#but would certainly explain why she’s been so on edge lately

[ambrosia-sdit]

guess who got another haircut! the groomer is obsessed with how sweet she is! she said ambrosia kept giving her hugs with her paws 🥺

[livinginshambles]

Hear me out, please |James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out. A tiny twist.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Timeline might be a little off, but magic so whatever i guess? Sorry for the long wait, I hope you guys will think it was worth it!!

Masterlist Part one Part two

___________________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmuring started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He asked incredulously. His voice raised in volume. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He screamed and looked around; his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it opened finally James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James's sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James 'brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words his. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

You stared at the glass slippers in your hand. It felt cool to the touch and looked so beautiful, but you couldn’t help the bitter taste left in your mouth. With one smooth movement, you threw and smashed one of the slippers against the wall opposite of your bed. It shattered in pieces, and you had to smile at that. Even with every spell to reenforce the glass so you could actually walk on it, it broke. Then you gathered every bit of frustration you had in you, and you screamed as hard as you could, tears flowing in frustration.

You hated that you were crying. But the sheer defeat and powerlessness that you felt was too overwhelming, your voice cracked mid-scream and you threw the other slipper to pieces in anger as well. It wasn’t even about the gossiping amongst the students anymore.

You were so tired; you actually couldn’t bring yourself to care about what everyone must be thinking right now. But your sisters and James. You dug your nails into your palm.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and straightened your posture. With your hands, you smoothed out your frown, fixed your hair and put on a wide smile. All in all, you looked psychopathic, but anything was better than pathetic. You turned on your heel and got ready for your first morning class.

James watched your empty seat in Divination class. This was the only class in which the last two years were put together. He wondered if you would show up. But he knew you. Possible more than anyone. So, he knew that you would never miss a class, because you wanted perfect grades and a perfect attendance rate. You were just like that. Ambitious.

James mind replayed your words again. He was every worst characteristic of Gryffindor; you had said to him. ‘Arrogant, prideful, and reckless’.

Next to James, Sirius was also lost in thoughts. Your words resonated in his head as well. Prejudice creates a vicious cycle. It was true. Sirius’ eyes flickered towards the other empty seat where Regulus was supposed to be. He had completely abandoned Regulus, giving his brother the cold shoulder, and despising his elitist thoughts, undoubtedly created by his mother. Because he had abandoned Regulus.

Sirius wondered what would have happened if he had tried to maintain a good relationship with Regulus after having been sorted into Gryffindor. He wondered if he would have been able to convince Regulus to run away with him.

There was a knock on the door and Regulus walked in with a blank face. He nodded his head in apology at the Professor and took a seat. The door opened again, this time with a little more force.

“My sincere apologies, professor.” You wore a smile that sent chills up James’ back. His body almost involuntarily shot up to go up to you, but he caught himself, and he longingly looked at you as you passed by instead.

After having gotten used to your discrete gestures of acknowledgement in the form of waves, smiles, nods or even winks, James’ heart tugged when you didn’t spare him a glance. You graciously took a seat and motioned at Professor Trelawney to continue.

James jumped up when class was over. His belongings had long since been packed, and he dashed towards your leaving figure.

“Y/N!” he called out to you.

You turned around and looked him in the eye. All the words that James had prepared during the rest of class escaped his mind. James felt those chills again and he finally understood that in all his years with fights between the two of you, you had been petty, threatening to take points away. You had been angry, throwing insults back at him, and you had very much been a major asshole in general. But you had never been this hostile.

“Let me say this once, so we can all be done with it, and never talk about this again, Potter,” you sharply stated. “I am sorry that I wasn’t who you wanted me to be. However, let me make it clear that this was my secret and mine to share. And I made perfectly clear that I was not going to, so your blatant disrespect to publicly call me out the way you did, is simply appalling.”

Remus called James’ name and James made the mistake to look back. When he turned to you again, you were already further down the hall, turning the corner with a steady pace.

James didn’t see you around anymore until Thursday morning. His eyes basically lit up and he repeated his apology in his head. “L/N, wait,” James tried, and he chased after you. Unlike last time, you didn’t stop. Curious students watched you two pass while James tried to match your pace.

“Hear me out, please.”

“I said all I wanted to say, Potter. Let’s stay out of each other’s way from now on.”

“After you let me explain,” James pleaded.

You laughed. “Nothing you tell me will change my mind. I won’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth.” You gave him an annoyed look.

Still, James was not planning on giving up. You weren’t the only determined one here. He grabbed your arm and dragged you into a room. Your eyes squinted and gave him the dirtiest look they could. James immediately let go of you, hands up in defence, a string of apologies following suit.

You glared at him and went to walk straight out of the room when James pulled you back again, and this time, he cupped the sides of your face, and pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment, you hesitated, utterly confused and surprisingly rather okay with the unwarranted kiss. And then anger hit you. Did he bloody think this would woo you, and sweep you off your feet and make everything alright? How dare he kiss you in attempt to manipulate you. You slapped him across the face in shock less than a second later. James blinked back at you in horror at his own actions.

“Godric, no- I- I am so bloody sorry, I shouldn’t have- I’m- I don’t know what went through my head, please wait-” You slammed the door in his face when you left. James hit his head softly against the door. And then he hit it again but a bit harder as he cursed. “What the hell is wrong with you mate,” he groaned to himself. “You bloody git.”

He stared at the dark wood of the door in front of him reluctantly. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind just staying in the room to rot away, how was he going to face you now?

“Lily, please go in my place,” he begged the redhead. “I’ll take your Tuesday shift, I promise.”

Lily shook her head. “Stop being a baby, James. You reap what you sow and I’m not patrolling tonight.” She walked past James and then turned back around.

“Some friendly advice, James, stop being so pushy. No is no, and it might have been cute as 11-year-olds, but not anymore. We’re no longer kids. But good luck.”

James reluctantly dragged himself towards the Great Hall where he could see you pick your nails in front of the door. He felt ashamed, guilty, and absolutely not ready to look you in the eye.

“Hi,” he awkwardly managed. “So about-“

“You’re late. Let’s get a move on it.” You cut him off.

“Right, yeah, we should do that- patrolling.”

It was quiet, not a word spoken between the two of you as James trailed half a step behind you. He glanced at the side of your face. Shadows and light flickered across your face every time you passed a torch.

The silence of the castle did him good, he realised. He’d much rather walk in silence next to you, than be in the midst of all that chaos that was going on right now. He smiled and stuffed his hands in his pocket happily.

“What are you smiling about,” you asked, a frown on your face.

“Hm? What? Oh, sorry.” The smile dropped of James’ face.

“Well, you don’t have to stop smiling because I said so,” you shot him a strange look. “I just wanted to know what’s so funny.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” A beat. And then, “Lily told me to stop trying to apologise to you if you don’t want to hear it.”

You considered his words. You supposed you mostly wanted someone to be angry at. You didn’t want to hear James out and then maybe see that your anger was misdirected. You wanted to stay bitter.

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, I’ll stop.”

“Good.”

Despite the fact that he hadn’t been able to apologise, and nothing had been cleared up between the two of you, both of you felt yourselves relax a little more. You continued to roam the corridors in silence.

The next three patrols were spent in the same basked silence, occasionally one or two words exchanged. James had so many things he wanted to tell you, but he didn’t want to ruin anything. And then you suddenly spoke up again.

“Good luck tomorrow.”

James perked up at your words. “Thank you,” he grinned at you gratefully. “Are you going to watch the game?”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll be helping out in the infirmary.”

“Did you finish your herbal research then?”

Your eyes flickered up at him in surprise. “Yeah, Madame Pomfrey and I will put it to test.” James nodded along.

“Well, if you ever need a patient, I’d volunteer,” he joked. He watched in triumph as you shook your head in amusement.

“Better check your broom for hexes tomorrow,” you replied. “wouldn’t want you to fall off your broom and break a bone or two.” James snorted.

You pulled the curtain to the side with an exasperated expression. “I was only kidding Yesterday, Potter. What on earth are you doing here.”

James gave you a weak smile, trying to hide the pain in his arm and ribs. “Volunteering to be your very first patient, of course.”

“Tell me you didn’t break your bones on purpose,” you squinted your eyes at him.

“I didn’t break my bones on purpose,” James obediently replied. He shifted in curiosity as you rummaged through a cabinet. “Is this not fixable with any spells?” He pondered when he saw you pull out several vials.

“Externally, yes. But you’d be in the same excruciating pain as if they were still broken. You motioned towards the vials. “Hence the herbal potions.”

“Is that the one with the Nettle and Dittany?” James nodded his head to the bottle on the left.

You hummed in approval, not bothering to hide the fact that you were impressed. “Who knows, Potter. Maybe you have a future of a healer as well.” James beamed in pride at your compliment.

“Just keeping my options open.” James sighed happily. He was glad that he could joke around with you again. You tapped a bottle against his cheek. He let you pour the potion into his mouth.

“Now what?”

“Now we wait.” You pulled out a stool and sat down with a notebook in case you needed to take notes of the effects of the potion. At one point, you must have fallen asleep with your face buried on James’ infirmary bed. A strand of hair was tickling your nose and you huffed to get it out of the way. James shifted to tuck it away with his non-injured hand.

You opened your eyes and jumped up. You looked around disoriented and when your eyes landed on James, who had tilted his head, you felt embarrassment creep up on you. “I’m terribly sorry, that was unprofessional of me. Are you feeling any better?”

James nodded. He sat up to prove it, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “All better. And if you get to apologise, so do I, right?” He looked at you hopefully, internally praying that you wouldn’t just march out straight away. “Will you hear me out?”

You sighed, knowing what would come next, but this time you sat down on the stool again instead of walking away.

“I didn’t know.” When you didn’t respond, he repeated himself. “I didn’t know it was you, and I didn’t know it was going to be published in the newspaper because I wouldn’t do that- you know that I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you and saw you staring back at him. He took it as a sign to continue and cleared his throat. It felt so dry all of a sudden. You quietly reached for a cup of water and handed it to him. James took a sip, a deep breath, and started to ramble on without breaks.

“Sirius found your parchment and then you sisters found it too, but I didn’t. I really didn’t. Sirius said they had already run off and he tried to fix it on his own, so he didn’t tell me, and I only found out right before you did and I would never have written such a mean article about you, because we’re friends- well, at the very least I considered us friends- and I just wanted you to like me because-” James stopped.

“What, you fancy me?” you rhetorically commented. 

James’ heart stopped and his face flushed. “No, of course not! I just- Well, I don’t know- It’s, uh I guess I just,” James tried to form a coherent answer, trying to weigh what answer would scare you away.

You frowned and let your eyes flicker across his face. “Stop it,” you shook your head in denial.

“Would it be so bad?” James murmured. “I didn’t know. But I know I liked the girl behind the paper. And I know I liked my patrol partner.” He hesitated and took a step forward. “I think you liked me too, before you knew my name.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Before I knew your name. Once I learned it, I no longer did,” you lied. “Because we would never work. Every student said so. All the whispers and comments, insults and rumour were right.”

James shook his head.

“So, date me to spite them. Prove them wrong,” It was a pathetic attempt, but he saw the consideration flash in your eyes, and the more he thought about it, the more he started to get convinced that this was a decent idea.

“You’d have us enter a fake relationship to spite everyone?”

“It wouldn’t be fake to me,” James shrugged, getting more confident by your open attitude. “And who knows, maybe I can convince you that the guy from the paper is still inside of me.”

“This is so stupid,” you shook your head.

“Guess what,” Sirius asked Remus, he covered the page of the book Remus was reading to capture his attention.

Remus slapped Sirius’ hand away. “What,” he replied curtly. Sirius moved to sit on the table of the library. “Are you angry?”

“Mildly annoyed, yes.”

“Because…” Sirius trailed off unsurely. He hoped that Remus would finish the sentence for him, which, luckily for Sirius, Remus did.

“Because I think it’s time you guys stop pestering her. I know you planned to get James in the infirmary. Leave her be, you’ve done enough damage as it is.” He sounded disapproving. Sirius dropped himself back on the table, laying across it as if he was a sacrifice on an altar.

“Prongs likes her.”

“Yeah? Well, he’s handling it terribly,” Remus drily remarked. He took off his glasses and started to wipe them with the hem of his sweater. Sirius patted his pockets, reached into his left one and handed Remus a cleaning cloth for glasses.

“Why are you guys nice to me,” Remus asked quietly.

“What are you talking about Moony, you’re our best friend?”

“I know, but why?” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m a werewolf, aren’t I? I’m a literal monster. So why are you nice to me. But somehow feel the need to keep pranking and bullying Slytherin students? We’re in our last year. Don’t you think we should grow up?” And with ‘we’, he meant ‘Sirius and James’.

‘I know, Moony.”

“Do you now?”

“I think I’m going to talk to Regulus.”

Remus choked on his spit. “I’m sorry, Pads, you’re what?”

“I just don’t want to be like L/N’s siblings. I know I sort of am, but I don’t want to be. And you said we should start being nicer right?”

“Pads, last time you said something to him, he literally hexed you.”

“I insulted him,” Sirius heard himself say and he felt weird for a moment.

“He’s after your ass during every Quidditch game, trying to knock you off your broom.”

“Well, that’s just the point of Quidditch,” Sirius defended again.

Remus smiled at Sirius. “Alright, just be careful. Mid-terms are coming up and I’m too busy with studies to fix you up again.”

Sirius grinned. “If all goes well with Prongs, I could ask L/N to patch me up.” Remus threw a quill at him. “I think I’ll go find L/N later, see if she knows where my brother is.”

The door opened and Remus looked behind him. He did a double take and put his glasses back on to make sure he was seeing things correctly. Sirius was still laying on the table, looking at the ceiling.

“I think I’ve found her,” Remus remarked, uncertainly.

Sirius sat up and gaped at the sight on you and James, walking into the library together while talking. James was holding a pile of books and by the colour of the cover, he knew that those were not James’.

“I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

You looked up in alarm at the words and found Sirius and Remus sitting at a table in the corner. “We talked it out,” you nonchalantly mentioned. Remus gave you a smile and Sirius just stared at you. Then; “Hell yeah, Prongs, I knew you had it in you to confess.” Sirius jumped off the table and patted you on the back with a grin.

You laughed back uncertainly and looked at James with questioning eyes. James looked back at you, reassuringly. He moved all of your books to one hand and guided you to a seat with the other.

“Where’s Regulus,” Sirius asked immediately as soon as you sat down.

You raised your eyebrows. “He’s in the astronomy tower. Didn’t want to join James and I to the library.” You smiled at recollection of the younger Black’s reaction to you and James.

“No way.” He had replied. “What are you two planning?” James had looked at Regulus with an offended look. “What are you talking about? I fancy Y/N and she fancies me, so we decided to make it official.”

“Yeah, I’ll believe you fancy Y/N, but there is just no way she would enter a relationship with you of all people. What’s the deal.”

Sirius nodded. “Well,” he started, “I mean, if he wants to, he uh, the library is a public space, so he could join. If he wants.” Sirius awkwardly sat down on a chair. You squinted your eyes at him. “I’ll be sure to let him know,” you said. You watched as Sirius puffed out a sigh in relief.

You glanced down at the messy scribbles on Sirius’ paper and raised your eyebrows. You’d imagined that the elder Black would have a better handwriting than that. “Anyway, do you need help with Transfiguration as well?”

The news of your relationship spread like fire. Your sisters both received it with a sour look on their faces. “He’ll see we were right, and he’ll leave you again,” they said, purposely loud enough for you to hear it. James had just entered the room and walked straight past them towards you with a flower. He dropped it next to you and sat down beside you.

Against your will, your heart made a small jump and the corners of your mouth tugged upwards. James’ eyes flickered towards your lips and quickly looked away happily. Then he leaned in a little and whispered, “We’re not breaking up if it’s up to me.”

He shifted in his seat, subtly scooting over closer to you. “Go on a date with me tonight,” James whispered.

“We don’t have time tonight. Patrol, remember?” You argued back.

James grinned and shook his head. “Afterwards.”

“It’s past bedtime afterwards. I will not-”

“Sneak around the castle and get caught, I know. But you forget that I have an invisibility cloak.”

You laughed this time. “I’m almost tempted to take 20 points off Gryffindor for your outrageous plan.” Your eyes twinkled and James joined in. He put his hand over his heart in fake shock. “You wouldn’t do that to your boyfriend,” he squinted his eyes, challenging you.

“If he misbehaves,” you answer amusedly. But then you hummed in thought. “Fine, I’ll bite, what do you have in mind.”

James’ grin widened. “The lake’s still frozen,” he whispered. You deadpanned. “I can’t skate.”

James leaned his head against you. “Exactly, it’s the perfect chance for me to show you my gentlemanly skills and woo you.” You turned your head and breathed in the smell of James’ shampoo. "You just want an excuse to hold my hand," you mumbled in his hair. You could feel James smile against your shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend, I don’t need excuses,” he joked.

James swore his heartrate sped up an unhealthy amount when you confirmed, “No you don’t.”

He was absolutely beaming next to you as you were patrolling down the corridor, hand in hand. Your eyes flickered over to James once in a while. It was suspicious to you that he’d been quiet the entire time. James on the other hand was just looking at your intertwined hands with interest.

“Never held hands with a girl before, Potter?” You laughed, but no venom was found in your voice.

James nodded. “Never held hands with a girl before,” he confirmed, not ashamed at all for it. Why should he. You looked at him with curiosity. “What about Lily?”

James snorted. “Have you ever seen us hold hands?”

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’.

“I was stressing a lot about being a good boyfriend, my hands got really sweaty,” James bashfully explained. You lifted both your hands and squeezed his hand a few times. “You don’t stress about being a good boyfriend for me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You immediately groaned internally and looked straight to the floor, intently watching your feet as they simply fascinatingly put one in front of the other. I mean, have you ever seen something so-. James wasn’t having it.

“’m not stressing with you. I have a pretty good feeling about us.” He sighed contently. You huffed. “Well, I have high standards, and I’ve been told I’m pretty high maintenance, Potter.” You stuck your nose in the air haughtily.

“First, you should stop calling me Potter,” he remarked.

“James,” you nodded. A chill ran up his spine. “And second?” you inquired.

“Second?”

“Second,” you looked at him expectantly.

“Oh! Right, second; I didn’t know you had a relationship before?” And just as soon as those words left his lips, he cussed himself out in his head. Great, now he seemed either a twat as if he couldn’t believe someone like you could have a relationship, or a twat who was jealous and obsessive. And it’s only the first week. James averted his eyes to the wall on his left. Ah yes, the wall seems to be made of stone. Very sturdy, very wall-like-

“No, I’ve been single pretty much my whole life.” You put on your usual sour face, and vaguely gestured to it. “Not very approachable, as I prefer.”

“Then who calls you high maintenance?” James thought bitterly, feeling the need to defend you. “Calm down, prince Charming,” you reassured him with a laugh. Maybe you could see the charm in his recklessness. “I can fight my own battles. And basically, everyone calls me high maintenance.”

The two of you walked side by side in silence again, making your way to the prefect room. You rummaged through a drawer, pulled out a document and started to fill it in. James leaned against the table. “Where do you go during Spring Break? Do you stay at Hogwarts? Because I can also stay at Hogwarts to keep you company, you know.”

“I have my own apartment.”

“You’re not even of age yet,” James pointed out, trying to hide his disappointment unsuccessfully at a missed opportunity of spending time with you.

“Professor McGonagall vouched for me,” you replied. James’ eyebrows flew up. “McGonagall?” He asked in disbelief. You just hummed in reply while you flipped the page to continue filling in the report.

