has been a series of recent break-ins in A’s neighbourhood. B, a cop, knocks on A’s door to recommend safety measures and to ask if A has noticed anything peculiar — A hasn’t really seen anything, but invites the cop and his/her charming smile inside for coffee and a bit of false information so s/he might stay a while.

#186: A is walking through the park at night and notices B following close behind. With every step A is getting more and more paranoid until finally, as B goes to pass A, A swivels on his/her heel and punches B in the face! Turns out, B really was just trying to quicken his/her pace to make it home in time for the hockey game.

#207: A meets B and falls immediately for them, but B clearly doesn’t feel the same. After being rejected, A calls on Anteros, the avenger of unrequited love, to exact vengeance on B.

#210: A is a writer struggling to find inspiration for their next book. The publishers are breathing down their neck and the pressure is almost more than A can take. When A comes across an old Greek book in a thrift store, A brings it home and flips through the pages…. only to come across an old chant that was supposed to bring inspiration to those who read it out loud. A gives it a shot and… oh dear. Oh, oh dear. Somehow that summoned B, one of the Muses, to A’s living room.

#215: A is brought in to the police station for questioning about a crime they know nothing about and is put in an interrogation room… with B, who is another suspect in this particular case.

#239: A is sitting in a cafe trying to casually read their book, but is distracted by B’s loud phone conversation at the table over. B tells a joke over the phone, which makes A crack up unexpectedly – B looks over at A, annoyed that they were eavesdropping, but also appreciative that at least someone liked their joke! B hangs up and offers to tell A another.

#246: A was fatally wounded in an accident and suddenly finds themself looking down at their own lifeless body in confusion. B is a reaper and offers A guidance… but A doesn’t want to do the whole follow the light bullshit. A wants to flirt with the cute reaper.

#248: A is a barista and has come to recognize the regulars and their orders. One day, B walks in and A greets them, starting to prepare their order, when B stops A with a sigh: “I’m not who you think I am.” After receiving a blank stare from A who has no idea how to respond to that, B continues, “I have a twin. I’m the other one.”

#252: A is in the public library and notices a strange book that looks like it doesn’t belong in this section. A moves along to another genre, but it seems that this book is in every section… almost like it’s following A. How peculiar! When A finally picks it up to see what exactly it is, B appears out of thin air, and simply says, “I’ve been waiting fifty years for you.”

One of these was not in @fhimechan’s last post, which @mowgliscode, @diemetzgermeisterin, @hannibalsimago, @a-beautiful-day-to-be-arrested, @tigsmulii, @zigzag-wanderer, @h4nnibalism, @hhannahdarling, @fragile-teacup and @jenacar thankfully reblogged. We’re always so grateful for your help, you know we wouldn’t go anywhere on own our :/ Thank you so much!

Someone we really have to thank this month is also @niceven-silace, who decided to accept our challenge and gift us an amazing work! The night shift customer, the fic we’re talking about, is also the first to break our Hannibal Extended Universe wall, introducing Nigel! While the main pairing is still Hannigraham, we’re slowly broading our palate, officially accepting whatever HEU version of our lovely murder husbands.

Speaking of Extended Universe, Space Dogs, Basic Chicken, DogDogs, Royal Instincs and whatever other pairing crosses your mind, there’s an amazing HEU discord server if you’d like to deepen your knowledge ( ͡⚆ ͜ʖ ͡⚆) and speaking of Discord channels, Hannigram HQ has run a lovely initiative this week and some wonderful Different First Meetings has been mentioned, so sink your teeth in these beautiful stories ✧・ﾟ:*

@nera-solani recc’ed @fhimechan’s The hair of the dog @ishxallxgood recc’ed @anomalousy​’s Twisted Fates. @ethicsbecomeaesthetics​ recc’ed ache_for_him’s before you and after you @annabelle-hopkins​ recc’ed @darkmoonsigel​’s Hear My Soul Speak @jainas-art​ recc’ed @emungere​’s Something Warmer @cinnamaldeide​ recc’ed @geneticallydead​’s Clothes Make The Man (serie)

I cannot but rec all of our amazing contributions as well, all the delicious stories we managed to collect so far in these last five months!

#29: Welcome to Widdershins Close by @zigzag-wanderer #110: Fancy meeting you by @mazephoenix #74: Going My Way by @fragile-teacup #55: A Face Like Yours by @hannibalsimago #13: Admirable Deceit by @cinnamaldeide

We’re so proud of our Ao3 collection, where you can find them all, and we’d like to continue adding magic stories to it! While we wait for you to find a prompt that really really inspires you, take a look at all the others on @meetcuteprompts and our Pillowfort community. As you know, you get to choose the next prompt after you fill one of the list above, so we hope there’s always something new to propose. Cute meetings might involve some more blood than other fandoms would comfortably allow, but we’re fannibals, what’s a little bleeding between friends  (ꈍᴗꈍ)

6 + 99 please!

Bookshop au + Magical accidents (+ mermaid/siren + werewolf + Only One Bed™) for one of my favorite people in the whole wide world. Definitely positively absolutely not safe for work. I’m self-fiving at it not breaking 10k words. It was a struggle.

Thank you to @garglyswoof for tolerating my constant idea bouncing and ‘can you look at this real quick pleeeeeease’ harassment, and to @chica-cherry-lola for helping me get started and @goldcaught and @candycolamorgan for letting me creepily watch them like a hawk in a hotel room while they read the first draft and listening to me complain about how many words this was.

I hope you like it Laine

Caroline tried her best not to give Werewolf With Dimples the evil eye as he walked through the front entrance of the bookshop, the bell letting out a shrill clang.

To be fair, she wasn’t ten thousand percent sure he was a werewolf, but every time he entered Mystic Books her skin would get all prickly, letting her know that another supernatural non-witchy type was around, and there were only a few choices that came out in daylight and could pass for human.

She didn’t know Werewolf With Dimples’s name, nor had she ever had any direct interaction with him. Occasionally she caught him glancing at her when she was shelving new releases—the section he frequented—but other than that, no communication whatsoever.

Anyway, she kind of hated him, mostly on principle.

She’d been working at the magical bookstore on the edge of Mystic Falls for most of the year while she took night classes towards her degree in Economics. The owner, Sheila, taught part-time as a visiting professor in the Religious Studies department, and Caroline had really loved her History of Paganism and Witchcraft in Literature class when she took it for a gen ed credit. She’d quickly pinned on a minor in Religious Studies and asked Sheila to be her advisor. After a few enthusiastic office-hour conversations about the books she was assigned and a side-mention of how she was looking for a part-time gig for the summer, Sheila had offered her a job.

She wished the customer she was ringing up a good day and as soon as they were out the door she glanced around the bookshop to re-locate Werewolf With Dimples with the intent of trying to convey her displeasure through murder eyes as she aggressively shelved books in his immediate vicinity. She was seriously tempted to unclasp her necklace and let her fangs out in the hopes that she’d spook him and he’d take his own ass out the door without any extra effort. Unfortunately, all he did was glance up and meet her eyes with a small smirk before returning to his reading.

She took a moment to remind herself that Sheila would get mad if she ate customers. She was lucky that the owner had trusted her enough to give her a chance. It had been terrifying to admit her secret, the confession leaving her in a low, shaky voice after her fangs had broken through her gums and scared one of the teenage boys that unsubtly eyed her legs while she reshelved books. Sirens had to feed on blood to walk on land and were often mistaken for vampires due to their similar diet, but Sheila knew better and thankfully understood. She made her a necklace to dampen her cravings, imbuing it with enough magic that she could feed from it instead of humans, letting her keep her legs without having to hurt anyone.

Combined with the free access to all the books she could want and the steady air conditioning, if you ignored Werewolf With Dimples ruining her day it had so far been the most stress-free summer she’d had. She glanced up at him again to give him a good stink eye and was absolutely not at all distracted by the shape of his forearms revealed by the henley rolled up to his elbows or the way his long fingers wrapped around the cover of whatever book he was flagrantly consuming without a thought at all to the ‘NO BROWSING WITHOUT BUYING’ sign she’d made the week before and thoughtfully thumbtacked to the shelf by the armchair he always sat in.

The demand for printed grimoires, their best-selling section, was waning because you could find most of the common ones online. They were struggling to stay open as it was, had even opened a magical pastry counter in an attempt to gain more revenue, and she was infuriated that Werewolf With Dimples just came in, read books, and left without buying anything.

Not even from the pastry counter.

Frankly, Caroline thought it was more than a bit rude. This wasn’t a library. You weren’t supposed to be able to just walk in and read whatever you wanted without buying anything. It was a respectable capitalist establishment. She’d taken to mentally ringing up the price of all the books he’d read and then reshelved, and he’d already hit over $500 of stolen knowledge.

