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softforcal · 5 years

Text

Trouvaille : Harry Styles

Summary: When Harry gets a new roommate, he gets more than what he bargained for.

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: smut

Tropes: Roommates, Slow Burn, super fucking soft, art souls.

Harry Moodboard : OC Moodboard

Trouvaille : (french) meaning “a lucky find”

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His thumb absentmindedly fidgeted with the chunky silver band around his finger, rolling it over and over again as he studied Valentina with tired, but alert, green eyes. She wondered for the umpteenth time how she’d even ended up sitting across from the moody artist at a coffee shop at seven AM, but the answer was simple: she really needed a place to live.

Valentina hadn’t been ignorant to the challenges that would come with finding a new place for the start of term, but when her room mate had dropped out last minute and left Valentina to a two bedroom apartment she couldn’t afford herself, she knew she wouldn't be able to find someone dumb enough to move into the small shithole on such short notice, and that had left her one option.

“So why’s the room vacant? What happened to your last roommate?” Valentina asked, sipping at her black coffee as she eyed the man whose first words to her had been “I already had coffee, been here since six.” in a British accent that had had her heart flip flopping the moment she sat down.

“Never had one.” the guy stated simply, as if that explained everything. His left hand sat on the table, pads of his fingers creating soft thudding sounds as he tapped them against the dark wood.

“But it’s a two bedroom-”

“Parents pay for it.” he said. Once more, his words were a statement. The look in his eyes told Valentina that he wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to be questioned, likely viewing any inquiry she made as meddlesome and intrusive. His gaze was piercing and direct, the man sitting in front of Valentina wasn’t the type to shy away from doing socially questionable things, that much was obvious. He took her in fully, and she felt like she was under inspection, as if any wrong move would set him off and she’d be back to searching for an apartment. So Valentina kept her mouth shut.

“Surprised you did a facebook ad.” Valentina said to clear the silence, hoping this was an okay subject to discuss, “your pictures are amazing, and your price is really affordable, would have thought if you’d put it somewhere else-”

“Was hoping no one would see it.” he said, tilting his head as he gaged her reaction.

“Oh.” she couldn’t help the frown that marred her features as she set down her coffee cup, “so why-”

“Parents said I need a roommate.” he leaned forward for the first time, elbows on the table as he encroached on her as if he was about to tell her a special, dirty little secret, “apparently, I’m not social enough.”

At such a close distance, she could appreciate the green of his eyes, the strong chiseled jaw, his pretty pink lips, the beautiful dark curls that she wanted to run her fingers through - and Valentina was, without a doubt, slightly overwhelmed by it all. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment as they just studied each other. She wondered if his eyes perhaps looked so devastatingly bright because of the comfy, large green sweatshirt he was wearing, a hole in the collar drawing her attention briefly. She could feel his breath on her face and she inhaled, some primal part of her hoping to get a hint of a taste of what the beautiful boy might smell like, but alas, she was met only with the aroma of roast coffee beans that blanketed the store at all hours of the day.

“You seem social to me.” Valentina said, only a half lie slipping from her lips, but it seemed to do the trick.

The artist smiled, leaning back in his chair again, one arm going casually over the back of it as he kicked his feet out lazily, flourishing his hand, “have a few questions to go through to make sure you’re a compatible roommate.” when she stayed quiet, he continued, “I’m an artist, I work when inspiration hits, and I work to music. Loud music. Sometimes it’s two in the afternoon, sometimes its two AM, regardless, I need my music.”

He paused, and Valentine recognized that although he hadn’t asked a direct question, he was waiting for a response, so she struggled to come up with one, blinking before stating “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

After another once over, and a curt nod, the man continued, “i have a random sleep schedule, and like my music, sometimes I cook at weird hours too.”

Again, another pause that Valentina filled with “I stay mostly in my room, so I doubt it would bug me much.”

The guy sat up a little straighter, his hand going onto the table again, fingers brushing over the wood, “you single?” his eyes were downcast, watching the pads of his digits dance across the oak, as if the motion was more interesting than the question he’d just asked.

“I-” Valentina had been ready to answer any question about cleanliness or food allergies or, well, anything, but this one was a tad surprising. After a moment to collect herself, she managed to stutter “no, I’m not, uh, not in a relationship.”

“No fuck buddies, that sort of thing?”

Valentina could feel her skin heating, her fingers gripping her coffee cup tighter as she shook her head, looking down, “no.”

“How do you feel about me having girls at the apartment?”

“I mean, it’s your apartment-” she bit at her lip, “are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Single.”

“Mmm.” he hummed, hand coming up to rub at his jaw, he finally took his gaze from Valentina, looking around the coffee place. Then his eyes landed on her half empty cup, “so do you want to come look at the apartment?”

--------

The soft sound of music was the only clue that Harry was even at the apartment as Valentina and Bethany finished carrying boxes into Valentina’s new room. He’d given her a key the day they’d met, mumbling that she could move in whenever, but preferably before classes started up the next week. He hadn’t offered a reason for this odd timeline, but Valentina hadn’t argued, throwing out a possible move in date that he’d nodded to without a second thought.

Part of her wondered if he’d even realized she was moving in. As Bethany had pointed out, it was a little odd he hadn’t so much as poked his head out of his room to say hi, or offer to help the girls cary things in. Valentina was starting to realize that this absent behaviour was likely something she’d have to get used to. Between the two of them, she figured all in all, they’d just be two ghost inhabiting one apartment, likely brushing past each other on odd occasions but never fully interacting. It seemed like he was the type that kept to himself, but Valentina was the same way, so she didn’t mind.

It was just beginning to get dark when Bethany finally left, voicing her disappointment in still having not been able to meet the elusive gorgeous artist roommate that Valentina was stuck with for a year, but Valentina assured her as she ushered her friend from the apartment that there’s be time for that later.

Valentina slid the deadbolt shut and turned around, almost jumping out of her skin when her eyes landed on Harry leaning in his doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, “You scared me!” she breathed.

He was wearing black ripped jeans and an old band t shirt that matched the Led Zeppelin softly drifting from his room. His eyes watched her for a few moments, “sorry.” he said, voice low and grumbly. She waited for him to say something else, to find out why he had finally left his room, but as more time passed, she realized that perhaps he had just come to look at her, as if gawking at a freakshow.

Valentina didn’t know what she was doing that could be so interesting that he felt the need to stare. She was in her everyday clothes - a tight black turtleneck and high waisted, coffee coloured, plaid pants. Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she hadn’t felt the need to put in contacts on moving day, so square framed, black glasses sat on the tip of her nose, perhaps just a tad out of place.

Instead of looking at him, her eyes shifted past his broad frame, getting a good view of his bedroom through the open door. He had the corner room in the apartment building, and Valentina could see large windows, she could imagine how bright it would be in the morning sunshine, perfect for an artist. There were clothes strewn about, and Valentina could just make out a half buried mattress on the floor, but before she could look further, Harry must have noticed her wandering gaze and pulled his door closed behind him, stepping into the living room area, “what do you study?”

“Hmm?” Valentina looked up at him again, a little caught off guard by the question.

“I never asked. Before. What do you study?” he reiterated, walking over to the kitchen.

With his gaze no longer on her, Valentina felt pressure lifted from her shoulders, “I’m doing classical voice training, a focus on Opera.”

Harry opened the fridge and leaned over, reaching in and pulling out what looked like a box of Chinese takeaway. He didn’t ask any more questions as he loudly threw open a drawer, grabbing chopsticks which he held expertly in his right hand, remaining silent as he went back to his room, shutting the door behind him.

A few moments later, piano music filled the apartment, followed closely by a rummaging noise. The loud sounds forced their way out into the main area from the sliver under Harry’s door. Valentina sighed, recognizing this as her first night (of likely what was to be many) where Harry played his music obnoxiously loud, and she would be forced to listen or grab ear plugs.

Valentina looked around the apartment, hands on her hips as she took it all in. Her eyes landed on the small dining table, perched perfectly in front of the large window overlooking the busy street. The sun was setting but the last inklings of pink were dashing across the deepening blue expanse of sky, and Valentina had never seen such a perfectly situated table before in her life. She grabbed a book from her room and went to sit down, pleasantly enthralled by the pretty situation, the words on the cream coloured paper, and the piano music that could be heard from the dining table.

--------

“But I want to see if he’s as cute as you say he is.” Bethany whined, frowning at Valentina who groaned, stretching out on the grass and smiling up at her friend.

“Even if you did come over, I doubt you’d see him. He stays in his room all the time.”

“He must come out for food.”

“Probably, but not while I’m awake.” Valentina sighed, grabbing at her thick, dark hair to pull up into a bun.

“He must have instagram or something, after all, he’s an artist right?” Bethany said finally, eyes hopeful.

“I mean, I guess.” Valentina shrugged, having not yet taken the time to look up her new roommate on anything but facebook, which is where she’d originally seen the ad, but his facebook had been barren and she wasn’t very hopeful that his instagram would be much different.

“What’s his name again?”

“Harry Styles.” Valentina answered absentmindedly, but after a moment of thought, she realized it was the first time she’d said the name out loud, and it sounded good. It sounded right, falling from her lips that moved like they were used to the motion of it already.

“He’s friends with that Niall guy right?”

“Yeah, Niall sent me the ad.” Valentina confirmed, moving up to rest her weight on her forearms as she leaned over to look at Bethany’s phone. She watched as Bethany tapped on Niall’s following list on instagram, typing in ‘styles.’ Nothing came up so she tried ‘Harry’ next, again, nothing. As she deleted the letters Valentina’s eye caught something, stopping her friend at the letter ‘H.’ A somewhat pompous black and white photo of a rose staring up at them, beckoning them to come closer and for some reason, Valentina knew that it must be him.

The profile read ‘art n’ shit’ and there was something so oddly Harry about it that Valentina had no doubt they were on the correct instagram, even though a quick scroll through proved there were no actual pictures of Valentina’s new, elusive roommate.

“So he must be pretty big in the New York art scene.” Bethany mused, having noticed that Harry’s follower count was well into six digits.

“I guess.” Valentina said absentmindedly, not thinking too much about her roommates possible fame.

Something caught her eye amongst the art and the aesthetically pleasing pictures that were making her skin prickle. “That one.” she said, pointing to a canvas picture, “it’s in the living room.” she hadn’t realized it was one of Harry’s creations, but looking at it now, it made sense.

“What is it?” Bethany asked.

Valentina tilted her head, she’d never really inspected the piece, and it did have a lot going on. Many different blobs of colours caught the eye immediately, and it was hard to focus on just one, “it looks like… I think it’s a painting of a mirror next to a window, and the mirror is showing the reflection of his dirty room?” the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Thinking back, she could just remember a gold frame near his bed, she hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but that was definitely what it looked like in the painting.

Bethany’s eye brows furrowed as she stared at the instagram picture of a picture, “his room is messy?”

“He had his door open for a bit the night I moved in, and there were clothes everywhere, it was chaos.”

“So this guy is a bit of a weirdo huh?” Bethany laughed.

“Yeah.” Valentina smiled. Her grin quickly disappeared, heart lurching as Bethany hit the follow button, “what are you doing?!”

“Following.”

“Yes, but why?!” Valentina asked wildly, sitting up fully to stare at her friend with a look of fear and betrayal.

“Why not?” Bethany countered.

“Uh, how about because he can see we follow each other and are friends and now he’ll know we were talking about him?”

Bethany broke into a grin, “fuck, I didn’t think about that. But wait, if he doesn’t know your insta then you’re fine right? Plus, the guy is super popular, I doubt he’ll notice a new follow.”

Valentina took a deep breath, realizing there was truth to that statement. Sure, she was mutuals with both Niall and Bethany, but there was no way Harry would draw the connection, especially if he didn’t even have her on instagram. “I think i’m just on edge.” Valentina admitted, “it’s been kind of odd living with him.”

“It’s only been a week.” Bethany pointed out, “besides you said he stays in his room.”

“He does, but I don’t know… knowing he’s only a few feet away, separated only by a wall… I just… I don’t know.” Valentina sighed, “if you knew him, you’d know what I mean.”

--------

He didn’t know the girl. Perhaps that was what made him lift the needle from the record, throwing the room into silence as his brows furrowed, clicking on her instagram profile. He said her name out loud, “Bethany” as if hoping that the verbal motion of saying it would spark some sort of recognition.

Taking a last drag of his blunt, Harry set it down in the ashtray, letting the smoke creep from his mouth to join the smell of incense hanging in the air.

Harry had no clue who the girl was but as he scanned her profile he realized they had a mutual: Niall.

Harry and Niall went way back, and Niall wasn’t the type to just be giving out Harry’s instagram.

Modesty was not a trait that many would connect to a guy like Harry Styles. He had ego. He had followers. He was well known in the New York underground art world, but usually he gained followers in correlation with events, not just randomly on a wednesday afternoon.

He thought about it for a moment, thumbs hovering over his screen. His jaw set, muscle feathering under skin, and he ran a hand through his messy curls, taking a deep breath before he tapped Bethany’s following list.

Valentina wasn’t hard to find, and Harry took a moment or two to study her profile picture, noticing the dimple on her left cheek. Harry often appreciated symmetry, but in this case, the appearance of just one, singular dimple, was endearing, and he wondered what it would look like in person if he ever made the beautiful girl smile.

Her instagram was nice, Harry was very particular about how things looked, but hers… well, it was nice. Harry noticed as he looked at her face that perhaps he was going easy on her because he thought she was gorgeous. It was undeniable, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. His new roommate was fucking insanely beautiful. It was very unnerving for him. It both excited and terrified him to the point that he didn't even want to think about it.

Harry took a deep breath, he supposed a follow showed at least some effort, and it was a hell of a lot easier than actually talking to the goddess who lived in the room next to his. After a moment of hesitation, he hit the button, then turned off him phone, throwing it across the room before putting the needle back on the vinyl, flooding the room with music again.

--------

She needed a drink. Valentina was regretting the fact that months ago when she’d chosen courses she’d thought history looked interesting. Staring down at the textbook at two AM, she wished she was dead, or at least, asleep, which was about as close to death as she could get. She itched for something to help her calm down, something to relax her so maybe the reading would flow easier. Having been thinking about grabbing a beer for over an hour, she finally conceded, standing from her desk to walk to her bedroom door.

The vibrations had pulsated through her bedroom wall that adjoined Harry’s, but with her bedroom door open, the music hit her even more. Classical piano had always been something she enjoyed, and although Clair De Lune was a pretty basic choice, it still felt like home, wrapping her in warmth as she walked to the kitchen.

Leaning down to grab a beer from the fridge, Valentina realized she didn’t have a bottle opener. A brief search through the drawers in the kitchen left her empty handed, turning to stare at Harry’s door. She shuffled from foot to foot, gnawing at her lip as she thought about whether she really needed the beer.

It had been a week since her awkward roommate had followed her on instagram, and somehow he’d gotten even more elusive. She hadn’t bumped into him once, and part of her was beginning to wonder if he ever left his room to go to school or eat.

With one last look down at the beer in her hand, Valentina took a deep breath, walking to Harry’s door. Her knuckles rapped against the wood firmly, and she waited for a moment. There was no response and Valentina wasn’t surprised, the music could easily drown out the sound of her knocks just as well as it was drowning out her thoughts.

She knocked again, louder this time.

As Valentina was about to knock a third time, the door swung open, releasing the smell of incense and sound of dangerously loud piano. Valentina’s jaw dropped, every thought disappearing as her eyes took in Harry.

He was shirtless, wearing nothing but sweats that hung low on his hips. His beautiful skin was covered in tattoos and Valentina’s eyes hurried to take them all in, hopefully burning them into her memory before she got caught staring too long. His hands were marred with paint, a brush in one hand, and as her gaze went up she noticed flecks of colour on his cheek that she itched to reach out and rub away.

“What do you want?” he asked, voice as grumbly as always.

Valentina blinked, swallowing hard as she struggled to relearn english. She laughed awkwardly, covering her face with her hand as she cast her eyes down, hoping that not looking at the gorgeous man in front of her would help her collect herself better, but all it did was make her notice the tattoos on his feet which did not help in the slightest, so she looked up again, “I don’t have a bottle opener-” she held out the beer.

Harry looked down at it before his gaze flickered back up to her. He put his paintbrush between his teeth then he reached out and took the bottle from her hands, and Valentina watched as he wedged the cap in the door hinge where the lock would slide into place if the door was closed. The bottle cap popped off easily and Harry handed it back to her as she stood there dumbfounded at how easy that had been, how graceful and sexy he had looked - then he shut the door and she was left standing there feeling like an idiot.

--------

When Valentina had arrived home she had assumed she was alone. There was no obnoxious music coming from under Harry’s closed door, nor was there a slight smell of incense lingering in the air, both of which always seemed to signify Harry’s presence in the apartment.

She took the alone time to have a bath in the massive four clawed tub. It was such an odd extravagance to find in an apartment like this one, and she’d never had the courage to ask Harry if it had been there when he arrived, but part of her always felt as if it was something uniquely his. The bathroom had a lot of tile, and it had an echoey feel that made it perfect for Valentina to practice her vocal training as she enjoyed the feeling of the hot water.