“Well, if you want you can come with me?” You stopped writing and looked up at him intently. As if you were searching his face for any hidden intentions. When you didn’t find any, you gave him an apologetic look.

“That’s kind of you, James,” you smiled. “But I have Regulus staying with me.”

“He doesn’t stay at the Black manor?” James was surprised. You tilted your head. “Tell me, does Sirius stay at the Black manor?”

James quickly shut his mouth as realization dawned on him. Oh.

“Well,” he awkwardly shifted. “You’re both welcome,” he offered. You shook your head in laughing at the mental image. The thought of Regulus and Sirius living together for two weeks was just hilarious.

“I’m done, we can go.”

“Alright, I just need to pick up my invisibility cloak from the Gryffindor common room.”

“I’ll wait here,” you nodded. James offered you a strange look.

“What?” You asked, looking up at him.

“You’re not going with me?”

“What all the way up to the third floor? I think not,” you snorted, plopping down on a chair, and making yourself comfortable.

James huffed and didn’t move. “But what if something happens to me on the way there?” He dramatically sat down next to you on a different chair.

“What on earth could happen to you on the way to your room. This is Hogwarts, you know. The safest place in England probably.”

“What if a monster attacks me, and then I can’t come back, and you’ll think that I stood you up?” James retorted with a pout.

You shook your head and pinched the bridge of you nose. “There are no monsters in this castle, James, where do you think we are? You’re not going to run into a Basilisk on your way.”

James squinted his eyes at you. “But can you promise me that with 100% certainty?” You rolled your eyes in response. “Of course not, but would you take me with you and expose me to such dangers?” you sarcastically retorted.

“Well, technically speaking, and I’m not saying all Slytherins,” James held up his hands at your narrowed eyes. “Snakes are kind of your thing, right?” You closed your eyes. “Charming, you are. Let’s just go,” you sighed.

James grinned in victory as he held the door open for you. “For the record, I would totally protect you from a Basilisk.”

“If you say so.”

Sirius sat up in bed when the door opened, but no one came in. “Hey Prongs, how was ice skating?”

James removed the invisibility cloak to reveal your shivering form. Both of you drenched from head to toe, water still dripping from the locks in front of his eyes. “Got pulled under,” he stressed. “I didn’t know where to take her, I couldn’t let her clean record be tainted for being out past bedtime because of me, and I don’t know the Slytherin password, so I brought her here,” he started to ramble in a loud whisper.

Remus grumbled as he sat up too. “Bloody hell, Prongs, did you take her to the black lake or what?” And when James didn’t respond, “Mate, what is wrong with you.” He got up and walked to the bathroom to get a few dry towels to wrap you in.

James discarded his soaked clothes and dried himself off before putting on pyjamas. Then the three of them stared awkwardly at each other. “Well, she needs to get out of those cold clothes,” Remus remarked. Sirius stepped back. “Yeah, not my girl, not my duty,” he walked over to his bed and dropped down on it.

“Right.”

You woke up and the first thing you noticed was the red colours all around you. You sat up suddenly and blinked a few times. What happened? Oh, right. A hand had broken through the ice, wrapped itself around your ankle and harshly pulled you down into the freezing depths. So that means you’re either dead, or James got you out and brought you to the Gryffindor dorms instead of the infirmary because he kept your clean records in mind. Your heart filled with appreciation at the thought of that.

You looked around and found James on the floor next to you. He was curled up in an extra blanket, but it must be uncomfortable. You went to pull out your wand when you realised that you were wearing his sweater. The little shit changed your clothes, you huffed.

You quietly got up, found your clothes drying in the bathroom and slipped out your wand. With a quick levitation spell, you gently tucked James back into his own bed. Your eyes fell on the two parchments on the nightstand, and you allowed a nostalgic smile to adorn your face. You moved his hair out of the way and let your eyes rest on his peaceful face. Realising you were being creepy, you hastily turned around and snuck out of the room with your clothes and a rolled-up parchment.

“And where have you been,” Regulus sat on the common room armchair in front of the door. He looked like he hadn’t properly slept, and his tone was sharp. “And what atrocity are you wearing. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him?”

“You’re my brother, Regulus, not my mother,” you teased him. You pulled out a chair to sit next to him. “And no, I went skating, fell into the water, blacked out and woke up alive in the Gryffindor dorm. So don’t hex James, if anything you can thank him.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m glad you’re okay, I was worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. Did you stay up all night?”

“Yes, but mostly because I wanted to tell you something.” You didn’t immediately reply, waiting for Regulus to continue on his own instead.

“Sirius came up to the astronomy tower yesterday evening,” he quietly said. His voice sounded confused, as if he was still unsure of what had actually occurred.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m okay,” Regulus immediately said. “It’s just that he apologized.” He shrugged. “You think he meant it?”

You thought it over. “I think he did. He asked me last week you know. Where you are, and that if you ever want to join us in the library, you can.” Regulus nodded deep in thought.

“You know, James actually invited both of us over for the Spring Break.” You looked at Regulus to gauge his reaction to that. He looked slightly interested, though he tried to hide it.

“I suppose it’s still a month away, so we’ll see what we want then.”

You nodded and then got up off the chair. “I’m going to change into something else, before my fellow house students want to jinx me,” you said.

“You’re dating James Potter; people already want to jinx you.”

You winked at him. “Well, I’ll be damned, you’re absolutely right. Isn’t that funny? You know what, let them try,” you challenged them as you smoothened James’ sweater.

James woke up and sat up straight in bed, confused. How did he get here? He Looked at the end of his bed and saw it still neatly tucked in- hospital corners. His lips twitched up. You had left, he realised, but you’d tucked him in. He let himself fall back onto his pillow and turned his head to the side. Then he frowned, put on his glasses, and grabbed the parchment. In your lovely handwriting was a message.

Maybe not a Basilisk, but you protected me as you said. Thank you, James. (All things considered, I enjoyed last night.)

James’ eyes traced the words before he carefully placed the parchment under his pillow with a giddy feeling in his heart.

James found you in the library with Remus. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that you were still wearing his sweater. Red looked out of place on you and James absolutely loved it. Sirius shared a look with him and then the both of them decided to sneak up on the two of you, simultaneously stealing your books from under you.

You and Remus narrowed your eyes at the both of them. “I am this close to kicking you guys.” You held up your hand to show your thumb and finger pressed together. James shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “But they’re touching,” he hesitantly responded. Sirius elbowed him in the ribs and quickly handed Remus both your books back.

You sarcastically faked a gasp. “Oh, Merlin, you’re right, they appear to be.”

James cheekily grinned and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You wouldn’t hurt your knight in shining armour,” he bragged, but without any real arrogance laced in his tone. You flipped him off with a grin and pulled out a chair for him next to you. “You’re late,” you airily said.

Sirius suddenly straightened up, his attention fixed on someone behind you. You turned around and waved Regulus over. “Come join us, Reg.”

Three weeks flew by in a blur, but- even though you’ve said this so often now- your were really enjoying your time at Hogwarts again. People’s gossips and predictions about yours and James’ relationship had turned into quiet whispers and envy.

James stood up for you on multiple occasions- after letting you have a go at the imbeciles of course. You had finally gone to a Quidditch game to support James, though of course not when they were playing against Slytherin. You had spent more time in the infirmary and James had joined you a few times by hanging out on one of the empty beds, occasionally handing you an ingredient such as Wolfsbane.

After having established that you absolutely loved hugs, James was always less that a step behind you, ready to give you the affection that you were too proud for to admit you wanted. You had been a frequent visitor to the boys’ dorms as well, making yourself comfortable in James’ arms as you dozed off for a nap. On other nights, you have even managed to persuade Regulus to join a handful of times as well. You wondered what would happen when James would graduate before you, but tried not to think much of it.

“So, we are definitely going to Hogsmeade together this week, right?” James popped up behind you and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“How scandalous, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, why? You have a boyfriend or something?” James humoured you.

“Or something,” you joked. The innocent comment hit both you and James at the same time. A reminder that you two were in fact technically not really dating. You shook the thought away.

“I’ll see you at 11 o’clock,” you replied.

James grinned, “I’ll be there five minutes earlier.”

True to his words, he was waiting for you in the courtyard when you arrived on the dot. James offered you his arm and you linked yours through his.

“James?” James hummed in reply. “Does your offer about Spring Break still stand? I mean, I know it’s next week already, and it’s sort of short notice-”

James perked up. “Yes!” he said, a little too quickly and enthusiastic. He cleared his throat and lowered his volume. “Yes, you and Regulus can still come.”

You sighed and nodded in relief. “Right, because Reg and I have been talking and we might take you up on that offer.”

It was evening by the time you and James made your way back to Hogwarts. James had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and you held his hand. James pressed a kiss to your temple every now and then. “What happened to the glass slippers?” He suddenly asked.

“They broke.”

“They broke?”

“Yep.”

“But didn’t you enchant them?”

“I did, but I was so angry at you that I smashed them to pieces against the wall like over two months ago.”

“Oh… But have you changed your mind since then?” James decided to finally ask you.

“About what?”.

“Me, and us.”

You looked at James and quietly admired him. James kept his eyes straight in front of him, too scared to look at you and see your reaction.

“Well, we are walking together, coming back from Hogsmeade. There’s not a student in sight and yet we are still holding hands,” You light-heartedly replied with a teasing smile. You squeezed his hand for good measure. It seemed enough to make James look at you.

“I’d say we’re pretty good friends-”

“I’m in love with you.”

You froze in your tracks and let go of James’ hand. Well, that took you by surprise. Fancying someone and claiming to be in love with someone- not loving but being in love- that was a next level. You smiled amusedly, successfully hiding your insecurities. “James, you’re not in love with me.”

James frowned at your response. He’d accept your rejection, but not you doubting his feelings.

“Yes, I am,” he stubbornly responded.

“No, you’re not,” you retorted, equally stubborn.

“Am too.”

“You’re not, James,” you exasperatedly said. “You’re not in love, you just fancy me because you’re comfortable.” You shrugged awkwardly. "And you only feel comfortable with me because I know so much about you. Because you poured your heart out to a stranger, and it so happened to be me.”

James bit his cheek, considering your words. Then he grinned and nodded. Your heart dropped, but not as much as it could have, because you had already prepared yourself for this. The joy behind setting yourself up for disappointment by never letting yourself get your hopes up.

“Yeah, I’m really comfortable with you.” He agreed. “Isn’t that great? Isn’t that love too? Being comfortable to the point you don’t feel the need to keep secrets anymore, where you feel the most accepted? The most at ease?”

You stared at James then cleared your throat. “So, when did you start being all knowledgeable and romantic?”

James snorted. You were adorable when you were awkward. “I’m the most comfortable with you,” he earnestly confessed to you. He carefully, as if to not scare you away, put a step forward and reached for your hand. He squeezed it softly. I mean it.

James felt you pull your hand back and bit his lip, forcing it to curl up into an accepting smile. “Right,” he cleared his throat as he tried to form a reply. But you weren’t done yet. You pulled back your hand and then threw both your arms around James’ neck as your brought him in a tight hug. You dipped your head down into the crook of his neck.

“And I’m the most vulnerable with you,” you mumbled against his skin. James sighed in relief, happiness, and love. He wrapped his arms around you protectively, as if to shield you in response.

You tilted your head sideways as you looked at James who was in front of you, down on one knee in your garden. James looked beautiful. His cheeks were slightly coloured from the cold and his hands held a small box with a ring.

“Love?” He asked, waving his hand in front of you, trying to get your attention. He didn’t sound nervous at all, in fact, he felt the most relaxed he’d ever been. This was definitely the future he’d imagined when he’d watched you laugh with his dad while bringing in the groceries. “My knee is getting numb from the cold, love. So, if you could just say yes or no,” he cheekily grinned.

You hummed in thought and then you replied, “Well, isn’t marriage a little too soon?” Your grin widened and spread across your face. “I mean, you’ve yet to officially ask me to be your real girlfriend.”

“Wait what-”

The end :)

Taglist:

@elsie-bells @charlie-weasley-is-underrated @dreamingofmarauders @moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @hollandweather @queerqueenlynn @locklyebrainrot @thisrandombitch @grac3aph3lion @earfquak3 @venomsvl @shrekscrustybudassy @middle-of-the-earth @sirene-noir @littlepoisonmushroom @faumpje @iloveutwice @katelebate @moonysupremacy01 @marina468 @fangirl-kimora @bellesowl @badasswlthafatass @sjprongs @armydrcamers @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @ireallywannasleep127 @sakuyoi @jsjcue @cashtons-wife @idllyastuff @severegiantjudgefriend @ivy-34 @moonyunebi @caspianobsessed @kquil @moonys-luvr @mindflay3r @magpiesworld @my-beloved-fandoms @papichulo120627 @nokkoongie @sbrewer21 @helloitsmeeeeeee @clumsyassbitch @lovelyteenagebeard @joeytribbiani18 @littlemisslovestoread @princesskittycatofmeowland

[inkedinshadows]

Unraveling Truths

This is a bonus scene for my miniseries "A Helping Hand". You can read part 1 of 3 here. I know I wrote it in August, but I got a few requests for more so here we are.

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel finally explains to his mate what the wingspan business is all about.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), written in 3rd POV (matching the rest of the series)

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: I love time zones because it’s 2am here but it’s still the 16th in the US so I’m technically not late :) This fic is just another proof that I can't write drabbles lol. Anyway, hank you @azrielsshadows42 for the inspo 🫶🏻 and thank you @azrielappreciationweek it was so much fun writing for this event 💙💙

“You still haven't told me.”

She watched him from his bed, the sight still so new that Azriel's heartbeat quickened each time he saw it.

For the past week, she had spent every night with him, usually in his room. Yet walking in to find her reading a book while she waited for him was something he was still getting used to. And something he would never take for granted.

Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to brush a kiss to her temple as she set the book down. “Told you what, beautiful?”

The corner of his lips curled up at the small blush that colored her cheeks, even after a week of hearing that nickname. He was never going to stop using it.

He began to take off his boots, holding his breath as she knelt behind him and unfastened the latches of his shirt. Her fingers brushed the base of his wings, and he had to muster all his self-control to keep his body from reacting.

“About wingspan,” she replied casually. “You still haven't explained it.”

He froze, sitting a bit straighter. “Why do you want to know?”

She undid the last latch, and though the shirt now hung loosely around his torso, he made no move to remove it.

“Because I want to know all about you.” She moved to sit beside him, seemingly unaware of his slight change in demeanor. “And because you said you'd explain, but you still haven't.”

Azriel swallowed thickly. He'd been happy to hold her in his arms every night, knowing she'd be the first thing he saw in the morning. His hands had never wandered too freely over her body. He wanted to take things slow with her, not only to respect the trauma she had endured, but also because she wasn't just another girl. She was his mate, and he'd be damned if he ruined things by rushing them.

But he couldn't deny he had thought about how she would feel. How she would taste. How she would look while he pleasured her.

Her question about wingspan certainly didn’t help.

And if she was bringing it up again after a week, her curiosity wasn’t likely to fade anytime soon.

“Alright,” he finally said, and she rewarded him with that beautiful smile of hers—the one that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. “Rumor has it that the span of an Illyrian’s wings reflects the size of… certain body parts.”

She frowned, a small crease appearing on her brow. He resisted the urge to smooth it away with his thumb.

“What body parts?” she asked, her gaze wandering up and down his body as if she could see the answer somewhere.

He was glad she wasn’t looking at his face when he replied, “Intimate body parts, Y/N.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, wide with surprise and shock. A faint blush colored her cheeks as she looked down again. Straight at his crotch.

Azriel had to draw on five hundred years of composure to keep himself from shifting—and, more importantly, from hardening under her gaze. She’s just surprised, he told himself. That’s why she’s looking. Nothing more.

When she met his eyes again, her voice was quiet, as though she was too shy to ask but couldn’t help herself.

“And, uh…” She paused, clearing her throat before finishing. “Are those just rumors?”

The words slipped out before he could think. “No. It’s true.”

She studied him for a moment, and he feared he’d said too much and made her uncomfortable. But before he could apologize, she spoke again.

“Does Cassian really have the largest wingspan?”

He couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across his lips. “He likes to brag about it, but no, he doesn’t.” And though he knew he probably shouldn’t, he added, “I do.”

Her eyes widened, dropping to his crotch again. This time, his body reacted before he could stop it, and he felt himself beginning to harden in his pants. Her cheeks flushed an ever deeper shade of red.

“Hey, it's alright,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she would look at him. “I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

To his surprise, she gave him a soft smile. “You didn't. I asked. It's just…” Her voice trailed off, and she looked away for a moment before returning her focus to him.

“I just don't have much experience,” she whispered.

Azriel needed to change the topic immediately before his mind began running wild, thinking of all the things he could show her, all the sensations he could make her feel, all the possibilities. He reeled in his thoughts.

Sliding an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer. “It's alright,” he repeated, pressing another kiss to her temple. “We don't have to do anything. I don't want you to feel pressured.”

“But what if…” She hesitated, but as she bit her lip, she placed her hand on his leg, just above his knee but close enough for Azriel to be acutely aware of every small movement of her fingers. He was caught in a suspended moment, where everything hinged on her next words.

“What if I want to do something?”

His heart pounded in his chest. “You… want to?”

Despite the blush still coloring her cheeks, she held his gaze and nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips. He struggled not to kiss her right then and there and let his hands explore every inch of her body.

“Tell me what you want, beautiful,” he said instead, keeping his voice quiet and steady. “Anything you want, you can have it.”

She looked down, her gaze landing on the erection he could no longer hide. “I want to help you with that,” she murmured, her hand sliding up to his thigh and squeezing gently.

Azriel sucked in a breath. Unable to stop himself, he shifted, spreading his legs slightly to bring her hand closer to where he wanted it.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He needed her, desperately, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated.

Instead of answering, she stepped off the bed. Her eyes never left his as she moved between his parted legs, her fingers reaching for his shirt. He didn't stop her as she tugged it off, revealing his tanned chest.

“I'm sure, Az,” she whispered, her finger tracing the swirling lines of his tattoos. She'd done it many times before, but now it felt more intimate, more intentional. “Let me do this for you.”

He couldn't hold back any longer. Not when she looked at him with rosy cheeks and eyes full of desire. They both wanted this, and he wasn’t going to turn her down.

Cupping her face in his hands, Azriel pulled her in for a kiss. As their lips met, the bond between them came to life, glowing bright and golden in his chest and filling him with warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of his growing arousal.

“Go on, then,” he murmured against her lips when he finally found the will to break the kiss. “You can do whatever you like.”

She smiled, and under Azriel's attentive gaze, she knelt between his legs. From where he sat, the neckline of her nightgown left little to the imagination. He swallowed, his breath catching as she began unbuttoning his pants. He lifted his hips just enough for her to slide them down his legs, along with his underwear, leaving him bare before her. Her eyes widened slightly as the took him in.

“You weren't lying about it,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I didn't expect you to be… this big.”

His smirk turned smug. “You certainly know how to flatter a male's ego.”

She chuckled, averting her gaze for only a moment before reaching out. Her hand wrapped around his aching cock, making him gasp audibly. At the sound, a smile of delight appeared on her face, and she began to stroke him slowly, her movements gentle and exploratory.

His eyes locked with hers, and, encouraged by the connection, she grew bolder. Her grip tightened slightly, and he instinctively bucked his hips forward. Still, he held back as much as he could, letting her set the pace she was most comfortable with. But she leaned closer, her eyes searching his for permission, a silent question lingering in them.