He sometimes also reshelved things wrong, watching her with a small smile on his lips when she went to fix it after he got up. She was 99% sure he was doing it on purpose.

Honestly, he was lucky that she didn’t eat customers.

The only good thing about Werewolf With Dimples was that he was cute. She suspected that it was how he’d gotten away with being a flagrant thief for so long. The Halo Effect was a real thing. It was just science.

She swore to herself every time he left that next time she’d tell him that they had the right to refuse service to anyone and to please see himself out unless he was going to purchase something, but for some reason she’d never been able to go through with it.

Until now.

She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before walking over, trying not to look too aggressive. He was lounging on a plush chair in the corner of their rare grimoire section, reading a leather-bound tome that looked like one of the newer releases.

“Hi,” she said with her best customer service smile, waiting until he looked up at her to continue. “So, I’ve noticed that you’ve been coming here a lot lately.”

He smirked, and she immediately realized that her opening could be taken in a much different way than she’d meant it. She cleared her throat and jabbed her finger at the sign a foot away from his ear and continued. “We have a policy here about browsing.”

“Do you?” he asked, his voice low and smooth. She hadn’t been expecting the accent, but she shook it off like a champ and nodded.

“Yeah. You can’t just like, read the books without buying things. No browsing without a purchase. This is a bookshop, with the emphasis on shop.”

“Consider me informed,” he said, clearly trying not to laugh, and she glared at him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Okay, great! I am. So, you going to buy that?”

“I must admit that I wasn’t planning on it, no.”

“Great!” she said with forced cheer, tugging it out of his hands. “I’ll reshelve it then.”

He watched with clear amusement as she inspected the cover, trying to find the title, and she figured out why when she saw it, stamped in gold on the front of the leather cover. Maybe in her first month she would have blushed and been more than a little flustered at ripping a book clearly about sex spells and potions from an attractive man’s hands, but at this point she felt like she’d seen everything.

“Can I help you find anything else?” she asked, grabbing a stepstool and carrying it over to reshelve the book.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around after sliding the book into its proper place he was gone.

As she’d said. Fucking rude.

He still showed up every day after that (except the three days around the full moon, which totally confirmed her werewolf theory), but he now bought a pastry from the counter before he settled down to read. He’d apparently taken the ‘no browsing without a purchase’ rule to mean that any purchase was sufficient, which was so not the case, yet despite her annoyance she sometimes found herself irritatingly distracted by his tongue darting over his lips to catch the flakes of the buttery croissants, or by the look on his face as he read.  

After hours she sometimes stuck around to read books in the back room, and she’d started to  pick up whatever he was reading out of curiosity. His choices were good, she was loathe to admit. They seemed to have a lot in common in terms of their favorite subjects. However, it didn’t stop him from being a total ass.

She didn’t have much time to confront him even if she’d wanted to, anyway. Katherine had decided to move back to Bulgaria and Sheila was out of town for winter break. That left Caroline completely alone to do all of the stocking herself. She was pulling multiple shifts, and though the overtime pay was nice, it was still a lot of work.

Caroline was busy sorting the books that were too old for new arrivals but hadn’t been sold yet when she felt someone come up behind her, nearly dropping the newest edition of the magical creature encyclopedia and barely catching it before it tumbled down to what would have been a painful fall onto her toes. She whirled around to have some serious words with whoever had snuck up on her, leveling her glare at none other than Werewolf With Dimples.

Of fucking course.

She pushed a slightly damp curl out of her face, the air conditioning having inconveniently broken just after Sheila had left, trying to calm her racing heart. She didn’t like being startled, her fight-or-flight instincts tending to scream “swim before you become siren sushi,” and it was even worse when she was on land when she just looked jumpy.

“Can you not sneak up on me like that?” she asked, abandoning all semblance of her normally stellar customer service attitude.

“Sorry, love. I was just going to ask if you needed help.”

“You don’t work here,” she said shortly, placing the book she’d been holding on the pile for magical creature research and turning to the next one.

“I’m here enough to know my way ‘round,” he pointed out.

“That’s weird, since you somehow don’t reshelve books correctly when you’re done browsing without a purchase.”

He didn’t even try to deny it, and she huffed at the knowing smirk on his stupid smug face.

“I’d be more of a help than a hindrance, I think. And you look like you’re a bit overwhelmed.”

“I’m not overwhelmed,” she said, her tone a bit sharper than she’d meant it to be, but Werewolf With Dimples didn’t seem to mind, his lips twitching before he nodded.

“Well, suit yourself, then.”

She huffed, the temptation of an extra hand outweighing both her pride and her common sense for one crucial moment that she was sure she’d regret. “Wait,” she said, and he turned around, his eyebrows raised. She kind of hated that he looked so smug that she was clearly about to let him help, but she didn’t really want to be stuck in the shop too late.

“Yes, love?”

“If you can just sort the books into piles according to their sections while I shelve them, that would be a huge help.”

“Of course,” he said easily, walking over and standing beside her, leaning over the table. He smelled really good, even with her necklace dulling her hunger. She had to resist the urge to linger, instead clearing her throat and gesturing to the large bucket of unsorted tomes before picking up a pile for the Rituals section.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, and he shot her a dimpled smile, his eyes sparkling as though he knew what she’d been thinking, and she hoped that she’d turned around before he could see her blush, her tongue running over her teeth just to make sure she hadn’t accidentally let her fangs appear.

What was wrong with her?

He was attractive, and she wasn’t above admitting that she’d totally go home with him if they had met in a bar. If he hadn’t been such a dick about the browsing thing, she might have even considered indulging in a little flirting at the store, maybe even a fling if he’d been a decent person, but she couldn’t justify it now that he’d shown himself to be the actual worst. To be fair, he had offered to help, though she doubted he had pure intentions from the way he watched her. What was the harm in taking advantage of his willingness to make her job easier? She totally deserved it for putting up with him.

As much as she told herself that he was a means to an end--her being able to go home at the end of her shift and bingewatch some Real Housewives--she found herself distracted from her work wondering how his long fingers would feel curled inside of her as he breathed filthy things in her ear, whether his eyes would flash wolfgold with want when he looked at her. She would never go through with it obviously. Purely a physical attraction.

But it was still annoying.

Ugh. He was just a really hot thorn in her side. He’d help out and she’d send him on his way, their totally unfriendly antagonism continuing to run its course. She shelved the books much too slowly, trying to get her heart rate back to normal, and when she returned he was already halfway through the bin, methodically sorting them into the piles she’d created.

“Thanks for helping,” she said, trying to keep her voice neutral.

“It’s my pleasure.”

That smile should be illegal. Like, a federal crime. It made her feel like he wanted to eat her, but in a good way.

She swallowed, snatching up the next pile and speed-walking away to shelve it without another word. She was highly aware of his eyes on her every time she climbed the ladder to slide the books into their proper places one-by-one. She was surprised that she wasn’t more nervous, centuries of her kind being hunted out of existence by humans making her wary of anyone who watched her so intently, and when he drank her in his eyes were hungry. Though she’d long noticed the shivers he sent down her spine, the nervousness that werewolves tended to bring out in her, it suddenly hit her that she’d never actually felt unsafe. They were only wolves for one night per month, it was true, but that didn’t make them powerless in human form; their accelerated healing and enhanced strength were still a definite threat to her if they weren’t friendly. A siren could tempt a wolf to give chase, could draw them in with the same heated looks and magnetic draw that they used to trap their human prey, but only at the risk of becoming a meal themselves once they were caught.

The heated glances he sent her made her blood rush, her heart thumping in her chest from the intoxicating high of being hunted,  but in an entirely different way than she’d expected. He was hungry for her, and since she obviously didn’t want to give in, not one bit, it was deeply irritating.

When she turned back he seemed absorbed in his task, and she saw that he was almost done sorting the entire pile. Clearly she’d been procrastinating on each section for too long. She picked up the next set of books, looking up at him when he spoke.

“I’m Klaus,” he said softly. The low tone felt odd to her after the heated glances and wicked taunting smirks she’d come to expect from him, the abrupt shift throwing her off.

“Caroline,” she said, putting down the book pile to shake his hand, her breath catching at the heat of his touch, the way the energy seemed to crackle between them. Like witches, sirens could sense magic by touch, could read a baseline of intent, but she’d never felt a charge so strong before. She met his eyes and found that she couldn’t look away. He seemed as surprised as she was by their weird magic-y connection, his gaze finally darting down to where their hands were still clasped, the feel of his calloused palm pressed against hers somehow throwing her off-balance even more.

“Caroline,” he repeated, as though testing how her name rolled off his tongue, and she felt a totally unwanted flush creep up her cheeks at his tone. “Is there anything else I can do?”