It had been a nice mid September day, and she’d arrived at the apartment early, the air outside still warm in the wake of her afternoon class. Once she was dried off from her peaceful bath, Valentina looked out her window. Her bedroom faced the alley and it had a terrace accessible if she climbed through her window.

It was a nice terrace, with flower pots and everything. Again, Valentina found her wondering intrusive thoughts about Harry, whether or not he was the type with a green thumb, but she pushed the lustful musings of her hot roommate watering flowers from her mind.

Figuring this as good a time as any to enjoy the fleeting warmth of the sunshine, Valentina opened her window and began to climb outside, stopping when she noticed Harry sitting there.

The terrace was in front of both of their rooms, and Valentina nearly smacked herself for not realizing there was a possibility of Harry taking advantage of the sunshine as well. He was sitting just outside his window, a duvet half wrapped around him, olive green beanie on his head and a blunt between two ring clad fingers.

Valentina began to apologize, moving to go back into her room when Harry’s voice surprised her, “it’s fine. Come out.”

She looked at him. His gaze was turned towards the street to his left, sunshine lighting up his side profile brilliantly. His eyes were closed, like a cat basking in the warmth and celestial light rays cast by a star. As he exhaled, smoke billowed around him, picked up and evident in the beams of sunshine that were making the entire look of him almost ethereal.

When he realized she hadn’t moved, he turned to her again, blinking, “seriously. Come. sit.” he shuffled over a bit, making room for her on the duvet, he patted the spot next to him, “I don’t bite.” his gaze went back to the street, “hard.” he breathed, but it was more of an afterthought, as if he’d been distracted by something out of Valentina’s view.

Harry brought the blunt to his mouth again, plump, pretty, pink lips wrapping around it, cheeks hollowing as he inhaled. Valentina finally approached, if nothing more than to get a better look at the god she called her roommate. After a moment of hesitation, she joined him on the duvet, mirroring Harry as she put her legs out in front of her, leaning back against his window.

“You have a lovely voice.” he mused, taking the blunt from his mouth as he blew out smoke.

Valentina’s heart lurched in her chest with the realization that he’d heard her singing while she was in the bath, “I didn’t know you were home-” she began.

“M’ not annoyed.” he said, “if that’s what you’re worried about.” he flicked the stubby end of the finished blunt off the terrace, and something told Valentina that maybe he was a bit annoyed by her being so on edge all the time.

“Oh.” she breathed, struggling to figure out the man sitting next to her.

“Why do you always think I’m annoyed or summat?” he asked, turning to look at her finally.

It took everything in Valentina to not meet his gaze as she fidgeted with her own fingers, eyes downcast again, “you just don’t talk much.”

“Not like you’re jumping at every chance to talk to me either love.”

“You’re never out of your room.” she pointed out.

“I’m out of my room loads.” he scoffed, “you’re never out of your room.”

She thought about it for a moment before laughing, “touche.”

“If you want weekly movie night or roommate bonding, I can find time, you just didn’t strike me as the type pet.” he breathed, pulling off his beanie so he could run a hand through his wild curls.

Valentina was surprised by the offer.

She was surprised by the whole interaction. This was a guy who hadn’t really spoken more than a sentence to her, and the few times he had, he had looked pained, as if conversation with her hurt some odd part of his soul. But now, here he was, not only talking, but making plans to get to know her better.

“Roommate bonding.” Valentina repeated his words back to him.

“Normal people do that right?” he questioned, securing his beanie over his head as he grimaced, hoping he wasn’t once again overstepping some weird social boundary he had been unaware of.

“I’ve only ever been roommates with people I’m already friends with.” Valentina admitted, “so I don’t know.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and Valentina wondered what was going through his mind. Then he sighed, standing, “if you wanna, let me know.”

He began to climb into his room and Valentina stood, “you’re duvet-”

“Do what you want with it, I have loads of blankets.”

--------

Valentina was used to the music, that wasn’t what was making her stare at the wall between her and Harry’s bedroom with furrowed brows. It was something beneath the music. A thumping sound that just didn't’ match the slow tempo of the song, and if there was one thing Valentina knew, it was music and pace.

What was confusing Valentina, was the fact that (as far as she’d seen) Harry didn’t have a bed frame. So if he was in his room with a girl at 2 am, what the hell was hitting her wall loud enough to be heard amongst the loud rock music?

For a moment, Valentina’s mind was enraptured with dirty ideas of how, exactly, Harry could be achieving such a sound. Perhaps he was fucking the girl against the wall, yes, that would make sense-

Valentina’s stomach growled loudly and she sighed, mind wandering from the sinfully delightful concepts that had plagued her thoughts since noticing the noise. She looked down at the book she was reading and closed it, standing. She stretched, the hem of her oversized hoodie dragging up her thighs, teasing no one in her empty room as she groaned, enjoying the feeling of her muscles tensing then relaxing with an exhale.

She went to run a hand through her hair and realized it was still in a bun. Her shoulders slumped as she thought longfully about sleep, having not been aware of just how tired she was. Valentina decided she’d grab food then go to bed, that made the most sense.

She slipped her feet into uggs, having learned early on that she was not a fan of the cold kitchen floor whenever she went on a midnight fridge raid.

As Valentina shuffled to the kitchen slowly, turning on necessary lights, she thought about what she could possibly sink her teeth into. Bending over, not a care in the world, she rifled through the fridge, sticking to her designated shelf of food as she took in everything her last grocery trip had to offer.

She reached to grab an apple sitting in the back of the fridge and squealed when hands landed on her hips and something brushed by her bum. Valentina jumped forward, almost smacking her head against the top of the fridge before whipping around to look at Harry who was already busying himself by grabbing the toaster to plug it in, “what?” he asked, not even looking at the girl who was gawking at him.

“You…” Valentina stuttered, “you….” brushed past my ass “snuck up on me.”

“You weren’t paying attention and you were taking up a lot of room. Had to get past you love.” Harry answered absentmindedly, turning to look at her as he rested one hand on the counter, eying Valentina.

He was shirtless, skin and tattoos looking beautiful under a slight sheen of sweat.

Valentina swallowed hard as he approached, her mind once more going to what, exactly, he had just been doing in his bedroom. Or was it who he had just been doing?

She could feel his breath against her face as he looked down at her, “gonna move, or do I have to move you again?” he asked.

Valentina stared up at him, brain not understanding his meaning until his hand went to the handle of the freezer that Valentina was blocking, “oh.” she felt her skin flush immediately, taking a massive step back to allow him to open the freezer and access his Eggo waffles.

After he had his prize secure in his hand and had closed the freezer, he turned back to the toaster. Valentina watched his broad shoulders, muscles moving under unmarred skin as he popped the waffles into the appliance, head turning slightly so his eyes could meet hers, “do you need something?”

Valentina gripped her apple, showing it to him, “no, I’m uh… gonna go now.”

After a moment of waiting for a response that would never come, Valentina turned to go back to her room, her skin getting hotter with each step farther away from her gorgeous roommate.

Harry watched her go as soon as he was sure his wandering eyes wouldn’t be caught. He took a moment to appreciate the way her oversized hoodie hung perfectly, exactly at Valentina’s mid thigh. The white fabric set off her tan skin deliciously, and Harry wondered for a moment how hard it would be to match the tone. His fingers twitched, itching to grab a paintbrush and create something, anything, that could try to capture the beauty that was Valentina Armani, his hot roommate.

The toaster popped, signifying his waffles were finished. Harry plucked them and revelled in the oddly painful feeling of the hot food in his bare hands, pausing momentarily just to enjoy the heat prickling the tips of his fingers. He shoved one into his mouth as he walked back to his room, pushing the door open to reveal the pretty blonde lounging in his bed, the white sheets covering her nudity as she grinned at him.

“Who were you talking to?” she asked. Harry noticed the music had been turned down since he left the room, and he chewed his food a little faster, annoyed that the girl had dared to touch his sound system.

“Roommate.” he answered, collapsing onto the bed next to the girl he’d been casually seeing for three or four months.

She pulled him to her chest by his hair, fingers massaging his scalp and tangling in his curls, “didn’t know you had a roommate.” she mused.

Harry hummed as a response, rolling onto his back so his head was on the girls stomach, his legs kicked out half off the mattress onto the floor, “she’s new.”

“It’s a she?” the girl asked in shock.

“Yeah.” Harry said, shoving more of his waffle into his mouth.

The girl was a nice fuck, a nice cuddle when Harry was feeling sentimental, but half the time he ended up forgetting her name, which was probably his own fault seeing as her contact in his phone was ‘fuck.’ He liked simple things, things that were easy to remember. Besides, if he actually attributed a name to the girl, he might end up actually seeing her as a person, which he wasn’t too keen on.

Harry finished up his waffle and sat up, looking down at the girl who was tracing one of his tattoos with her fingers, “you need to leave.” he stated.

She sighed loudly, “see this is why you don’t have any friends Harry.”

He said nothing, standing fully as he went to go sit on his piano bench, cracking his knuckles and finding a joint to smoke while waiting for the girl to recollect her clothes from where they were mixed with Harry’s on the ground.

“You should really clean your room.” the girl said as she pulled on a hoodie.

Harry shrugged, taking a long drag from his newly lit joint, smoke curling around him.

When her clothes were on, Harry made a move to get up, but the girl waved a hand, “don’t bother, I’ll show myself out, I’ve done it before.”

--------

Harry sat on his floor, back hunched as he stared at his notepad. The afternoon sun illuminated his room, and small particles twinkled in the sunbeams when Harry shook his head, curls bouncing as he tried to get a handle on the situation.

His final project was pretty clear.

One model. One constant in three seperate images. One a photograph, one a painting, and one art medium of his choice. All the pictures needed to be something natural, something every day, a glimpse into the life of his model.

He’d known who he wanted to draw the moment his teacher had explained the project that morning, and in the hours it had been since his class, Harry had been trying to convince himself that there were better options than his roommate. Except, there weren't.

She was the obvious choice.

Clear as day.

Harry’s fingers twitched just thinking about drawing her, and again, he had to make a conscious effort not to grab his sketch pad and begin off memory.

He thought about it for a while, considering possible constants that he could put in each piece. He’d decided on a sketch as his third option, another obvious choice for Harry who had been doodling and perfecting his pencil work since he was old enough to hold a crayon.

As Harry was about to roll a blunt to calm down, he heard Valentina’s beautiful voice seep under his door, signaling her arrival home. He knew that she tried to be quiet whenever she thought he was around, that she drowned out her own voice with other music while she practiced. Harry had always wondered why she did that, but he’d never really gotten the chance to ask. Well, he’d had many opportunities to ask, but he’d never acted on any of them.

She was humming something, and Harry wondered if she was even aware that she was singing or if it came as second nature to her, like whenever he found himself doodling in the margins of his notepad during lectures. Harry had been sitting in silence, and whenever he did that he knew Valentina just assumed he was out, seeing as he was listening to music loudly most of the time when he was home.

He stood quietly, bare feed padding softly against the wooden floor as he went to his door, opening it slightly to peer out at Valentina who was in the kitchen. She’d discarded her jacket on the couch, and looked to be making pasta, hips swaying slightly as she quietly sang lyrics in a language that Harry guessed was italian.

The way the lyrics flowed from her mouth felt like poetry hanging in the air, and Harry felt his skin prickle, a shiver running up his spine at the passion that could be heard behind each word, even though they were quiet.

He had no clue what Valentina was singing about, but her voice made him want to learn Italian just to discover the secret meaning hidden just out of his reach by a foreign dialect.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, leaning in the doorway to watch her cook. There was something so endearing about the way she stood next to the pot of water on the stove, as if her watchful gaze would make the water boil faster.

“Have you got laser vision or something I should be worried about?” Harry asked as he approached Valentina. She whipped around and Harry realized he would never get tired of that adorable look of shock on her face.

“What?”

Harry sighed, noticing that what he’d just said probably made zero sense, “forget about it.” he said, moving past her to grab his Eggos from the freezer.

“No, can you uh, what did you mean?” she asked, pressing him for answers for the first time ever, and it made Harry stop, turning to look at her with a cheeky grin.

He laughed, “I just meant, you’re staring at your water love, s’ not gonna make it boil any faster, unless you have laser vision.”

She studied him and for a few seconds the kitchen was quiet, two souls staring at each other, trying to figure each other out. Finally Valentina laughed, “you’re a bit of a dork aren't you?” she questioned, quirking an eyebrow at him as Harry went into motion, going to her other side to access the toaster.

“A lil bit.” he admitted.

Valentina watched him pop the waffles into the toaster and sighed, “is that all you eat?”

“Sometimes.” he said, turning to lean against the counter, arms crossing over his chest as he looked at her directly.

“Look, I know pasta is still a carb, so it’s not much better, but how about you give something that’s not frozen a try?” Valentina sighed.

Harry cocked his head at her, a grin flashing over his features, “you offering to cook for me sweetheart?”

Valentina rolled her eyes, scoffing, “wow, a girl tries to be nice and now I feel like I’m your mom-”

“Can’t fuck me mum now can I?”

Valentina gaped at him, “uh, can’t fuck me either-”

“I mean, no, you’re right-” the smile disappeared as he stood up straighter, eyebrows furrowing, “I just meant, you’re an option-” he gestured to her and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Uh…”

“Fuck me.” Harry groaned, quickly moving past her to escape to his bedroom. The door shut behind him and Valentina was left staring at it, mind still trying to comprehend the odd interaction that had just taken place.

A few moments later, heavy rock began blasting from under his door and Valentina sighed, turning back to her water which had come to a boil. She poured her pasta in and set a timer for eight minutes, pushing herself up so she could sit on the counter while she waited, scrolling through her phone absentmindedly.

The popping of the toaster nearly stopped her heart, and she groaned loudly, a little annoyed that Harry was still surprising her and he wasn’t even in the room. She stared down at the two waffles that Harry had abandoned and sighed, this guy was really something else.

--------

The knock on his door had been distinct, something Harry couldn’t have missed. He waited a few moments before going to open the door, surprised to not find Valentina standing there. Instead, at his feet, was a bowl of pasta with tomato sauce, his eggos sitting half on top. Harry looked down at the food, stomach flip flopping at the thought that Valentina had legitimately made him food, even after his very odd comment about his mum.

Harry stepped over the food, walking the two steps to get to Valentina’s door. He knocked softly, gnawing at his lip while he waited.

She opened the door with furrowed brows, surprised (again) at his behaviour, having not expected him to interact with her after such an odd interaction in the kitchen.

“Thanks for the food.” he stated immediately, his hands coming up to rest on either side of the door frame. Leaning over made him eye level with Valentina and she got a good look at his beautiful green eyes.

“It’s fine.” she said, “I offered right?”

“You did and I… uh… I don’t talk to people much? Sometimes- sometimes stupid things leave my mouth.” his eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to find the words, “and we live together, so I don’t want you to feel any pressure, m’ not a creep-”

“I know you’re not.” Valentina interrupted, “I don’t get creepy vibes from you.”

“Oh. Well, good.” Harry nodded more to himself than anything, “I uh…” Harry groaned, conflicted on whether or not this was a good time to ask her to be his model for his final, “you know what? Forget about it.”

He turned to go and Valentina grabbed at his forearm, making him stop and look at her, “what is it?” she asked, eyes full of concern and intrigue at what could possibly be something Harry didn’t want to say.

She let go of his arm and he ran a hand through his curls, “I’ve got this final, and I need a model and, well, I thought of you-”

“Me?” Valentina asked in shock, “what about the girl you had over the other night?”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, for a moment not realizing who she was even talking about. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. She’d heard when he’d had the girl over. He’d thought he’d played the music loud enough, “uh… she’s… uh, that girl, we’re not, she’s not-”

“She’s not your girlfriend.” Valentina stated for him.

“Yeah.” Harry breathed, “she’s just a girl.”

Valentina studied him for a moment, “and if I model for you, she’s not going to get mad?”

“‘M not seeing her again, she’s got nothin’ to be mad about.” Harry said, watching Valentina’s reaction to his words. She did visibly relax a little, taking a deep breath that told Harry that this topic may have been something that had been on her mind.

“Okay. I’ll model for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Harry beamed at her before he could stop himself, surprising them both with his enthusiasm. He hadn’t realized how important this was to him, how vital it was that she be the one he could base his project on. No one else could compare, and for a moment, Harry wondered if that statement applied to more than just his art, but he brushed it aside, “uh, wanna send me your schedule and we can figure out time?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

“You, uh, you have my number right?” he rubbed at the back of his neck. They’d texted to meet that first day, then once when she told him when she was moving in, but other than that they hadn’t messaged each other. Harry didn’t talk to many people, so her contact stared up at him any time he opened his texting app, her name usually right under ‘fuck’ and it had always created an odd feeling in the pit of Harry’s stomach that he usually ignored.

“Yeah.”

“Cool, so, text me.” he said.

“I will.” she assured him, amused at his tone that implied the text was necessary for future communication, and they didn't live in the same apartment.

Harry bent down to pick up his food, “thanks again, for this.” he said as he moved to step into his room.

“Again, no worries.” Valentina assured him with a laugh.

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Harry closed his door and Valentina stood there for a few seconds before closing hers, shaking her head to herself. Wondering how in the world had she managed to snag such an odd roommate.

--------

“So a picture, a painting, and a sketch.” Valentina clarified.