Azriel brushed her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Whatever you like,” he repeated in a whisper.

She nodded, and as his hand slipped away, she leaned in, her tongue flicking out to run along his cock before her lips closed around his tip. He sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to push himself deeper into her mouth and holding his body still. The only sign of his impatience was the faint rustle of his wings behind him.

She continued to stroke him slowly, teasing him with gentle squeezes and soft touches, her tongue swirling around his head until precum leaked out. But with each of his sighs and the small, involuntary twitches of his hips, her confidence grew. She took him a few inches deeper, hesitating briefly sliding before her lips farther down his cock, stretching her jaw to fit as much of him as she could.

“Fuck…” he groaned, the word escaping his lips as she hollowed her cheeks. Her mouth was warm, wet and impossibly tight, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to thrust into her. Instead, he tangled his fingers in her hair—not to guide her, but to ground himself, needing the connection, needing to feel her any way he could.

His little outburst seemed to wash away the last traces of her shyness. She began to bob her head, still using her hand to cover what her mouth couldn’t take, her tongue swirling around him with ease. Her eyes stayed locked on his, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel could have come right then.

His mate was on her knees before him, pleasuring him in a way he had never dared to dream of. Over the last week, he'd fantasized about it once or twice, but he’d assumed she wasn’t ready to take that step and relished the simple intimacy of a gentle, teasing touch while cuddling.

But here she was, her boldness lighting a fire inside him.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, a moan spilling from his lips.

She blushed again but only moved faster, taking him deeper. His eyes rolled back, and his fingers tightened in her hair. When she whimpered softly, the sound sent a shock of pleasure through him, clouding his mind and driving him closer to the edge. He rocked his hips once, unable to hold back any longer.

“I’m… I’m close, sweetheart,” he panted. He didn’t care if he didn’t last long, didn't care that she’d been working him for only a few minutes. His release coiled tighter in his gut, his breaths coming faster, and he knew he couldn't hold it back. “You should stop if you don’t want me to come in your mouth.”

But the desire in her eyes only burned brighter, and she didn’t stop. Instead, she put even more effort into it, her free hand resting on his thigh while the other one squeezed gently at the base of his cock. When she hollowed her cheeks again, her warm mouth enveloping him so perfectly, Azriel’s control shattered.

With a groan, pleasure crashed over him, his release spilling down her throat. She swallowed every drop, the rhythmic contractions of her mouth around him drawing out his pleasure for a few more moments before he relaxed again, loosening his grip on her hair as he struggled to catch his breath.

After a moment, she pulled back, and Azriel immediately felt the absence of her warmth around him. Her hand slipped away as well, and for a beat, they simply looked at each other, twin smiles of satisfaction on their faces.

“You were wonderful,” he said eventually, helping her stand and guiding her to sit on his lap. “That was incredible.”

Her blush returned, deepening at his praise, an endearing sight he would never grow tired of. It made him want to keep complimenting her, especially after the pleasure she’d just given him.

He kissed her, savoring the softness of her lips and the familiar taste he’d come to cherish over the past week, now mixed with a hint of own release. His tongue slid into her mouth, entwining with hers while his hand drifted down to her thigh, brushing the hem of her nightgown. She didn’t pull away, but Azriel sensed the sudden tension seizing her body, despite her attempt to hide it.

He immediately withdrew his hand, silently cursing himself for assuming too much, especially after being so careful to let her dictate their pace.

Pulling back from the kiss, he searched her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I should have asked.”

She shook her head, but she didn't look at him. “No, it's my fault. When I said I don't have much experience, I… I actually meant I don't have any experience.”

Azriel did his best to mask his surprise, not wanting to make her feel more self-conscious. Gently, he placed his hand on her waist, drawing slow, soothing circles over the fabric of her nightgown.

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes remained fixed downward as she nervously fidgeted with her fingers. “Because you're five centuries old,” she whispered. “You must have so much experience with these things, and I don't, and I didn't want you to be disappointed if I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, unwilling to let her continue down that path. Tilting her chin up with a gentle finger, he waited patiently for her to meet his eyes. When she didn't, he murmured, “Can you look at me, sweetheart?”

Slowly, her gaze slid to his. Azriel offered her a soft, reassuring smile, hoping it would ease her worries.

“I don't care if you don't have any experience,” he said, his hand still caressing her side. “I'm not disappointed. All that matters to me is you and whether you're comfortable with whatever we're doing.”

She nodded, though some tension still lingered in her body. He could tell she struggled to believe him, but he wanted to make it clear that he would respect any boundary, any hesitation. She came first, and she always would. Everything else could wait.

“We can take things as slow as you want to,” he continued. “I won't rush you. You're in control, Y/N. Always. Okay?”

At last, he felt her body relax, a relieved smile appearing on her face. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Good.” Azriel smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Will you let me get up for a moment? I'll wash up quickly, and then we can go to sleep.”

Her smile grew, a hint of playful anticipation gleaming in her eyes. “Can we cuddle?”

He chuckled. “Of course we can cuddle, beautiful.”

As she slid off his lap, he stole one last kiss before getting up and heading to the bathroom. He could feel her eyes following him, and he couldn't help but smirk.

He wanted her, but if she needed more time, he'd give it to her without question, even after what she'd just done for him. After all, her trust and comfort were more important than his need, and he knew that waiting would only make the moment she was truly ready even more special. The wait would be worth it.

Because she was worth it. She was worth everything.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 8

"I cannot believe you told my wife your date was with *Lena Luthor*," Alex whispers mid-yell, "before you told me!"

"Would it have changed your recommendation?"

At that, Kara hears Alex pause to consider.

"No," comes the final response. Then, "Did it work?"

Kara flushes-- she'd certainly gotten the reaction she'd been looking for. She just isn't sure she wants her sister to know that they hadn't fully resolved that desire.

"Well enough," Kara returns, settling on an incomplete truth. She'd explain the rest later... eventually.

A muttered curse issues over the line. "Jesus. How did this even happen? Wait-- what happens now? Esme said her next show is in, like... 16 hours, in Denver."

Kara smiles into the phone. "We stay in touch."

She's already received a picture via text, showing Lena with a tongue-out wink and a playful peace sign. Another photo had revealed a sticky bun, with a note that Lena had gotten Jess to swing by Noonan's on the way to the airport.

Though the sight of the sticky bun had made her hungry, the selfie made her pause to absorb the image. From the relaxed tousle of Lena's wavy hair, to the ray-bans hooked on the collar of her shirt, and the luxury of the private plane lurking around the edges.... she wonders if Lena realizes just how far she's letting Kara in, allowing her to see Lena in so personal a setting.

Kara's response had been simple. "Fly safe."

It had earned her a floating heart emoji and a promise to touch base upon landing.

"That's it?" Alex asks, pulling Kara back to the present.

Kara huffs a laugh. "What did you expect? She wasn't going to cancel half a national tour for personal time with someone she only met two days ago."

"Well why not? You're worth it."

"You're only saying that because you're my sister," Kara counters. "Besides, I don't want that for her."

Seeing Lena on stage had proven it's something the woman enjoyed. She thrived on the experience of it, and so did the thousands of fans who came to see her.

Which is why, a few hours after Lena's first Denver show would have concluded, Kara is surprised to receive a call from Lena. They'd facetimed when she'd landed, so the lack of video is her first clue that something isn't right.

"Hey," Kara greets, pressing the phone to her ear as she wipes sleep from her eyes. She'd meant to stay awake to check in herself, but not even a book had been able to keep her from dozing off.

"Hey."

Lena's voice is somber. It's such a difference that a wave of concern wakes Kara the rest of the way.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

There's a short pause before Lena responds. "Nothing."

"How was the show?"

"Fine. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be calling so late. I just... I wanted to hear your voice." Lena pauses again. "Is that weird?"

"No." Kara listens closely to the quiet that follows, as though it might give her some insight into what was happening on the other end of the line. "Lena..."

"Could you... talk to me?"

"About what?"

"Anything. Just... so I can listen."

Kara's brow furrows. She fights the impulse to dig deeper, to push to find the why. She doesn't need to know. Lena has asked for what she needs-- and it's something Kara is able and willing to give.

"Did I ever tell you that I didn't always live in National City?"

Lena hums a negative, prompting Kara to continue.

"I'm actually from a town up the coast. Midvale. I miss it sometimes. The stars mostly. In high school, I had friend named Kenny, and we would take his telescope to the old barn, and we would chart the skies together..."

Kara goes on, relating many and more of the troubles she and Kenny had gotten up to in those days. She was careful to steer clear of his murder, and the bullying they'd both experienced. Lena needed distraction, not more heartache.

As she speaks, Lena hums occasionally, sometimes even giving a chuckle. When the sounds of her following along peters out, Kara pauses to listen if Lena notices the stop. When no reaction comes, Kara smiles to herself.

"Lena?" she asks softly. "Still there?"

No answer comes, but when Kara increases the volume on her phone, she can hear the steady inhale and exhale of sleep. Kara listens for a few heartbeats more.

"Sweet dreams, Lena."

[bandaged-writer]

I saw your post for Drabble ideas: what about a drunk confession from Chuuya? I feel like he’d be really open about his feelings unlike when he’s sober because he doesn’t wanna get you involved in his mafia shenanigans so he’s been keeping his pining on the down-low. I just wanna give this man a lil kith on the forehead 😔

"mafia shenanigans" and his shenanigans are killing people 😭

739 words ; fluff

alcohol consumption, fem reader

It was liquor that warmed your throat, but it was Chuuya who warmed your heart.

An empty bottle of wine stood on his wooden desk, the glass half empty and held by skilled, gloved fingers, swishing the burgundy liquid around. Through the large window of his office, orange rays dipped Chuuya’s face in soft hues - or maybe it was the alcohol leaving behind a rosy shade upon his cheeks. If you were to guess, you’d say it was the latter.

You rested your cheek on your palm, a smile tugging at your lips as Chuuya turned into the chatterbox he secretly was. He talked about his argument with Kouyou, his distaste towards his paperwork made a comment about Mori that almost caused you to snort wine out of your nose.

Although you didn’t know who these people were, you found his stories always most amusing.

“There’s one more thing I gotta tell you about,” Chuuya slurred his words and looked at you like you had put the stars in the sky. “But you can’t tell [Name].”

A deadpan expression rested upon your face. You had to refrain from rolling your eyes. He was lucky he was cute. “Yeah, I promise.”

Chuuya sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and put his glass of wine on the desk. Mindlessly, he traced his finger along the glass’s edge like he was lost in a hopeless daydream. “Whenever I see [Name], I’m tellin’ ya..,” he trails off, a pause. “My heart always skips a beat and I can’t form a damn thought. I think.."

“I think she hexed me!”

Heat rose to your cheeks and suddenly the room felt warmer than it did before. You already knew that Chuuya was acting a little..funny whenever you were around, but didn’t expect him to feel that way towards you. After all, all you two were merely..drinking buddies.

Two strangers who had happened to have met in a bar, sharing a drink, a conversation and phone numbers to stay in contact. Nothing could’ve prepared you for late night calls, his warmth seeping through the leather of his gloves or the brutal honesty Chuuya presented either at 2 am or when he was so hammered that he couldn’t even recognize you.

Oh, he had skillfully wormed his way into your heart with a temperament that only Chuuya possessed.

“Hexed you? Are you sure you’re not developing feelings?,” you questioned like he wasn’t talking to his number one problem that kept him up at night.

“Pfft, I cannot have feelings!” Chuuya waved his arm through the air, leaned his head back into his leather chair and mumbled away. “I’m totally not thinking of her beautiful face or the softness of her hair! I don’t even like her stupidly adorable smile! Totally not!”

Ignorance was bliss, or so they said.

Taking a sip of wine, you stared into the depths of the glass and hummed. “Why not? It’s normal to have feelings for someone you like like.”

“What are you? Stupid?,” Chuuya groaned, still obvious that it was you who he was pouring his heart out to. “If she ever finds out that I’m with the Mafia, she would..”

The following few words went in one ear and out the other. All you could hear was the sound of wine being poured, your own heartbeat falling a step behind and the white noise in your lungs. Seconds ticked by, yet time seemed to have come to an abrupt halt.

Chuuya? In the Mafia?

It explained so many things. His way of fighting, the air of authority around him and the way he handles things on his own. Everything clicked like a long-lost puzzle piece and completed the big picture that was Chuuya Nakahara.

Yet..did it matter what he did for a living? Certainly, he had his reasons for joining an organization which you had believed was nothing but an urban myth, a fancy story among teens whenever there was an inexplicable murder.

Finally, air filled your lungs and the voice that you believed to be lost returned. “I think you should tell her, regardless. The answer might surprise you.”

A beat of silence filled the air as Chuuya stared at you.

“..Maybe you’re right. I’m so lucky to have you, Kouyou.”

The only thing you were certain of was that this man would suffer from a major hangover the following morning.

send me your thoughts/thirsts for a drabble lol <3

[punsmaster69]

20/FEB/20XX

papyrus adjusts the collar of my undershirt, and tugs at the edges of the argyle sweater he's summoned for me from the dark, unorganized depths of my dresser.

"I'M AWARE THAT YOUR STANDARDS REGARDING FORMAL ATTIRE ARE PARTICULARLY LOW..."

he straightens my collar a bit more.

"BUT EVEN AN INDOLENT SKELETON SUCH AS YOURSELF SHOULD TRY TO LOOK AT LEAST SOMEWHAT PRESENTABLE ON YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL DATE WITH YOUR NEW GIRLFRIEND!"

that word, which he hasn't let me correct him on.

that word, which i don't have proof to still deny being right or wrong, just yet.

"valentine's day doesn't count, huh?"

"OF COURSE IT DOESN'T!"

"NOT IF THE OFFICIAL PARTNER TITLE ONLY CAME ABOUT MID-PROCESS OF THAT ONE."

hands on hips, leaned forward; he discerningly stares at my collar for a few more moments. i push his hands away as he reaches for it again.

"it's definitely fine, bro."

replacing his hands to where they were on his hips, he steps back.

"...I'LL HAVE TO IRON THAT SHIRT LATER."

giving my appearance one last inspection -

crouching in front of me to pick a ball of fur from my shoulder.

-papyrus deems my attire now "date" ready.

"YOU STILL SEEM ANXIOUS."

"I CAN LEND YOU MY DATING MANUAL IF YOU'D LIKE!!"

"..i'll be ok. thanks for the offer, bro. and for all this."

i gestured to the outfit.

"SHE'LL CERTAINLY BE IMPRESSED BY YOUR OUTING-RELEVANT LOOK!"

with a proud stance.

"should one usually have a specific outfit for going to a café?"

"WHAT? OF COURSE YOU SHOULD! A PREPARED SKELETON HAS AN OUTFIT FOR EVERY OCCASION!!"

poking his exposed sternum through the slit at the top of his shirt, i looked him straight in the sockets.

"what's the occasion for this one?"

breaking the stare, his gaze fixated itself anywhere else as he repressed a flustered look.

"I-IT'S JUST A REGULAR OUTFIT! FOR DOING REGULAR ANYTHING-THINGS!! EXPLICITLY NON-SPECIFIC."

"did mtt put you up to this?"

"NO!"

at his side this time, i poked the shiny star design across the black fabric of the shirt.

"seems like a very 'mettaton' choice."

"HE DIDN'T PICK THIS OUT FOR ME."

"did you pick it out for 𝘩𝘪𝘮?"

"A-"

entirely freezing.

"N-NO!!"

"METTATON AND I ARE BOTH FASHIONABLE MONSTERS, OUR FASHION STYLES ARE BOUND TO OVERLAP SOMETIMES!!!"

"so where're you two going toda-"

papyrus shoved me to the front door.

"YOU'RE JUST STALLING!! GO, ALREADY!!!!"

"ok, ok. have fun with your crush-"

the front door was slammed behind me. i heard a side window open, followed by the fading sound of a skeleton running off somewhere.

——

i read the page.

i read the page again.

i read the page a third time.

i realize this isn't working.

instead of reading the same page over and over while hoping the words suddenly stick this time, i set aside my book and pull my cup of coffee closer. i pretend like i'm taking a break to watch the town through the window.

when i look up, she's doing the same.

"Not a very busy day, is it?"

"it's hard to say small towns ever are."

"True as that may be, it really is too nice for as few monsters to be about as there are."

"yeah, why isn't everyone outside enjoying the sun? like us?"

"...Our plans were made 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 knowing of the weather's plan to be nice. We do not count."

"our plans to sit quietly and read?"

we both turned our heads to our set aside books.

a smile crept across her face.

"...It seems neither of us were 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥-y for sitting quietly at the moment, were we?"

"don't have the 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦-ience for stories right now, unfortunately."

"I must confess - I was reading a while before you arrived."

"late, sorry."

"Fashionably late."

i flicked the collar papyrus was so set on straightening this morning with my thumb.

"paps insisted i be."

"Oh? Has he been attempting to adjust your wardrobe? It would explain the shift in clothing choices lately."

i decide that's why.

"yeah, he says i should try to look 'at least somewhat presentable' on.."

deciding immediately on a word change -

"somewhat presentable with you rather than just having my jacket n' shorts all the time."

"With me?"

"how i'm constantly embarrassing such a pretty lady with my drab attire in public, y'know."

"I would not consider your... 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 dressing style embarrassing. In anything you wear, I find you to be just as charming."

maybe my face got a little warm.

"..Though."

she leaned to the side to see around the table, so her eyes could make their way up the entirety of my outfit. extra effort was made to ignore how long it felt like her gaze lingered.

"I certainly approve of Papyrus' choices today. Cannot complain in that regard."

"..maybe i oughta take some more of his suggestions then."

"It is good, of course..."

she made an obvious once-over at my outfit again. i distracted myself by tapping my coffee cup a few times and taking a long sip.

"..But I wonder if it would look even better on my bedroom floor?"

coffee came out of my nose.

my reaction sent her into a laughing fit.

"Hehe- Sorry, sorry. I had heard that one recently and the chance to use it now was much too tempting."

"speakin' of floors, that..."

hiding my face with my hand was all i could do.

"heh, definitely floored me."

"Apologies again."

"s'alright. it was a good one, i'll give you that."

taking a deep breath and shoving my hands into my pockets.

"inserted with appropriate timing and all."

something in my pocket brushed against my right hand.

"Well.. 'appropriate' is subjective."

peeking at the object, i stopped.

"It wasn't really 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 in any manner."

i stared at the text on the object in my right hand.

"COUPLE'S DISCOUNT BRACELET" stared back.

"..Sans?"

my attention was snapped back to toriel.

"sorry. what's up?"

"Have I made you uncomfortable? I'm very s-"

"no, it's..."

opening my hand on the table to drop the rubbery bracelet between us.

toriel's eyes widened before she sheepishly pulled her matching one from her pocket.

for a guy without a stomach, it sure did feel like butterflies.

the question i've been too cowardly to ask outright gnawed at me.

i stuttered... 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 out.

"......a-are we..?"

tori undid the rubber latch on one of the bracelets and connected it with the other. keeping eye contact with me, she tugged on the interlocked bracelets and cocked her head slightly.

i nodded.

turning the bands over in her hands, toriel contemplated something.

"...I would like for you to be able to ask."

"if we're-"

"To be partners."

everything in me felt like it had been paused.

i couldn't get any words to come out.

all i could hear was my soul racing.

i clenched my fists, and...