She swallowed, desperately looking for a way to diffuse the tension. “Um... Yeah. Reshelve these and then I have some other stuff you can help with. If you want, I mean. Come with me.”

She walked just a bit too fast in the direction of the stockroom, hoping she’d managed to turn quickly enough that he hadn’t seen her blush.

Klaus, as it turned out after a few hours voluntarily trapped in his presence, was annoyingly charming. He had a dry sense of humor that made her laugh before she could think to suppress it, and they ended up in the back stockroom close to midnight, still doing inventory that she probably could have finished up herself by ten.

It was weirdly worth it, though.

She didn’t have many people to talk to other than her roommate, who honestly was kind of a killjoy, and her friends from high school. Even from just snooping on the books he’d read she’d been able to have a real conversation with him about magical theory and history that was much more engaging than any she’d had in university classes. He really listened to her when she talked instead of planning his next point during her debates, and she kind of hated that she liked him for achieving the basic low bar of being attentive when she said words.

Maybe it was more than that, she admitted to herself when she glanced at the clipboard for the last aisle, highly aware of him just behind her. Maybe it was that she hadn’t had this much fun in a really long time. Maybe it was that he seemed to get her. Earlier she’d attributed the heated intense looks to physical chemistry, a primal sort of hunger that had everything to do with how he thought she’d look tangled in his sheets with his mark between her thighs, but she abruptly realized as he laughed at one of her jokes in their first ten minutes in the stockroom that it was more than that. He looked at her like she was fascinating.

They were approaching one in the morning when he’d said it, and honestly he’d chosen what was most likely the worst possible time. She’d been insisting that she could shelve a grimoire that looked like it weighed more than your average ten year old, mostly out of principle when he’d offered. The book was too valuable to keep out front and totally not something for a non-employee to mess with if she didn’t want to face Sheila’s wrath.

He hadn’t argued, just given her an exasperated look that she found more endearing than patronizing, and stood back as she climbed the ladder, subtly trying to spot her. She used a burst of her magic to boost it to the top shelf, slightly off balance from the toll it took on her. Her necklace must need a bit of a refresher spell, she noted. “What are you?” he’d asked, blurted really. It was clearly impulsive, but he didn’t move to apologize, apparently choosing to stand by asking her such a personal question.

She bristled at his rudeness, the distraction making her weight shift unexpectedly. Her arms flapped as she tried to regain her balance, and she managed to hold onto a shelf and steady herself on the ladder before glaring at him. “Excuse me?” she asked, her voice high pitched and defensive. “Seriously? You don’t just ask people what they are.”

“I’m a werewolf,” he said bluntly, and she huffed.

“I know.”

He didn’t seem surprised that she’d figured it out, though to be fair he hadn’t tried to hide it—a lot of the books he borrowed were about werewolves—and as a certified snoop herself she couldn’t exactly blame him for being nosey. Still, she didn’t owe him an explanation, especially since most stereotypes about sirens weren’t all that flattering.

“Well then it’s only fair to enlighten me as well.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, and she gritted her teeth.

She doubted he’d attack her, especially in his human form, and she’d seen that he’d read a book or two with content about sirens that was accurate. It wasn’t like she was going to eat him. Her self-control was excellent, and he had no idea how weak she currently was. If he reacted badly she’d ask Sheila to add him to the barrier spell on the door. Not only did it emit an electric shock to anyone who was on the list--usually thieves or rude customers--but Katherine had fended off her boredom during an unusually slow afternoon enchanting it to scream creative insults at the unwanted guest.

What was he going to do, write his congressman?

“I’m a siren,” she said reluctantly, fingering her shell necklace nervously out of habit. “But I don’t like, eat people.”

“Isn’t that how you keep your powers?” he asked, and she was relieved that he didn’t seem at all on edge or nervous. Just curious.

“My necklace is enchanted so that I don’t have to feed. Eating people is kind of rude.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

She snorted, hopping down from the ladder and taking the next book he handed her. “Well, humans are fragile, you know? I don’t want to accidentally give them anemia or something.”

“Fair. Does the necklace also give you enough power to keep your legs?”

She slotted the book into its proper place and made a mark on the clipboard, nodding. “Yep! My powers with my necklace are basically limited to some basic magic and being kickass at karaoke, but that’s only useful at parties. No tail unless the necklace comes off.”

Klaus looked intrigued more than anything, and she resisted the urge to go into more detail as she moved the ladder down a bit and plucked the next book out of his hands, climbing up to shelve it. She was so determined to look normal after revealing such a huge secret that she accidentally knocked one of the artifacts down with her elbow, and it fell to the ground with a clang followed by a shattering of glass.

“Oh, shit,” she breathed, looking around with wide eyes.

She wasn’t sure what she’d knocked over, and she frantically tried to find the label on the shelf she’d knocked it from before sighing in relief. It wasn’t anything important, just some empty vials.

The sigh was short-lived, her panic over the vials upending her balance, and she fell off the ladder with a thump, her arms aching, vaguely recognizing the sharp high note of something shattering against the concrete floor. She stared at the ceiling unseeingly, too distracted by how her hips suddenly felt like they were on fire. It took about half a second to realize what the familiar sensation was, the itchy bubbling of scales already tingling on her lower abdomen as her skin tightened and shifted.

“Caroline?” Klaus asked, sounding worried, and she winced as she heard the rip of cloth, her fusing legs ripping her jeans and thong in half as the spell crept down her thighs.

“My necklace,” she said frantically, clumsily rolling over on her elbows and reaching for the shell and cord that lay a foot away, trying to crawl toward it. She knew that it was most likely shattered and therefore stripped of its magic, but her tiny flame of hope that it had just become unfastened was extinguished when Klaus followed her line of vision and immediately bent down to pick it up, handing her the leather cord with only a fragment of the shell still clinging to it. “It’s broken,” she said unnecessarily, staring down at it.

“Where can you get another?” Klaus asked, and Caroline sighed.

“Well, Sheila can enchant one for me, but she’s out of town.”

He winced, clearly trying not to stare at the shimmering scales that had replaced her legs, the transformation only just finishing with her feet elongating into the end of her tail as she tried to sit up. She swore, and as soon as Klaus noticed what she was doing he bent to help her, his hand warm against her arm as he helped her regain her balance.

“Can I help in the meantime?”

“You’ve already done me like, fifty favors today,” Caroline pointed out, knowing that any decent person would help her get home instead of leaving her to lay on the stockroom floor unable to walk, but feeling like she had to say it out of principle.

He seemed to agree, giving her a disbelieving look before turning to her jeans and the red lace scrap that had previously been her thong. She probably would have been embarrassed if she wasn’t so stressed from her predicament. “You can leave those there,” she said. “Just grab my phone out of my pocket.”

He did as she directed, checking both back pockets and pulling out her phone. “Your purse is by the front desk?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, returning moments later with her purse over one shoulder and bending down to pick her up. “My car is the only one in the lot, but if you’d prefer I can get something to hide the tail.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s dark anyway,” she said, distracted by how warm he was and how good he smelled. She hated how even though she felt completely helpless in her current form, she felt oddly safe cradled against his chest.

“Your apartment?” he offered, and she shook her head.

“I live with a roommate. She doesn’t know. I don’t want to give her a heart attack.”

“I live alone?” he offered. “I even have a bathtub, if you’d prefer.”

She resisted the urge to snort, not wanting to be rude him when he was being nice (and she’d heard dumber questions before by far).

“Your place would be great, but don’t worry, I won’t need to take over your bathtub for anything other than bathing.”

She could have sworn she heard an off-beat thump of his heart, the hitch of his breath. Her words replayed in her mind and she tried to keep her composure while fighting the image of him walking in on her in the bath out of her mind. She wondered how entranced he’d be by the glistening of her scales, whether his gaze would trace the beads of water... She caught his eyes, noticed they were darker than they had been just a moment before. Had his thoughts been wandering in the same direction?

A few days ago she might have found the idea of him thinking of her naked creepy and irritating, but now she had to internally admit it was kind of hot...

She felt the light pierce of her teeth against her gums and shook herself, trying to push down the sudden bite of hunger she’d felt. He smelled even better now that her powers weren’t suppressed, his heartbeat temptingly strong and his jugular just inches away from her watering mouth. She was highly tempted to ask him whether he’d let her have a little taste so that she could get her legs back and they could both pretend this never happened, but feeding from someone was intimate, gave her a rush of adrenaline and pleasure and was as potent an aphrodisiac for whoever she was taking blood from as it was for herself. It would be taking advantage of him to ask, especially considering that he was clearly into her, and if she connected with him like that, things could get messy.