“Yeah.” Harry said, popping a chip into his mouth. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging slightly, watching Valentina read his notes on the plan for the project.

“Your constant is flowers.”

“Uh huh.”

“So… uh…” Valentina cleared her throat, “these ideas for every day things to take pictures of-”

“Want to get a photo of everything, even what m’ gonna paint or sketch, make it a little easier.” Harry stated, “but you’ll still have to pose-”

“That’s not a problem,” Valentina said, “I’m looking at this note that says bathtub.”

“Yeah.” Harry munched on another chip, the crackling of the potato as he chewed was too loud in the quiet apartment, “it’s everyday things and you like having baths.”

Valentina felt her skin flush, “I mean, I do but-”

“Wear a skin coloured thong and those nipple things.” Harry said, motioning to his chest area with the bag of chips.

“Nipple pasties?” Valentina asked.

“Yeah. Those.”

“You have a lot of different shots planned here.” Valentina pointed out.

“Yeah, figured I’d look at all the options and choose the ones that fit together best.”

“So how important to you is the bathtub shot?”

Harry thought about it for a moment, “pretty important.” he admitted, “if you don’t want to do it-”

Valentina took a deep breath, “No. let’s go for it. You have a vision and you’re an artist, wouldn’t want to step on your toes.”

Harry appreciated that. So much so that he felt his heart clench in his chest. She trusted him. Or, at the very least, she trusted his artistic eye, and that meant a lot to him. Most people were skeptical with Harry’s ideas. He was known for taking people out of their comfort zones if he was doing a project with them, which was one of the reasons he hated working with models, because they always questioned him and his vision. But not Valentina.

God, he adored her.

Harry set down his bag of chips, “so how much time do you have?”

“I have about two hours before I have to go study-”

“Want to get the bath picture done now? And we can do the other photos tomorrow?” Harry suggested.

“Uh…” Valentina thought about it for a moment then took another deep breath, “sure, why not.”

“Great, you go get changed, and I’ll start the water.” Harry jumped from the counter, “how hot do you like it?”

Valentina gnawed at her lip, allowing her mind to wander, if only for a brief moment, into the gutter to consider an alternative meaning to his words, “scalding.” she said finally, absentmindedly, earning a chuckle from Harry who disappeared into the bathroom.

In her bedroom, Valentina stripped and picked up a somewhat flesh coloured thong, stepping into it and pulling it into place. Her nipple pasties, which she had bought for certain backless dresses, were pressed to her skin firmly so they wouldn’t move out of place. Valentina looked at herself in the mirror, scrutinizing her every curve as one foot rubbed at the back of her calf anxiously.

Alas, she’d agreed to this. She slipped on a robe and hesitantly went to join Harry in the bathroom. He’d set up a chair right next to the tub, sitting on it as he tested the temperature of the water with a hand. His expensive looking camera was set on the sink counter, and he didn’t even look up as she entered, “should be warm enough.” he mused.

He sat up straight, turning to look at her for the first time and he noticed the robe, “shit, I’ll uh… give you space to take that off.” he said, standing as he realized how little he had actually thought this whole thing through.

Harry left the bathroom and Valentina eyed the door cautiously before removing her robe, stepping into the water that was somehow the perfect temperature. The water had a sort of white look to it and Valentina wondered if Harry had put something in it to make it opaque. Unsure exactly how to position herself in the large bath, Valentina rolled onto her stomach, her chest pressed to the cold tub as her arms held her up on the rim, her eyes on the door, “okay, you can come in.”

It took a moment but Harry entered, he looked a little distraught, and Valentina realized they were both uncomfortable with the situation at hand. Harry took one look at her half submerged body, the way her beautiful tan skin looked against the white water, and he took a shuddery breath, “Pink.” he stated.

“Pink?” Valentina asked.

“Yes.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, staring directly at her while his mind worked out a plan, “you stay here, I need to go get a bath bomb from that store down the street.” he stated, “and the flowers I bought, they’re all wrong, won’t match your skin tone. I’ll be back. Don’t move.” he commanded, voice strong and dominant, something unexpected from the usually quiet artist.

Valentina nodded, watching as Harry turned and swiftly grabbed his jacket from the kitchen. A few seconds later she heard the apartment door shut, and Valentina took a deep breath, turning onto her back so she could relax in the water while she waited for him to return with whatever products he deemed necessary for the photo shoot.

Valentina found herself in a peaceful half slumber, enjoying the warmth of the water that cocooned her nearly naked body, and the sunshine coming through the window. So at ease, Valentina almost missed the sound of Harry’s return, sitting up hastily, an arm covering her chest as he entered the bathroom with a bag in one hand and a bouquet in the other.

Valentina’s wet fingers came to brush a stubborn strand of dark hair from her face, the tendril having escaped from her messy bun, “flowers for me?” she asked enthusiastically, hoping to lighten the awkward mood with a joke, “Harry, you shouldn’t have.”

He tilted his head at her and for a moment she was worried he hadn’t understood her joke, but then he said “don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name before love.” and Valentina suddenly looked just as thoughtful as he did.

She remembered the first time she’d said his name. Sitting on the grass with Bethany, looking up her elusive roommate on instagram. “You’re right.” Valentina confessed, “I guess I haven't.”

“Sounds nice. Coming from you.” Harry said as he sat on his chair next to the tub, setting the flowers down gingerly as he reached for the bag to pull out two pink bath bombs.

Without another word, Harry plopped the bath bombs into the water, creating a small splash that had Valentina pulling away, legs rising, more skin showing as her knees came above the water. Harry’s eyes locked on the newly exposed flesh and his mouth began to feel weird, making him swallow thickly as he studied the beautiful colour of Valentina’s skin, all shiny from the water and looking so smooth and inviting, as if begging for his touch.

The water was quickly turning pink, and the blossoming colour drew Harry’s eyes from his model, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied the changing water. He picked up the bouquet of wildflowers he’d found, considering colour scheme and how nice each flower would look on a pink background or next to Valentina’s lovely skin.

Harry had a knack for keeping plants alive, those growing on her terrace being a testament to that fact, but he’d be damned if he knew the actual name of any of the flowers he was looking at in that moment. He chose yellows and whites, enjoying the soft, delicate colours and how they looked as he set them into the water next to Valentina’s skin, who watched him carefully place the flowers.

Valentina didn’t realize she was holding her breath, biting down on her lip as she held completely still while he worked, until Harry looked up at her, “you okay?” he asked, noticing the tension and rigidity in the way she was holding herself.

He was leaning over the tub, so close to Valentina that she could feel his breath against her skin, creating goosebumps as she looked into his green eyes, “yeah, I, uh… do I have to stay still for this?”

“Got a good camera love, any motion won’t be captured.” he assured her, leaning back from the tub to give some distance as he grabbed at the camera.

“So do you have any poses you want me to do?” Valentina asked awkwardly, holding herself tighter with the arm that covered her chest which only pushed up her boobs more, something Harry most definitely noticed by the way his eyes flickered down then up again.

He cleared his throat, “a little of every position if you don’t mind, figure it’s better-”

“To take more than you need than not enough.” Valentina finished for him, understanding completely as she positioned herself a little better. Her interruption earned a small smile from Harry who wasn’t used to people finishing his sentences for him, but part of him enjoyed the fact that she knew what was on his mind, most people didn't.

Harry began to take pictures, looking for every possible angle, finding ways to use the natural light to his advantage as he moved around the room, studying the way Valentina’s skin lit up from different perspectives. He immersed himself in his craft, truly enjoying and finding solace in the process, the steps taken to get the best shots he could.

Little commands left his lips effortlessly, and Valentina gracefully followed every instruction as if listening to Harry and following his vision was second nature. It was the easiest photo shoot Harry had ever done in his entire life, and as he looked at the pictures, he gnawed on his lips absentmindedly.

Harry wasn’t the type to ever get distracted while working on his craft, but there was something about Valentina that was setting his pulse racing like nothing he’d ever experienced. His jeans were beginning to feel tight as Harry got a few of the last shots he wanted, pictures of her sitting up, head turned slightly as the camera got a nice glimpse of beautiful, delicate, slender shoulders that Harry wanted to mark up with little love bites.

A small strand of black hair fell out of place, and before Harry could help himself, he was reaching out to adjust it, his fingers brushing against one of Valentina’s high cheekbones as he moved the tendril behind her ear. Her eyes caught Harry’s and they looked at each other for a few moments before Harry forced himself to move away, getting the last, beautiful, picture.

“Are we done?” Valentina asked when Harry went to sit on the sink countertop, looking down at his camera as his eyes scanned through some photos.

“Yeah.” Harry mumbled, too enthralled with the model on his screen to talk to the girl who was sitting in the tub right in front of him. He couldn’t look at her. He was afraid what would happen if he did. He was afraid that his words would catch, that his palms would get sweaty, that his mouth would get dry. He was afraid of how his body would react, beyond his control, yearning for his roommate.

“Can- can you pass me a towel?”

Harry’s eyes flickered up, and he sat frozen for a moment before grabbing at the seafoam blue towel she always used, handing it to her. He turned to look at his camera again as she stood from the bath, but he couldn’t help but admire her from his peripheral vision as she wrapped the towel around her body, securing it closed at her chest.

A long, beautiful, tan leg stepped out of the tub and onto the floor mat, and Harry had to fight hard not to appreciate the way droplets of water glistened against her skin, “thanks.” he mumbled, “for being my model.”

“Yeah, no worries.” Valentina said, “just uh, can you send me some? The good ones?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, not looking up as she left the bathroom. His eyes scanned the pictures he’d taken on the small camera screen and he sighed, if he sent her all the good ones, he’d be sending her all of them.

--------

It was a late September day and the New York sky was covered in distressed looking clouds. Harry had decided on skipping his morning watering of the terrace plants after a quick look at the weather forecast promised mid afternoon showers.

Feeling anxious about the photoshoot, Harry had slipped on a hoodie and some jeans, going to stand outside of Valentina’s room. He waited a few moments before awkwardly knocking on her door, earning a “come in!”

Taking a breath, he pushed open the door. Valentina was standing in front of her closet, the silky, floral robe from yesterday wrapped around her body, “what colours should I wear?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed as she scanned the clothing in front of her, “you seemed to like yellow, pink and white yesterday, but I don’t want to overstep and assume you’re keeping up that palette for the whole shoot thing.”

“Can I-” Harry began to ask, wanting to come further into Valentina’s room to get a better look at the options, but not knowing how to just ask for permission.

Valentina looked up at him, realizing what was on his mind immediately, “yeah, come look.” she said, moving over to give him space to stand in front of her closet as he awkwardly shuffled through her room, hands shoved into the front pocket of his hoodie.

“I like the plaid pants you always wear.” Harry mused, searching for them with his eyes, “and the tight black turtleneck. You always pair it with those little wedged black ankle boots and that long fawn coloured duster.”

Valentina looked over at Harry in shock, having not realized he paid so much attention to her outfits.

“With your hair in a messy bun and your glasses, and that little hat you wear sometimes.” he thought about it for a moment, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her clothes but he wasn't looking at the clothes, mind lost in the idea of Valentina, “no, not the hat, I like your hair.”

“Okay.” Valentina said, “I’ll put on that outfit then, but uh… I don’t really need glasses except for when I’m reading-”

“Then skip the glasses. And we should leave soon yeah? Might rain later.” Harry said, anxiety evident in the tone of his voice.

“Sure, give me five minutes.” Valentina said, watching Harry leave and close the door behind him.

He paced in the living room, one hand mussing up his wild, bed disheveled curls, while he held his camera protectively with the other. Harry figured they might as well take a bunch of shots to give him ideas, he’d choose what pictures would become what medium later, but as of that moment, he just needed to beat the rain.

--------

Harry was once more blown away with how effortlessly Valentina posed for his pictures. Harry knew he wasn’t easy to work with, some commands were so miniscule, the slightest tilt of Valentina’s head, but she complied to every single request beautifully.

The park was fairly deserted, and Harry attributed that to the fact that the clouds were gradually getting darker, setting him on edge as he eyed them every few minutes.

A few times, Harry caught himself just watching Valentina, camera forgotten in his hands as she walked down a cute rocky path with her hands in her pockets for a shot. He wanted to take pictures, but looking at the camera almost took something away from the reality of it all, and it was, oddly enough, starting to annoy Harry who had never felt that way before.

He’d brought the bouquet and gave it to Valentina for a few pictures, but there was something a little off about it. “Do you mind if-” Harry began and Valentina nodded immediately.

“Do whatever you need.” she said, eyes on him as Harry reached to pull her hair out of the messy bun. He ran his fingers through the thick, dark hair, reveling in how silky and beautiful it was as he tamed the half waves that were a result of the bun that he’d just dismantled. Once he was satisfied with the look, he plucked a pretty pink flower from the bouquet and settled it into Valentina’s dark locks, making sure it was sturdy before he gave her a once over, nodding with satisfaction.

He’d taken a few pictures when a rumbling sound made both Valentina and Harry look towards the sky, “shit.” Harry cussed immediately, the first rain drops already beginning to darken the cement pathway in spots, “we should go back before-” there was another loud sound of thunder, and a crack, then the rain started coming down harder.

Both Valentina and Harry began to run for cover immediately, Valentine a few feet ahead of Harry as they bolted for the trees. In those brief moments of caos, Valentina running with her long black hair swishing through the air, the flower still perfectly situated, her face half turned to make sure Harry was behind her, jacket billowing out beautifully, bouquet in one hand, half forgotten as she ran, Harry captured a few pictures.

As soon as they were under the cover of a tree, Harry put away his camera, making sure there was no water damage before he looked up at Valentina. Her hair was already a little wet, a few dark tendrils attached to her forehead and cheek, “we should have brought umbrellas.” she mused, collecting her hair again to put up in a ponytail. The flower that had been so perfectly situated amongst Valentina’s dark locks fell and landed at Harry’s feet, he stared at the meek pink petals, damaged by the rain.

Harry hummed in response, looking out at the parts of the path that were exposed to open sky. The loud patter of raindrops colliding with the earth made Harry’s skin prickle, or perhaps that was caused by a large water droplet running down from his throat to his spine. Harry rubbed the back of his neck in an effort to clear away some of the water, grimacing at the sight in front of him, they’d have to make a run for it and they both knew it.

“On three?” Harry suggested finally, turning to look at the beautiful girl beside him.

She nodded, looking determined.

“One.” Harry began, Valentina joined in on the “two.” and at “three” she grabbed his hand, the two of them scurrying out from under the cover of the trees as they made a run for the street. Harry stopped abruptly and pulled Valentina to a halt as he looked both ways before crossing, not having a death wish like the girl beside him who had looked completely content with bolting across and hoping for the best.

Once on the other side, they stuck close to the buildings, getting some cover from awnings and restaurant canopies as they made their way back to the apartment. Harry gripped Valentina’s hand tightly, despite the rain making both of their palms wet and slippery.

Other souls, with rain jackets and umbrellas, parted for Harry who looked like he was on a warpath, Valentina in his wake as he wove through the people on the street. Harry was getting cold, the rain having already soaked through his grey hoodie, his strong shoulders feeling the first of what felt like death's grasp as his teeth began to chatter. His free hand came up to push some wet curls from his face, and he turned to look behind him, able to feel Valentina there but wanting to get a glimpse of her face to see if his fast pace was alright with her.

She flashed him a smile, looking remarkable even amidst the fact that she was soaked, rain dripping down her face like tears that Harry realized he never wanted to see.

They picked up their pace a little as they neared the apartment, pulling into the alcove as a sanctuary from the rain as Harry took his hand away from Valentina’s, fingers shaking while he pulled out his keys. He fumbled with the door for a moment, feeling his entire body spasming from the cold as Valentina gently took the keys, managing to get the door open. Harry held it wide so she could slip through first, under his arm, then they ran up the old wooden stairs. Harry knew they were probably leaving puddles, but he didn’t care, all he cared about was reaching the apartment and the shower that awaited him.

Harry was practically buzzing out of his skin, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet as he watched Valentina open the door to their apartment, both of them rushing in as soon as they could, heading towards the bathroom.

“Fuck.” Harry said, realizing one of them would have to wait for the other to shower first. He’d gotten used to living alone for many years, and this was the first time there would be an issue over usage of a common space since Valentina had moved in.

Valentina must have heard Harry’s cussing because she turned to look at him, frowning as she came to the same realization Harry had moments before. She turned to look at him, watching him set down his camera on the couch next to the bouquet she’d tossed down seconds before. He looked like a mess, skin pale, whole body shivering, grey hoodie about four shades darker than normal, a small puddle already forming at his feet, and a decision was made immediately, “come shower with me.” she stated, grabbing his hand for the second time that day.

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened as he stumbled after her, dragged along by the determined looking opera singer.

“You’ve seen me practically naked already, and you look really cold, come shower with me.” she stated again as they entered the bathroom, already moving to turn on the shower and get the hot water started. Valentina let go of Harry’s hand to pull off her jacket, leaving it on the floor as her hands found the bottom of her black turtleneck, dragging it over her head.