"......"

couldn't look her in the eyes any longer.

she put her hands over my own.

"Then I will wait for you."

[sgtcalhouns]

Steamy

as you know, part of Felix's arc in the mechanic au revolves around his personal comfort talking about and initiating sex with Tamora. I've had this idea kicking around in my brain for a while now, and I finally sat down to write it. at this point, they've been married for an undetermined amount of time, but the point is - they're comfortable with each other, and it shows.

smut below the cut. nsfw. enjoy!

The fuzzy bathmat under his feet. The minty toothpaste on his tongue. The steam from Tamora’s shower.

Felix focused on these sensations as he struggled to wake himself up. He was usually quite chipper in the mornings, a facet of his personality that many found grating. It was unusual for him to feel so groggy. Taking a deep breath, he stood up a little straighter and directed his attention to brushing his teeth. No early-morning drowsiness would prevent him from taking care of his dental hygiene.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slight rustling of the shower curtain. Tamora’s foot came into view as she propped it up on the edge of the tub, and he could just barely make out the bottom half of her leg in the small gap between the shower curtain and the wall. He turned his head slightly to watch as her hands spread a thin layer of shaving cream down her leg. A twinge of jealousy squirmed down to the pit of his stomach as he watched her slender fingers smooth over the defined musculature of her calf, the curve of her knee, and then disappear behind the curtain as they made their way up her thigh. He was certainly awake now.

He bent over the sink to spit, keeping his eyes trained on the gap from the shower curtain. He couldn’t quite explain why he was so transfixed; for Tamora, this was a mundane task. She probably didn’t even realize he was watching her.

Rinsing his mouth, he watched as she brought her razor to the base of her ankle, gliding gently upward and revealing a strip of skin beneath the shaving cream. There was something graceful, perhaps even elegant, about the way she gripped the razor’s handle. He couldn’t help but picture how those hands looked gripping other things, how his own callused hands felt against the soft skin of those legs. In the mirror, his cheeks were noticeably more flushed than they had been a moment ago, and he couldn’t be sure that it was all from the steam.

He didn’t notice the shift in Tamora’s upper body until it was too late. One striking blue eye appeared in the gap in the curtain, rooting him to the spot. He’d been caught. There was once a time when this would have been humiliating, but today his body hummed with excitement as he met her gaze.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Felix recognized the smile in her voice, even if he couldn’t quite see it.

“Don’t mind me,” he said, leaning against the bathroom counter. He took a moment to slowly, deliberately look her over—from the bottom of her foot to that piercing blue eye. “I’m just enjoyin’ the view.”

She glanced down at his boxers and smirked before responding.

“I’ll say.”

Apparently he’d been enjoying it more than he realized. There was no use denying it or playing it cool. He wanted her, and they both knew it.

“Can you blame me?”

It was brief, but he swore he saw a flicker of surprise cross her face. Where he’d once been reserved, Tamora had brought out a side of him that was wide open and unafraid. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing, and occasionally it still surprised her when he took initiative like this. He had been raised in such a way that it was difficult for him to express his desires in his adult relationships. But Tamora was a woman who spoke more openly about sex than anyone Felix had ever met, and who expected the same from her romantic partner. He counted himself lucky that she had been understanding of his inner plight and patient with him as he worked to improve.

Now, it was almost laughable to think that he had ever held himself back from the desire he so often felt for his wife. She had shown him how beautiful sex could be, and he never wanted to deprive himself of that level of intimacy again.

“Felix,” she sing-songed, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to join me?”

He took a few steps toward the shower, leaning against the wall and looking up through the gap to finally see her whole face. Beneath the electricity that buzzed between them was something much more tender, something he couldn’t resist as he leaned up for an ardent kiss.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t mean to stare, but I can’t help it.”

“Stare at what, exactly?” she asked, unable to mask her amusement. “All you can see from over there is my leg."

"Oh, but this isn't just any leg," he replied. His hands wrapped themselves around her leg, one on the back of her calf and one resting atop her knee in a gentle caress. "It's yours."

"Is that what makes it so special, then?"

"Everything about you is special, Tammy Jean," his voice slipping easily into the breathless reverence she had come to know quite well. "Every now and then it's nice to take a moment to appreciate what's in front of you."

Suddenly, he was kneeling before her, his hands traveling down her leg as he made his way to the floor. He pressed a kiss to the top of her foot and raised his head to look at her, the hungry expression on his face causing her heart to skip a beat. His lips trailed up her ankle to her shin, leaving impassioned kisses in their wake.

"These beautiful long legs are what carried you to me," he said as his lips reached her knee.

Felix paused for a moment to rest his cheek against the bend of her knee, paying no heed to the leftover shaving cream that was now on his face.

"Watchin' you, I couldn't help but feel jealous. I wanted to be the one to touch you," he admitted. "All I could think about was how much I wanted to be right here."

Tamora took a moment to assess the situation before responding. They had several tasks they had been planning to accomplish today. Her husband was on his knees on the bathroom floor worshiping her. He had always been enthusiastic, and had learned to be more vocal about his desires, but she had never seen him quite like this. To hell with their to-do list; she wanted to see where he was going with this.

"Well, you got what you wanted," she said, surprised at the slight quiver in her voice. His arduous display was getting to her more than she realized. "What are you going to do about it?"

His expression shifted into a mischievous grin before he turned his focus back to his task. He continued his trail of kisses beyond her knee, opting for a less hurried approach this time. Rather than continue up the center of her leg, his path strayed to her inner thigh, earning him a pleased sigh that only encouraged him to take his time, to truly savor each moment.

Unable to help himself, his kisses grew messy as he indulged his hunger; Tamora's hand plunged into his hair as he sank his teeth into her pillowy flesh, biting and sucking and laving his tongue over the marks he left behind. She was beside herself with longing by the time he reached the top of her thigh, anxiously anticipating his next move. His warm breath came in huffs, just barely ghosting over where she wanted him next.

But instead of diving in, he paused, eyes looking up into hers. She recognized that look—the desperate need to continue wrestling with his doubts about whether she wanted the same. Despite his progress, he still worried that giving in to his most animalistic instincts would cross some sort of boundary. Someday she would find a way to make him realize that she wanted to see that side of him more than anything.

"Not bad," she said. "But is that really all you've got?"

The change in his demeanor was immediate; relief and excitement took the helm as he pressed a couple of gentle kisses to her inner thigh.

"No, ma'am."

Felix didn't hesitate to move in close and bury himself in the heat between her legs. With the ease of frequent practice, his tongue slipped into her folds, teasing for only a moment before concentrating where he knew she most craved his touch. A soft moan escaped him; no matter how familiar he became with his wife's body, tasting her always had a special way of making him burn for her. His arm wrapped around her thigh, providing him with the leverage he needed to press his tongue more firmly against her clitoris.

Above the sound of the shower, he heard her breathy exclamation, Oh! It spurred him on, making him suddenly desperate to feel her come undone around him, to hear her moan his name and taste her sweet release on his tongue. His grip on her thigh became more firm to steady her as her body quivered above him. As she braced herself against the shower wall, his free hand smoothed up her body to caress her breast. He felt her attempting to lean her weight onto his mouth and used his hold on her to press her flush against him, sucking intently on her clit. His own arousal pulsed and throbbed with need, and every move she made increased the ache.

"Felix!"

Tamora's nails dug into his scalp and he hummed with greedy satisfaction as he savored his reward. He moved with her, continuing his efforts until he was certain that he had seen her pleasure through to its end. Once he withdrew, he rested his temple against her inner thigh as he caught his breath. Her fingers finally relaxed their tight grip, and he felt them run gently through his hair as her body began to calm.

She reached down and grabbed hold of his white T-shirt, pulling him into an upright position. Once he untangled himself from her legs and stood, she yanked him into a heated kiss, one they both savored.

"I ought to let you finish your shower," he murmured against her lips.

It almost made her laugh, the thought that he would simply leave now after what he had started. On a deeper level, though, she understood his intentions. He was putting the ball in her court, letting her decide whether they would continue. Felix had a special way of doing so that always seemed to place her in charge, and she had a feeling he liked it best that way.

"I know you don't think you're leaving with that," she glanced down at the tent in his boxers, "unattended. Come here."

"In the shower?" he asked. "Don't you think that's a little unsafe?"

A wicked grin crossed her face and his heart raced with excitement. Pulling him close, she voiced her reply, erasing all doubts from his mind.

"I'd be more worried about my personal safety if I didn't get in if I were you."

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 10

It's heeeeere! Final(!!!) chapter of my @shepherds-of-haven 1920s fic. Ty to Lena for her amazing characters and the Summer AU event in 2021 that kicked this off, and to @emeraldgreaves for being my obscure info diver when I didn't have time to replay large chunks of the game looking for details <333 ---

The walk to Whitestone Couriers was blessedly uneventful. Xaeryn neither needed nor wanted more excitement today. Tonight. Even more fortunate than the quiet walk, Mr. Syndran was just emerging from the building as she reached it.

He paused with one hand on the door, leaving it half-open. "Miss Shrike. Should I take your arrival at this hour to mean what I think?"

She tapped the blanker box tucked under her. "I found it, safe and sound."

"Excellent!" Mr. Syndran wasn't the type to be described as beaming, but he certainly looked pleased as he pushed the door open. "Though I do have to wonder why your first instinct was to bring it here at this hour."

"I gambled on your or Ms. Aerin working late," Xaeryn explained as she followed him to his office. "With how long it's taken to track this darb down, I thought you might want it secured as quickly as possible." I didn't want to risk holding on to it any longer than I have to, God only knows what baloney might happen. Jarkyth did get away...

"You aren't wrong there." He leaned his walking stick against the edge of the desk and gave her a keen look. "Miss Shrike, you look nearly dead on your feet, sit down."

"You aren't wrong there," she said wryly, dropping into the chair he indicated without protest. Which was a mistake; she could feel exhaustion dragging at her as the adrenaline finally faded. Hopefully she'd make it back to her feet. "It's been a long day."

"Then I'll try not to make it that much longer." Mr. Syndran set down his keys and turned to open the safe. "But I would be interested in hearing at least high points of your success."

What made it take so long to find, in other words, she thought running a hand over her hair. "It was stolen by the king of Elinden, who fancies himself the rightful owner and planned to use it as proof of his connection to the land as he established a stronghold in the Jalis desert." Xaeryn handed over the case with the Torch and leaned forward, steepling her fingers. "He also seemed to buy all the... mythology surrounding it; believe it offered luck and protection."

"Hmm," Mr. Syndran sniffed. "Superstition..." He opened the case and nodded in satisfaction seeing the Torch within. The case itself caught his attention, and he examined it for a moment, as if he could tell there was something special about it.

"Belief is a powerful thing," Xaeryn shrugged. "Whether it's truth or folly." She rubbed the back of her neck, still sore from tussling with Heron. She was going to be very stiff come morning. Hate to think how that would've gone with him at full strength. "They'd found a place to hole up in Ashtown--"

"Of course," he snorted as he set the case in the safe and spun the lock.

"--using an abandoned warehouse," Xaeryn continued, stifling a yawn. "But we were able to follow some of King Kaza's people, find and retrieve the Torch" --and Red-- "and catch... most of them."

He tensed. "We?"

"Free agents and the Shepherds," she clarified with a wave of one hand. "Not the buttons; I remember my contract."

Mr. Syndran pursed his lips and returned to the desk, sitting in his chair. "You say most were apprehended...?"

"Unfortunately, the... financier slipped away while we were subduing the king and his brunos," she said carefully. She didn't want to go blabbing everywhere the Western Hierophant was involved. "He stood to gain valuable trade contracts from helping pull this off, but decided to cut his losses when things started turning against their success."

"Hmm, a pity. But you recovered the artefact, as contracted, and caught most of those responsible." He opened a drawer, withdrew his checkbook, and filled one out to pass to her. "The rest of your base fee." He watched her stifle another yawn as she took it. "I presume you would like some rest and time to collect receipts before we settle the reimbursement of incurred expenses?"

"You presume correctly." She had most things documented together already, but she did want sleep. She confirmed the amount, shifted to tuck the payment in her handbag--

--and was abruptly(rudely) reminded her handbag was still laying in one of the warehouse hallways. Damn it all, she didn't want to go back there. Not tonight. She just wanted to sleep. "And I presume you'll want that in the books as a separate expense from my fee, in case any questions are raised?"

"You presume correctly." He folded his hands an studied her. "I do have some meetings tomorrow, and will now also have to arrange returning Solimer's Torch to the Hall... Does eight thirty work for you?"

I'll make it work. She wanted this done with before she and Red talked, mainly to minimize the risk of being interrupted. But given how tired he'd looked, she was probably safe until eight thirty. "Yes, that'll be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me...?" She pushed to her feet.

"Of course, Miss Shrike." Mr. Syndran rose as well and bowed his gratitude. "I thank you for a job well done, and release you to go get some sleep."

"Thank you. See you tomorrow." Unfortunately, there was one more thing to do before she could sleep. Some of the things in her handbag were too vital to leave laying in a warehouse all night. Xaeryn sighed as she exited the building and retraced her steps to Ashtown.

---

She didn't find her handbag, which was highly annoying, despite looking both where she dropped it and in the surrounding area. She even peeked in a couple of the rooms to make sure it hadn't been kicked off somewhere in all the bustle. Still no luck, which left her with hoping one of the Shepherds or Briony or someone had found it and planned to return it. She was too tired to tear the whole warehouse apart, no matter how annoying it might be to replace some of the contents.

Fortunately her keys still hung around her neck, so Xaeryn was able to get in her place.

To find she had a visitor--seated behind her desk. With his feet up.

"Hey, sunshine," Chase Trinaeste grinned.

Xaeryn was too tired to do anything but stare at him and wait for an explanation, one brow arching.

His grin widened. "Oh, apologies; Miss Shrike."

"Chase. What can I do for you?"

He straightened in her chair. "Heard you just closed your big case. Made quite the ruckus, actually."

"I imagine it did." Xaeryn crossed her arms. That was fast. "Doesn't explain why you're here."

"Just settling accounts," Chase said, still grinning.

She'd figured as much. Couldn't this wait for morning? "I remember our arrangement," she said around a yawn. "One favor, as you did help, but I ultimately found what I was after though other avenues."

"Smart dame," he chuckled.

"I appreciate your help regardless," Xaeryn clarified. "Whatever your motives for giving it."

"Very smart dame." Chase pushed to his feet and headed back to the window, still open from his entrance. "Just make sure you keep remembering, Miss Shrike. Thieves Guild will, and we'll collect someday."

"Oh, I've no doubt of that."

He grinned at her deadpan comment and gave a dramatic bow before he vanished out the window.

Xaeryn pushed it closed and double checked the lock. It's always something with this job... she mused, heading for her bedroom. Too tired to even bother with nightclothes, she kicked off her shoes and flopped across the bed. out before she could even wrap the blanket around her with dim thoughts of not moving until she absolutely had to.

---

The internal clock that was gift and curse in equal measure woke her at eight, fortunately less sore than anticipated. Just enough time to freshen up, change, and maybe eat a little breakfast before Mr. Syndran showed up. Something simple like toast and jam. He would understand if she was still drinking her khav when he arrived, surely.

In high spirits from her success--among other things--she decided to wear the dress she'd eschewed the day before; golden yellow with red and navy embroidery. No need for trips into Ashtown or blending in or foot chases today. And if the dress happened to look fantastic on her, well. A gal was allowed to feel good about herself, especially after a success like last night.

Xaeryn dressed, then freshened up her hair and makeup while the breakfast was toasting. She had time to eat while tallying expenses, but was indeed only halfway through her khav when Mr. Syndran's familiar knock came against the door.

He entered when she called to him, inclining his head as he closed the door behind him. "Good morning, Miss Shrike."

"And to you, Mr. Syndran. I'm just about done with the expenses if you want to look it over."

"You've figured me well," he approaching to sit in one of the chairs facing her desk.

"It's just good business sense to verify," Xaeryn returned with a smile. She took the plate into the kitchen while he studied the ledger lines for this case.

He was frowning at one particular line when she returned. "Contract TG? Could I get some details on this expense, Miss Shrike?"

Xaeryn sighed and braced herself. She'd expected him to zero in on that; there weren't many expenses claimable for this, and that one was more than twice all the others. "Once my evidence pointed toward Ashtown, I... arranged to have Thieves Guild look out for anything hinky. It's their haunt, I figured they would note things I--or anyone else--might miss."

Mr. Syndran's expression flattened. "That strikes me as an unnecessary measure, Miss Shrike, and I don't see how it is our responsibility to finance you outsourcing yours."

"I understand there's... fraught history between Merchants and Thieves Guilds," Xaeryn said with a tight smile. Doesn't mean I'll let you weasel out of paying something I'm owed. "But they gave me information that led to the warehouse where I recovered the Torch. Without their help and knowledge, Mr. Syndran, I would still be looking. And you would be approaching the point of needing to contact the proper authorities, thus damaging your guild's reputation as you sought to avoid," she pointed out. "I'm only asking for partial reimbursement; I recognize the choice to use them was my own."

She didn't mention the pleasure Chase had derived from knowing this exact scenario would arise. It wouldn't improve Mr. Syndran's mood or her odds of getting paid back.

His lips thinned. "Oh, very well. Is this the full amount, or the percentage you're claiming for reimbursement?"

"Full amount. I'm willing to take fifty percent, cover half of it myself."

He nodded, still looking displeased with the fact, and continued through the expenditures. He didn't bat an eye at the 'asst. bribes' or standard fuel reimbursement for the drives to Capra. However much she'd enjoyed bumping gums with Red, those were case-related trips, and there was law on the books far as rate went for reimbursing that.

It did surprise her when he raised less fuss over her including partial reimbursement for her gala dress than he had the Thieves Guild contract. But then, she'd attached a receipt for that and it was clear she'd both bought the least expensive dress she could get away with for such an event, and wasn't asking for all the money back. She was keeping the dress, and if she ever attended anything that fancy again, could re-wear it. And it had gotten a bit mussed when that bruno came after her, she couldn't have returned it if she wanted to.

"You know, I went to the Hall before here," Mr. Syndran commented as he confirmed her arithmetic and wrote the check. "Curator Acquell was most effusive in her thanks for the return of the missing artefact."

"Glad to hear it." Xaeryn tucked the check in a drawer thanks to the absence of her handbag, then smiled when he lingered, hands folded atop his walking stick. "Did you want some more details of the recovery, Mr. Syndran? Or do your other meetings beckon?"

"They do, but I have some time to hear more specifics of last night's events." He gestured for her to go on.

"Alright, then." She settled in her chair and began with Red's abduction, through her scrying and trailing King Kaza. It was tricky to balance explaining Briony and Darius' involvement without being too detailed. They had been instrumental, but she didn't know how comfortable they'd be with her oversharing. Mr. Syndran listened to all the details with rapt attention, and Xaeryn had a suspicion he gleaned from the words far more than she actually said.

He rose at the end, satisfied expression still sour at the edges over the Thieves Guild involvement. "A thrilling chain of events, Miss Shrike, and one I am most grateful resulted in your success. You did a fine job in this case, and I will keep you in mind should I ever require similar skills in the future."

"Glad to hear it made a good impression." She rose to shake his hand. "You were definitely one of my better clients, one I wouldn't mind working for again should the need arise."

"High praise from one with your reputation," Mr. Syndran chuckled. He shook her hand then bowed. "Farewell, Miss Shrike."

Xaeryn returned the bow. "Farewell, Mr. Syndran."