It would be better to wait for Sheila to come back and solve this without any unnecessary complications.

The night air was cool against her skin as they exited the shop, Klaus scanning the parking lot as though looking for threats before he brought her to what must have been his car, clumsily poking at the lever with his foot to move the chair back so that she could rest in the passenger seat comfortably. “Thanks so much, Klaus. Really,” she said, needing to break the silence somehow as she strapped herself in.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Her heart fluttered and she swallowed audibly, staring determinedly at a streetlamp out the window, listening to the driver’s side door slam and the car start up, not wanting to meet his eyes. Maybe it was more than lust, she realized, chewing her lower lip. Maybe she liked him. Just a little.

Ugh.

Had she seriously managed to catch feelings for this guy she’d been annoyed with for literal months? Seriously?

She was too exhausted to give it any real thought, she decided, determinedly leaning against the cool glass of the window and trying to ignore Klaus’s glances at her whenever they stopped at a light. She managed to doze off against the window as they drove, and it felt like just a moment had passed when he gently touched her shoulder to wake her. They’d arrived at a brick apartment building that she’d noticed before when she was downtown, and she unbuckled her seatbelt as he got out, a bit embarrassed at how helpless she was in her current state but deciding it was better not to draw attention. She took deep calming breaths as he carried her up the stairs in silence, doing her best to avoid catching his scent.

She hadn’t really thought this plan through, she realized once Klaus got the door to his studio open. It was a small space, which made sense given this housing market and that he couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than her, but it also meant that the one bed took up a good third of the non-kitchen living space.

It was late and she was exhausted. She could tell Klaus was getting tired too, but werewolves were natural night people, and considering that he barely ever came into the bookshop until afternoon she’d assumed that he either slept late every day or had a morning job.

“It’s a recliner,” he said as he set her down on a chair in the tiny living room. “The lever is on the side.”

She quickly figured out how to operate it, the footrest popping up to support her tail, and she sighed in relief as she leaned back against the cushions. It wasn’t as comfortable as a bed, and she’d have a nasty backache the next day, but hopefully she could borrow Klaus’s computer and get a hotel until Sheila got back from London. “Thanks.”

“Of course, love. The remote is in the side drawer and I can get the wi-fi password for you in a moment. I just need to start the laundry for fresh sheets. I hadn’t expected guests.”

“Laundry?”

He gave her an exasperated look. “For the bed. You can’t possibly think I’d make you sleep on that?”

“Klaus, I’m the one intruding on your space. I don’t want to make you go out of your way—“

“Honestly, Caroline, it’s not a problem. If you’d feel more comfortable with me in the chair that’s all right, but my mother would roll in her grave if she knew I’d let a young lady sleep on my apartment’s equivalent of a couch.”

She eyed him for a few seconds gauging his sincerity before deciding that sleeping in a chair instead of a bed was not a hill she wanted to die on. At all. Especially since she wouldn’t be able to get out of the chair.

She was putting her trust in him and it was scary, but her instincts told her that he wouldn’t hurt her. He was dangerous, but so was she and it wasn’t like she wasn’t a perfectly functioning member of polite society. As long as she didn’t give into the temptation to take just a taste of him, everything would be fine.

“We can use the bed, but I’m too tired to wait for laundry,” she said, fighting back an unwelcome yawn even as she spoke, and he smiled slightly.

“All right, love. Shall I get you something to sleep in?”

“Just a shirt is fine. Thanks.”

He nodded and went to the dresser in the corner, opening a drawer and bringing a henley back to her, murmuring that he was going to use the restroom. She changed quickly, wrapping her bra in her shirt and throwing it in the general direction of her purse, satisfied when it landed just behind it.

The fabric of the shirt was soft against her skin, and it was comfortable enough that she knew she wouldn’t mind sleeping in it. She yawned again, stretching, and she vaguely heard the door open and saw Klaus come out shirtless in just a pair of boxer-briefs. She tried her best not to let her eyes wander, but she couldn’t seem to manage it, absorbing his abs and the tattoo inked across his shoulder, barely stopping herself from licking her lips, wondering what his skin would taste like. “I live alone so I don’t keep anything to sleep in as a general rule. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll take the chair.”

She hoped that he couldn’t see her flush at how loaded his tone was. He clearly knew that the only discomfort she had was with their chemistry, and she was hoping he didn’t comment on it. He had a mirror after all, and she didn’t want to get into a conversation about whether she found him attractive or not. It was too much effort, and she was practically falling asleep in the recliner.

“It’s fine,” she said, thankful that she could keep her voice even. “Can you move me?”

He nodded, picking her up easily and setting her down on the mattress, making himself busy plugging his phone in and offering her an extra charger, which she accepted. While he pawed through her purse for her phone she managed to wriggle to the other side of the bed, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible while soaked in his scent and craving a taste. She felt herself sink bonelessly into the mattress, her eyes closing, and it wasn’t long before she fell asleep.

Caroline stirred slowly, instinctively turning to blindly fumble for her phone from where her side table usually was and coming into contact with Klaus’s chest instead, her eyes flying open when he grumbled softly, stirring but not waking.

It was then that she realized she was in a bit of a quandary.

She was half underneath him, her face level with his shoulder, and she suspected that she’s slept with her face tucked into it (whoops), pressed against him comfortably with his arms tight around her, the heat and scent of him cloaking her. The beat of his pulse thumped insistently next to her ear and her mouth watered at the prospect of just a taste. The magic in the necklace had only been enough to keep her from being uncomfortably hungry, and now that she didn’t have that safety net, she was fucking starving.

“Klaus,” she hissed, poking him lightly in the chest, feeling slightly bad for waking him up but figuring he’d be happier being awake and not breakfast rather than the alternative. He shifted, and her breath hitched when she felt his morning erection pressed against the sensitive skin where her scales met skin.

“What, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“You need to get up.”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know but I’m hungry,” she said, unable to resist taking a deep inhale of his neck before he pulled away, looking at her with bleary, sleep-glazed eyes.

“I can do a coffee run in a bit if you—“

“No, like, hungry,” she emphasized. “Like hungry as in for you.”

He suddenly looked much more awake, his eyebrow quirking as he clearly fought not to laugh. “Is that so?”

She huffed, knowing that a flush was creeping up her cheeks to show her embarrassment at her poor choice of words. “Like, for your blood.”

“Do you want to eat?” he asked, his tone loaded with innuendo as he moved to brush her hair out of her face in a surprisingly tender gesture that made her heart flutter and her pulse race. “I don’t mind.”

She bit her lip, part of her wondering whether he knew what he was signing up for and the rest of her tempted beyond belief.

“Feeding on a person is intimate,” she said slowly, shifting underneath him, just the prospect of the rush of his blood on her tongue making her nipples pebble. She doubted the flush in her cheeks was just from embarrassment now.  “I don’t want you to do it because you feel like you have to. Like, I can stop myself from—“

“I want to,” he interrupted. “I’ll heal, Caroline.”

“I know,” she said, trying to keep her voice from growing thick with lust. “It’s not just intimacy though. It’s also kind of sexual.”

“You can’t possibly think that I would say no to the prospect of spending the morning satisfying all facets of your hunger for me,” he murmured, the goosebumps bubbling up on her skin and the quiver of her tail against his leg betraying how much she wanted to give into him. She took a deep shaking breath, licking her lips and trying to muster her very best glare.

“This is a one-time semi-hate fuck,” she said as though it was an announcement, one they both knew was most likely completely false.

He snorted. “Is that what your plan is?”

“Once,” she repeated, and he smirked, bending down to nip her ear.  

“I’ll try to change your mind then, shall I? I’d like nothing more than to coax you into my bed again, Caroline,” he whispered, his hand skimming down her scaled hip up to her side, sneaking under the henley she’d borrowed to stroke her soft skin. “Are you open to being convinced?”

“You can try,” she said, too stubborn to admit that she was most definitely open to it. Wanted it, even.

“I’ll do more than try, sweetheart,” he said, bending down so that his lips hovered over hers, stopping just short of brushing them together.

He was waiting for her, the ball definitively in her court, and she was too impatient to feign stubbornness anymore. She brushed her nose against his, catching his lips in a soft kiss, the swipe of tongue against her lower lip making her moan softly, her back arching at the sensation of his hand gliding down her spine, the brush of his calloused palm over her sensitive skin making her gasp. She let her finger trace the tattoo on his shoulder as she bent to kiss the other side his neck, her tongue tracing the dip of his jugular, her fangs splitting through her gums just from the anticipation. “You sure?” she asked, pulling away to look at him. He was watching her with parted lips and dark eyes, a finger reaching out to trace the line of her lip before he cupped her cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb against her fang, slicing into the skin. She moaned at the scent of it, her eyes closing as she lightly sucked a bit of blood from the wound, unable to tear her eyes away from his, enjoying the way he swallowed audibly, the low rumble in his throat when she flicked his skin with her tongue as she withdrew.