Harry swallowed thickly, eyes taking in the pretty black bra and the newly exposed skin that he longed to reach out and touch. He wondered if the skin on her abdomen would be as soft as it looked, wondered how beautiful it would feel to trace the curve from her waist to hip bone-

“You are shivering!” Valentina said again, snapping Harry out of his daze as she grabbed at the bottom of his hoodie, “take this off before you catch cold.”

Harry allowed Valentina to pull it off of him, leaving him in a white vneck that was also soaked through, exposing his black tattoos that almost seemed to press up against the material, begging to be adored and explored by the beautiful girl in front of him.

Valentina stopped and suddenly Harry wasn’t shuddering anymore, in fact, his skin felt like it was on fire as Valentina’s eyes wandered over Harry’s form, unabashed and unafraid.

Her gaze flickered up to Harry’s and she could feel his breath on her face, realizing how close they were standing. She licked her bottom lip subconsciously, body reacting to the man in front of her before her mind could even process what she was doing. Harry noticed the small movement immediately and he looked at her lips for a moment before his eyes went up to hers again.

He didn’t think. Nothing ran through his brain, no thoughts, no fears, no worries, he just reached out and grabbed her face, bringing his lips to hers. Harry noticed first how cold she was, her lips tasted like summer rain and Harry melted against her, pressing his body closer as her fingers looped in the waistband of his jeans. He wanted to warm her up, tongue gliding across her lower lip before he sucked it into his mouth, earning a soft sighing sound that made his heart race even faster in his chest. He wanted to touch her hair, to feel it again, and within moments he’d managed to slip off the hair tie, releasing the heavy locks that tumbled down to her shoulders, ready for his eager fingers.

Her hands were cold, digits brushing against his bare abdomen that had been exposed when she’d lifted his shirt a little, and Harry hissed, pulling away from her slightly to escape her wandering touch.

Valentina opened her eyes, looking up at him with a smile, “your lips are turning blue.” she teased, reminding Harry again of the cold that had seeped through his skin and was threatening to clutch at his bones. “Come on.” she said, stepping away from him as her fingers went to her belt, undoing it so she could slip down her plaid pants. Harry watched her, eyes devouring her half naked body, nothing but a little matching black thong and bra keeping her from him.

She went to the shower, back turning to Harry as she tested the water, and he got a good view of her backside. He’d seen it before, having taken a few more risque shots in the tub the day before, but in this context, it was different. His hands fumbled with his own jeans and his shirt, pulling them off and tossing them to the floor next to Valentina’s wet pile of discarded clothing.

Harry hurried to join Valentina in the medium sized shower, he’d spent a lot of money on an expensive rainshower head so it would cover his whole body, and he’d never appreciated it more in the three years since he’d gotten it than he did in that moment. Pulling the door shut behind him, he got as close to Valentina as he could without touching her, unsure whether one kiss merited anything more, especially with them both almost naked in a shower.

Valentina sensed that he’d entered the hot stream of water and turned to look at him, which was hard to do since she had to tilt her head up and keeping her eyes open against the steady drops was not something her body was keen on doing. Harry grinned, head dipped down as he looked at the shorter girl in front of him.

Giving up, Valentina closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of him being there as her hands came up to interlock behind his head, forearms resting on his shoulders as she pulled him close until their chests were touching. Her head dipped, forehead resting on the spot just between his collar bones at the base of his throat, and Harry pressed his cheek against the top of her head, his hands settling on her waist to keep her close.

The shower was quickly filling with steam and the hot water was relaxing Harry, his skin turning a light shade of pink as it reacted to the temperature. The muscles that had been so tense in his shoulders unknotted as he enjoyed the feeling of his hands on Valentina’s small waist, the curve there was just as he’d imagined it to be, he could trace it forever with his fingers.

There was something about the embrace that felt so familiar, which didn’t make any sense to Harry because he usually wasn’t a hugger. In fact, he hadn’t hugged a girl in, well, he couldn't remember the last time exactly. But he knew that whenever it was, it had not felt like this. He was holding onto Valentina and he never wanted to let go, he felt more at home with her arms around him than he ever had in the apartment that he was thanking god he’d been forced to open up to her. It felt so right. Harry wanted to live in the shower with her forever, wanted to exist solely in that moment for the rest of his life.

Then Valentina was moving and Harry wanted to groan, wanted to tell her please stay like this with me forever, please stay, but then her lips were meeting his and he realized perhaps this is where he wanted to be forever. He thought the embrace had been heaven and it had been, but this was something more, this was something indescribable, and it left his mind blank as he revelled in the feeling of her lips against his.

Her fingers came up to tangle in his wet curls, and a slight pull had Harry groaning into her mouth, his black briefs straining to keep him contained. Harry forced himself to pull away, resting his forehead against hers as he caught his breath, water streaming down both of their faces. Valentina looked up at him, noticing the way small droplets of water clung to his long, dark, pretty lashes as he met her gaze under heavy lids, green eyes almost fully obscured by lust filled pupils.

“You’re so pretty.” she mused, brushing the pads of her fingers against a cheekbone she’d been aching to touch since the day she met him.

He nuzzled his face against her hand, breathing deeply, “you’re the pretty one love.”

Valentina felt a blush rising on her skin and she looked down, noticing his briefs for the first time, and, more particularly, the fact that Harry was hard as a rock beneath them. She swallowed a lump in her throat, mind reeling at the whole situation.

She’d kissed her roommate.

She was half naked in the shower with her roommate.

She was considering sleeping with her roommate.

If there was one thing Valentina knew, it was that shower sex was not something she enjoyed. Gorgeous roommate or not, she was not about to have sex with someone in a shower and prove, yet again, that water was, in fact, not lube.

Before she knew what she was doing, Valentina was exiting the shower, leaving Harry confused and alone under the stream of hot water.

She wrapped a towel around her chest, awkwardly slipping out of her bra and panties while still covered with the fabric as Harry poked his head out of the shower, “did I do something wrong?” he asked, looking so innocent and sweet, cheeks twinged red, eyes full of concern.

“No.” Valentina assured him, putting her hair up in a second towel “I just- shower sex. Not a fan.”

Harry seemed to consider it for a moment then nodded, “right.” he said, still confused by the interaction.

“But… the bedroom-” Valentina’s voice was soft. So soft, Harry almost missed it as he began to shut the door to the shower. He stopped. Wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him as he stood there.

Poking his head out again he eyed her, “go to my room, I’ll join you in a mo’ yeah?”

Valentina bit at her lip and after a moment, she nodded, leaving the bathroom to go to see Harry’s room for the first time while he finished up in the shower and tried to steady his racing heart beat.

Pushing the door open to Harry’s bedroom, Valentina’s curious eyes ate up everything in front of her.

Two large windows illuminated the room in a sort of grey hue, the rainclouds outside were even stormier than before, and the sound of rain hitting glass filled the space with a soft ambiance that made Valentina’s skin prickle. It was messy, but it was a sort of organized chaos that Valentina was beginning to realize was a bit of a Harry staple. As she’d seen the first day, a mattress was on the floor, a white duvet crumpled up on the middle, Valentina wondered if Harry had troubles sleeping.

She almost missed the piano, as it was have obscured by clothes and a record player sitting on top of its closed lid. It looked like either a baby or medium grand piano and Valentina’s fingers began to feel like they were buzzing. She’d grown up playing, but hadn’t played since she moved to New York for university.

Clutching her towel tighter around her body, she approached the piano, careful to step over the things that marred the floor. The keys were a little dusty, as if it hadn’t been played in a while, and Valentina knew this was true, she would have heard it if Harry had played it while she was in the apartment.

There was bench that she sat on gingerly, pushing a comfy looking hoodie out of the way to do so as her fingers stretched over the keys, mind flipping through all the songs she knew.

The song began before it had really registered in Valentina’s brain that she’d chosen something, but as soon as the familiar notes filled the room, her shoulders relaxed, a smile playing across her face as she immersed herself in the music. She ignored the cold of the piano pedal against her bare foot, wanting to do the music justice.

Movement flickered in her peripheral vision and she looked up, noticing the massive mirror she’d suspected was somewhere in his room for a while. Harry was in the doorway behind her, his image reflected through the old looking, golden framed mirror. He had a camera in his hands and he was taking pictures of Valentina. Her skin heated up immediately, and she stopped her movements, the music cut off abruptly as she turned to look at him, “hey!”

“What?” he asked, a small smile appearing on his face as he lowered the camera, looking at her.

“You’re taking pictures.”

“So?”

“So…” she struggled to find a good reason for him not to take pictures of her but came up empty, sighing loudly as she instead decided to focus on his tattoos. Her eyes scanned his torso, looking at the birds and the butterfly on his stomach.

Figuring her hair would be less damp, she removed the towel from her head, releasing her black tangle of curls that cascaded down her back.

Harry watched her motion, itching to capture the beauty of it with his camera, wanting to have it forever, to look at over and over again when he was bored. The towel landed on the floor amidst his clothes but it made Harry smile, the act of tossing the fabric aside like she belonged in his room was something marvelous to him, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Didn’t know you played piano.” Harry mused instead, walking into the room to set his camera down on top of the piano next to the record player.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me I guess.” Valentina said, returning her gaze to the pretty white keys that her fingers tested gently, creating soft music that filled the room like it belonged there, mingling with the soft percussion of the rain on the windows.

“There’s a lot I want to know.” Harry said, walking over to the closet.

Valentina focused on the piano, giving Harry some privacy as he slipped on some grey sweats. Then he came up behind her, leaning over her as his arms went loosely around her front, “gonna show me some notes love?” he asked, breath on her ear and neck creating goosebumps that ran rampant across her skin.

Valentina took one of his hands, settling it on the keys, placing each finger. “Press this one.” she said, applying a little bit of pressure as he followed the command. She continued this for a few more notes until he could play the start of ‘Heart and Soul,’ which was one of those songs that Valentina supposed anyone could learn.

“Wait. If you have a piano, don’t you play?” she looked up at him and he smirked.

“Caught me.”

“Hey!” she laughed, tearing her hands away from his as she shoved backwards at his thigh to get him to move away, “not funny.”

“‘S sorta funny.” Harry said, collapsing down onto his bed as he watched Valentina sit at his piano. His left arm went behind his head to prop himself up and Valentina got a nice view of all the other tattoos she hadn’t seen before.

He looked relaxed, lounging on his bed like a large, dark cat with mischievous green eyes to match. An odd thought crossed Valentina’s mind while she watched him, wondering what it would sound like to make him purr, but she shook it away, turning to look at the piano again.

Even not looking at Harry, she could feel his eyes on her and turned to gaze at him, smiling, “why do you look at me so much?”

“Cuz you’re gorgeous pet.” Harry answered immediately, offering a shy grin, “m’ an artist after all.”

She tilted her head at him, thinking about his words. Valentina definitely had noticed there was something that set him apart from other guys she knew. His attention to details. The way he looked at her, noticing everything. It had made her uncomfortable at first, feeling like she was being judged the moment she met him in the coffee shop the month before, but she’d gotten used to it. Sitting on the piano bench in Harry’s chaotic room, his eyes watching her as they always did, she realized perhaps having his attention wasn’t a bad thing. He wasn’t judging, not really, and if he was, he was enjoying what he was seeing, a thought that made Valentina’s heart flutter in her chest.

With a loud sigh, Valentina stood, carefully approaching Harry who immediately made room for her on the bed. She sank to her knees and, after a moment's hesitation, laid down next to Harry, using his bare chest as a pillow as their legs tangled like they’d done it a hundred times before. Harry enveloped her with his body, breath steady against the top of her head, skin warm under her touch. Sneaking a glance up at him, she once again took the time to appreciate how beautiful he was and after a moment, he laughed, seemingly uncomfortable being under her gaze.

“Not so easy being looked at is it?” Valentina teased, earning a chuckle as he stared up at the ceiling.

“Guess not.” he admitted.

“So…” Valentina trailed off, knowing what she wanted to ask but not knowing how to ask it.

“So.” Harry echoed, lost in his own tumultuous thoughts that rivaled the chaos of the storm pattering about outside the window.

“We live together.”

“We do.”

“And…” Valentina struggled to find the words, “I don’t want there to be issues if something happens between us-”

“Something bad.” Harry clarified.

“Yeah. Something bad.” Valentina reiterated, “because we live together.”

The room was quiet aside from the sound of the rain and the soft breaths Harry took as he thought about what to say. Finally he rubbed at his eyes with a hand, blinking to clear his mind of an fogginess that might impair him as he struggled to communicate exactly what he was thinking, “you fit.” he sighed, that was not what he meant, “we fit. You don’t mind my two AM waffle runs or the fact that I blast music. You said yes to being my model, and don’t question me when I want to take a specific shot. You try to help me achieve my vision, and you look absolutely lovely doing it. You’re stunning. You’re smart. Your voice… I’ve paused my music to listen to you sing a number of times. The way you belt out lyrics when you think I’m not here-” Harry chuckled, “I like you a lot. And I don’t like most people. I know I’m awkward. I know it’s probably not easy, living here with me. But, I really like you. And if you don’t want to try something because we’re roommates, I will move out. I will.”

Valentina had been watching him the duration of his speech and she was taken aback by his words, by the serious determination in his eyes as he told her he would move if it meant even getting a chance at something with her.

“I really like you.” he said again, softer this time as his fingers ran through her hair, wrapping a strand around a digit as he finally looked down at her where she was propped up on his chest, “and if I’ve just made this weird then I’m sor-”

Valentina pressed her lips to his, cutting off the unneeded apology as she grabbed at his face. His hands went to her towel covered waist, pulling her on top of him as her legs straddled him, getting a better angle as she ground down against his grey sweatpants.

Harry still had a semi from the whole interaction in the shower, and all it took was one swivel of Valentina’s hips to have him groaning into her mouth again. His fingers dug into the towel that covered her body, the only thing keeping her from being fully naked on top of him. Fighting the urge to tear the fabric off, Harry brought a hand up to tangle his digits into her hair, but that only proved to make the situation even worse as he fought the need to tug on the strands and see if she enjoyed the tingling of pain just as much as he did.

He wasn’t a fan of not having control, and although Valentina was working magic with the way the motion of her hips sent shivers up his body, Harry could only stand being under her for so long before he grabbed her waist and threw her off of him, sliding between her legs again as his lips met hers hungrily. Her fingers went to try to get at Harry’s sweats, pushing them down slightly as he tore open the towel, a low sound vibrating through his chest as he looked down at her with eyes so dark and intense that Valentina almost felt something like fear, something like exhilaration, something that made her heart race in her chest like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life.

Now that she was naked, Valentina was even more eager to get Harry on a level playing field, once more tugging at his grey sweats in an effort to get them off so she could see exactly what she’d been dumb enough to live without all month. Before she could get them down, Harry sat up on his knees, taking in deep breaths as he looked down at her, running a hand through his hair.

“Condoms.” Harry stated as she fussed with the drawstring of the sweats, tearing his eyes from the beautiful girl underneath him whom he just wanted to look at, for ages and ages and ages.

“On the pill.” Valentina said, finally managing to get the knot of his joggers undone, pushing his sweats down to his knees. Harry swallowed thickly, eyes darting down to stare at Valentina. Any other girl and he wouldn’t risk it, any other girl and he’d question who else they’d fucked that week, but Valentina wasn’t any other girl. She was the girl. He knew she wasn’t the type to fuck around, and any inhibitions that would have made him pause, made him wonder, ‘is going in raw really worth the possible risk of having a baby?’ flew out the window. Besides, an apartment baby didn’t sound that bad.

Harry stared at the beautiful naked girl below him ,and as much as part of him wanted to just slip inside and ravage her like every other girl he’d ever had on his overly expensive mattress on the floor of his room, a bigger part of him just wanted to kiss her and praise her and make her feel good.

He brought himself over her again, supporting himself on his forearm as one hand slid up her body and his lips met hers again. Valentina’s legs wrapped around his waist urging Harry to do something, but he wanted to enjoy it, instead pulling away and slipping his fingers into her mouth.

He watched her with interest as she eagerly sucked at the two digits, swirling her tongue around them in a way that was making Harry’s body practically shiver with need for her. He could only hold off for so long, taking his fingers from between her lips and dragging them down her body, letting them leave a trail of wet that had Valentina’s skin prickling with goosebumps as her back arched off the mattress.

Before he could get his hand to where he wanted it to be, she grabbed his tattooed forearm, eyes opening to meet Harry’s questioning green ones, “no foreplay.” she stated, voice sounding the most certain and commanding he’d ever heard, and Harry wasn’t one to argue about a request like that. There’d be plenty of time later to do whatever he wanted to the girl he wanted to worship, but in that moment, he was willing to go to the end of the earth to do exactly what she wanted. And what she had so eloquently stated she wanted, was no foreplay.

Harry adjusted the way he was positioned over top of her, pressing his lips to hers as he pushed inside slowly, marveling at how wet she already was for him. She needed him just as much as he needed her and that was obvious by the way her nails dug into his strong shoulders, lips parting against his as a high pitched mewling sound made Harry groan in return. He gripped her thigh, hiking her leg up higher on his waist so he could get in deeper with each testing thrust.

“Please.” Valentina groaned, feeling him holding back in the way that the muscles in his shoulders were coiled, tense, on edge, body not having free reign to do what it did best: fuck a girls brains out.