She walked him to the door, inclined her head in a final farewell, and waited until he'd started down the hall to close the door and return to her desk.

Her khav had gotten cold while she was recounting the night's events. She pursed her lips but decided there was little enough left to be no great loss and set it aside. Now to decide if a nap or some other method would be best for filling some of her time until Red came by. Given she'd--potentially--lost another notepad, there wasn't much she could do for case wrap-up. Maybe a nap was the best option...

She was startled awake by enthusiastic knocking on her door. Apparently the deliberation had been taken out of her hands.

"You can come in," she called, rubbing her eyes and stretching until now-sore spots complained.

The door banged open and a familiar pink-haired figure grinned at her. "I'm glad you were here!"

"Where else did you imagine I would be?" Xaeryn asked drolly as she stood and circled the desk.

"I dunno, the museum or your client's office or something." Briony shrugged. "Glad I didn't hafta chase you down; I have somethin' of yours." She thrust out her hand, clasped around Xaeryn's missing, somewhat scuffed, handbag. "Hope everything's there, though I did take out my little ahfuri," she laughed. "Hope that's alright."

"Of course, and thank you so much." Xaeryn couldn't help a smile as she took the handbag. "I realized I lost it after I left, went back to look--"

"Oh, I'm sorry I took it so you wasted the time, then." Briony's expression screwed into something remorseful and she tugged her ponytail.

"No, no, I'm glad it was with someone trustworthy, rather than just laying there." She poked through to confirm none of the important things were missing.

"That's what I was figuring," Briony said with a relieved laugh. "Wouldn't want some goon findin' it when I could keep it safe. And I know where your office is so I could bring it back."

Driving license, PI license, dagger, notepad. All here. "Thank you, again." Xaeryn set the handbag on her desk. "So, what plans do you and Darius have now that King Kaza is arrested and no longer in possession of Solimer's Torch?"

Briony grinned fiercely. "Still a wonderful string of words to hear, even if I was there when it happened." She wrinkled her nose. "And Jarkyth breezed."

"That's how it plays out sometimes. And you were a key part of making it happen as well as it did," Xaeryn corrected.

"Yeah, you're a gem," Briony waved off the praise. "We'll hafta go back to Elinden, fan this in to somethin' worth deposing that muti as king. Then sort out succession." She grimaced. "Might be headin' for another civil war, which isn't great, but even if it comes to that, hopefully we'll end up with someone better in charge. But..." She hesitated, bit her lip. "I was talkin' to the Shepherds, y'know, last night, and it sounds like they do good work. Lots of adventure. Stoppin' people like Jarkyth and Kaza. I dunno, maybe once Elinden's settled I'll be back." She smirked. "Hael, I'll even bring D with me if he wants and behaves himself."

Xaeryn chuckled. "Is that even something he's interested in?"

"Dunno, we'll have to talk about it." Briony shrugged and twirled her ponytail. "But Elinden's our home, and we've been fightin' for it a while now, need to get that sorted b'fore we consider anything else."

"Very true." Xaeryn leaned against the edge of the desk. "Are you staying in Haven a while or heading straight back?"

"We have to stay a couple more days to give some more details about what we know of the theft. They'll prob'ly want to chin with you about it, too, by the way."

She nodded, assuming from context 'they' meant the Shepherds. As long as it didn't interfere with her talking to Red, she'd be happy to tell them anything that would help. "Understandable."

Briony bounced a little on her toes. "I should be going. The hotel concierge gave me a whole list of places to go for sightseein', and if I have to stay here a few more days, I wanna see as many as possible."

Xaeryn couldn't help a chuckle at the other woman's enthusiasm. "Make sure you enjoy the ones you get to see, rather than rushing through."

Briony nodded, making her ponytail bounce. "I know. Hey, since you live here--" She tugged a piece of paper from her pocket, smoothed it on Xaeryn's desk "--any of these more must-see than others? It's such a big city," she laughed, "and I wanna make sure I see all the pretty stuff."

Xaeryn examined the list; preprinted on paper with a monogram from one of Haven's nicer hotels at the top. A few things had been crossed off already. "Well, if you're looking for pretty, you have to see Whitestone Cathedral. Even if you aren't religious, the architecture and stained glass windows are quite a sight." She marked a few others she thought would be good choices, from what she knew of Briony, to prioritize. "There you are."

"Thank you!" Briony picked up the list, folded it neatly this time, and gave Xaeryn a quick but ferocious hug. "And thanks again for helping with... everything."

"Of course," Xaeryn mumbled, caught off-guard by the hug. She didn't react fast enough to return it, but Briony didn't seem to notice. "I hope you have fun."

"I plan to!" Briony said brightly. She fluttered her fingers in a wave as she started for the door. "See you around, Xaeryn."

She nodded. It wouldn't surprise her if she did. "Tell Darius goodbye for me, hmm?"

"Sure," Briony grinned, and was gone with an enthusiastic slam of Xaeryn's door.

Xaeryn blew out a breath and rubbed the back of her neck. How does she have so much energy when it sounds like she was up even later than I was?

One of life's mysteries. She took advantage of being on her feet to tidy her kitchen from preparing breakfast. Her stomach growled, so she grabbed an apple to snack on as she headed back to her desk. She dug her notepad out of the handbag, spilling some of the other contents, but didn't mind the mess. She should probably swap handbags and clean this one with the state it was in. Right now she wanted to add a few final notes for this case while they were fresh in her mind.

Xaeryn glanced at the clock as she bit into the apple, surprised to see how much of the morning she'd napped away before Briony's arrival No wonder I had a crick in my neck. She bobbled the pencil she'd picked up back and forth and wondered if Red was still sleeping. Part of her hoped so. Yesterday had to have been even more of an ordeal for him than it had been for her.

The other part of her desperately, selfishly wanted to talk to him. Both as further assurance he really was alright and because there were thing she--they--needed to get in the open, had needed in the open since the gala at the very least.

"Nothing happened."

"Did you want it to?"

She shook off Pan's haunting question and bit into the apple again as she turned her attention to scribbling down closing notes. Her discovery of the Torch being thoret. Confirmation of who was involved with the theft. The Shepherds' role in the conclusion. She'd just finished notes and apple both when there was a flurried knock at the door.

Oh, One-God-- Her heart had dropped to her toes and she was halfway to her feet before she reined in her emotions. That knock was too light to be him.

Still, curiosity and manners had her crossing the room to open the door, and she blinked in surprise. "Miss Acquell?"

The museum curator beamed up at her from under the rim of a beige cloche hat with a pink flower embellishment, not appearing to notice her slip back to formality. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you, Miss Shrike, I know I had Mr. Syndran convey my gratitude, but I just had to come thank you in person for recovering Solimer's Torch."

Xaeryn smiled and stepped out of the doorway to let her enter the office. "You're very welcome. I imagine it's gratifying to have a completed collection now?"

"Oh, yes." Miss Acquell clasped her hands together ass if to keep them still. "We had to do some rearranging to work it into the exhibit, and I have Justyn trying to get hold of Ms. Aescar to let her know, but it's just berries having it back, such a weight off my shoulders." Her face colored. "Sorry for babbling, I'm just so grateful to have it back."

"You don't have to apologize for being happy. I'm glad I could be a help," Xaeryn said. "Did Mr. Syndran relay that the Torch is thoret and shouldn't be displayed too close to any magical artefacts? I know the museum uses shielded cases, but-"

"Oh, no, he didn't." Miss Acquell was frowning now.

Xaeryn paused, racking her brain. "Now that I think about it, I don't believe I told him that part, not last night at least. I was very tired and it may have slipped my mind. I do apologize for that." Hopefully the revelation wouldn't make too much extra work for the staff.

"Oh, it's alright." Miss Acquell waved off her apology in turn. "It's good to have it back, whatever we have to do to display it, we'll accommodate." She smiled again. "You are, of course, welcome to come see the exhibit any time."

"Since I'm finished with the case, I should have time to do that. I'd love to see it in all its glory, and under more leisurely circumstances than the gala." She'd been working that night, technically, even if she and Red had taken time to look around while they were there.

"We'd be happy to see you." Miss Acquell fidgeted with the sleeve of her jacket, picking at one curve of the lace trim. "I should get back, I just wanted to come say thank you; it didn't feel like enough to have someone pass it along."

"Well, you're very welcome, again," Xaeryn said with a chuckle. "I'm glad I could help." She held out a hand to shake.

Miss Acquell only hesitated a moment before taking it in a loose grip for a single shake. She rocked on the balls of her feet and bit her lip, hands once again clasped as if to still them. "Well, I'll see you around then, Miss Shrike."

"Sounds keen." She shifted to follow as the curator edged toward the half-open door. "Goodbye, Shery-"

Even as she spoke, there was a faint--but familiar--rushing sound and Red was standing in the hallway outside her office, one hand out to brace against the wall. He smiled sheepishly upon seeing Miss Acquell's startled expression. "Sorry! Shery, right? Good to see you again."

"A-And you," she managed. "But I was just leaving." She bobbed a curtsy to them both and scurried away.

"I hope I didn't scare her..." Red muttered. "I didn't think you'd have company."

"I have been dizzyingly popular this morning," Xaeryn said with a soft laugh, trying to ignore the way her heart had lodged in her throat. She'd had a plan for this, and it was completely flown away. "Did you really Travel just to cover half a city's distance, Liefred?"

He shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. "It seemed faster than getting lost in Ashtown. That district is a maze. Why waste the time?"

She just shook her head with a fond smile as she led the way back into the office, trying to study him without being too obvious about it. There was no evidence of injuries beyond the minor ones she'd noted last night; scrapes, the split lip--which had scabbed over but was likely to reopening if he kept bothering it. Just over the couple minutes since his arrival, he'd scraped his teeth over it and sucked it in, probably to worry the scab with his tongue. Aside from not being good for the healing process, it was intensely distracting for her.

Even worse when Red caught her staring. He cleared his throat and leaned against her desk. "Exactly how early were you up that you had time to be dizzyingly popular, Xaer?"

"Around eight," she said, picking a hangnail. "Mr. Syndran needed an early appointment to finish settling accounts for it to fit with his schedule."

"Mm, yes, have to make sure you're rewarded for being a brilliant snooper," Red teased, his smile warm, half-distracted as he tried to read her notes sideways.

It was adorable watching him twist his head to decipher the shorthand, she she let him continue. His clothes were borrowed, she noted, and from someone not quite his height. The trousers were only about an inch shorter than proper, but even with the shirtsleeves rolled up, she could tell they would stop well short of his wrists, and it was tight in the shoulders as he leaned over her desk.

"I am surprised to see you before noo-" Xaeryn started to tease, before a glance at the clock showed it was, in fact, nearly noon.

He huffed a laugh, still reading. "You know I don't need a lot of sleep, Xaer."

"I know you can function on not a lot of sleep," she corrected. "But I figured between getting abducted and however late you you were up talking to the Shepherds, you would, perhaps, listen to your body for once. More the fool I, apparently."

"I only woke up five minutes before coming here, Ryn," he countered fondly. "Plenty of sleep. And I can always get more once I'm back at Solhadur--" He cut himself off, brows arching. "Thoret?" Looked up at her. "Solimer's Torch is composed of thoret?!"

Xaeryn nodded. "The original stone, at least. Obviously the decorative binding is different, but the stone itself is either thoret or some other rock heavily shot with it." She flexed her fingers. "Quite a fun discovery to make when I picked it up bare-handed."

Red winced in sympathy, bit his lip, winced again when the gesture caught the edge of the scab. "That does explain some things..."

"Mm. Why I couldn't scry on it, for one, or anything near it. Why you weren't able to escape the same way you just dropped in here..."

"Yes to all that, it also felt odd in that building; like the crawling edge of nausea, but I was thinking more historically."

Of course you were.

"Far as records show, the Solimer tribe almost never had Mages, so the Torch wouldn't have affected them in any special way. They tended to do their own thing and steer clear of other tribes, but the times they did come into conflict, single combat between chosen champions was the method of the time, and I'd bet the other tribes were more abundant in Mages, so if they, say, sent one as their champion..."

"... the Torch would act as an anti-magic ward," Xaeryn finished, "making it seem Solimer's champions were protected."

"I'd bet half my library, assuming that premise is correct, the tribe that defeated them sent a non-Mage champion for a fight." Red dragged his fingers through his hair and sat on the corner of the desk, despite two perfectly good chairs nearby. "And then it disappears for stretches because tribes would want to hold it for the victory it symbolized, but if there were enough Mages , they would feel the oddness and want it kept pack away... Too bad there's no way to prove it; it would pull in some real keen funding for more research if it's solid..."

"And, alternately, I could get my hands on half your library," Xaeryn needled, biting back a smile as she leaned against the desk next to him.

He gave a faux-hurt gasp. "Detective Shrike, you think I'm wrong?"

"Oh, probably not. You are almost as smart as I am," she teased back, "but your library's the bee's knees, and I'd love to get my hands on as much of it as I could fit in here."

"Mm, well, in absence of a way to prove me wrong," he said lightly, gaze surveying her mostly-full bookshelves rather than look at her, "you'll just have to come visit Solhadur to take advantage."

If I drive all the way to Capra, it's not the library I'll want to take advantage of. She cleared her throat. "I suppose I will, once my schedule's calm enough to take that kind of time."

"Oh, yes, your dizzying popularity," Red teased. He knew her preference for solitude. "You mentioned Mr. Syndran, and I saw Shery, who else...?"

"Before you? Just Briony, the pink-haired woman--"

"I remember." He nodded.

"I dropped my handbag at the warehouse when one of Kaza's mugs grabbed me, she was returning it."

Red flicked a glance toward the handbag and its contents. "I was wondering why it was strewn across your desk... Sorry I didn't realize you'd lost it, Ryn, or I would've looked--"

She waved off the apology. "I got it back and that's the important thing. You were understandably distracted." A self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm just happy I didn't lose two notepads in the course of one case."

"Oh!" Red started, pushing off the desk. "That reminds me... One thing I did find in there….” the words trailed off as he dug in his pocket. “I forgot to give it to you with all the chaos.” He pulled out her original notepad, the bluish-grey cover slightly worse for wear from its own adventure, and offered it to her.

Xaeryn gasped in delight as she took it. Kaza had hinted at having it, but she hadn’t thought to look with everything going on. “I can’t believe you found this! I thought it was gone forever.” She smiled and pivoted to wrap him in a tight hug. “Thank you, Liefred.”

Something flickered in Red's eyes before he hugged her back, fiercely, hands lingering, as if remembering yesterday, then withdrew. “I... wanted to ask you about something, Xaer.”

“Mm,” she prompted, still smiling, as she tucked the reclaimed notepad in her desk.

“I wasn't going to bring it up, but... You call Pan Pan because that’s his nickname. You called the museum curator Shery, I presume because she asked you to?” He tipped his head in a gesture toward where he’d just seen said curator and waited for her slight nod of confirmation. “So if you’ll take that step toward familiarity with them, why am I always Liefred when we’ve known each other for ages and I’ve told you, several times, you can call me Red?”

Her throat closed up and heart stuttered in her chest. There wasn’t any judgment in his tone, just curiosity, and maybe a little hurt. She’d been half-wondering if he’d picked up on that enough to bring it up again, and now she had her answer. There were several ways she, in turn, could answer his very good, very pertinent, question. Two of them were deflections. They would let her preserve friendly, professional distance. Remove the risk of gambling it all.

She didn’t want to give either of those. She wanted to tell the truth. The whole truth. 

We did say we wanted to talk about this.

Deep breath, Xaeryn.

“I told you,” Xaeryn said softly, “after the gala.” She swallowed hard, heart pounding. “It might be selfish, but the formality’s a level of check on myself so I don’t slip and do something dreadfully improper.” 

Red worried the scab on his lip with his thumb, considering. “What makes you so sure it would be improper?” he asked just as softly.

She laughed, a tight, breathless sound, and decided there had been enough hints dropped for the plunge to be worth it. “It’s fairly improper to kiss someone out of the blue without their permission, Liefred.”

She didn’t miss the way his breath caught, or how hard he swallowed before he reached for her hand, slowly, gently, as if trying not to spook a skittish ahfuri. “And… if you had their permission? Would it be proper then?”

Oh, One-God above, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t. Her heart was pounding fit to crack her ribs. Her hand slipped into his like it belonged there.

“Do I?” she asked hoarsely, barely audible, gaze locked with his.

Red nodded and she was kissing him before any potential verbal confirmation had a chance to follow.

And he was kissing her back. At least until the cut on his lip reopened and he was forced to pull back. “Dammit,” he grumbled under his breath.

“It’s alright.” Xaeryn kissed his cheek, the giggle that escaped her only an inkling of the joy that bubbled in her chest. “I’ve waited this long, another sennight or two for you to heal won’t kill me.”

Red arched a brow, smile tugging at the side of his mouth furthest from the cut. “Is it egotistical of me to ask how long you’ve been wanting to do that?”

“Not at all,” she said with a laugh, watching him feel the cut and scowl at the blood on his fingers when he pulled them away. “Only if you promise you won’t laugh at me for being pathetic.” When he nodded agreement, she took a deep breath, flashed a sheepish smile, and confessed. “Since about when I was sixteen.”

Red burst out laughing.

Xaeryn huffed and moved to whack his arm. “You said you wouldn’t-”

“I’m not laughing at-ow-you, Xaer,” he assured her, catching her wrist with one hand while the heel of the other pressed against his split lip. “I’m laughing at me.”

She let her hand fall and shot him a curious look. “Why?”

Red raked the now-free hand through his hair, huffed another quiet laugh, and smiled at her with such wry amusement it almost made her laugh. “Because I’ve been at least half in love with you since sixteen and like an idiot didn’t say anything b’cause I didn’t think you felt the same-”

She kissed him again, split lip or no, she couldn’t help it.

“Ow,” he mumbled–or something like it–but he was smiling and he didn’t stop. His hand curved the back of her neck and hers curled into the collar of his shirt.

She could taste the metallic tang of blood from his lip until they parted with matching breathless laughs.

"So much for waiting another sennight or two," Red teased, lightly bumping his forehead to hers.

Xaeryn rolled her eyes, still holding him close by the shirt collar. "That was for fortification. Now I'll survive, I think."

He chuckled, thumb rubbing her cheek. "Fair enough. So, what now?"

She opened her mouth to reply, this was hardly familiar ground for her, but his stomach beat her to it, rumbling loudly. She arched a brow. "Food, apparently. Did you eat before coming over?"

"I didn't know where the Shepherds' dining hall was," he said with a sheepish shrug. "And you were more important."

Xaeryn shook her head and lightly smacked the back of his. "Honestly, Red--" she sighed in fond exasperation, grinning despite herself at the warmth of his words. "Fortunately for you, there's a fabulous café nearby, and I'm in the mood to treat for lunch."

Red smiled, warm and wide, eyes crinkling at the corners. "That is good luck."

"The only question is whether I should go order food to bring back and we can chin a bit here, or go cause a scandal eating there with you so underdressed--" she cut herself off, abruptly stepping around him to pick up the jacket tossed over one of the chairs by her bookshelf. His jacket, slightly rumpled from spending the night haphazardly tossed aside, but it would fit, and the deep grey charcoal color would complement the lighter grey of his borrowed trousers.

Red arched a brow, his eyes twinkling. "Should I be curious why you have my clothes, Ryn?"