“I’m sure,” he said, and she grinned at the obvious lust in his voice, pulling off the borrowed henley so that she could feel his skin on hers as she bent to nip his shoulder, his cock hard and hot against her hip through his boxerbriefs. She flicked her tongue to catch the blood that welled up, grinning at his answering groan. “Take more,” he said, his tone rough and demanding and full of need.

She bent to sink her fangs into his neck, moaning loudly as she sucked gently, his blood rich and thick against her tongue. She felt her skin begin to relax, her scales melting away to reveal pliant flesh, and Klaus wasted no time sliding his hand under her thigh to part her legs, settling himself in between them as she fed, his cock pressed against her inner thigh, the fabric separating them giving her a delicious sort of friction just inches from where she really wanted it..

She reached beneath the waistband of his boxerbriefs to wrap her fingers around his length, stroking him firmly and ghosting her thumb across the tip, and it was immensely satisfying to hear the way he swore out her name, how his hips moved automatically, chasing her touch. She lazily explored the skin of his abs with her fingertips as she stroked him slowly, pulling back to look at him with dazed, blooddrunk eyes.

His gaze was focused on her tongue as she licked his blood from her lips, and he reached down to wrap his fingers around her wrist, stopping her from stroking him. “Fuck, Caroline...”

“If you didn’t I’d be really disappointed,” she muttered, shifting to try to get friction against his covered cock, needing to soothe the persistent ache between her thighs.

He chuckled, bending down to catch her mouth with his and tugging her lower lip roughly between his teeth as he slipped two fingers inside of her, his lips parting slightly with a groan when he found how wet she was, fingers curling against her walls with a practiced motion that made her muscles tighten as she rolled her hips for more, her moan almost embarrassingly loud. The blood high had gotten her most of the way there, and when he brushed her clit with his thumb she dug her nails into his back and chased his touch, panting out his name and falling back bonelessly from her release.

“Disappointed?” he asked lightly, a wicked smirk playing on his lips that turned her on even more.

“It was pretty fast. Was that all?” she teased, knowing that it was completely impossible for him not to know how good it had been, her breathing still shallow and quick.

“Oh, that was just the beginning,” he murmured, drinking her in with dark eyes that flashed gold for just a moment when she reached to trace the already healed wound her bite had left on his shoulder. “I’m not nearly done with you, sweetheart. The full moon is close, and you’re not the only monster here.”

“I’ve had wolf sex,” she breathed, still shallow from coming down from her high but turned on enough that she didn’t stop him when he lazily slipped two fingers back inside of her, hooking them against her walls as he watched her face intently. “My ex was one.”

His eyes flashed again for just a moment, his thumb pressing down on her clit as he dragged his nails just shy of her g-spot, and she bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to stifle what would have been an embarrassingly loud moan.

“So you know about what the moon does to me, then?”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t mind?”

“Do I really seem like a ‘please fuck me gently’ type of girl after that?” she asked, her eyebrows raised, though she was barely able to get the words out evenly when he brushed his thumb against her clit again, his other hand pressed against her hip to keep her from getting too much friction. He clearly wanted to draw it out, and she wasn’t opposed.

“Then what do you want, sweetheart?” he asked, a slow, pleased smirk spreading across his face, and she felt her breath catch as Klaus found her g-spot again, pressing in a way that made her legs turn to jelly. “Tell me.”

“I want to come again,” she said. “From your cock this time.”

His smirk grew into a full smile, one that was almost feral, that showed all of his teeth. “I’ll fuck  you from behind then, shall I? I’ll fill you with my cock while while you feed from my wrist. Do you like it rough, sweetheart? Do you want me to take you hard and fast? To claim you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, spreading her legs for him as he continued to fuck her with his fingers, and he withdrew, making her whimper, squirming for the touch he’d taken from her.

He leaned down to nip her ear, his breath hot on her neck as he spoke. “I’ve wanted you for months, Caroline. My wolf has wanted you, to claim you. I’ve spent hours wondering what pretty sounds you would make if you bent over the counter for me with your legs spread. I imagined you wet and panting, begging for my cock as you held the skirt of your sundress around your waist, craving the feel of my hands as I mapped every inch of your skin.”

She gasped softly at the visual he painted for her, her pussy clenching around nothing, craving to be filled.

“Get on your knees for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and rough as he pulled back to let her flip over, his hands returning to her hips to steady her before they slid down to encourage her to part her thighs. His palms lingered on her skin for a moment as though he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her, and she tensed as his hands moved up slowly to settle on her hips, somehow knowing that if she complained he’d make a point to go even slower. He let out a pleased hum that made her flush as he dragged his finger gently along the flesh of her ass before bending to kiss her shoulder and toy with her nipple. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, and she bit her lip hard when she heard the rustle of fabric and some movement behind her before she felt the tip of him at her entrance, teasing her.

“Klaus,” she breathed impatiently, looking behind her to see him looking down at her with want and something that resembled affection. Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she took in a sharp breath as he bent to press his chest against her back, his voice low as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder blades, speaking between each one.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, sweetheart. Bent over with your pretty arse in the air...”

She pressed back against him to try to get him to speed up and push inside of her, and he groaned, his hands pressing into her hips to hold her in place. “So impatient,” he murmured, and she huffed, curling her fingers into the sheets.

“I was promised rough,” she reminded, and he chuckled, pressing one last kiss to her spine before filling her with one thrust of his hips.

He definitely didn’t disappoint, fucking her hard and fast, his fingers rubbing her clit as he spoke to her, beginning to outline some of the fantasies he’d had of her while he was watching her shelve books, his voice growing thicker with lust as he spoke and listened for her reaction.

“I wanted to watch you drape your legs over the armrests of one of the chairs, watch you touch yourself,” he said, his voice a low growl, pinching her ass lightly when she moaned, the sharp pain a delicious contrast to the way his cock felt inside of her that it made her whimper out his name, her high building steadily, every part of her achingly sensitive for his touch. “Even more now, I want you to show me how you like it, what you do when you come around your own fingers wishing it was my cock. I must admit I’m not sure if I could let you finish without the chance to touch you. Perhaps you’d let me watch up close. Would you like that, Caroline? For me to kneel between your thighs and watch you touch yourself until I grow impatient and convince you to let me replace your hands with my tongue?”

“Yes,” she hissed, nodding. She heard him chuckle, felt his hands wrap around her thighs to adjust her position to get deeper, and she swore when he started to move faster.

“I’d love to taste you,” he said, his breathing harsher now, tone rough with lust. “Perhaps during the day, sneaking you off to a back section where people hardly ever wander. Watching you struggle to stifle your moans of my name would be as much a pleasure as making you come on my tongue.”

She was more than a little turned on by the idea of someone walking in on them having sex in the back of the shop, a soft gasp escaping her as he finished speaking, and he chuckled quietly. “Does that appeal to you, then? Spreading your legs for me in secret, knowing that at any moment someone could walk in and see you with your legs wrapped around me, moaning my name? Or perhaps on your knees? I’ve often wondered what your lips would look like wrapped around my cock...”

She moaned softly, clenching around him as he spoke. He was into the dirty talk thing, clearly, and the filthy words that were coming out of his mouth in his rough growl through gritted teeth were definitely the hottest thing she’d ever heard in her life. His breathing was heavier between words now, thick with want, and she could tell from how tightly he was gripping her hips and the strain in his voice that he was trying to hold himself back from coming, clearly wanting her to fall apart first. She was so close...

“Keep talking,” she panted out, and he chuckled.

“You make the most beautiful sounds, Caroline. It would almost be a pity to stifle them, but I think it would be just as sweet to watch you lick my come from your lips.”

She felt her muscles grow tight, her toes curling as he brought her to the edge, her breathing shallow and fast. He pinched her clit and dragged his teeth along her shoulder, and she licked her lips when he offered her his wrist, holding it in front of her mouth as an invitation. She could feel her gums break as her fangs pushed through, hear the rush of the blood in his veins even as the sound of skin against skin filled the room. Klaus’s encouraging groan when she ran her tongue along his wrist was all she needed to hear before she pierced his skin, moaning at his taste and tipping over the edge, taking just a few gulps before withdrawing and running the tip of her tongue along the closing wound to get every last drop. She felt him come inside her as she nipped his wrist with her blunt teeth, his body a comfortably heavy weight on hers before he rolled off of her. She shifted to face him, breathing hard, and she moaned when his hand moved between her thighs to build her up again.