“Wanna make this count.” Harry breathed, lips trailing up her neck and nipping at her jaw, wanting to taste the pretty skin he wanted to mark up so bad.

“It does count.” Valentina assured him, grabbing at his jaw to bring his face up, looking him dead in the eye as she brushed some of his dark, wild, curls from his face, “I like you. This counts.” her lips danced against his softly, still feeling his hesitation. Finally she cracked a grin at him, “you going to make me ride you or what?”

Harry laughed, burying his face in her neck, “not a chance.” he breathed, voice low as he kissed her throat softly one more time before his hands gripped her legs, holding her tight and anchoring her to the mattress as he finally let loose.

The sounds Valentina was making were like angels singing in Harry’s ear, urging him to continue, if not for his own euphoria, then for hers. Her pleasure that was so important to him, more important than anyone else’s happiness in Harry’s life, even his own. He cupped her face, somehow managing to kiss her both hard and soft at the same time. Although the action itself was a little rough, there was some sort of emotion emanating off of him in waves, something that engulfed Valentina in a warm and fuzzy feeling that told her she was safe in his arms.

His touches were soft, one of his hands trailing up her bare waist to tease her throat, fingers grabbing at her jaw as they kissed. She felt something patchy brushing against her sensitive cheekbone and she wondered if there was paint speckling his artist fingers, wondered if perhaps this was a constant for him, wondered if she could get used to the feeling of it against her skin.

Harry enjoyed touching her, enjoyed the way she scratched at his back, panting against his lips, and even as close as they were, he somehow wanted to be even closer. Grabbing at her arm and forcing it down above her head, he interlaced their fingers, pulling away from Valentina’s lips, just pressing his forehead against hers as they panted, eyes opening to look at each other.

It was strange for him. Harry wasn’t the type of guy to make love to girls, if you’d asked him the day before if he even knew how to incorporate that emotion into sex, he would have told you he had not a clue. And yet, there he was. Baring his soul to a girl who had bewitched every fibre of his being in a terrifyingly short amount of time.

With one hand pressed into the bed, fingers laced with Harry’s, Valentina used the other to grab at Harry’s curls, revelling again in how pretty his hair was. A small tug had Harry groaning, lips eagerly meeting hers again as their tongues clashed, teeth knocking a little, but not in an unpleasant way. The clumsiness was a sign of their mutual need, and it made both smile, chuckling against each others lips like young lovers who’d just shared their first forbidden kiss under the bleachers.

Valentina’s stomach fluttered, once more overcome by the heat and positive energy radiating off the beautiful art student buried inside of her. The clenching of her muscles had Harry practically melting in her arms, whole body shuddering as he panted against her mouth, “gonna cum if you keep doing that.” he warned her, kissing at her cheeks, nose, then finally her lips again.

“I’m close.” Valentina breathed, squeezing his hand in a way that felt something like permission.

Harry wanted nothing more than to continue, to fuck his beautiful room mate until his body physically couldn’t anymore, but damn, he’d never been so close to exploding in his life. Valentina was just so warm, so perfect, like she was made for him, and that little hand squeeze had his skin tingling, as if kissed by some higher power telling him to just give in to the pleasure engulfing his body.

His motions became faster, lips pressed against Valentina’s roughly as he chased his high, feeling her getting closer and closer with every thrust. She was squeezing his hand so tight that Harry wanted to growl, the slight pain sending electric shocks running up his arm and driving him wild.

Once again, he hiked her leg up on his waist, driving in as hard as he could as she clutched his hand like an anchor, finally falling over the edge and dragging him with her as they both moaned into each others mouths, bodies shaking together, enraptured in the feeling of euphoria that they’d created. Harry pulled away from her lips and Valentina’s eyes remained closed, chest pressing against Harry’s with each deep breath as she struggled to recollect herself. He moved off of being on top of her, laying next to her as he propped up his chin on the palm of his hand.

He studied her face, fingers once more dancing across skin. He itched to grab his camera, to capture the moment, to capture the image of the beautiful girl amidst his messy white sheets, skin flushed, eyes closed, lips parted, looking absolutely divine. There was something about her that was almost celestial, something otherworldly that took his breath away.

Ideas flashed in Harry’s mind, possible pictures of her he could paint. A goddess sitting on the moon, stars speckling the scene behind her. A sun crown on her head as she wades through a field of flowers. A galaxy cape afixed on her shoulders as she climbs the stairs to heaven, head turned to show her beautiful side profile, hair in that messy bun he loved so much-

Her eyes opened and all the ideas darted away, scurrying to hide from the steady gaze that made Harry’s heart sing. “Hey.” he said dumbly, hating himself the moment after the word left his lips.

“Hi.” Valentina beamed, laughing a little. The dimple on her left cheek showed and Harry’s chest hurt, brain working as he fought to remember if that tiny detail had been captured by his camera at least once earlier that day.

Now that they had both steadied their breathing, the sound of rain once more filled the room, a low rumble of thunder drawing Valentina’s gaze to the window. She bit at her lower lip before looking to Harry again, “I like the sound of rain.” she stated, almost absentmindedly, but there was something else to it.

Harry thought about her words, thought about whether or not the statement had been an attempt to strengthen their bond, as if him knowing more about her was a positive. Harry supposed it was, and he knew he’d remember that small detail, because for some reason, it mattered to him.

He liked that she liked the sound of the rain.

Valentina stretched her arms over her head and sighed loudly, rolling onto her stomach. Harry was then distracted by her pretty back, marveling in the gorgeous tanned skin and how soft it was under his wandering digits as he drew everything and nothing with the tip of his index finger.

“Can you play me some of your piano music?” Valentina asked, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” Harry hadn’t been ready for a question directed at him, having not really processed her words, too distracted by her pretty skin under his fingers.

“Piano music. The stuff you listen to when you paint.” Valentina clarified, turning to look at him, “it always sounds so nice.”

Harry took a deep breath, not too keen on leaving the warmth of his bed, but he’d do anything to make Valentina happy so he grabbed his discarded sweatpants and pulled them on, standing to go look at the records he kept in a crate under the piano. He pulled the box out, sliding it across the floor with his foot so he could grab the most used record from the front of the bin. He placed it on the player and moved the needle, setting everything up so after a few moments the sound of classical piano flooded the space.

Harry’s eyes went to his box of joints next to the record player, and he snuck a look over his shoulder at the girl tangled in his sheets, noticing and appreciating the way she’d rolled onto her side, head propped up on her hand, the white covers haphazardly strewn about her body and teasing him with bits of flesh on her waist and chest as she watched him.

“Do you smoke?” Harry asked, realizing that he hadn’t offered her weed the day they’d bumped into each other on the terrace.

“Usually I don’t but if you’re offering-” she trailed off, grin returning to her face as Harry smiled, looking down and choosing a joint as Valentina took in his beautiful back.

He grabbed a cheap lighter he’d bought at a gas station and walked back to the bed, sitting next to Valentina, “do you want to start it or should I?”

Valentina sat up, holding the sheet around her body as she leaned against the wall, holding out two fingers for Harry to slide the joint between. She brought her lips to one end, looking up at Harry with a quirked eyebrow, waiting for him to light it for her. Harry chuckled, “bloody princess.” he muttered and she grinned around the joint that was so deliciously placed between her pretty lips.

He brought the lighter up and watched her inhale as he lit the joint, her cheeks hollowing marvelously as she inhaled deeply. Harry watched in something like awe as she exhaled, the smoke wrapping around them as she held the joint out to Harry. He accepted it and took a long drag, moving to sit next to her with his back against the wall.

They stayed quiet, listening to the piano and the rain, smoking together like long time friends who did this sort of thing every day. Harry felt completely at ease, brain going blank as he allowed himself to just be in the moment, which wasn’t something he did often. Harry was usually the type to be thinking too much, only managing to calm down when he smoked, but this was something he hadn’t experienced in years: relaxation.

And it felt fucking amazing.

--------

He’d gone to get the pictures printed first thing the next morning, rushing home through the storm so he could begin his work. Finally reaching his room, one look at the mess had made Harry set the folder of pictures down and begin cleaning, needing a cleared space for the project ahead.

Once his floor was completely free of anything and everything that would impede Harry’s artistic process, he began meticulously arranging the photos on the ground.

Perhaps having a gorgeous model hadn’t been the best plan. Harry felt attached to every perfect picture, every single shot that captured the beautiful dimple, or a smile, or light in her eyes that seemed to jump out at him.

He’d never had a muse before.

No one thing that inspired him.

But looking at all the wonderful pictures, Harry knew he could paint every single one and not grow tired for Valentina’s face.

Harry groaned, pulling out the piano bench so he could stand on it, getting a birds eye view of all the pictures in the hope that certain colours would stand out and draw him in.

Standing on the bench, a joint between his lips, looking down at all the images that were all (in their own way) stunning, Harry realized the issue with this project wouldn’t be getting the task finished, it would be narrowing the task down to just three.

--------

“Your hot roommate. The hot one you still haven't let me meet yet. That hot roommate. You slept with him.” Bethany said, still in a state of shock as she stared at Valentina, “and then you smoked a joint and listened to piano music.”

Valentina shrugged, reading her textbook with her eyes but the words weren’t registering in her brain.

“And how was it?” Bethany prodded, moving closer and lowering her voice after taking a look around at the people working quietly in the lounge.

Valentina laughed, finally looking up from her text book, “it was really good. Like… really good.”

Bethany squealed, grabbing at Valentina’s arm and earning a few harsh glares from people around them as Valentina quickly shushed her, giggling at her friends excitement and her own giddiness that was beginning to bubble like butterflies in her tummy. “So are you two going to date or fuckbuddies or-”

“I don’t know.” Valentina said honestly, “we didn’t really talk about it exactly.”

“Do you like him?”

“Yeah, he’s really nice.” Valentina said, feeling kind of shy about talking about Harry, who she’d kept sort of as a dirty little secret, just for herself, until this moment. She couldn’t hide the fact that she’d fucked her roommate from her best friend.

“But he’s still doing that art thing right?” Bethany pressed, eager for answers.

“Yeah, so we’ll see what happens.”

Bethany rolled her eyes, “we’ll see what happens.” she imitated lamely, “bitch, I better be your maid of honour, that’s all I can say.”

--------

“So I’m going to paint the bathtub photo, use the picture of your running in the park with the bouquet, and for the final piece, I’m going to sketch you sitting at my piano.” Harry explained.

“But when I was sitting at your piano there were no flowers-”

“I can draw them in.” Harry said, “gonna have them on top of the piano, dripping onto the ground. Besides, the flowers will be the obvious common element to every picture but there’s also water. Rain, bath, wet flowers.”

“Okay.” Valentina paused, “and you need me in the bath for the painting?”

“Honestly, I can probably do it based off the picture and get it mostly done, but there would be a few things I might need to see, but it’s not necessary if you don’t want to-” Harry was tripping over his words, and he knew that. He’d been a little on edge since they’d fucked, not really knowing how to feel or act around the girl who made his chest hurt whenever he looked at her.

“Yeah, uh, just let me know when you need me to get in the tub and we can make it work.” Valentina offered an easy going smile and Harry felt his shoulders relax immediately.

He was itching to ask about them, about what anything meant. But he was afraid of what she’d say. Afraid of rejection. He’d dished it out so many times before, but Harry knew he was too fragile in this case to be able to take it if he was finally going to be on the receiving end. So he kept his mouth shut, offering a brief explanation of time frames before scurrying to his room to begin the project he’d been dying to start since the day he’d seen her swirling amongst flowers and pink water in his four clawed tub.

--------

It felt like Harry had been blasting music for a week straight. Valentina hadn’t seen him, not even when she snuck out to the kitchen at 2 am in the hopes of running into him, covered in paint, hunched over the toaster watching his waffles cook. She wondered if he had even been eating, enraptured by the thought of Harry being a tortured kind of artist who couldn’t sleep or eat until completion of his work. Valentina also wondered when Harry even went to class, or perhaps he just kept his music playing while not in the apartment, but that seemed just a tad too obnoxious.

The weather had been bad for six straight days, so when the first rays of sunshine peaked through the clouds to say hello to New York, the wind breathing a sigh of warm relief across the city, Valentina immediately opened her window to take in a deep breath, engulfed in the smell and taste of the receding storm.

Valentina waited for the day to get clear enough, for the blue sky to finally win her over with its enticing beauty, and then closed up her textbook, walking to the window to climb out and enjoy the day on the terrace.

As soon as she stuck her head out, a puff of wind sent the smell of weed barrelling into her and she laughed, turning to look at Harry who was sitting there, wrapped in a hoodie and duvet, joint perched regally between his fingers.

“Great minds.” Valentina mused as she swung her legs out of the window, going to join Harry where he was sitting in front of his room. Harry looked up, immediately making room for her next to him on the blanket. As she sat, he held out the joint but Valentina declined it with a wave of her hand and a smile.

“So how’s the art going?” she asked, staring down at their legs that were almost touching. Valentina noticed something amidst the rips in his black jeans, something new. A tattoo. She wondered when he’d added that to his collection.

“Good.” Harry said, letting out a long puff of smoke as he twiddled with the joint between his fingers, Valentina noticing the pink speckling his digits for the first time. It looked like he’d used sharpies on his nails, the colour fading but matching the black of his oversized hoodie, the sleeves coming down like paws that half obscured his hands, leaving only his elegant, paint marred fingers, wrapped in rings.

There was a moment of silence and awkwardness, neither knowing how to act. Then Harry’s arm moved to settle around Valentina’s shoulders, pulling her close, and they both let out a sigh of relief, relaxing together immediately. Harry continued to fidget with the joint but his motions were more fluid, rolling it around before bringing it to his lips again.

They sat quietly for a while but, as it had the week before, it just worked. Harry once again found himself marveling at how well they clicked. In his weed relaxed hazy state, he found himself internally musing about her being the missing puzzle piece he hadn’t even realized he needed, only to hate himself for being so cliche. When had he stooped to such a level? Harry had always fancied himself to be, at least in some regard, somewhat sophisticated, but next to Valentina he had regressed to a school boy experiencing his first crush, brain becoming practically useless.

Harry turned so his nose was pressed against the crown of her head, inhaling the sweet smell of her shampoo. He’d seen it in the shower when she’d moved in, picking it up to study the bottle. Harry was feeling a little fuzzy, but he knew it was grapefruit and something, maybe sage or perhaps mint? He didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, she smelled wonderful and he’d always enjoyed that about her.

“Are you smelling me?” Valentina sighed, pulling away from his shoulder to look up at him.

Harry grinned lazily, taking the last drag of his joint before putting it out in his ash tray that sat a few feet away, “maybe.” he paused, “you smell nice.”

She smiled up at him, gaze darting between his eyes and his lips, even taking in the little dimples that appeared on his cheeks, “you’re kind of a dork.”

Harry chuckled, hand coming up to brush at Valentina’s cheekbone, “you love it.”

He was right. She knew he was.

Even as she shook her head at him, letting out a sigh as she readjusted herself, leg swinging over his so she was straddling his lap as his hands settled on her waist securely, she knew he was one hundred percent correct with his statement.

His hands snaked down further, grabbing at her ass and he smirked, making Valentina laugh, throwing her head back in defeat at his antics. Harry took the opportunity to sit up a little, lips just able to reach her neck as he peppered her skin in soft kisses that felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Her fingers tangled in his curls and she allowed him to kiss her, adoring every possible inch he could reach before she grabbed at his jaw, tilting his face up as she looked down so she could finally kiss him. He smiled against her lips, overcome in a euphoric sense of happiness that drowned out everything else in his life.

One hand came up to cup Valentina’s face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone as he kissed her. This kiss was soft, nothing like the fiery clash of teeth and tongues from the week before. Harry hadn’t ever really kissed a girl the way he was kissing Valentina, hadn’t thought to be soft and gentle, but this felt right, it felt (like everything else) natural. There was something endearing about the way that they were both struggling not to smile against each others lips, torn between the need to kiss and the overwhelming happiness that threatened to turn them into matching cheshire cats.

Valentina ground down against Harry’s lap and he groaned into her mouth, hand gripping her ass harder, wanting to rip the material of her silky sleeping pants, wanting to tear them off of her and ravage her there on the terrace.

Someone whistled loudly from the alley below and a “get it!” made Valentina pull away from Harry, looking down at the men who were casually walking towards the street, flashing two thumbs up at the happy pair who had been so enraptured with each other that they’d forgotten about the outside world.

“Piss off!” Harry called down at the men, earning some wild laughter as the men reached the street an turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

Valentina looked down at Harry who returned her gaze, paint speckled fingers once more rubbing soft circles against her cheek, “so.” she breathed, “are you going to ask me on a date or what?”

Harry beamed, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, “now who’s the dork?”