"It was for scrying, Liefred," she said archly. "Trying to find you. Pan said I could--" Xaeryn stiffened. "Did you let him know you're alright? Because it completely slipped my mind with--"

"Yes," Red cut across her worry with a smile. "Last thing before I collapsed into bed." He laughed and ran a hand down his face. "I think I'm in for an earful when I get back to Solhadur, so however leisurely you want to make this lunch is keen with me."

Xaeryn smiled fondly as she gathered her handbag's content back into it. She'd worry about swapping it later. "I think you're in for a Panrachus-shaped shadow the next couple months," she corrected, biting back giddy butterflies as she looped her arm through his. "He was real worried with not much he could do to help, wondering if he'd stayed up to help you would it have prevented your abduction."

A shadow passed over his face as they stepped out the door. "I don't think it would've."

Knowing Heron had been involved, it wasn't hard to read the implication in his tone. "Which is what I told him." She paused to lock the door. "But you know how it is when you care about someone; something bad happens and you cant help wondering if you could've changed it."

Red nodded, giving her a warm smile. "I know." His stomach rumbled again.

Xaeryn chuckled and gave his arm a squeeze. "Let's get some food in you."

"That'd be the bee's knees."

---

It wasn't a far walk to find themselves swept up in the lunchtime bustle of her favorite café. The place was so full, the two of them wound up at a table tucked in the corner that didn't have nearly enough room for their legs. Xaeryn almost suggested taking the food back to her place, but she was still giddy over this being a date with Red and could bring herself to. It would be memorable, and the corner was a little quieter than the main lunchroom.

Red polished off two sandwiches and a large bowl of soup, barely slowing through the process. Xaeryn found her abbreviated breakfast had left her with more of an appetite than usual, though she still didn't equal him.

"I think, perhaps, food should have been a higher priority," she commented lightly. "Flattered as I am you rated me so important."

"I wasn't terribly hungry when I woke up," Red confessed, sucking a stray drop of soup off his thumb. "I considered breakfast, decided I didn't need it, didn't care to hunt down the dining hall, and was too antsy by half to talk to you."

"We were... rather overdue for that conversation, weren't we?" Xaeryn said, sliding her hand across the table to cover his.

"A bit," Red nodded. He sucked on his split lip a moment. "Xaer, about after the gala..."

"Oh, I would've kissed you, proper or no, had Pan not walked in when he did." A bit reckless a confession after all her worries about propriety, but she was too giddy to care.

He chuckled. "Good to know we're on the same page." A pause. "And you've... since sixteen? You're always so forthright, I'm both surprised and impressed you kept that under wraps so long."

"Well, you know..." She sighed, her heart fluttering as she rubbed her thumb over his hand. "I didn't want to risk messing up our friendship. I'm well aware I can be prickly and hard to get to know. You were one of the few who made it past the brambles and seemed to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours--"

"I do enjoy your company," Red interrupted.

"That's my point; I don't, and didn't, have many friends like that." She squeezed his hand. "The last thing I wanted to do was poison that by adding awkwardness of unreciprocated feelings. I was happy enough just having you as my friend."

"Even watching me date my way through the student body?" he asked wryly.

"Liefred, you're smart, handsome, charming, and kind." She shrugged. "I would have been offended on your behalf had any of them turned you down. But your turn--why did you say anything?"

"Because you're forthright, Ryn." Red turned his hand under hers and gave it a squeeze. "I may've thought about it a couple times, but... You've never held back from saying things that are important, or that you think I need to hear. I figured the reason you weren't saying anything is there was nothing to say on the matter. So I kept hoping if I told myself that enough times it would sink in and the feelings would fade, but they never did."

A pang of guilt surged in her chest. If she'd just made herself push the words past the lump that formed in her throat every time she tried...

"Xaeryn." He squeezed her hand harder, clearly sensing the turn of her thoughts. "Me resigning myself to that is not your fault. It was my choice not to say anything just as much as it was yours." He smiled, sheepish and boyish all in one. "Pair of brilliant idiots, we."

Xaeryn laughed, because he was right. Solhadur's best and brightest and couldn't even parse they were in love with each other. "Did..." She traced the rim of her glass. "Did any of those 'dating your way through the student body' have... potential?" She might hate herself for asking, but her curiosity demanded satisfaction. How close did I come to losing you to my own cowardice?

"Most were just fun, and we both knew it going in," Red said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There were a couple that might've gotten serious if... well, carrying a torch for my best friend was only one of the reasons nothing came of them in the end."

She nodded thoughtfully and glanced around the café. It was still full and they were done. "We should head back, free up a table."

He gave a distracted-sounding hum of agreement and pushed to his feet as she left a generous tip on the table. "Thanks for lunch."

"Of course." Xaeryn twined her arm through his and headed for the door. It wasn't until they were out on the street she spoke again, her shoulder pressed close to his. "D'you know how many times I almost asked you to come with me when I left?" A quiet laugh. "At least a dozen. But I always lost my nerve."

"That would have been fun," he said softly. "But it worked out."

"That it did," she smiled. All of it.

They moseyed back to her office, bumped gums some more, before Red looked at the clock and groaned.

"I should probably get back to Solhadur," he said leaning in to kiss her forehead, "before Pan thinks I got abducted again."

"You shouldn't joke..." Xaeryn protested half-heartedly, even as butterflies filled her chest at the casual affection. "But I suppose I should let you go home. You probably want to sleep more? Clothes that actually fit?"

"Yes to both." Red muffled a yawn and looked sheepish about it. "Feel free to visit whenever you like, Xaer, For me or the books."

She had a sneaking suspicion he'd be teasing about that for a while. She didn't care. "I'll do that." She kissed his cheek. "So much you'll get sick of me."

"Never happen," he said warmly, pulling her into a hug. "I like you too much," he whispered, resting his forehead to hers.

Xaeryn hugged him back. "Good," she said with a smile. "I like you too much, too." It was an effort to fight down the urge to kiss him again before she eased back. "I'll see you soon, Liefred."

"I'm not going to get you to stop that, am I?" he murmured, eyes dancing with laughter, as he squeezed her hands one last time before letting go. "I'll be seeing you, Xaeryn."

Red pulled the door closed behind him as he left, and she dropped into her chair, smiling wider than she ever had in her life.

There was always a rush at successfully completing a case, but none prior compared to this one. Xaeryn recalled that first meeting, the one she'd thought would be with Tevanti, and let out a small laugh. Of all the lovely surprises, indeed.

She had another success to add to her professional record, but more importantly, she had Red Antiqua back in her life. For good this time, and closer than ever.

Wish I could be there to see Pan's reaction, she mused, and got up to make herself some tea in celebration of a job well done on two fronts.

[noahsbookhoard]

📚February 2024 Book Review (Part 2/3)📚

Second batch of books read in February! I have mixed feelings about this one: there's really really good (the 3rd of the book I had a book crush on this month) and there's... less good.

Histoire de coming out by Baptiste Beaulieu and Sophie Nanteuil

A practical and empathic guide for friends and family in the event of a loved one's coming out, full of testimony from LGBTQ+ people and their relatives.

I only discovered Baptiste Beaulieu late last year but I already really admire him: he is a general physician, openly gay man and father of "the most beautiful baby in the world". He is also really funny, caring, and generally a good person who isn't afraid to speak out when he think something is wrong.

He wrote several novels but he also coedited this guide with Dr Sophie Nanteuil, and even though I already came out (non too successfully) to my parents I wanted to see what advice they would give.

They cover pretty much every aspect and every possible reaction to a child's coming out (it is very parent focused but not only). They even have a testimony from a parent who never accepted their child's identity, got angry and cut contact.

I think the strength in this guide is that it only focuses on the coming out part: there is next to nothing on queer history or the subtleties of queer identities, but when your child just came out to you you might not care about Stonewall or the nuances between pan and bi people: what you need and what this book has, is sympathy for the parent's feeling, patient how-to on what (not) to say/do and insight on how your child might be feeling (the statistics on suicide among queer youth without family support are chiling)

A worthy read, even if I don't get to use it I wish I could have.

Harrow the Ninth (The Locked Tomb #2) by Tamsyn Muir

After the events of Gideon the Ninth, Harrow ascended to Lyctorhood. However she lacks many Lyctor's ability and lost part of her memory in the process. Mystery unfurled when she receives letters written to herself before the memory loss and when a newcomer makes Canaan House unsafe.

I absolutely loved Gideon the Ninth so I had really high hopes for book 2 and I am not disappointed!

However I was completely lost when I started reading, as I was expecting to find a narrative style similar to book 1. The second person narration was unsettling enough but it took me a while to understand the when where and what (that was on purpose certainly, but that explains why reviews for this book are either excellent or really bad). Even more confusing to was the chapters with Harrow and her rewriting of the event of Gideon the Ninth: I hadn't read the book that long ago but I felt like it had been ages and I remembered it all wrong!

Had it been any other book I might have thought twice before continuing. But this is Tamsyn Muir, she earned the benefit of the doubt: I read on, quite certain it would eventually make sense.

I won't spoil anything because Harrow the Ninth is best experienced in all its unsettling glory: the tense atmosphere fit really well with both Harrow's discomfort and pain and with the escalating uneasiness in Canaan. The answers to it all treacle down at just the right pace to keep the reader on edge and the more it goes the more in love I fell with the wolrdbuilding.

My only regret was the noticeable lack of Gideon and Palamedes for most of the novel, but with that ending the author is more than forgiven. Also the memes. The only reason I hadn't put Nona the Ninth on top of the TBR right after finishing this on was because I needed to stretch the pleasure while waiting for Alecto the Ninth's release date.

Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

Violet Sorrengail, daughter of the famed General Sorrengail wants to follow into her mother and sister's footsteps and become a Rider, a soldier chosen by a dragon and flying with them into battle. To achieve this she will have to survive the very dangerous training at the Academy and, even more dangerous, avoid Xaden Riorson, who hates Violet's mother and Violet herself. Or maybe not?

Do I really have to do this?

I read this book because my sister messaged me saying "You HAVE to read it it's GREAT!" So as the loving sibling I am, I put it on top of the TBR and started as soon as I finished Harrow the Ninth.

Let's be diplomatic: this book has an audience since it's been a tiktok succes, taste is subjective and personal and my opinions do no reflect the quality of the book, only my experience reading it. I'm not on tiktok and not into romantasy in general, so I wasn't the target audience. And I did no research before diving in, this book and I started on the wrong foot.

Now to be less diplomatic if it wasn't for my sister this book would have flown through the window after page 42 (specifically).

I found the world building very bland (and was put off by the kingdom being named Navarre: it exists, it’s in Spain and last I checked there's no dragon in Pamplona). The author uses one of the worst way to introduce lore I've ever read: The Protagonist Infodumps When She Is In Mortal Peril. There might have been some interesting details put into the classification of dragons but I can't take any interest in it when the main character is currently dangling from the Climbing Wall of Doom.

The main character, Violet, has plot harmour 5 inches thick: she is supposed to have a physical disability but it only interferes when the plot wants it too and she is always saved in the nick of time (although I do not suffer from EDS, so I can't really judge the quality of the representation). Every little task and exercise in her school is a death trap and at some point I just stopped worrying she might get killed because students can just murder each other in the corridors. There's other way to create tension than "... or you will DIE"

I was uninterested in the character because they have the personality of papier maché. The only ones who are a bit less shallow (yet unterly unoriginal, I felt like reading Twilight but with dragons) are the main love triangle and they are absolutely unsufferable. The characters also all talk exactly the same way: Sarcastic Quipping TM is fun when one or two people at most do it, but they all do dragons included! I couldn't stand any of the character except on and he frickin dies!

I read it all, which proves I love my sister, but definitely not enough to read the sequel. You owe me one, sis.

The Wee Free Men (Discworld #30) by Terry Pratchett

Tiffany Aching always saw things a little differently from everybody else; according Miss Tick, a travelling teacher, that makes her a witch just like her Granny. When her little brother is taken by the Queen of the fairies, the young witch-in-training must save him and in her qusst she can count on the help of the Nac Mac Feegle, rowdy but courageous fae folk.

This is my first time reading the Discword series and contrary to every advice in the entire Terry Pratchett fanbase, I am reading them in chronological order. So far it's been a blast! I do not regret this reading order, even if it's not the best one to start with.

Therefore when my reading led me to the first Tiffany Aching book, I had no doubt it would be a really great young reader book. Still I wasn't expecting to cry but damn, missing your grandma is a universal feeling and Sir Terry Pratchett nailed it.

I would have like Tiffany when I was a kid: she is smart, brave, curious, she sees right through the adults. She reminds me a little of Roal Dahl's Matilda. The Nac Mac Feegle are really funny and endearing: they are just as enjoyable as an adult when you get all the jokes as for children who will find the accent and banter amusing. That makes me want to check the french translation to see how Patrick Couton handled the scottishness.

What I love in the plot is how simple it appears (the quest to a magic world with supernatural allies to save an sibling) yet it has that Pratchett twist, his character's cleverness and the art of the little sentences that have you pause and think for a minute.

I would definitely give it to a child if I ever have any. Even if they start shouting "Craven!" that would be worth it.

[dovewingpkmn]

[A video is attached. Would you like to view?]

[Dovewing’s phone remains down. While it is recording, it’s shoved into the saddle so it won’t be seen.

“I don’t understand why she asked to meet in the Vault. I guess it’s.. out of the way? Assuming Sonia isn’t there? But.. these stairs.. Dear Starclan…”

Eventually, she makes it to the top, shaking out her fluff. The door’s opens with a creak.

“You’re late.” Bede says.

“..Oh. Hello.” Her tone is sharp. “I’m here to meet with Oleana, I thought. Unless there was a change I wasn’t aware of?”

“There’s no need to be rude. I’m here to apologize.”

By the ‘rrow’ that can be made out, Dovewing certainly sounds confused. “..What??”

Bede just continues. “I have come to realize that me referring to you as just a skitty was.. rude of me. It is clear now that you’re your own thing. A cat, I’ve heard?”

“What’s the point of this now?? You were just awful to Hop from the sound of things, for no reason—do you think you apologizing for this is gonna make me like you?? Not after how you’ve hurt my best-“

“Oh. I never wanted to be friends, we’re still enemies in the challenge,” Bede corrects, “I still need wishing stars. I still need to become the Champion. I doubt you’ll get farther, and Hop’ll do worse. I have simply just been.. educated.”

“A few days ago I read through your mousebrained ‘takeover’ of my blog. What do you mean ‘educated’? Multiple people tried to explain this to you! What chang-?!”

The door opens again, and heels click.

“Dovewing.” A voice, assumedly Oleana, calls, “We’re so glad you could join us.”

Two voices gasp, one of which is clearly Dovewing’s. “W-wait-!”

“..Dovewing?”

“Ivypool?!” Dovewing shouts, “You’re here too?!”

“I thought I was the only one here after that thing attacked the clans.. where have you been?” Ivypool’s voice shares that same sort of ‘accent’ as Dovewing.

“I woke up in Postwick, taken in and then taught about the Challenge,” she explains. There’s still some edge to Dovewing’s voice, but it’s mostly gone, “Where have you been?”

“I was found by Oleana here, taught about Wishing Stars and what they need to do.”

“..What they…?”

“You have to understand, Dovewing.” Oleana’s voice is sharp, “In a thousand years, our world will be destroyed from a power crisis. We need to use these Wishing Stars in order to summon what will stop it. Surely our future is worth more than a silly Gym Challenge, isn’t it?”

“..W-what?”

“That’s why I’ve been taking them. I’m just doing what is needed.”

“You can have fun all you like, Dove. But destroying this new home of ours to it just isn’t right.”

“I’m not destroying it though! If these really were bad, Professor Magnolia herself wouldn’t given it to me! Right??”

“Why you-!”

“Bede.” Oleana pauses, waiting to see if the boy continued, and took a breath when he didn’t. “Dovewing, I can see you’re hesitant. Chairman Rose wouldn’t want to force you. However, think upon what I’ve said. I also hear a real reunion is in order.”

Oleana’s heels clack again, and from the sound of it Ivypool hops off from somewhere and runs at Dovewing, who laughs and purrs upon having her sister again.

“I’m not in the challenge, but I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me following you… right?”

“Of course not! Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet Hop!”

“I need to get going now—Chairman Rose is in need of me. Bede?”

“Of course.”

[livinginshambles]

Preview: Hear me out, please | James Potter x Fem!Reader

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of when James found out you were his 'cinderella'. James tries desperately to get your attention to get you to hear him out.

Notes: Hey there, sorry for the wait. Here is a preview! It's short, but it's all i want to give yall, hehe. I love you guys. Also, it's not proofread. idk :)

Warnings: f-word, James is fed up with your sisters and shakes them a little.

Masterlist. Part one. Part two.

Part three is up!!

______________________________

A lot of things went through James' mind as he stood there in the Great Hall. You could hear a pin drop before Regulus finally shot into action and dashed out the hall to go after you.

The murmering started to continue now that the first silence had been disturbed.

"Oh gosh, she's so dramatic," your sister laughed. And she put a hand on James' shoulder to pull him back to his seat.

James turned his head slowly. His attention zeroed in on the hand on his shoulder. He coiled away.

"What the fuck have you done," he spat at her.

Marla's eyebrows shot up. "We did you a favour," she stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

It sent James over the edge. He grabbed her upper arm and harshly shook it.

"A favour? A favour!?" He started to shout. "What on earth is wrong with you!" He looked around, his eyes blown out. "With all of you!"

"You mean what the hell is wrong with you, James?" Your other sister, Alyssa, piped up. "Why are you defending her?" That last word was spat out with so much disgust that it finally opened James' eyes to what you must have endured. He fought the urge to slap her expression off her face.

James let go of Marla's arm and pushed her a few steps back while doing so.

No, he needed to fix this. He just had to. If you would just listen to him, he would explain it all. And then he'd protect you. From every hurtful comment out there.

If you would just let him.

"Regulus," James grimaced. The boy was blocking his path and view, standing in the doorway. You were out of sight, or at least out of James' sight.

"Potter," Regulus curtly nodded at him.

"I need to talk to her."

"You've said plenty."

James' brows furrowed, and his jaw flexed. Why was everyone deciding everything for him all of a sudden? Why couldn't everyone just mind their own bloody business? If they had, none of this would have occurred.

He would be patrolling with you in the evening, and you would make him laugh about one of your dry remarks. He wouldn't have known that it was you who he was looking for, but in time, maybe he would've figured it out. Or maybe he would've pushed his mystery girl to the back of his mind to let you and all the new feelings in.

"Actually, I haven't. I haven't said enough because everyone is saying things in my place instead. But I never got the chance to say what I want to say, and every time I do, it seems too late. I just want to talk to her." The words flew out of James' mouth, built up regret, anger, and disappointment from how things had escalated.

"Perhaps you haven't said much." Regulus looked James up and down and weighed his words carefully. "And maybe that's part of the problem. But right now, she's certainly heard enough. She doesn't want your grand words."

James closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted to protest, he wanted to scream at himself and pull his hair out, but ultimately, he just wanted yet another chance.

He hadn't expected it to be you. Not at all, but the longer he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more it seemed... right. And he didn't know why he had been so adamant to form some sort of relationship with you, but the way his heart blossomed when you were around only pulled him further in.

James looked at the ground, as if the solution to his problems would be written down there.

"Okay," he relented.

Without a moment of hesitation, Regulus went to slam the door in his face but stopped at the box that James held put to him.

"What's that supposed to be?" He flatly asked James.

With a heavy heart, James showed Regulus the pair of glass slippers that you had left behind at the Yule ball, and that he had so carefully carried around with him.