He looked at her, reaching to wipe blood from her lips with his other hand and groaning softly when she licked it from his thumb before laying back so that he could climb on top of her, spreading her legs for his fingers, needing more.

His nails dug into her hip as he bent to press kisses to her neck, his cock hardening against her thigh when she tangled her fingers in his hair and traced his spine, breath hot on her neck. She took a sharp breath when he lazily circled her clit with a slick finger, her eyes widening when he spoke. His tone was smoother now, more seductive than rough and heated, and it only took a few words for her to realize that if she thought that he’d be satisfied with just one day with her, and she with him, she was sorely mistaken.

“We’re not so different, you and I, Caroline. We’re predators. I love the thrill of the chase, the anticipation, the catch. You’re a different sort of monster. You’re a temptress, luring your prey to you with just a simple look and finishing them before they realized that the pretty girl they thought they’d chased so easily had teeth when they got too close. I’m not fool enough to think that you’re mine already. We’ve only just begun. But tell me, Caroline, have you ever considered letting anyone close enough to catch you?”

She took a deep shaky breath, moaning as he began to press inside of her again, her walls stretching deliciously to accommodate him. She tried to gather every shred of annoyance she’d felt for him over the last month and a half to channel it into a stubborn glare, barely managing to keep her voice from being too breathless. “Not yet.”

He pushed himself on his elbows as he moved, the pace slower than it had been before but just as pleasurable, and her breath caught when she saw the way he was looking at her, drinking in every slight shift of her expression as though memorizing it.

“Perhaps one day you’ll let me.”

Dear Beverly Cleary,

I had been meaning to write to you for 41 years.  Now it is too late.

You would have been 105 today, had you survived another 18 days.  

I am not sure why I put off writing to you.  As a child I was rather forgetful and disorganized. As an adult, I suppose I was waiting to get my own books published so I could tell you how much of an influence you and your books had been on me and how, even as a child, they gave the desire to be a writer myself.  Unfortunately, I have yet to be published.  But you were still an influence on my life.  Like you, I started out as a librarian. 

Forty-five years ago I was introduced to Ramona Quimby when my mother read “Ramona and the Three Wise Persons” in the Stories for Free Children section of Ms. Magazine.  My mother told me about how she read about Ramona when she was a little girl. About a year later I met Ramona, Beezus, and Henry Huggins again in a story in my reading book. By fourth grade, I was already a huge fan of your books. I knew by then I wanted to be a writer myself.

 One of my absolute favorites was Socks.  It was hard to find good cat stories in those days.  I loved Socks so much I read the entire book out loud to my cat.  Twenty-three years later, my son was born and my own cat, Prince Beast, was put out by having a baby take over his home.  Our other cat and dog were fascinated by the baby, but Princie refused to look at him and put his ears back when I talked to the baby in the voice I used to use for my cat.  But when my son was nearly a year old, he started to notice the pets.  Our other cat now avoided the baby because he did not like being grabbed, but Princie, who enjoyed roughhousing, was delighted.  Suddenly this baby went from being a rival for attention to a source of attention.  From then on they were best friends.  Princie slept in my son’s room, joined him in playing in his play tent, and supervised him when he played with his friends.  When his baby brother arrived, Princie immediately accepted him into the family.  When my son was in third grade, he read Socks as a reading assignment and I told him about how he and Prince once had a relationship similar to that of Socks and Charles William.  

I read and loved all the Ramona books.  When I would laugh out loud, my little brother would ask me what was so funny and I would just say, “Ramona.”    I was always thrilled when a new book came out.  I was in fifth grade when Ramona and her Mother was published. When I found it on the shelf in the book store, I started reading the first chapter. I got so caught up in reading that I forgot myself until it was 5:00 and the store started turning the lights out.  A few days later I returned to the store with the five dollars I got for my birthday so I could buy the book.  I was disappointed to learn that the book cost seven dollars and I did not have enough money. But the store clerk said I could put it on layaway.  The next week I demanded that my parents give me my allowance (which they often forgot to do.) Then I raced back down to the bookstore and I bought and read my book.  

In middle school, I still loved reading your books, even though my mother pointed out that I was getting too old for them.  So I bought paperback copies of all the Henry Huggins and the Ramona books and read them out loud to my little brother. He loved them just as much as I did.

Ramona and her friends and family became real to my family. We often made references to your books.  When driving, we felt the need to point out “big, hairy men on motorcycles.”  We referred to anyone who took things literally as “a Howie.”   

When I was in eighth grade, my father lost his job.  I went back and read Ramona and her Father as bibliotherapy.  In high school, I was secretly reading children’s books behind my mother’s back.  My mother was worried. But she told me several years later, when I was devoted to my job as a school librarian, that she realized she really had not had anything to worry about. 

 I realized in high school that I wanted to write children’s books, but I also learned that few authors are able to write for a living and most authors have other jobs and write for a hobby.  So I decided to become an elementary school teacher.  At the University I took a class on children’s literature and loved it so much that I decided to get my Master’s Degree in Library Science.    I got my first school library job in 1996.  I made sure that our library had all of your books (with the exception of the young adult books) and also ordered the set of videos from the Ramona TV series.  

In 2000 I found out you had written one more Ramona book.  I drove to the nearest children’s book store and asked for a copy but was disappointed to find out they didn’t have it in yet.  They did order me a copy. As I drive home feeling disappointed at having to wait to read it, I felt a sense of deja vu.  Exactly 20 years earlier,  I had walked home from the book store feeling disappointed that I had to wait to save up money to buy Ramona and her Mother.  Now I was feeling disappointed that I had to wait longer to read Ramona’s World. 

One thing I always wanted to do as a child was travel to Portland so I could see all the places mentioned in your books.  I finally had the opportunity in 2001, just before I turned 32.  During Spring Break I visited a friend in Seattle and one day my husband and I rented a car and drove to Portland.  I found the real Klickitat Street.  It did not look the way I had pictured it when I read the books, although 37th Street did.  I took pictures of your house. We went to Grant Park and took pictures of the Beverly Cleary sculpture garden and my husband took a picture of me with Ramona.  We also drove to Yamhill so I could see the town and farm where you lived as a young child.   When I got home, I put the pictures in an album and showed it to all my students.  One boy told me I was lucky that I got to go there and see those places.  I reminded him that I had to wait a couple decades before I was able to do so.

I did everything I could to encourage my own children to be readers.   But they did not share my love of books, especially the younger one, who struggled with ADHD and Dyslexia.   He was a fan of motorized dirt bikes.  When I told him that your son did not like to read and was interested in motorcycles, he did not believe me at first.  

Sadly, I lost my beloved school library job in 2012, thanks to State budget cuts.   I really missed my job on April 12, 2016, when I would have loved to plan a big event to celebrate your hundredth birthday.  I did go to the public library to see if they had anything planned, but sadly, they did not.

I still want to write children’s books.  I have written several and have been trying for 22 years to find a publisher, but still have had no luck.  But whether I get published or not, I want to thank you for the influence you have had on my life.  Thank you for the books and characters that seemed so real to me that they became my friends.  Thank you for giving me a love for children’s literature that led to my career as a teacher and a librarian, and I am hoping to be able to rekindle that career someday soon.  

Your devoted fan always,

Jennifury Z.