***

masterlist :)

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nottooldforthisship · 6 years

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(friendly reminder I read almost only Explicit or Mature fics) (* are my fav)

☾ always in the air ,by stilinskisparkles : Derek’s out of his element as they stumble back to Stiles’ shared house, he’s never really had one night stands, taken his studies seriously, put books first, earned his place at college through hard work and a dusty social life. He’s remarkably okay with pretending to be someone who does this regularly if it means he gets one night of it with Stiles. (6k, E)

☾ * Someday Came Today by Fatebegins : "March 2, 1810. . . Today, I met the man I’m going to marry."At the age of eight, Genim “Stiles” Stilinski showed no signs of Great Beauty. And even at eight, Stiles learned to accept the expectations society held for him--until the evening when Derek Hale, the handsome and dashing Alpha of the Hale pack, solemnly kissed his hand and promised him that one day he would grow into himself, that one day he would be as beautiful as he already was smart. And even at eight, Stiles knew he would love him forever.But the years that followed were as cruel to Derek as they were kind to Stiles. Stiles is as intriguing as the Duke boldly predicted on that memorable day--while Derek is a lonely, bitter man, crushed by a devastating loss. But Stiles has never forgotten the truth he set down on paper all those years earlier--and he will not allow the love that is his destiny to slip through his fingers . . (81k, E)

☾ I Lost My Way and Found You by NekoIzumi : Derek hurried down the street, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t followed, but otherwise was completely focused on where he was going and not running into anyone while getting there. He was so close, oh so very close now, and he knew that just a few more minutes and he'd see him again. Him, the one he hadn’t seen in years and now… so close!He pushed the heavy front door open hurrying inside the foyer, absentmindedly registering magic buzzing around him as he did so. Knowing what to look for he saw his wards everywhere, tiny tiny marks, runes, symbols carved and written where he knew no one would look for them and Derek made sure to touch them all, to let the wards know he wasn’t there to harm. The magic accepted his presence, greeted him even but was still wary and ready to zap him to the Himalayas in the blink of an eye should it be needed. The wolf wasn’t worried, he was much too focused on the elevator making its way higher and why the hell did it move so slowly!? When he was finally on the right floor, high up above the noisy city outside, he rushed up to the right door and-… hesitated. (19k, E)

☾ It Makes Scents by stileskolpath : a.k.a. that one where Derek is oblivious to Stiles' scent until suddenly he's not. (3.8k, E)

☾ * To Build a Home (Of Sorts) by nogitsune_lichen : Or the healing/getting together AU that involves building a house together and a healthy dose of angst. (75k, E)

☾ A Little Lost by exclamation : A magical accident sends Stiles back in time. Now he's stuck in New York, living with Derek and Laura, and the only way to get back to his own time is to learn to use magic. Meanwhile, he must figure out how much he can tell them about their future. Can he warn them about the dangers they face? Can he change his own past? And can he trust the creature known as Bookworm, who seems to know him better than he knows himself? (73k, M)

☾ Do Not Go Gentle by MojoFlower : Derek Hale, Beacon Hills Alpha and Dom, wakes up in a dark cell already housing another captive – a mute, traumatized sub with a cruel collar around his neck. His only goal is to get them both free of their brutal circumstances; but even as he tries to get his young companion home, a bond between them grows. Nothing comes easily: danger and harrowing echoes of their ordeal shadow every step they take. (195k, E, TW read the tags)

☾ Give Me All the Peace and Joy in Your Mind by secondstar: Derek didn't care for the company of people. He'd rather be surrounded by his dogs, alone. Well, until he keeps seeing a guy around town. Everything comes to a head when Derek walks into a bakery to find the same guy, covered in flour, grinning at him. (6.3k, E)

☾ * Not Your Disney Romance by Rawren (Zimothy) : After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for. (42k, M)

☾ Unbroken by Piscaria : When Stiles starts getting sick, he assumes his appetite loss and lethargy stem from the darkness the Nemeton left in his heart. But soon enough, even he can’t deny that he’s showing the same symptoms his mom had. When he's forced to face the truth about his illness, Stiles finds himself making a choice he never thought he’d make. (43k, E)

☾ Pour Some Sugar On Me by Delta_Immortal : Derek is a highly successful sugar baby and escort in the local area. He’s got clients lined up and he's got money in the bank. He's good at what he does. He plays sweet and hard and fast, giving his time and smiles in exchange for cash and favors. He lives by three rules: No salt, no bad vibes, and no falling in love. Enter billionaire Stiles Stilinski. Derek's world is about to turn upside down. (73k, E)

☾ *Occam's Razor by MissAnnThropic : When Stiles goes to sleep, he’s a junior in high school. He wakes up in a world where he’s twenty-four and married to Derek Hale. Stiles just can’t seem to catch a break. (49k, E)

☾ I Call You Names Because I Love You by Rawren (Zimothy) : Years of touring with Stiles would never have prepared Derek for the day his beloved techie fell in love with someone else. (13k, M)

☾ Operation Girl Scout Cookies by nogitsune_lichen : Or the one where both Talia and John are running for mayor of Beacon Hills and their sons end up being mates. Enter a secret relationship, a dash of smut, and a way too involved Laura Hale. (18k, E)

☾ * Honey, Can't you See (The Bloodstains on my Teeth) by Loup_Aigre, TroubleIWant : “Mr Stilinski.” Deaton’s usually impassive face betrays a hint of surprise today, maybe even disappointment. “You haven’t changed your mind.”Stiles tips his chin up, smiling against his irritation. “Nope,” he confirms, so cheerily it bites. They had arranged this weeks ago, yet Deaton was apparently betting Stiles wouldn’t go through with it in the end. Fuck that. He doesn’t know what it’s like out there, not really. He can afford to hold himself aloof and uninvolved, knowing his druid power is enough to keep him safe in this little office. Stiles can’t. Scott’s pack has got to protect this whole town, and Stiles’ spark isn’t enough to protect all of them while they do it. The thing is, magic isn’t like the fairy tales. It’s blood and risk and sacrifice. Nothing comes without a price, and anyone who tries to say different is baiting a hook to gut you on. Stiles knows that, has known it since he was a kid and his mother started training him for the inevitable day when he’d need to fight for his life.That day had come four years ago when she died, and it hasn’t stopped yet. (44k, E)

☾ The Kenny Situation by Whispering_Sumire : [Or: The one where Stiles gets cursed by witches, keeps dying and coming back to life, and the only one even vaguely cognizant of this is Derek.] (10k, E)

☾ you break the mountain down by runphoebe : Stiles and Derek have been together for six years when Stiles graduates from college and moves back to Beacon Hills. (10k, E)

#mine #sterek #sterek fic rec #my sterek fic rec #ET VOILAAAA #:))

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lotuscorvus · 4 years

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Work is turning into a dumpster fire, but Its honestly kind of funny.

I think the first step was our mid-boss leaving. She only transferred to a different office since her husband’s job was transferring him, so that wasn’t contentious or anything. But they had to hire 2 people to handle everything she’d been doing: Mid-boss A and Mid-boss B.

My team and 1 other got Mid-boss B. He started out training with the other team. And then kept training with them. He stayed with them long enough that he could fill in if any one of them called out. But he never got any training with our team. By all appearances he was quite possibly intimidated by my team’s boss. My boss has a law background and is very determined to get answers/solutions to problems as quickly as possible, other people’s fee-fees be damned, which is fun to watch. So in the 6 months Mid-boss B was our mid-boss, he never trained with our team, never even really grasped what we do. My boss had to go over his head to Over-Boss every time we needed something done.

But then, oh magical day, the loudmouth asshole in a different department (who my boss had gotten into AT LEAST one loud fight with since The Asshole liked to try and change OUR procedures as if he had any standing, or blame us when his team fucked up and we caught it), and Mid-boss B took over his job instead! So then he was in charge of a department we have to work closely with and already had a kind of shaky relationship due to The Asshole and one slacking supervisor. Turned out Slacker Supervisor was a personal friend of Mid-Boss B too, so we knew that would be an adventure.

So then we get Mid-boss A as our mid-boss. A sweet man who actually knows how to present himself as an active manager and bothers with basic niceties like saying good morning to his teams (something mid-boss be actually never did until he wasn’t our boss anymore, lmao). He became our manager just before The Plague and has a very tiny new baby so we’ve been letting proper sit-down training slide since we all want him to be able to hold his own kid when he goes home. But he still comes by with questions a lot, so he’s showing enough initiative that it’s still working out better than Mid-boss B.

Over the period of time all this is playing out, there are also other bigger things happening, which are where a lot of the real dumpster fire is. There was a company merger/buy-out of a competitor, so we suddenly had a bunch of new people. And the highest-ups decided to adopt Other Company’s “everybody below management level is hourly” system. Previously we’d all been salary, which for how often some of us ended up having to stay a little late or come a little early, worked out great for the company. They also changed lunches, the pay schedule, put a new cap on how much PTO you could roll, our office’s starting time, and made overtime nearly a myth (which meant the managers now got to do all the extra fiddly work we would sometimes have to stay late for).

They also managed to get even weirder with layoffs. They’d always been kind of spooky about it, in a “we’re saying its for privacy/decorum reasons but really it looks like they’re getting suddenly fired and perp-walked out of the building with no warning” way. A whole slew of people either left or got fired over this period - almost all the people I got on well with on a personal level. But people who should have gotten fired ages ago kept getting more chances.

And then June happened. Normally thats when we get our annual evaluations and raises. But thanks to The Plague, there were no raises this year for anyone. And my team had basically useless reviews since they had to be done by Mid-boss B, who did at least own that he had no real standing to review us. That didn’t stop him from trying to rate us on a “no 5′s because there’s always room for improvement” scale. My Boss took him to task on my review so hard that he actually changed it to better ratings (I am literally the glue holding this fucking team together and keeping us functional).

And speaking of firings! One of the last straws was not only firing the only dedicated person in a team that both my team and one of our other biggest teams NEED to do our job, but they called it “job abandonment” because she wanted to keep working from home as she had multiple small children and no available childcare. She is now living her best life starting her own small company out of her home, at least, but that one was really bullshit.

Meanwhile my team has a member so bad I was pushing to get her on a PIP almost 3 months ago (of the 6ish months she’s been with us), who is only now finally approaching the end of her last chance grace period. We have a new contract/more duties coming up soon and I really wanted an actual employee in her seat and trained before that hit. The other team under Mid-Boss B just lost its last truly good employee. I’m literally on my way out the door (I’m in the running for a job with another company and expect interviews will be scheduled in the next week or so, and even if that job doesn’t pan out I don’t think I’ll still be here by the end of the year). My boss has apparently told Mid-boss B that she will leave if she can’t move to a different department and is pushing for me to get her job - which if it happens this year would mean more responsibilities with no raise, when I had already talked to Over-boss about a raise this year before The Plague and the raise freeze hit (she said she can’t do that before reviews in June, so that never happened). Plus if I leave before my boss gets her transfer, she really might just fucking quit. There’s a small chance she’d stay out of a sense of obligation, but if she was already trying to get out its pretty unlikely, and she would definitely require a raise if she stayed.

I have a hard time imagining this company would honestly counter-offer if I put in my notice, or if they did that they’d be willing to pay what I would ask in a counter, lol. If I get the job I’m currently in the running for it would be AT LEAST an $11k/year raise, likely more, and that company is more friendly to working from home, so if I were to stay (especially since my company’s raise structure is shit and barely keeps up with COL increases) I’d be asking for more like +$19k/yr to make it worth it.

And if that sounds crazy, I have now had 2 recruiters (mine and her coworker who is also helping out) express genuine surprise at how underpaid I am here. Especially since after health insurance and taxes I’m a team-lead level office worker with over 6 years experience in this company who’s effectively making damn near minimum wage.

#my life #rambles #office life sucks #but is also kind of wild

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prosciuttoe · 7 years

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top 5 and bottom 5 kudos fic

tagged by the very lovely and talented @clarkescrusade ,whose fics you should check out if you haven’t already!

rules: tag the person who tagged you, always post the rules, answer the questions, and add the date! (I realized belatedly that this said date and not no.of kudos but I already did it, so.... nvm y’all I’m a rebel)

What are your five most popular works? (in descending order)

1. Every Little Thing She Does is Magic (bellamy/clarke, 16k words, 1,493 kudos)

And this is how it always goes: she curses his ears to twitch all day, and he hexes her so bats fly out of her nose. She turns his morning porridge into concrete and he turns her eyebrows pink. They have Transfiguration together, and Mcgonagall makes them sit at different ends of the room, the only students to have been assigned seats.

Or; The rivalry between Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin is a thing of legends, but it doesn't exactly stop him from making out with her either.

I wanna be SURPRISED that this is my biggest fic yet, but not really tbh? Pretty sure that this is the fic that most people know me from, so yeah. You can’t really go wrong with hogwarts!bellarke progressing from enemies to friends to lovers and eventually getting into a secret relationship.

2. No Space Lies In Between (bellamy/clarke, 15k words, 1,289 kudos)

(She has to remind herself that smirking is not a good look on Bellamy Blake. It’s not.)

Or: Clarke Griffin moves into her ex-boyfriend’s apartment- mostly out of convenience, but also mostly to spite her friends. In retrospect, she really should have thought this through.

Ahh, my exes that are still in love, fic! This was really fun to write, and I think it was one of the first multi-chapters that I embarked on. Definitely was a little floored by the response, mostly because I didn’t think the exes trope was all that popular.

3. Explain The Infinite (bellamy/clarke, 6k words, 1,092 kudos)

“They respect you,” Bellamy muses, “and they sure do listen to you. But I’m not sure they like you very much.”

“How can they,” she says sarcastically, “when there’s you around, constantly vying for their attention?”

Or; Clarke’s pretty sure you’re supposed to like your soul mate. She really wasn’t expecting Bellamy Blake.

This was based on a soulmates prompt that I received in my inbox, but of course it spiralled into this 6k mess? Canon-verse with soul-marks, so it was a lot of fun to write, though I do remember torturing everyone by posting the whole 6k of it up on tumblr and forcing mobile users to scroll through its entirety. sorry guys

4. See Me in Hindsight (bellamy/clarke, 16k words, 1,032 kudos)

“You’re kind of a mess,” He says mildly.

“Thanks captain obvious.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he’s holding back a smile. She is not remotely pleased by that. Not at all.

Or, the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

My first college au!! Fun fact: a lot of this was based on True Events in my life, including the one where Bellamy gets into a fight in a parking lot and Clarke has to go get his stuff for him from class cos he’s literally bleeding all over the place. (Guess who I was in this situation, lmao)

5. Well, I’ll Be Your Partner in Crime (bellamy/clarke, 11k words, 856 kudos)

“Why not? We’re pretending to date,” he points out, ticking off his fingers. “You’re popular while I’m not. Oh, and we’re also complete opposites when it comes to everything else. Honestly, we just need a makeover scene to round things out. Give it color.”

Or: Apparently, the first step to restoring Clarke Griffin’s celebrity status is to date someone completely outside her stratosphere. Namely, Bellamy Blake. She’s not entirely convinced that it’s a good idea.

FAKE DATING. Celebrity fake-dating, to be exact. Hand to God, this is one of my fave things to write, like. I remember that most of the info I got on celebrity workings was through this one Lauren Conrad book and I just sorta... went with it and prayed it was accurate. I think I did?? Alright?? Or maybe everyone is too nice me how terribly wrong I went.

What are your five least popular works by kudos? (in ascending order)

1. Right Within Your Heart (This is How it Starts) (bellamy/clarke, 6k words, 324 kudos)

“Uh,” Bellamy goes, bracingly, “yes?” Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, “Hate to break it to you, Clarke. But it’s just a holiday.”

Or: Bellamy has never had a enjoyable Christmas. Clarke seeks to rectify that.

I wrote this for bff’s christmas celebration, and it was p.fun! Basically chockful of good ol’ Christmas traditions like snowball fights and cookie baking set in canon-verse.

2. Nothing But Sheets Between Us (bellamy/clarke, 3k words, 320 kudos)

“Morally ambiguous?” She tastes the words out on her tongue, her mouth dropping open to gape when she finally gets what he’s insinuating at. “Hey! I didn’t know you’re my T.A. when I– when it happened!”

Or: In hindsight, sleeping with her T.A is probably a bad idea. Especially when it turns out that he's someone like Bellamy Blake.

I anger-wrote this after the infamous ‘blarke shit’ incident and can never revisit this fic without experiencing war flashbacks, tbh. I’M SORRY

3. And The Trail Always Leads Back to You (bellamy/clarke, 6k words, 269 kudos)

“It’s a possible name for the van.” Clarke replies, absent minded, as if she’s not talking to him at five in the fucking morning. “There’s been a string of burglaries over at Ark High, and Raven says we should check it out.”

Or: Bellamy refuses to be a part of whatever sleuthing hijinks his friends are getting up to (with his van, no less.) Too bad Clarke’s pretty persistent.

Ooh, this was based on a prompt I got in my inbox, and I really liked writing it but also there was like... minimal plot, lmao. It was just bellarke being in love and solving mysteries. The End.

4. Between Two Lungs (bellamy/clarke, 6k words, 255 kudos)

She still feels prickly, flushed from head to toe, like there’s something threatening to burst from her skin and swallow her whole. She thinks of Bellamy’s lazy smirk, the condescension behind the single princess, the glint of his teeth as he launches into another tirade. It feels a lot like waking up after a long nap and breathing in sharp, cold air.

Or, the three times where they work against each other, and the one time they don't.

High school!bellarke. Normally I’m one of those people that forces myself to see things through but for some reason... my inspiration for this fic really stalled mid-way. sorry, guys.

5. Up The Ante (bellamy/clarke, 19k words, 189 kudos)

But they’re together, still, and for as long as they are, well. Bellamy will always have hope.