James searched for his words. "I've been holding on to these to return them to their owner," he made an attempt at a smile but dropped it, feeling pathetic. He wondered if he looked as pathetic to Regulus as well.

"Well, I suppose I should return them, now that I've found her." James pushed the box into Regulus' hands, threw one glance past the boy in hopes to catch a glimpse of you, and rubbed his face with both hands as he dejectedly walked away from the Slytherin dormitory.

Perhaps he could try again later.

Full fic

[clavissionary-position]

Summary of Leon's Sexy Scandal Story

Luke's summary here (I'm not summarizing Keith since a certain mutual probably has him covered ^^ I love you Ellen!)

Tags: suggestive content, scent kink

I read using a translator and I've added embellishments here and there so take this recap with a huge grain of salt

MINORS DNI

One day Emma overhears a pair of palace servants gossiping about how lately the palace seems to smell of a different perfume everyday. Almost as if it's a different perfume from a different woman each time.

"What's Prince Leon thinking when he has Lady Emma right here?"

Emma freezes in place. Because now it's clear that she hasn't just been imagining things. Even though Leon smells perfectly normal in the mornings before he heads out, he'd been returning to his room smelling of different perfumes almost every night.

Naturally Emma wonders if something's up. She certainly can't think of any normal reason why Leon would come back every day smelling the way he has. So she decides she'll ask him about these rumors this evening.

Or so she had planned, except come nightfall after Leon comes to her room, she finds herself sitting restless beside him, unsure of how to even broach the topic.

"What's wrong, Emma?" asks Leon.

"Huh?"

His raises his brows. "You've been on-edge this whole time, so I figured you had something you wanted to ask me. Am I wrong?"

Of course Leon would notice.

But since Leon himself is the one asking, Emma finds she has no choice but to proceed. So she takes a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Yeah, you're right on the money. There is something I want to ask you." She continues. "You've been coming home wearing different perfumes lately, right? At first I figured it was just the scent of someone who'd been with you during official business. Then I started to wonder if you'd been wearing the fragrances yourself. The scents were just so vivid."

Leon smiles. "You're exactly right. I've been applying the perfumes myself."

Emma's curious now. "Why all these different kinds all of a sudden?"

With a sultry smile in place, Leon slowly begins to close the distance between them. "Why do you think?"

Emma's heart begins to pound. The scent of perfume in the air makes him seem even sexier than usual. "I've tried to think of reasons, and I have no idea. But..."

"But?"

"...I overheard the servants gossiping about how the fragrances match those worn by the women you meet."

Leon smile never leaves his lips. "And is that what you think too?"

"No, I don't." Emma believes in him. "Even if there are women involved, I figure there has to be something about the situation that makes it unavoidable."

For some reason her answer only makes Leon's smile deepen. "So in other words, my first attempt was a success."

Emma stares at him. "Wait, what are you talking about?"

Leon explains. "I started wearing perfume because I wanted you to be more conscious of me."

Emma is taken aback by this reveal. She hadn't imagined this whole thing had to do with her.

"But I'm conscious of you even if you don't wear perfume?" And that's why she'd been particularly worried about this change in Leon in the first place.

"You always say the most adorable things." And with a sensual air Leon presses his lips to her forehead.

Then pulling back he tells her: "I know how you are, but it just makes me want even more."

He kisses the tip of her nose this time, and Emma's cheeks slowly fill with heat from just how easily he sees through her. Still, she tries to hide her embarrassment so she can ask him again, just to confirm. "Leon, was there any other reason for this so-called 'first-attempt'?"

To which Leon just grins. "Yeah. What do you think of today's fragrance?" And then as if messing with her heart, he places a hand on her waist and draws her in close.

Emma finds herself enfolded in a scent that seems stronger than the ones up until now. Each breath she takes only serves to send her pulse racing faster and faster. After a moment, she speaks. "Oh... it feels sweet and refreshing, but like it's also got a solid base." She looks at him. "It totally suits you."

With her honest response, Leon loosens his grip and gazes at her with satisfaction. "Then of all the scents I've worn so far, which is your favorite?"

Emma falls into thought as she walks back through the memories of each scent from the past few days. One that was sweet. One that was reminiscent of the gentle night air. One that gave the feel of warm sunlight. The scents come alive in her lungs once more, and she can't help but think that each one brings out Leon's charms. "Hmm... I can't decide because they all suit you."

Leon closes his eyes. "I'm happy to hear that, but it kinda puts me in a bind. Because I was thinking of marking you with your favorite one."

"Marking!?"

"Yep." He looks at her again. "If you decide on a fragrance for me and I keep wearing it whenever we're together, it'll naturally transfer over to you, right? And that'll make the people around us understand when they smell it." His smile turns mischievous. "That you're mine."

"Leon..." Emma's whole body grows hot as she looks into the possessiveness flickering behind Leon's gaze. She can only imagine how much more of her heart he'll steal away. "I'd love to be coated in your scent. That way I'll always be able to feel you with me."

Leon's smile softens. "You keep saying adorable things. It just makes me want to make you even more aware of me, beyond just my scent."

Emma bites back a small moan as Leon strengthens his embrace and begins to lightly nibble on her neck. Then onto her shoulder, her chest, placing deliciously audible kisses as they sink into sheets together with his guiding hand.

"Maybe we could even change up the way we make love," he muses, "depending on the scent of the day."

And Emma's picking up what he's putting down. Because if they do that she'll have no choice but to recall the respective night's activities whenever she smells that scent. It's a flustering thought but she finds her body trembling with need and betraying her true desire.

Emma gives in, and just as the lion declared, the two of them share a passionate night together. One that Emma could never divert from her awareness of Leon.

fin

[garglyswoof]

:D Ahhh, prompt prompt prompt - how about a mash up, vampires meet kastle?? :D

She found out about it purely by chance. Some part of her had been thinking of life in Vermont that day, the skies in New York the same sheet metal grey as the dreariest of days in Fagan Corners. Her thoughts drifted enough for her to battle with her phone in a losing effort that ended with her searching the surprisingly online tiny local paper. She’d trawled through the articles, smiling at the news of 4H Club awards and greased pig races. There was a comfort in these reminders of her small town history, and when she hit the obituaries section she continued out of morbid curiosity. Was old Mrs. Wilkie still alive? Stern in her housecoat, fuzzy slippers, and ever-present broom like some modern-aged witch? How about the bank president who had tried to buy coke from her? Sure, it was a college town, but it was also a small town and most people didn’t ever get out. She had certainly felt trapped. 

“Former Penny’s Place owner Paxton Page…” The words crept into her brain slowly, as if reluctant to enter. She dropped her phone, her hand rising to stifle the sharp intake of breath.

Dad.

Things willfully ignored; things pushed back, hidden, and thought drowned rose to the surface, crested, and broke. She slid down to the floor, her hand shaking and still cupped over her mouth as if to hold it all in.

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

The drive was a long one and she went alone with her thoughts. She knew Foggy would have dropped everything to come along, and part of her still wished she’d asked, but…. this was better. She’d face this alone rather than explaining, though she owed Foggy the truth soon. She just wasn’t…she wanted a little more time, ok? From Kevin to Allied to almost dying in a prison to Fisk to now, Karen hadn’t had much good in her life, and Foggy and Matt, when he was tempered by apologies and guilt, were good.

Sometimes your heart makes judgments that aren’t logical, fueled by something just on the edge of your vision, just out of reach. In hindsight it’s why she latched on to them so quickly, something in her recognizing something in them. Enough to have her paying Matt’s bills when he’d vanished for months, enough to have her jumping right in as a strangely happy unpaid employee of Murdock and Nelson. Her heart panged at the memory of those first days, replete with casseroles and more flan than she could possibly eat in a week. Stretching the dollars to keep them afloat, the sound of Matt’s text to speech software and Foggy’s muffled curses whenever he tried to fill out forms on the ancient typewriter and failed miserably.

A flash of brake lights ahead jolted her out of her reverie and into the present, barrelling down the highway directly to a place she’d been forced to leave behind. Dad.

One hand gripped the wheel tighter, to prevent the shake, and the other hit the console in frustrated grief. Her phone jostled in its cubby from the motion and she wet her lips as she glanced at the screen, a picture of her and Foggy at Rosie’s, making bunny ears over what they’d thought was Matt’s oblivious face. Heh.  She still loved it. If anything it made her realize that Matt had loved it too.

Damn it. “Call Foggy”

“Mmpf? Karen?” His voice sounded far away, muffled.

“Did i wake you?”

“Yes but it’s ok because apparently,” she heard the sheets rustle, “ I am lying in a puddle of my own drool and it’s clearly time to flip.”

Karen smiled, her cheeks stinging with the stretch of it. “Late night at Rosie’s?”

“I’ll have you know I also frequent high class establishments.”  A pause. “But then I went to Rosie’s. We missed you there.” His voice was losing the grittiness of sleep and she could tell he must be upright now, imagined his hair stuck up in 10 different directions like it did after a face first desk nap.

“Yeah I uh, I went to bed early. I’m driving to Vermont.”

“What’s in Vermont?” Karen could hear the subtle eagerness in his voice and her heart panged with it. She really hadn’t told them much about her life, and she vowed to change it.

“Grew up there. Needed to take care of some family stuff.” She’d failed her first chance to open up, clearly, and tried to make it less obvious. “Dumb paperwork!” Even though she was driving she closed her eyes for a brief moment from the awkwardness of it.

Foggy was quiet for a moment, his voice soft when he spoke. “Well be safe, Karen. You back soon?”

“Yeah.” Her throat was closing up and she had to end the call soon. “Just, let’s hang out when I get back? Sunday maybe?”

“Of course.” Still soft, still accepting. Still more than she deserved.

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

The town was bright with spring green as her old Cherokee rumbled onto Main Street. She passed the hardware store, sun-faded display from her childhood still advertising weedkiller, the old barrel she’d always tried to climb on top of anchoring the door open. Many shops were closed, and she saw that most of them had town curfew signs plastered in the windows. When had that started up, she wondered.

She wasn’t immune to nostalgia, obviously, or she’d never… her heart clenched with the reality of what she was here for, and she turned on Sycamore, right on Laurel, her blinker clacking loudly. There were a lot of church signs up, not something she remembered from last time she was here. Not…not signs saying “St Luke’s Lutheran Church” either, these were like that weird stretch of road Marcie had talked about on I-70 outside Kansas, where every other billboard was Hellfire and Brimstone. 

THE DEVIL WILL TAKE YOU

FAGAN CORNERS IS DAMNED

She thought it strange, but when she crested the hill the diner was a shock piled on top of another. The sign was bright and clean, Sue’s Vittles, and she felt the rage rise up in her, an urge to tear it down, before she came to her senses. It wouldn’t just… have sat there forever. The town had to move on. She wondered when her dad had lost it, and how far in debt he’d taken Penny's Place. She wondered if she could have saved it.

She knew she could have, if he’d let her.

The return home tour continued on, her eyes rimmed with red now, wet with tears both shed and not. She had never felt so alone in her life. She drove three miles in the wrong direction to avoid the bridge and tried to think of what she was doing here even as she pulled into the town cemetery. She knew he’d be buried next to mom, and pulled a small bouquet of peonies out of the passenger seat as the engine settled, ticking. 

There was a new stone next to her moms, and she knelt, tracing the letters with her fingers. Paxton Page. She remembered her and Kevin making fun, popping the syllables, “Paxton and Penny Page” before they’d dissolve into giggles. Everything she thought of made her heart ache.

She sat there for hours, talking to her mom, saying what she couldn’t say to her dad. That she’d thought herself beyond redemption until Father Lantom had gotten through to her, that she still did, sometimes. She told her mom about Foggy and Matt, and then she told her about Frank. God, she’d needed this. She knew her mom would understand, more than anyone, about seeing through to the heart of people. She wondered where Frank was, wished she knew, wished she had some way of contacting him. Despite their last meeting and her anger towards him, she would never let go, not really. 

“Sometimes, just someone makes you feel safe, at least when you’re with them. And then when you’re not… I don’t know.” She shifted, sitting back on her haunches and idly rubbing a peony petal between her fingers.  

“Me and Frank. Wrong place, wrong time, maybe that’s what it will always be for us.” She said, staring at her mother’s name, carved in stone.

The gravestone stared back, mute, as the light dimmed and she ached with the silence. Evening fell quick in this neck of the woods, without the conflagration of light that made up the city. She shivered in the fall of the spring evening, her throat aching with tears spent but feeling better in the spending of them.

She leaned over the gravestones one last time, peonies settled at the base, and said goodbye.

Gathering her things she startled at the sound of a footfall, the first time she’d heard any noise since she’d settled in. It was hard to see in the fading light, but the man standing at the hood of her car looked like no one she knew, though she waved anyway, small town and all. He didn’t wave back and she shrugged and rounded the back of her car, warily eyeing him as she slipped behind the wheel, the curfew signs flashing in her mind.

Was there some sort of crime ring? Her brain ticked as she started her engine and the man stepped away from the Jeep, a dark slick of a smile caught in the headlights. Karen felt a frisson of fear and pulled away back onto the gravel, eyes in the rearview as she turned down the lanes that led to -

A closed gate, though she remembered from illicit midnights with friends that it was like a fence gate, unbolted and something she could lift and swing out. Karen reached into her purse and felt the comforting weight of her gun slip into her palm. The man wasn’t in her rearview mirror, but it was too dark to tell where he was. She put the Jeep in park and left it running, sliding quickly out of the seat and lifting the gate latch, spinning around and slipping her other hand up to grip the gun two-handed. It was no use, the darkness was complete, no lights to break up the dim beyond the Jeep's headlights, and she rounded the vehicle, shoulders tense, her mind racing, her -

A hand across her mouth, an arm across her chest, pulling her arms down and pointing the gun at the ground. She screamed behind the clamped hand, stamped her foot where she thought the man’s instep would be, snaked a hand up and smashed her elbow backward, hearing a satisfying grunt as the blow landed. She spun away from the arm banded across her middle, trying to transfer the gun to her now free hand, but he was too fast. Her wrist wrenched back, pain shooting up it, the gun falling to the gravel below. 

She could see him now, his hair dark, unkempt, his face attractive if it weren’t for the gleam of satisfaction in his gaze, if not for the - oh god oh god she’d known they were real Matt and Foggy had made fun of her but she’d known it and oh god she fought she kept fighting she had to escape, her arms thrashing, trying to duck and use his weight against him, but nothing shook that iron bar of an arm loose from her chest and the smile descended and with it those fangs, sharp and oh god she closed her eyes she let them slip closed because maybe this was redemption, this was closure, maybe this was…

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

ONE MONTH LATER

The city reeked of hot dogs. Hot dogs approaching rancid as the last of the summer sun baked the scent of an overturned delivery truck’s escapees into the street. Frank’s nose wrinkled with the stench as he ducked into an alleyway. The smell of piss here wasn’t much better, but Frank wasn’t here to avoid smells, knocking hard on an unmarked door. He waited, knocked again, heard an irritated voice shout back at him, accent thick even through the door.

“Don’t expect a delivery til -”

Frank lodged his foot in before the man could pull the door closed, stepping in and locking the man in a headlock with an athlete’s grace. 

“Get the fuck off -”

“Shut the fuck up.” Frank squeezed tighter, feeling the trachea beneath his arm. 

The man floundered feebly, choked gasps ragged as he lost the air to function. Frank maneuvered him into an office close to the door, pulling out some duct tape and lashing him to the chair, gagging him for good measure. 

The warehouse would be empty this late in the day - Frank had been monitoring it for weeks. Still, he let the captive’s head loll as Frank pushed out of the office and scanned the warehouse, moving low to the ground in a room clearing pattern ingrained into his bones. Clear. He checked the warehouse door, ensuring it was locked, and placed a nearby bucket of loose hardware on the lip of the door’s bottom edge, advance warning should someone decide to open it.

He circled back through the warehouse, eyes still darting about, up to the loft, behind the stacked crates, his footsteps less than a whisper on the concrete as he circled back to the office, unfolding a chair and straddling it, arms propped on the headrest, waiting for the man to awaken.

He did with a start, his eyes bulging and curses muffled behind the tape. 

“I’m just here for a few questions Aron,” Frank said, watching as the man’s eyes widened at the use of his name. “Word on the street is that your little Albanian enterprise here is bigger than Rudaj ever was,” Frank said. “Something about a secret weapon, huh?”

Aron’s eyes narrowed. You didn’t live long if you weren’t able to face a little questioning, and something in Frank’s demeanor told him that Aron held all the cards here. Frank needed to flip the program. 

He looked up, spotted the beam he’d seen in blueprints, and rummaged through his bag for some rope, tossing it over the beam before knotting one end through a set of shelves and forming a noose in the other. He slipped it around Aron's neck, patting the man on the cheek with a smile, before hoisting the man up to his feet, looping the slack in the shelves.

He removed the tape at his mouth then, deftly avoiding the spit and rolling his eyes at Aaron’s Balkan curses. “So what can you tell me?”

Silence, and once again a discomfiting smile spread across Aron’s face. Frank hated when they were difficult. He pulled the rope, reknotted it. Aron's back was rigid now, spine stretched as far as it could to lessen the pressure, breath harsh in the closed space of the office.

“If you don’t already know,” Aron smiled despite his struggle to breathe, “There’s no harm in telling you. You’ll be dead within a matter of hours.”

“Yeh? Good to know.” 

“Even if you are the Punisher.” A ragged breath. “Yes your reputation precedes you. It also means nothing.”

Aron’s idle threats were wearing thin. “Okay.” A tug at the rope. 

“Superhumans.” Aron rattled out. “Stronger than you. Faster than you.” His eyes glittered. “They’ll drain you dry.” He coughed, and Frank caught what it was trying to cover. A shift in the eyes to a point over his shoulder. Frank ducked and rolled and heard the swish of air above his head, shot back with an elbow and caught air himself. A faint footfall, a flap of fabric, where the fuck was this guy?

Fast. Too fast. Impossibly fast, Frank thought as he was thrown out of the room, his head cracking on the wall outside. He shook it off even as he was moving, realizing he needed to put distance between him and the threat. He vaulted into the main warehouse, analyzing the terrain, potential weapons. Superhuman. Drain me dry, huh? He knew he had only seconds, ducked behind a crate and backed against a wall where pallets stood leaning. A flash of movement and Frank heard laughter as the heel of a hand smashed against his ribs. Broken, he had a moment to consider while the other hand closed around his throat.. Pain and rage clouded his vision and he knew he had one chance, one chance or it was all over. 

In hindsight he’d probably wonder if it was worth the choice, but for now survival instincts kicked in and he cracked a plank off the pallet behind him and brought it up with all of his strength, trying not to breathe in to avoid the pain dulling the blow. His assailant’s grip on his throat proved his downfall, removing the advantage of speed. The plank hit its mark, the adrenaline and training allow the jagged edges to pierce through skin and muscle, through ribs. A high-pitched keening, terrible in its inhuman sound, issued from the assailant’s throat, and Frank watched features swim in and out of view. Pale skin, a jagged scar cutting across a pair of thinned lips. A mouth split in pain, and there, there - he couldn’t be sure but he also knew it couldn’t be anything else - incisors long and sharp. 

The hand tightened on his throat briefly, muscles trying to continue past the ceasing of life, and the vampire in front of him dropped to the floor, wheedling noise still issuing from its throat, fading now with the dying of light in his eyes. The eyes, Frank thought, were the worst. Sclera shot through with red, but so human. Equal in death, the light gone. He fought his failing consciousness, he needed to get out of here before more showed up. He knew that face. Knew him from the papers, when he was human. The Albanians leg up on gang activities needed no more explanation than this, he thought as every inhale felt like ground glass in his bruised throat, his chest.