April 12, 2021

Sleeping Beauty

Chahaha, another day for @thesilverqueenlady Hannibal Ever After calander. I was really excited about this one so for enjoy! Will doesn't mean to fall asleep whenever people are talking to him, he doesn't mean to fall asleep at all during the day. Most people would just pass it off as Will just being really tired, he has the look of a man who works to much, but when he does it to them again, and again they start getting ticked off and curious as to what his problem might be. The thing is, as a kid Will had always had the problem of falling asleep at random times of the day, and at night he would wake up too early. Narcolepsy. That's what the doctors had told him was the problem, and so his life went on. Each time he went to a new school it took a while before he had the teachers convinced that he was a narcoleptic, now as a grown man it's much harder to have it being passed off as a stable thing. As a kid he wanted to be a police men, unfortunately with his 'condition' he was unable to join the line of duty. So he went with the next best thing. Owning a bookstore. Which was the life for him, sure he was food with mechanics, but he's cut his fingers open too many times to count, and Will's always had a passion for books. So with a nice pocket of money, he opened a bookstore up, and so far so good people rather enjoy it. Although, there were times where he had to explain his problem to customers when they stayed too long, and caught him falling asleep on the job. And that's when he met, Hannibal. God what a charmer that man had been. Will never notices him before, being himself he tried not to stare at anyone in the eyes, being as eyes were distracting to him. But then he started to notice someone lingering from the crowd, a man who always came wearing the most expensive and flamboyant suits Will has ever seen, only to be reading in the classics section. And with enough courage, which took a week of practice along with two more days before he finally decided to take the chance, Will had walked over to the man and introduced himself. They hit it off quite well surprisingly, and Hannibal had even asked Will on a date. If you asked, Will would of said he didn't act all shy and blush while looking down at his feet, but that would be a lie. Because he did. "You...want to...what?" "A date. At my place, I can right down the time and address, I would love to have you come over and share a meal with you. You have caught my utmost interest, and I want to know more about you." Hannibal smiled, lifting Will's hand to his mouth for a kiss, when Will had nodded his head. "I can't wait to see you." Of course, Will was going to be nervous about this, it was his first time actually being civilized and talking to someone. Not to mention, probably the first time he has ever gone on a date. So forgetting the fact that he might fall asleep at dinner, Will had ticked the dogs in for the night, closed shop early, and dressed nightly for the evening. When he stood on the doorsteps to Hannibal's house, which mind you is massive and absolutely the most intimidating house Will has ever seen, and was having second thoughts as he was about to leave the roses he bought and leave. That is until a smiling, and charming, Hannibal had opened the door, brushing little to no dust off his apron, and letting Will inside. "If you don't mind, I do enjoy it when my dinner guest take there shoes off. So mud doesn't track around the house." Hannibal noted. "Yes, of course." Will answered, removing his shoes, setting them asides before taking a big whiff of whatever was cooking. "What's for dinner? Is smells...divine." "You compliment me too much. Tonight, we are having  some special cut meat being served with a side of sauteed vegetables, and desert." Hannibal answers vaguely. Will sits at the table, waiting for Hannibal to come back and serve the meal. He sips at his drink, a very fancy sounding wine he can't seem to pronounce, and when Hannibal arrives with the food, it's like Heaven. The taste mingle so well together, and added with the wine, oh what a flavor they make together. When they finish their meals, Hannibal starts making small talk. They joke, they laugh, and they banter a tiny bit. And then Hannibal is opening his mouth to ask Will something, and as always having the worst timing on the world, the world goes black. When he wakes back up he finds himself not leaning over a wooden table, but laid neatly in a warm bed. Not his bed, of course. No, this is certainly not his bed, with how soft the covers are and how jig and spacious it is, not to mention there's an actual color palette. "Hannibal?" At first he's met with silence, and then the soft padding sound of footsteps approach the door to the room. Hannibal looks calm and collected as always, but Will can see beneath the layer of calm that the man is very worried about Will. He rushes over to Will's side, checking for any injuries or if he's hurt. "Are you okay? You passed out during dinner, I was afraid there was something in there you were allergic too." Hannibal asked, running warm fingers through Will's hair. He smiles, leaning into the all but comforting touch. "I'm fine. I guess I just forgot to explain my condition. I have narcolepsy, it's where at times I randomly fall asleep." Will explained. "I can't really control it, and well...sorry I put a damper on our date. It shouldn't have gone this way." "On the contrary, this is far more interesting than how I perceived our date to go, dear Will. Please, tell me more." Hannibal smiles, sitting down next to Will when he scoots over on the bed. "Oh...well..." And that hits it off, Hannibal continues to visit Will at his work daily, while also bringing along something for Will to eat for lunch, and when the shop is closed, Will spends another afternoon wig Hannibal. It's not even a week before their both already daring, and a month later Hannibal pops the bubble. "Will you marry me?" Hannibal asks, kneeling down on one knee in the animal shelter Will often always visits during the weekends, small and big dogs sniffing around him, and butting their heads with him. "Yes." Will gasps, smiling when Hannibal stands to encircle his arms around Will, and lift him off the ground. He laughs at the man's excitement, and kisses Hannibal back. The dogs surrounding the woof, and wag their tails thinking they'll get a treat for being good. And like in every fairy tale, there is always the villain who tries to destroy the lovers and separate them. But in this case the villain is not but a person, and more of suspicion. Two days. Two days that Hannibal has been gone on a 'business' trip. When Will woke up today, late in the afternoon, he found that Hannibal had sent him a text saying he will be home later that day. So Will waits, and waits. The dogs, seven to be exact, mill around their master, tongues lolling out of their mouths when Will leans down and pets them once in a while. It's about late at night when the door opens up, and Will, surprisingly is wide awake waiting for his husband, of two years, in the kitchen. "Will...your awake." Hannibal says, surprised written all over his face. Will's already frowning frown deepens. "Hannibal, we need to talk. I know I'm not the nicest husband, I get grumpy in the morning, and never clean up after myself. And there were those times when I fell asleep during our...intimate times together. But...damnit! What I'm trying to get at is...are you cheating on me?" CLUNK Hannibal drops his suit jacket, suitcase, and everything else he's holding in his arms. His mouth is wife open, and he looks perplexed like Will just straight out slapped him. For a man who has absolute control over his everyday life, he looks lost. He takes only one step forward before he's falling to his knees, rubbing soothing circles against Will's thighs, while murmuring something in Lithuanian. "English, Hannibal." Will snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "Will, my sweet lovely Will, light of my love, love of my light, I would be but a fool to ever cross you behind your back. I would never be as so low to cheat on you. Please do forgive me for being so secret, I had wish to not get you involved with my work, it can be very dangerous." "Hannibal you work as a psychiatrist. How dangerous could that be?" "No, Will that is just a disguise. I...come I'll show you." Hannibal stands up straight, taking Will's hand, and moving them to the study room. Or what Will calls, their personal library. For the room is so large and vast, will bookcases that reach as high as the ceiling, and has two stories. Hannibal moves him to a secluded section of books, and pushes two aside showing a red button, and when he presses it the bookshelves move away to show a hidden room. "How many rooms do we have in this house!?" Will gasp, seeing as guns and other weapons litter the wall, along with maps and other papers with red circles all over them. Hannibal motions to a screen at the end of the room, which lights up and shows coordinates in Vinci, France. Along with a picture of a few men with large X's over them. "I get it...your a hitmen? Right?" "No, dear Will, but close. I am an agent for an underground organization where we get rid of men who are out to harm the would. Or on a nice way to put it, a spy." Hannibal explains, shyly looking away from Will's gaze as his lover takes everything in all at once. "Oh....so is that why you weren't mad at me when I fell asleep on our second anniversary? Were you killing people! Hanni, that's murder, shat of you had gotten caught!" Will stutters, hands flapping around as his mind jumps to an immediate train of bad thoughts. Hannibal grasp both of Will's hands tightly, but not hard enough to bruise, kisses both of the knuckles and then kisses Will's forehead. " Will I promise you, the men I'm killing deserve it. They are terrible people who kill the innocent, are drug lords, and do human trafficking." Hannibal explains, rubbing soothing circles to into Will's back. "And I wouldn't be such a fool as to get caught in the act, I've been doing this for years, love. Before I met you, and fell endlessly in love." Will makes an exaggerated gagging noise when Hannibal kisses his curls, nuzzling his nose into them. Hannibal chuckles, and places a hand on Will's cheek, lifting his face up to kiss him. "How about I make it up to you, and take the whole family on a trip to a nice beach resort. I know you've been wanting to go somewhere warm." Hannibal muses. "Fine. As long as you, and I, do not get caught up into some kidnapping scheme then we can go." "Will, I would never let you get kidnapped." " Liar." Will hissed, as he was currently tied to a chair with a blindfold on. He shifted once more testing the bindings on him and, yep there was no way he was going to get out of this one, he groaned leaning back into the chair. Awaiting his captors arrival Will rethinks how his day went. When the sun had risen Will had waken to a warm naked body next to his own, dozing around in Hannibal's warms.  His husband had began kissing trails up Will's neck, only to be stopped by both of their growling stomach's. Breakfast was a good warm plate of eggs, ham, toast, and some other things Will hadn't bothered to remember as he wolfed down the food. Once they were dressed Hannibal and Will had taken the digs down to the beach, where they played a long game of fetch and tag. Hannibal had even forgone his cleanliness to wrestle with some of the bigger dog's, who wouldn't give the stick back to him. And then when dinner rolled around, they sat in a restaurant not too far away, awaiting their meal. Hannibal had only stepped out for a second to answer a phone call, and Will had taken one sip of his wine before suddenly falling asleep. Now he sat, cold and miserable tied to a chair, waiting to either be saved or to die. He hoped Hannibal would come soon. Suddenly, there was a sound, at first there was yelling and then gun's were being fired. Will yelped as his chair fell over from trying to move out of the line of fire. More yells and shots fired, and then silence. "My dear sleeping beauty, you look so ravaging in those bindings." Hannibal growls playfully into Will's ear, as he leans over him. Will shudders beneath Hannibal's body, he can smell the blood and gun powder on him, and he is so NOT ready to get hard in a place like this. "Hannibal we cab discuss your strange kinks in bed later, but for right now you are going to untie me, and we are going back home. Immediately." Will growls, while Hannibal takes the blindfold off, and cuts the ropes on his wrist. Will rubs at the redness, and gives Hannibal a nice slap to the check when he leans down for a kiss. "I probably deserved that." "Uh-huh. Now, carry me back to the house like the shining knight in armour you are, and let's get drunk so much we fall asleep on the couch." "As you wish, my sleeping beauty." Hannibal leans down, leftwing Will up bridal style with such ease, it's a wonder how much the man does just to stay fit. And walks out of the dark building into the night with his lover. Next is the Little Mermaid, which has a lot of funny chase scenes :)