Bellamy, Clarke, and the life they finally get to lead after everything’s been said and done. (Or: a mini-sequel of sorts to Sleight of Hand.)

Ok so this was a sequel to sleight of hand and I already figured before hand that not many people would be Into it, so it was a v.self-indulgent piece on my part? Just lotsa fluff and bellarke being happy but zero plot, so... not surprised!

I feel like everyone I know is already tagged but nvm lemme tag y’all anyway: @hiddenpolkadots @mellamymake @rubysvida @madgesundersee @ahmren @grumpybell @kay-emm-gee @wellsjahasghost

#what do I even tag this as tbh #bellarke fanfiction #??#like does it Count #oh well whatever #tumblr games #text posts

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oingoz · 7 years

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so i totally made a frerard reclist. i enjoyed reading every single fic on here, it was just a matter of putting them all together in one place, which i’ve finally done! what to heck! so real quick, here’s a few notes:

- i am a gigantic bottom frank stan and therefore there is NO exclusively top frank fic on this list. actually, there’s only four that have frank topping at all, but even then gerard’s definitely the Main Top - long fics and oneshots combined, there’s a total of 87 recs on here, woo wee - the long fics have essentially been ordered from most favorite to least - the oneshots, listed below the long fics, have been sorted into categories rather than ordered based on how much i liked them. also i didn’t put descriptions on them as i did for the long fics

aaand that said, here’s the recs:

LONG FICS

✰ The Anatomy of a Fall [ 107k ] The unholy union of a high school AU and a ghost story. Gerard’s the new kid in town and he meets Frank, the strange kid who lives in the woods. This has gotta be my favorite fic ever… my love.

✰ Unholyverse series [ 177k ] Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest. SO brilliant, it is an actual masterpiece.

✰ Between The Wish And The Thing [ 23k ] Gerard has been in love with his best friend and bandmate for years. It’s basically nonstop domestic cuteness??? Your heart will melt???

✰ King and Country [ 52k ] Frank hasn’t really been a stable boy since he ended up in the archduke’s bed, but now Gerard’s exile is over and he’s king. Listen it’s an established relationship BUT don’t let this deter you as the author does tell how they got together- what I’m trying to say is, it’s a complete love story and they absolutely adore each other. Read it.

✰ Paris!Verse [ 43k ] They meet at Mikey and Alicia’s wedding and then fall in love in Paris. I really, really, really loved this fic.

✰ Promises, Promises [ 26k ] Gerard kidnaps Frank. A Stockholm syndrome fic with a fair amount of violence and dubious consent. If this doesn’t bother you though, I’d highly recommend it.

✰ Ain’t Nobody Gonna Love You Like The Devil Do [ 40k ] Frank is a good, God-fearing Catholic boy, and then Gerard happens. Essentially, Frank falls in love with a rebellious Gerard and it’s absolutely fantastic.

✰ To Cast Turpentine Kisses [ 22k ] (must be logged in to read!) And the subbiest Frank fic of them all is a not!fic. Frank is a student and Gerard is his teacher. What a blast, oh my GOD.

✰ Can Never Wrong This Right [ 23k ] It’s 1949 and Dr. Way is a professor of Archeology and Frank is his constantly exasperated (and secretly pining) assistant. Two words: soul bonding. Read it.

✰ Strange Steps [ 33k ] Gerard likes: A) popular Frank, and B) dancing. Everything’s chill until those two things are brought together when Frank suddenly needs dance lessons. Everyone loves a nice high school AU, right??

✰ In Repair [ 33k ] In which Frank has the hots for Gerard The Robot. This fic is chock full of things that are guaranteed to make your heart happy, I promise you that Gerard being a robot isn’t a burden in the slightest.

✰ Conclusions [ 49k ] Gerard moves in with Frank, and cozy domesticity and pining blossoms. Bexless never fails to please.

✰ He Was A Teenage Werewolf [ 45k ] Gerard is transfered to Queen Of Peace, a Catholic school, where he meets a weird kid named Frank. Another great high school AU except one of them’s a werewolf. (Don’t get deterred if werewolves aren’t your thing, it’s not even confronted until halfway through the fic.)

✰ Hearts Warmer than the Ice Keeping the Spinach Lasagna Cold [ 19k ] Gerard is in love with the punk boy who works in the deli department ♥️

✰ Becoming Joan [ 35k ] A complicated situation leads to Frank having to dress up as a girl. It would be bothersome except, he’s kinda totally alright with it…. Totally not what I was expecting based off of the fic’s original summary, it’s so good!!! Read it!!!

✰ Variations on a Fugue [ 36k ] An Early Edwardian AU. Frank Iero is a young nobleman currently living with his parents in the Lake District, where he plans on leading a quiet life away from London and its temptations. However, temptation moves into his neighbourhood in the face of one Gerard Way. Involves old-timey dialogue, soul melting intimacy, and a line that I’ve thought about everyday since I’ve read it.

✰ On the Midtown Direct [ 22k ] A love story, one train ride at a time. Just thinking about it makes me want to go read it again, it’s so precious.

✰ Buy Handmade [ 18k ] Gerard has an Etsy page and Frank works in a bakery. Mega cute.

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bottomy bottom frank!

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#i'm posting this at 1 am for a reason gggg #anyway 😎👌🏼 enjoy #frerard #reclist #fanfiction #xx #fic

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jhameia · 7 years

Text

Fic: “The Ambassador”

the fic i mentioned 5 days ago, done at 19k words, maybe it will leave me alone now and I CAN GET BACK TO DISSERTATING. is it Strange Magic fanfic anymore? WHO KNOWS ITS DONE have an asexual romance between a spider woman and a fairy dude

1: The Mission

Sylvia of the Northern Spiders, loyal retainer and advisor to the Royal Family of the Dark Forest, glared at the Bog King, her childhood playmate and close cousin as she entered in response to a roared summons.

The atmosphere in the throne room was tense and ugly as he stared down at her from the dais. This wasn't the first time he had ignored her counsel, but this was the first time it had gotten so personal. Banning love from the Dark Forest! What ridiculousness! Banning love potion she could understand, cutting down the primroses, sure, but locking up the Sugar Plum Fairy, of all the--!! And Auntie Griselda was of no help, taking her precious son's side in his time of hurt.

Which she should be doing, except his head was so far up his ass on this matter, it would be illogical. Her job was to help him be a better King, not a worse one. Bad enough that he was surly to start with--just like his father, his father's father, and beyond--this recent affair had launched that surliness off the precipice into a pit of mean-hearted stupidity.

"You called, Your Majesty?" she asked coldly. The formality of her tone cut through the silence.

He didn't flinch, though he might have before; "Your Majesty" from her lips was usually soft and fond and warm. A change in that meant cutting disapproval.

"We received a message from the Fairy Kingdom," he drawled, tossing her a little scroll.

She frowned. The Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest had been isolated from each other for generations. With good reason. The fairies were not to be trifled with: dangerous, vicious creatures masquerading as light fragile butterflies. She unrolled the scroll, and raised her eyebrow at the uncharacteristically warm message written in tidy handwriting. "From... one of the Fairy Princesses? Aren't they still very young?" Princess Marianne couldn't be older than fourteen. Or sixteen?

"It is nonetheless a royal missive."

"Requesting friendship between the kingdoms," she murmured. "Not very sophisticated. No peace talks, no diplomatic relations, no trade, just... friendship?" She looked up. "This is the request of a child."

"Not just any child. The Crown Princess." A curl went up on the Bog King's face, and not a smile.

"You intend to... honour this?"

"You advise against it?"

"I..." She thought about it. "It would be good," she began slowly, "to have access to the Meadow again. The Swarm would benefit from an open border, and we wouldn't have to travel so out of our way to the Glen. We could rebuild an accord with the elves."

He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "I am appointing you our ambassador to the Meadow."

Her jaw hung.

"I trust you will have our bests interests in mind," he continued blithely, his tone a bit too light. "You're the least likely in the kingdom to try to eat a fairy, too, so that's a plus."

Her heart raced. "And how long will this term last?"

His gaze was flinty as he replied, "until I recall you."

"I see." She went numb. Banishment, under a pretty name. She never thought--he would never--except he was doing it now. "And I cannot decline this appointment?"

"No."

"I didn't realize you hated me that much."

"I don't," he snarled. "But you will respect your king."

She stamped a foot. "You know why I disagree--"

"Silence!"

That was it. Her mind raced through the memories at her beck and call: of previous kings who were cruel like this, twisted by something deep inside, unwilling to take counsel, willing to hurt others in order to stay their path towards self-destruction.

The only remedy was time and waiting.

Could she wait? She clutched her hands to her chest. He was her best friend, her only family left in the Forest. He was also hurting deep inside from something he refused to talk to her about and there was nothing she could do. He was her King, and he was sending her away from home into a nest of something more vicious than wasps.

She bowed her head, so he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing her tears. "I honour and obey my King," she intoned, words from an ancient memory.

"You leave with the dawn."

2: The Path To Good Revenge

Ambassador Sylvia arrived on a leaf drawn by four dragonflies, her grip on the reins tighter than necessary because she was so furious... and nervous. There was so much open air on the Meadow, and the wind threatened to knock her over a few times. The good thing about having eight legs was a solid sense of balance.

A company of guards came to meet with her, demanded her to halt. Fliers, she grumbled internally. Most goblins were grounded, but Bog did take his wings for granted regularly.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but if I stop, I will fall," she said politely. "My intentions are peaceful, and my business is with the Royal Family."

"What is that business?" the leader of them demanded.

Friendship, apparently, she thought, but it sounded stupid to say, so she smiled sweetly instead. "That is for the Royal Family to hear. Will you escort me to an audience with King Dagda?"

"Madam, the King does not take to goblin interlopers lightly!"

"Good, that makes him a wise man. Also a good thing that I'm not an interloper."

That seemed to flabbergast the lead fairy. Finally, he nodded. "We'll take you there. But if you try anything..."

"You would be doing your job. Yes, I'm sure." She tossed her hair out of her face and lifted her chin. She would keep her dignity here.

The palace loomed ahead, and the lead fairy guard gestured for her to land on a platform, clearly built for fliers. She leapt out of her makeshift chariot, and the fairy guards stepped down to surround her.

"What is your name?" she asked the leader.

He blinked at her. "Captain Nathaniel."

A ranked officer, then. "Captain Nathaniel, thank you for your company's service."

He was definitely not expecting that. She refrained from smirking. She knew how these folks pretended to be civilized. She had never enjoyed the advantages of having foremother memory so much before. Here, in the Fairy realm, where they obviously did not remember a damn thing, she had something to help.

The Fairy King was obviously not expecting to see anyone that day, since the throne room was devoid of courtiers. But maybe these days the throne room was always this empty? Foremother memory was definitely not helping with regards to the niceties of the Fairy Court.

The King himself was on his throne. A large, round man, he, with wide green eyes, and green armour. The crown, she recognized. Most everything else, no. She curtsied as low as she could. "Salutations, Your Majesty, I, Sylvia of the Dark Forest, come as ambassador to open lines of communication between our lands, upon orders of the Bog King." Let him think the Bog King actually wanted this.

Hurried footsteps echoed in a hallway outside, and a slip of a girl burst in from a door to the side of the throne. "I heard-! I came as soon as-!" she huffed, and stopped, amber eyes widening.

Sylvia took a few steps back to look less threatening. She knew how she looked: the upper body that might look like a fairy's, save for the carapace on her torso, and the lower body of a spider. Even among goblins, her form was extreme. She had considered wearing clothes, but she had been a bit too furious to consider spinning something up. Besides, the Royal Family had the right to at least see her full form.

She curtsied again. "You must be Crown Princess Marianne." She held out the scroll. "The Bog King received your message."

"Oh! He did! Amazing!" the princess literally squeaked with delight, any fear melting from her in excitement. She gripped her father's arm and shook it a little, uncaring of protocol. "Father, a goblin in our court! The first in generations!"

"Marianne!" Dagda scolded. "What did you do??"

Marianne drew back a little, defensive. "I... I sent a message. I... I may have thrown it over the border and... hoped for the best?" She turned to Sylvia. "How does he respond?"

"He sent me. I'm to be Ambassador until relations have been established to our kingdoms' mutual benefit." She made the last part up easily. Bog had never said, just packed her off. She wrote to several goblin elders last night to request their cooperation in the foolish endeavour. She could pretend to be productive in exile.

Plus, this little princess seemed like a total treasure. She would drive Bog up the wall. He would deserve it.

The total treasure's hands were clasped in complete and utter delight. "Father, did you hear that? It worked!"

King Dagda was rubbing a hand over his face. "Marianne, you can't just--it's not that simple! You have to think about what the Kingdom wants! I can't--the Council will--"

"I'll talk to the Council," Marianne declared. "You've always wanted me to attend those meetings, anyway, and you're right, it's time I got started! Father, please, look--" she gestured at Sylvia--"she came all this way! Surely we're not going to turn her away."

"I hope not," Sylvia muttered, a bit too loudly. She saw the King narrow his eyes at her for speaking out of turn. "I am not allowed back, Your Majesty, until my task is complete," she said shame-facedly. "The Bog King is not known for his tolerance to failure."

"See? Father!" Marianne was back to shaking King Dagda's arm insistently. "Let her stay! Please?"

King Dagda looked between her and the goblin, clearly torn between wary apprehension and fatherly guilt. "But my dear, we know nothing about... about..." She could be dangerous, he wanted to say.

Sylvia nodded. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, if I may elucidate further on the current economy of the Dark Forest, perhaps we can find someplace to start."

Marianne beamed. "Yes! I'd love to learn more about the Dark Forest!"

She was going to unleash the princess on Bog, Sylvia decided. She was going to work so hard to make the impossible possible, because she liked little Marianne, and right now she hated Bog so much she was setting aside generations' worth of prejudice against fairies to spite her stupid, surly king. She would bend her foremothers' memory to helping Marianne be a good Queen, because the princess was going to kick Bog's ass, metaphorically or literally, it didn't matter. Bog was going to get killed with kindness. Served him right.

3: Weaving The Web

Ambassador Sylvia was housed in a set of apartments to the eastern wing of the castle. She had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a receiving room, which was all she needed, but also clearly all she would receive. Theoretically, she was allowed to roam the Kingdom. In practice, she couldn't go anywhere unless she had permission from her assigned bodyguard.

That would be Captain Nathaniel, who, she gathered, was considered experienced enough with Court protocol to know who she could speak to within the Palace and beyond, strong enough to take her down if she tried anything, and smart enough to know where she was allowed to go. He was also the only one who could tolerate her presence without gagging, if the faces of the people she passed was any indication.

To mitigate that effect, she spun herself a dress that covered her lower body completely. She looked like a wingless fairy wearing an extremely large skirt, if one didn't peer too closely at the feet under the hem. It was also long-sleeved and high-necked, giving the air of excessive modesty. Sylvia wasn't sure how immune the fairies were to her skin, which could be poisonous to some goblins but not others, and she frankly wasn't about to try to find out.

Captain Nathaniel's reaction to the dress was satisfying, at the very least.

The princesses were another matter. Sylvia had been surprised when they came to call on her almost as soon as she had settled in. They were both curious chatterboxes with bright happy laughter. Princess Dawn was very much what Sylvia had expected of a fairy girl: graceful and charming, if very young. Princess Marianne, however, was something else: opinionated, adventuresome, and surprisingly clumsy. The last, Sylvia would not have expected of a Fairy princess, much less the Crown Princess.

They were so sweet, though, those girls. As soon as they had seen Sylvia's dress, they immediately offered to send seamstresses to her, and gifted her with the petals the fairies used for their own dresses. Sylvia taught them old embroidery tricks in exchange. Dawn was thrilled; Marianne was curious, but such crafts were clearly not of interest.

As Ambassador, Sylvia was invited to some of the Council meetings that were considered relevant. They were generally ones that dealt with trade, although she had been invited to one or two specifically about border talks thus far. She accepted every invitation, and spent time in the archives otherwise, learning everything she could.

There was a lot of consternation at her first appearance. Angry councilors all but accusing her of spying, plotting evil, and destroying the kingdom. They demanded to know what the Dark Forest wanted, who she was really, what her true role at home was.

So far, she had only made gentle suggestions and made polite requests for more information, because she was to understand the lay of the land before she proposed anything radical, and she, too, understood the chaos and upset that changes could bring. She was rewarded with sneering lectures about the grand history of the Fairy Kingdom, to which she nodded and made notes of, and compared to what she knew, what she remembered.

She needed to do this. They had to get used to her at some point, and she needed all the ammunition she could garner. She could put up with all their aggressive posturing and interrogations.

What surprised her was Marianne, who, despite her father's admonishments, argued with the staid old councilors, oh how she argued-! They were worse than the Elders of the Forest, who at least respected protocol enough to capitulate to Bog when Bog had been young and similarly feisty towards them. Perhaps because they knew they were there to serve the Bog King and help him rule. They were old and cranky because they had to be, to push the King's decision-making integrity. (That stupid love ban was made without their input, which just went to show how wrong-headed it was.)

These fairy councilors just didn't seem to like a young spitfire. They muttered under their breaths about marrying her off as soon as possible, and prayed for a more... obliging king.