He stumbled back towards the office, lurched through the doorway to the shocked face of the mobster who still stood, throat noosed. Frank tugged at the rope anchored to the shelving and looped it a few more times with the rest of his strength, ignoring Aron’s choked breaths and gasps.

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

Lana almost killed him when he returned. The pit bull / boxer mix hadn’t yet learned to not jump up, and her paws on his chest earned a pained grunt.

“Fuck. Down, Lana. I need you to be a good girl, please.” She tilted her head at him, boxer jowls flopping. He couldn’t help smiling through his pain. Pushing past her into the small kitchen, he grabbed a steak out of the freezer and some aspirin and eased himself down on the couch, steak pressed against his ribs. 

This was as close to home as he’d had in a long while, this warehouse unit in Queens. Secure enough with Micro’s help - he still couldn’t call him David. David was for the married guy, with kids, that Frank shouldn’t be bothering. The separation helped. His chest panged again, but not from pain this time, as he thought of those he’d lost in his unceasing war. Curtis had let him go. David wanted nothing to do with him. Karen -

Karen had disappeared off the face of the earth a month ago and it was driving him crazy. If he knew where she was, if he just knew, then she was safe. He pulled his phone out of his pocket with a grimace as Lana’s tail thwacked against the couch cushions, her brows alternating as she looked up at Frank, face nestled in her paws.

He found her last byline - a little over a month ago - a report on the growing presence of Eastern European crime families, actually. It…didn’t seem enough of a report for her to be targeted but who knows what she had gotten into. He knew her, she was persistent beyond what was safe. Karen wouldn’t let go. 

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want her to, despite his claims otherwise. 

So where was she? He slid a palm down his face, frustrated.

He checked his sources, found nothing. Reaching over his shoulder with difficulty - you forget that the simplest of actions is immeasurably harder when you’ve got a broken rib - he flipped on the police scanner. He and Lana listened for news of vampires, caught no mentions, nothing unexplained. The warehouse he’d invaded was off the radar, so he had some time before that would be circling around the airwaves, at least police ones. The steak was partially thawed now, so he tossed it in the dog bowl where Lana inhaled it as if it were her only meal in weeks.

Where was she?

-----

TWO WEEKS LATER

The Albanians were still expanding their empire, despite the setback at the warehouse. Frank wondered how many vampires there were. It clearly wasn’t an epidemic, which he’d feared initially but understood now - hard to keep power when you’re just spreading the source of that power around. Frank was on the streets, ribs starting to heal but deep breaths still causing sharp twists. He knew he needed more time. He also knew he didn’t have it. 

He had to find her, and so he was here in Hell’s Kitchen, eyeing the neon Rosie’s sign as he approached, it flickered Ro ie' tonight, the esses flickering in and out. He didn’t want Red catching him out here, instead hoping his friend would be the first to leave. It was a flip of the coin whether Murdock would find a way to turn him in, that high-and-mighty morality of his a ticking time bomb, Frank thought. 

His eyes shifted from the flickering sign as a voice called out. 

“Spare some change?”

That voice...he'd know it anywhere. “You’re alive, oh god I thought -”

Karen laughed, blanket wrapped over her telltale locks, ball cap pulled low over her brow. “Nice to see you too, Frank.” She reached out a hand, as if to take change from him, and pressed a folded paper into his grip. He held on a beat too long, her grip cold in his own, taking in the details of her face, what he could anyway. He ducked down to catch her eyes and her own darted away. 

“Not now, ok?”

He nodded and walked away, waiting until he was back in the warehouse to open the paper. The smile spread unbidden across his face.

Grand Ferry Park. You know where. 1 hour.

She sure had a sense of drama, he thought, thinking of a time long past, jokes of hipsters and her hair a bright flag in the breeze off the water. He thought of the softness of her cheek, and when he took a deep breath this time he didn’t even notice the pain.

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

Lana was losing her mind, and not in a good way. He’d brought her with him, knowing Karen loved dogs, but she was having none of this meeting. This sweetheart of a dog had her hackles raised, growl low and deep as Karen put up her hands and squeezed her eyes shut, as if pained.

“What is wrong with you, girl?” He knelt down beside Lana, hand tight at her collar and glancing up apologetically at Karen. “Sorry, she’s the calmest dog usually, I thought you might like to see her.”

Karen slowly lowered to the ground, her hand held out. “Do you have a treat I can give her? Maybe that will help.”

“Yeh, sure.” He tossed her a packet from his bag and she opened it, shaking out some near where she knelt. Lana licked her chops but still growled low in her throat, if a bit more of a confused growl.

“Here, what’s her name?” A glance up at Frank as he responded. He noticed her hand shaking. “Lana, sweet girl. Got a treat for you!”

Frank encouraged Lana when she looked up at him, her expression almost hilariously human and clearly saying “you trust this lady??” The dog edged forward, tentative, and snatched the treat from the ground where Karen had placed it, backing up but calming her growl. 

“Well, progress at least.” 

Her smile was just as he’d remembered. 

“Where have you been, Karen?”

A flash in her eyes. “Didn’t know you kept tabs on me, Frank. You seemed pretty clear about me staying away.”

It hit him like a blow he deserved, and he fought for a response and lost. There was nothing he could say, he knew that, but he still wanted to try. It came to him in as he saw her eyes damp and hard, but still not hiding the hope behind them.

“I’ll always want you to be safe, Karen.”

She scoffed at that and stood up. “It’s a bit late for that.” 

“What, what is it, what happened to you? Do I need to punch Red’s light’s out?”

Karen laughed at this, bitter and so unlike her it closed his throat. He did this.

“Just…stop, Frank. I need you to listen.” A barge horn sounded in the distance as if to punctuate her words and her brows eased, just a little, at the humor of it. “I’m…” She stepped closer, Lana alert at the motion, and cupped his face in a hand. “I know the Albanians are after you. The vampire you killed was one of their sires from the old country. I don’t even - Only you, Frank. Older vampires are so strong, you had a one in a million chance.” She shook her head at this, as if still disbelieving.

“How do you know?” he asked, leaning into her touch, cold yet still a comfort. He searched her eyes, gripped Lana’s collar a little tighter.

“I know, because I’m one of them.” 

He tore away from her, the motion and the tension in him sending Lana into a fit of barking, her muzzle flecked with spittle. He couldn’t - he heard that high-pitched keen in his head, tried to reconcile it with the expression on Karen’s face. He pulled his Beretta out, trained it on Karen’s anguished face, looked around for bystanders. He backed away towards the railing bracketing the East River. If he needed to he’d escape in the water. But Lana…

He’d let down his guard, bringing her here. Letting himself dream and hope and wish and here was Karen and goddamn she looked beautiful, her eyes bright and hair streaming in the wind off the river and he could not reconcile the pieces.

His voice was a shadow of itself when it rasped from his mouth. “Explain, Karen. Tell me you’re not a monster. Tell me -” he stopped, unable to say more. 

He saw her eyes close and the resoluteness stiffen her spine. Hope bloomed in his chest. She…she was still her. Her stubbornness, her implacable will.

“I’m not a monster, in the same way you aren’t.”

He worked his jaw, thinking, eyes casting about, settling on anything but her now. Her words were ones he’d normally deny in his heart, but it seemed the stakes had shifted, and his gut reactions fell flat in the face of the fact that Karen Page was here, and she was a vampire.

“Guess that’s why Lana’s losing her mind,” he said finally.

Karen laughed at that and goddamn if it still didn’t make his heart flip with the sound. What was wrong with him. 

“Look I -” she started, uncertain. “I was bitten a month ago in Vermont.” She noticed his quizzical expression. “My Dad, he…I saw his obituary in the paper, so I drove up there. The town was riddled with vamps, some offshoot of the Albanians taking root in Fagan Corners of all places. They’ve locked it down since, but lucky for me!” She lifted her hands, her tone mocking. “Not my favorite trip ever. One star.” She joked, and cast her eyes down when it fell flat.

“Came back and have been feeding off criminals. Not like they're hard to find in this town. Frank -” She caught his gaze in her own. “I wanted to see you, wanted to see you and…I don't think anything can stop them, not anything human." She stopped, searched his eyes.

He wasn’t sure if she found what she was looking for but somehow knew what her next words would be all the same. Still, he let the pause linger. It was a moment, one to let go in. If there was anyone he trusted, it was her, goddamn, and maybe...maybe it was finally time to show that.

She inhaled then, and he idly wondered if that was force of habit or if vampires needed oxygen. He breathed a breath of his own, rib aching with the effort, and drew closer, sliding his hand into the silk of her hair, fingers sifting through it. He looked at her then, full on, not letting his gaze wander, not letting himself look away. He nodded then, an answer to the questions in her eyes, and bared his neck to her.

also on ao3

[yuripira4e]

in honor of just getting to 10k words on my first draft of this here's a little snippet of something I have planned/ written

Damon had returned two days later, at nearly last light. The cover of darkness had almost been enough to shield the black and blue bruising blooming over his skin. He had tried to hide his new limp from her, but the blood soaked through his bandaged knee said more than words could carry through her naïve skull.

Sit down dragonfly. I have something to show you. The words had been laced through with pain, his bruised face more visible in the light, even if he tried to hide it behind his honey-warm smile. Marked almost impossibly without touching the edges of the royal seal. No cuts either.

He had walked her to her bed chambers, tucking her in before beginning to set aside the steel gauntlets that nearly always adorned his legs. She sat guiltily away from him, still feeling the low churn in her stomach at the thought of him being tortured in forfeit of her stupidity. They said nothing as he had carefully pulled down the cloth that kept the steel from rubbing too uncomfortably against his shins and had laughed when Jude had made a face, turning up her nose at the older man who had feigned offense in return, making a show until Jude had removed her hands from her nose and sat closer.

Looking closely, she had watched as he turned the warm bronze part of his foot over to reveal the lighter half and its numerous blisters and pains. It was only when she looked toward the curve where his toes met his sole that she saw it.

“Damon!” she’d shrieked. He’d shushed her quickly, his wide eyes contrasted by the exhilarated smile on his face.

“Damon” she’d whispered even more fervently; reverently, because in jagged, blocky cuts, still red around the edges, and probably illegable to anyone who wasn't so well acquainted with the man before her, were the letters R and J.

“Yes, I do think I may have gone slightly dim when I was down there. Too late to do anything about it though. I did it with a stone. And no, Rireran doesn't know, and you're not going to tell him. He'd have my head.” he explained easily, though she discern the nervous truth of the statement. If the guard would be mad, it would be nothing on their high mages wraith when Damon did something foolishly impulsive.

“This is dangerous! My father would-“

“He would cut it off at best.” He admitted, waving his hand like it was a non issue. “And he would be right to do so. My oath has been tattered by this. Even just the intent.”

“.. Why?” was all she could think ask him.

He stared at her, the corner of his lip twitching down sadly for just a moment.

“You cannot choose your creed, dragonfly, nor your blood, and certainly not the seas of your birth, but you can choose what choices you make. I made this one. I respect your father with every bone in my body. He is our king. But.. I regard Rireran with every divide of my soul. He is more than an oath. He is the path of my retribution. He is the article of my faith and all my devotion. As are you.” he told her softly, gathering the plush sheets to tuck around her even more tightly before continuing.

“My oath garters that I should not feel what I feel, and I wish I could be selfless enough to stick to it. But I cannot.

When I was down there- the only thing I wanted was to tuck you into bed. To tell you this was not your fault. I thought about playing squares with Rireran. That I should replace that ugly burgundy and brown board. I wouldn’t though. Because it is ugly and I hate paisley but it's the only thing in my room I had with memories of either of you.” he rambled, trying to force all the words out. “This is for me. It’s for me.” He repeated at her like she didn’t believe him. Like everything he did was not a testament to her. “It’s my reminder to myself that I will not always be strong enough, and it’s my promise that I will protect you and honor my oath despite it. That I would mar every inch of my skin in your name.” He breathed out shakily, before running a large hand over her curls.

“You are kind, Jude, your guilt proves it. And I know you will be a wonderful queen, but at times I wished you to be a more selfish child.”

He had been crying then, she remembered. Yet he had looked so sure of himself- of her. So sure even if her small brain didn't understand anything else, it might've been able to comprehend the affection he held so openly. Vulnerable in a way he never shied away from, even when she couldn't seem to hold him in the same esteem. At that moment Jude did not feel kind. The only kind thought in her head was the voice of the man in front of her, gently guiding her in rights and wrongs. And she had watched as her kindness had been carried away like a fish at the butcher and spoiled in ways she might never know.

“You're going to die of an infection” she had responded instead, choking down any wetness that threatened her eyes and voice, yet he let her small hands poke the heel nonetheless. He laughed as she had traced the J. She tried not to think of her father. Of her mother. She stared ahead at the awful, bloody mess on the foot of the man who had raised her and committed it to her mind like a portrait, one she would hide away so that maybe the mildew that infected every other thing that could be beautiful of her mind- it could not touch it.

It would stay dry and hidden, but It would stay hers.

[stupid-boy-here]

Look who's back, after who knows how Long, and ofc here we are with a writing. Once again, English isn't my first lenguaje so the probability there are errors in the writing is high, any criticism is appreciated

Sweet like her lips

I'm not someone that can be called fond of gourmet food, sure it's good and whatnot but it just wasn't part of my liking.

Aswell that I have never understood why people were willing to pay so much for something that might not even be of their taste, something new each week must be exhausting. But I guess everyone has their own special way of living.

Yet, lately it has become a habit of my boss to give me leftovers. The first time he did it, it turned out to be weird.

I thought he hated my guts after all but I think it was just the pressure I felt during my first days.

It's a demanding job after all, being the only waiter in a place that could be called “popular” and often looked at by critics, but I managed, and somehow I ended up liking the job.

I had planned to leave after a week, I just needed money to treat my…”girlfriend” to a dinner date and win her again but all my attempts went into the trash.

Not a single call answered, I wanted to try again but, even I know a limit to my actions.

So I stopped and decided to continue working there.

It had good pay and my boss seemed more…gleeful than before, at least less grumpy, which was a surprise, considering how on the edge he has been the last few days.

He also has become more insistent on me trying his food, see how it tastes.

So i did and, well, it was somewhat bland

A little too simple in my opinion, something that's clearly not made for someone else and while, it's…good, it wasn't something I was super excited about.

And I guess Vincent noted that he became quieter for a day or two before inviting me to go to his place for a piece of steak.

He assured me it was special and made specially for me, so my curiosity began to peak.

So, I went there and it was a nice place. I have seen it before but I never had the chance to actually take a good look at it. It was a good apartment, even if the design could have been better.

When I arrived at the kitchen it was rather dirty, something surprising considering how usually neat and tidy Vince is in the kitchen, but I attempted to not look too forward to it.

When I sat down and in front of me Vince placed a plate with a rather good looking steak, and well i took a bite. The meat was so soft it almost surprised me the way I could just slide the knife in. It had a sweet smell and well, the taste was sweet and savory, it had what I would call a perfect balance.

It reminded me of her, of her sweet voice and those lips of hers, lips that always had a hint of honey in them

That's when I saw Vincent smiling at me, he explained how the whole process was made and why it made the dish so special.

It certainly was tastier than anything I have eaten from him before.

.

.

.

.

.

It shouldn't have been, i shouldn't have trusted him, i should have left when i could, i should have seen something was wrong when she didn't respond. I felt sick

My stomach became a mess and I just couldn't hold it in anymore, so I puked whatever remains of Manon were left in my stomach.

I felt the stomach acid sting my nose and my tongue.

My stomach was growling, it was empty now after all.

That's why he was smiling so much at me, that's why it was specially for me and me only.

That's why he waited until my shift was over to invite me over his home

Making me feel safe, making me feel like I should trust him.

But he wasn't smart enough, it's far too obvious… Or maybe he was smart enough and he wanted to play with me.

Mess with me and torture me, why else would he keep her bloody clothes around? Why would he not keep his kitchen clean?

Why else would he make it clear what he has done?

I feel dirty.

I am dirty.

I deserve to die.

He deserves to die.

[cantuscorvi]

"I just realized something." The princess spoke up after a few moments of soothing silence between them. "You know how-- Well, this one time," stammering some in trying to explain her idea, showing just how truly train of thought the words were right now.

"My father mentioned once how, when he was about my age, he remembered seeing you and your father at his events. And, I think he had a lot of empathy for you because he remembered being that young and, just by being present, creating a generational gap at dinners; spending the whole night knowing everyone only saw a teenager trying to be involved, dismissing whatever came out of his mouth. Even still I feel that depending on the company."

"So, I was just thinking: why are you so much easier to talk to than all the other business suits biting at my family's feet? Everyone, yourself included, wants the added influence and status, but I think you're one of the only ones who understands where I'm coming from at these parties. Having also been through the years of being the youngest adult in the room and that right of passage sort of speak. I feel like you respect the work it takes to be raised in this kind of environment. Or at least more than any of these others will understand."

"Or am I inferring too much?"

@royaletiquette

It seemed like more and more often lately, Raum had gained the privilege of stealing the princess’ attention away from the masses. Even more so, to grasp these seemingly random thoughts that came to her now — he sensed it was not something the average joe would be privy to. Raum twisted the stem of his wineglass idly between his fingers as she spoke, regarding her with a vaguely amused curiosity as she tried to gather what she wanted to express.

Yet as she continued, his expression faltered slightly with an unusual kind of tension. His brows pinched together for a moment, before he took a sip of his drink, and he set glass down with a click against the marble table top. His jaw clenched and released while he glanced out at the the other members of the gathering, separated from them by a few rows of empty tables. It was late, and things were starting to wind down. Was it this quieter atmosphere that made Hibiko speak as she did, or another reason?

He was surprised at the depth of her insight, and the astuteness with which she offered it to him. Raum believed he didn’t remember those times very well — truthfully, he had consciously pushed them to back of his mind — but her words shed some light on his memories, bringing back the very sensations she described.

Bitterness. It lingered like a physical thing at the back of his throat. He hummed, and let it pass. After all, it had been almost twenty years since he was last made to stand in Friedrich’s shadow in a place like this one.

“My. Gracious of his majesty to consider me at all, at that age,” he replied. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he turned his gaze back to her. A bit of humour laced his words as he continued, “I was even younger then than you are now; and much more precocious. Hard to believe, I know. Lucky that I didn’t make a fool of myself in front of him.”

Thinking about it, he did see something of himself from back then in her. She was certainly right about one thing — being born into such an environment gave you something to prove. Now, it was her turn to be the mongoose pup tossed into the pit of snakes. He knew intimately what that felt like.

“Since we’re such birds of a feather, I’ll tell you a secret.”

Raum leaned towards her a little, over the edge of the table, and lowered his voice.

“Everyone in this room — and that includes me, don’t forget — will try to leave their mark on you, at some point or another. Your youth both attracts and repels them. They don’t want to hear an original thought you have to say. No, they want to make you repeat their thoughts, but with all that added music they’re long missing. And then, they want you to whisper those thoughts into the ears of your family. Right now, as frustrating as it may be, your only duty is to keep those lips of yours sealed.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a sharpness to it that belied the advice he gave.

“So far, you’re doing rather well. You noticed that I can help you divert them — you’ve used me plenty enough. Haven’t you?” He huffed a low laugh, shaking his head.

“You can continue to use me, until the time comes that you can silence them yourself.”