First Post from China

Okay, I PROMISE I’ve been meaning to post about how things have been going but I just haven’t had the time or have lacked energy until right about now. SO! Prepare for a looooooong post while I talk about what’s been going on. Also, if you even want to find my posts just about life in china, search the hastag #BftBinChina

Starting way back on December 16th-17th when I arrived in China:

The flight was actually alright, ya know, for a fifteen-hour flight. Well, actually the guy next to me kept trying to infringe on my space so I ended up wrenching my shoulder a bit. I didn’t sleep till near the end of it when I dozed off for about thirty or forty-five minutes during Inception (this after I binge watched about seven hours of the inflight Food Network shows and watched Gone with the Wind which I thought I would fall asleep during but apparently I like it too much to sleep).

I arrived in Shanghai, got my luggage and was able to get to the Ramada I was staying at that night. Got some sleep, went back to the airport to catch my flight to Fuzhou, and…..missed the flight because I was still in security when the gate closed. See in China, when they say take off time, it is the actual time the plane leaves the tarmac, so the gate closes twenty or thirty minutes before then. If you’re in security, they won’t let you through, you have to go back to the counter, change your flight, have them track down your luggage and bring it to you so you can check it in AGAIN, and then go through security again. Luckily there was another flight just an hour later, though I almost ended up changing it to the afternoon flight because they seemed to be taking a long time finding my luggage and bringing it to me.

Kaylee meets first road block: My phone isn’t working. It will not connect to the wifi so I can’t get on WeChat to tell my dad that I missed my flight. I try and buy a sim card and it doesn’t like it. I find the business center of the Shanghai airport, the woman lets me use the phone to call the phone number I have for dad…who doesn’t answer.

I have like five seconds of panic then decide I’ll just keep going and hope for the best. The very, very kind guy at the ticket counter when I recheck my luggage not only assures me I can make the flight but he walks me through the terminal, through the shortest security line, and then power walks me to the gate so I make it. One very short plane ride later and I am in Fuzhou, get my stuff, and head out the arrivals gate.

I don’t see anyone holding a sign for me and I kind of panic again for a bit. I try to get WeChat on my iPad (which is connecting to Wifi) but the verification stuff stumps me (aka, sending a code to the phone that doesn’t work). I then work up the nerve to go to the “Visit Fuzhou!” desk and ask to borrow their phone. Daddy picks up this time, says he’ll call the woman who is supposed to be picking me up, and not ten minutes later she comes rushing up, slightly frantic.

The rest of the day was getting to the apartment, meeting up with Dad (who I haven’t seen in person since August 2016), visiting the school briefly, and just trying to stay awake till bedtime (which kind of worked, I dozed off during the Battle of Scarif in Rogue One).

I spent about a day freaking out and just being overwhelmed to the point of tears. The rest of the week was mildly freaking out every time I had to leave the apartment or school because I was still finding my way around, and was riding a scooter (traffic laws are nonexistent here). But as of today I have gained my confidence, know where pretty much everything I need is, and can get around either on foot or on the scooter.

I am settled in my room, pretty much unpacked (there’s still some clothes that need to be ironed and hung), I have my part of the pantry with food for me, and I often have a cat cuddling with me (dad’s cat, a beautiful boy named Chairman Meow. I usually just call him Kitty).

 School and my library:

So the school is Fuzhou Lakeside International School; and for a school that has signs everywhere that says it is an English campus, I haven’t heard much English from the kids and even some of the teachers. But that’s alright, my job is the library and making it useable.

It’s a cute little library, has a couple thousand books (really not that many considering most of them are kids books), some desks, lots of display shelves and some deep cubby like shelves that each can hold two rows of books. As in, someone shelves the books, then pushed them back in the cubby and put ANOTHER row of books in front of the shelved ones. No surprise that when I was pulling books off to sort them (because the sections were basically, picture books, series, classics, and bilinguals) there were books still perfectly in order because no one knew they were there!

Nothing is labeled beyond the library barcode which is on the inside of covers and there is no set place for that, it’s just on the inside cover. No Dewey Decimal numbers for nonfiction books, they were just on the shelves with the other books; and someone had put the Twilight books under classics. Half the space is also closed off to the students because there is a textbook area that needs to be reorganized both in terms of shifting books and shifting shelves to make more room for the main library area.

Luckily when I set up a meeting to discuss needs and goals with my administrator, she fully supports my ideas. When I go back to work on Wednesday (because I worked three days and then we are off ten days for Christmas and Western New Year), labels and a label maker will be waiting so we can start working on those and I will have a tape measure and masking tape to start laying a floorplan, so we can determine what new shelves would suit.

Fuzhou: food, places, and scooters:

Pretty much everyone rides scooters or mopeds and it is not uncommon to see people riding on sidewalks, or going the wrong way on streets and in bike lines, and ignoring red lights to go. You kind of just have to say you’re going and go. It helps that the cars tend to move way slower than at home so your real danger is just from others on scooters. My first three days I almost crashed twice, and took the turn into our drive too steep so the scooter fell over but after those I focused, practiced, and don’t freak out too much unless something drastic happens.

Dad’s apartment is located on the fourteenth floor overlooking West Lake and West Lake Park; the view is spectacular. The building is also conveniently located, we can walk to school in about ten or so minutes, or scoot there in less than that. There are two Walmarts fairly close, dad’s favorite bar is down the street as is a cute little restaurant called Omellete Woods, his Thai place is across the street as is a little convenience store, the bakery 85 C is on the way to work (there is also one in Richardson if you want to try it out) and pretty much around the corner is Three Lanes Seven Alleys.

Sanfang Qixiang (the Chinese name, pronounced Sahnfahn Sheshan) shopping center built over and around an outdoor market from several hundred years ago. The buildings are all meant to look like they would have back then, there are some little kiosk like shops in the main lanes and no scooters are allowed so there’s just a ton of people but less chance of being run over. All kinds of shops are there; food, clothes, bakery, juice, books, and even a Starbucks (more expensive than back home!).

Important: the exchange rate is about 6.5 rmb for 1 US dollar, so I went to the bookstore and for two brand new, shrink wrapped books that are in both English and Chinese I paid 49 rmb, or $7.50. So keep that in mind because I’ve mentioned different food places and I will say this: we eat like kings. We went out to dinner with one of our coworkers who likes to eat as much as dad and I, filled the table with so much delicious food there were leftovers and it was 176 rmb, or $27. Dinner at the Thai restaurant the other day was mango beef that made me swoon, some amazing cod with vegetables and chips, and some pineapple dumpling things: 165 rmb or $25. We went to a Turkish restaurant called Aladdin’s where we ate lamb chops, potato salad, hummus, and soufflé (sorry, I don’t know what that bill was, I was praising the food to the cute waiter).

There is also a foot massage place that dad goes to a lot, and I use the term foot massage loosely. Because what happens is that they first put down a tub of super-hot water with tea in it to soak your feet it, then they have you turn around, so they can give you a shoulder, back, neck, arm and hand massage. THEN they start on your (now red like a lobster) feet and legs. This is an hour-long massage… for 50 rmb or $7.60. Yes, you can get an hour long massage every day for about twenty days for the same amount as an hour-long massage back home in the States.

All in all, I think I’m adjusting well. I get a lot of looks, being a tall, blonde, American woman, lot of people want to take my picture and about half of them do it on the down low. I’m even adjusting alright to living with my father again (which I was worried about because I am an adult. The cat helps, he has abandoned dad for me). One of dad’s friends is going to help me with learning some basic Chinese as right now I can say hello and thank you. Hopefully I’ll make some friends soon so I’m not just hanging out with dad and his friends, though that will probably be slow going as I am still myself (read: homebody).

Two weeks ago, I didn’t think I could make it till summer vacation. Today I’m thinking of going window shopping at scooters, so I can get one painted Batgirl colors and wondering where in China or even the Pan Pacific that I should go for the month-long holiday for Chinese New Year that we get in February.

Yeah, I think I’ll be okay.