If anything, Sylvia determined that she should stick it out for Marianne's sake, at least. There didn't seem to be any other women on the council, and it was heartbreaking to watch the old men try to browbeat their princess down.

"You did well," Sylvia told Marianne during a recess, finally catching a moment alone with the princess.

"You think so?" Marianne asked, sounding a little fatigued. "It doesn't feel that way. Is it always supposed to be like this?"

"You will get better at this," Sylvia promised. "I don't know very much about your Fairy politics, but the Council will bend to you eventually. It's good you got started so early."

"Marianne!" King Dagda called from the other side of the room.

As the princess trotted off, Sylvia was accosted--she had no other word for how three old men were suddenly in front of her when she was trying to get more biscuits. She raised an eyebrow, looking around for Captain Nathaniel. "Gentlemen."

"Gobliness, you shouldn't be speaking to Princess Marianne."

Sylvia tilted her head inquiringly.

"We don't know what the Dark Forest is playing at, but know that we'll defend the Fairy Kingdom with our last breath."

"Don't you dare try to convert the princess to your filthy ways," another hissed at her.

She munched at her biscuit, saying nothing.

They glared at her, as if daring her to speak.

The recess was over. As they filed back into the room, Sylvia felt Captain Nathaniel beside her.

"Are you all right?" he asked in low tones.

She put a hand on his arm, and smiled. Still silent, she sashayed into the meeting, ready to take more notes.

She was descended of spiders, after all.

4: Family Secrets

It only took two months before Ambassador Sylvia was stir-crazy from being confined to the Palace. She picked a nice-looking afternoon when she felt reasonably sure very few people would be around to see her, and finally worked the courage to ask Captain Nathaniel if she was allowed out of the Palace, at least into some garden of some kind, because if she had to see more walls, she was going to build webs, and wouldn't that just terrify the staff, and she would actually do it.

To his credit, he didn't blanche, and laughed instead.

"I was wondering whether you were just a homebody," he admitted, still chuckling.

"I certainly am not," she huffed. "I just didn't know what I was allowed to do. I am practically a prisoner here, Captain. You forget that I am the only goblin on the premises."

He sobered a little. "I... I'm sorry, Madame Ambassador. I'll be a bit more forthright in the future in volunteering more information."

"That would be nice."

"There are some palace grounds. I'm afraid they're not that interesting on the ground--it has interesting rock formations for flying around."

"Ah, for fliers, then."

Nathaniel smiled crookedly. "Is that what you goblins call us?"

"No, it's what wingless goblins call those with wings. Surely you have people here without wings, Captain. Elves? Brownies? What do they call you?"

"Lords and ladies." Captain Nathaniel shrugged, his expression sardonic.

"Oh, you have a sharp tongue. I like that very much, Captain."

Captain Nathaniel had the grace to blush, and gestured gallantly for her to follow him. He politely refrained from flying off and showed her the appropriate staircases down.

The gardens were not much to look at, but they were green and colourful. Sylvia squinted at the sunny sky overhead. Without trees, the sunshine was rather strong. The rock formations, however, were very interesting. Not that Captain Nathaniel could tell her anything about them.

The sound of wood thwacking against rock caught her attention, and she approached it to see the Crown Princess, wielding a stick and attacking a rock piece. She put all her might into it, yelling every time she hit it.

"Your stance needs to be wider, Your Highness," Sylvia called.

Marianne yelped and fell backwards. "Madam Sylvia!" She got up hastily, running a hand through her tousled hair. "Uh... how long were you there for?"

"Not very long. Is this how you spend your lazy afternoons? I thought all you fairies napped in preparation for nighttime parties, or something."

"Well... it's the only time no one's around," Marianne muttered, kicking something. "Promise you won't tell my Dad?"

"Uhm." Sylvia turned to Nathaniel, eyebrow raised. "I feel I'm missing something here. Why wouldn't your father want you training?"

"Girls apparently don't belong in the army." Marianne made a face. "They don't fight."

"But that's... not... true? Even among Fairy Queens? Queen Eresdia fought with a spear in one hand and a broadsword in the other. Then there was the Army of Thorns which was comprised of all women. Also, Queen Melinda, also known as the May Fire Queen, was quite proficient with any blade from yea-short to yea-long." Sylvia used her hands to demonstrate the length. "I don't know what they were called, though. The memory gets fuzzy on that kind of detail." She noticed the two fairies staring at her, and put a hand to her mouth. "Oops."

"I... had heard of the May Fire Queen, and the other names are familiar, but never that they fought." Captain Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "How would you know those things?"

"Ah, well." Sylvia scratched her head. "I suppose it had to come out eventually. A few, very few, species of goblins are born with the memories of the generations before. We call it foremother memory, though sometimes it is forefather memory." She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "It isn't perfect, and some of us have completely different memories of the same events sometimes, because different people have different interpretations of the same thing, obviously! But I do have several foremothers who have battled the fairy queens in the past. Personally, even." She grinned at Marianne. "So you see, princess, whoever taught you that girls don't fight, are wrong. Even in goblin songs, the most fearsome foes have been fairy queens."

"A Living Memory. I thought your kind a myth." Captain Nathaniel pursed his lips, frowning. "This is information you should divulge to the King, Madam Ambassador."

"It just hasn't come up." Sylvia waved a hand. "Also it is never a good idea to tell kings this sort of thing. They usually try to kill you for it."

"Not fairy kings!" Marianne gasped.

"I assure you, Princess, fairy kings, and goblin kings. There are very few of us as a result." It was half the truth, but they didn't need to know that. Anyway, it made her sad to think about.

"So not all goblins are like you?" Marianne pressed further. "What other species of goblin can remember things?"

"Mostly us spiders, and the Swarm, of course. Bees have a collective consciousness, you know."

"Madam Ambassador," Captain Nathaniel firmly said. "You have to tell the King that you're a Living Memory."

"Or what," Sylvia scoffed.

"Or I will tell him myself."

Sylvia stiffened, taking in the grim line of her guard's mouth and the furrow of his brow.

He flushed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I understand that it's a--a family secret. But I have my duty to the King, too."

"I just told the Princess. Doesn't count?"

"Nice try. No."

"Ugh." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Fine. Get me an audience with the King, and I'll tell him." She looked down at Princess Marianne. "Before that, though, perhaps, Princess, you need further instruction."

Sylvia relished the delight on Marianne's face, almost as much as she relished the long-suffering roll of Nathaniel's eyes as she browbeat him into teaching Marianne.

5: History Will Hurt You

It was inevitable, perhaps, that her lineage would spill out in Council meetings. Well, the King called it her lineage. She just called it a family thing. When she had told King Dagda, she had demanded political immunity.

A meeting about border talks, and just how much trade to let through. Sylvia had been focusing on deep breathing, because they were counting in terms of how many individual caravans should be allowed through per year, which was so asinine it was taking a lot of willpower to not scream, or get up and leave. Among her notes were goblin elders similarly grousing about trade and allowing fairies into the Dark Forest. Well, only two, because those were the only ones who cared enough to write her back. Captain Nathaniel vetted all her letters, so she couldn't even pour her frustrations out in paper to Auntie Griselda, or yell at Bog for not responding to her reports.

Perhaps she could have been more measured in her response, a bit more careful in how she replied, but hindsight was clearer than the moment.

"We must consider how this will affect our own economy," some windbag called Glaucus was pontificating. "In the height of King Samiel's reign, we allowed caravans to pass through, and that was enough to bring down the dynasty!"

Marianne had made a face. "But King Samiel was a peacekeeper, and the war following wasn't because of the trade caravans... it was a civil war between two noble houses-"

"Marianne." King Dagda had frowned.

Marianne, already worn down for the day, bowed her head. Sylvia wanted to smack the King. What was it with this generation of kings, she wondered. Why was she cursed with them?

"King Samiel's reign was the most prosperous in a ten-generation range. Nobody in the markets even cared about the petty civil war between House Nikel and House Reale, although there was a very good tragic play about it. I believe you call it Rome and Rosalind. The dynasty fell four generations after, because his great grandson was assassinated by a Duke. Big news. The Forest talked about the murder for weeks, because it involved a very interesting arsenic compound, or some such."

Sylvia stopped there, smiling at Marianne. "I think you have been a very good student, Your Highness."

"Hoo boy," she heard Captain Nathaniel, standing right behind her, mutter under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear.

The councillors, however, were aghast. "How would you know that?" Glaucus snapped.

"Madam Sylvia," King Dagda said, holding a hand up for silence. "While your Living Memory is useful, I don't believe what you've shared is relevant to this conversation, which is about the present time."

The hubbub flared up instead. A Living Memory -- right here? -- she's a Living Memory -- they're extinct! -- she must have read it somewhere -- can she even read? -- stupid thing to say anyway --

"Your Majesty, you may be right, but then, neither are Sir Glaucus' words, because he was the first one to bring up a king five hundred years dead." She took a moment to consult her notes on a more recent historical note. "Perhaps we should look to your grandfather's time, then, as a model? A single market, held every two years, right at the border. It lasted all the way until the Winter Famine of Three Seasons, and was simply never picked up again." Due to fairy resistance, she mentally added. Granted, the Forest Royals were never crazy about it either. Goblin commoners and elves liked it just fine.

"And you, what, remember that?" Glaucus sneered.

"I remember the festivals, yes, but not quite the dates, which I found in your archives." She folded her hands on the table to give him a serene smile. "I'm not stupid enough to think that you would take Living Memories seriously."

"Living Memories are extinct," he asserted.

She held her hands up. "Why, what a surprise. I must be some mass hallucination of this Council, then."

"Or you, Madam, are a fraud!"

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and steepling her hands. What did she know about this one? Ah, yes. "House Erendl hired one of my ancestresses once. She was working as a mercenary, internecine war and all that, a little under a hundred years ago. A drop of poison into the goblet of the patriarch of House Fyrel. She was so smug, because no one knew how she did it."

"What?" someone shouted from down the table. "Lord Norrel died of a heart attack!"

"Which threw the whole house into a tizzy, destabilizing the household and allowing House Erendl to offer aid, in the form of assimilating House Fyrel, and all of its assets, into itself." She smiled brightly. "That's from your history books. Now, my ancestress had been in the rafters of the dining hall and spit a bit of venom into his drink. Here's the good bit: if the hall still stands, there's a little scratch on the top western corner of the room, reading 'Latish was here' in fairy script."

That someone down the table gasped. "That... how did you... but Latish was a joke! He's supposed to be an elf!"

"Latish is not an elf name, come on. It is a very spider name." She leaned back. "But let's be honest here, how should a northern spider know about such a specific family joke here in the Fairy Kingdom?"

"This meeting is adjourned. We will table the consideration of caravan trade until next fortnight," King Dagda declared. "Madam Sylvia, stay."

Sylvia stayed still as everyone else in the room filed out, outraged whispers abounding. Marianne insisted on staying too, but King Dagda shot her a quelling look.

Finally, it was just her, and maybe Nathaniel was behind her, she didn't care to check, and King Dagda.

"Madam Sylvia, we... appreciate... your support of our daughter."

Oh, the royal 'we'.

"However, we would rather not have her outbursts encouraged at meetings. Not to mention that flagrant display of your Living Memory." He frowned. "We are at peace now, Madam Sylvia, and we would like to keep it that way."

"Of course, Your Majesty. Sparking a feud anew would be... awkward."

The king nodded. "We will request your advice in the future. Be assured that your presence remains most welcome at the table."

He was a very bad liar, this king. "Your Majesty, if I may ask..."

"Yes?"

"What do you think of the goblins, and of the Dark Forest?"

He blinked at her now, blank-faced. "I, well..."

Dropping the royal 'we'. He must have been very surprised.

Sylvia watched as he fumbled through some platitudes about the two kingdoms co-existing in peace for the last several centuries with no trouble, and she wondered if he genuinely believed that. It was hard to know what the memory-less knew about the past. Did he genuinely think that the barely-contained disgust that his fairy council had for her and her kind was because goblins were truly less civilized, prone to violence, and hideous? Or was he willfully blind, purposefully ignoring the Purging Century, when fairies burned down the Forest to create the Kingdom they called the Bright Meadow, hunted down goblins to decimate them? The memories swirled in her mind's eye, unbidden. There had never been any healing for the foremothers.

When he was done, she nodded.

"Good day, Madam Ambassador," the King said, and rose from his seat to leave. She waited until he had closed the door behind her before she, too, rose (though not from a chair; the advantage to being a spider was that she didn't need a seat. She just rested on her belly).

Captain Nathaniel had been behind her all along. "That was the most exciting thing I've witnessed," he said, good humour playing at his lips. "I think I'm in the wrong line of work."

She gave him a wan smile, still overwhelmed by the whole thing. Shouldn't have asked the King that question, she thought. But she had to know. Had to find out, in order to decide how to best proceed.

The fairy guard held an arm out to her. She regarded it a moment, brow knitting in confusion, then relaxed. It was a peace offering, a gesture of solicitude. She took the arm, aware of how thin it was in her hand, how fragile, how easily her talons could cut through his skin. It was easy to forget he was a fairy sometimes, since he stood tall even among fairies. As he led her back to her rooms, passing by fairies who looked at them askance and greeted him with a question marks in their voices, she let herself be a little sad. For all her Living Memory--what a joke of a title--it didn't seem to make a bit of difference here.

He opened the door for her, and she brushed past him to get in, wanting more than anything to lie down.

"Madam Ambassador," he said suddenly as the door was closing.

She stopped, inquiringly.

He took a moment to find his words. "I thought... it was very kind of you to defend Her Highness the way you did."

"That is what we are supposed to do for the young, Captain."

"Of... of course." He snapped a salute. "Good afternoon, Madam Ambassador."

6: Letters

"To His Majesty, the Bog King of the Dark Forest, under whose shade we may ever find shelter,

"I respectfully request a response to my latest reports on the possibility of a market on the border between the Dark Forest and Bright Meadow. I am given to understand that Elder Abrax and Elder Johan have expressed their full support of the idea to you.

"I look forward to your answer.

"Your humble servant."

She hoped he choked on his guilt.

"Dear Aunt Griselda,

"I am so, so, so sorry that I have not written you all these months. The Fairy authorities have apparently been withholding your letters from me all this while! Also, I have a guard who reads all my letters, which is so embarrassing, and I was so mad so I didn't really want to write anyway.

"I am also sorry to hear that my dearest cousin, who I love with all my heart but who I am definitely still angry at, continues his 'ban on love.' I utterly agree that it is a singularly foolish idea, but what can be done, he's the King, or so he made clear to me before he sent me on this mission. I gather that he continues to ignore your admonitions, but I don't think any word from me is going to help any.

"The Fairy Kingdom is something else! There are all sorts of rules here that are obviously very new, or at least I don't remember them at all, nor even my foremothers. There are five different forks at the dinner table, and ten different colours to signal one's interest in the opposite sex. None of which I am allowed to wear, because I am a goblin, after all, and am not supposed to be interested in fairy men. I had a very snooty protocol minister tell me this, and you will be proud of me for my response: 'your ancestors had no problem mating with mine back in the day.' I am still very pleased with this answer, and I thought I would share.

"The princesses are adorable, and they make my stay worthwhile. Such open hearts. Their best friend is an elf, even, from a nearby village. He visits them often, and they play together on the palace grounds. It's quite the sight, and apparently a source of consternation. The elder girl is a fiesty one, so full of fire and big ideas for what she wants to do as Queen. The Councilors, who are all elderly men struggling to remain relevant in this day and age, are trying to snuff her out. I am going to support her the best I can, but I worry for the child. She has few fairy friends, and among her peers, she does stand out a bit strong, not because she's a princess.

"The winter was terrible. The fairies 'huddle' for warmth during the cold season, which means to say all the fairies pack themselves into the castle and live in extremely close quarters for several months. It was an awful experience and I am still recovering. They said they're the traumatized ones, having to deal with my spider-legs, ha! Thank goodness for spring! I am going to hibernate next year.

"I run out of parchment now, but I will try to keep writing. Is Bog really having the primroses cut down on his side of the border? People are talking about the fearsome Bog King who has imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy and banned love. I have had to bite my tongue more than once in the face of certain concerned queries.

"Do keep writing, auntie dearest! Your letters do my heart such good!"

She considered making a saucy remark about her bodyguard, because his usually-sallow face is so becoming with a blush. However, he had to maintain a professional distance, and he hadn't really done anything to deserve the discomfort of a goblin flirting with him.

"Dear cousin,

"Your reputation is making my job difficult for me this side of the border.

"Stop it already.

"Your loving cousin."

That was probably not the wisest note to send off, but it felt good.

"To her wonderful highness, Princess Marianne,

"What a lovely note you sent! I am so touched by your concern. Yes, it is indeed a cold, as I am unused to your weather here. Your architecture is so drafty! But the doors hold and I am not unlocking them until I have recovered fully. Even if you did break it down, you will not be able to get me out of my web, anyway.

"Do not worry for me! I am resting well, and we spiders can go for quite some time without food if we have eaten a great deal beforehand. Captain Nathaniel has done his job very well in this regard. I hope your father promotes him.

"I know council meetings are very hard on you, but they will get easier over time. Have courage, highness! Remember, you are their Crown Princess and your words carry a weight they can only dream of."

She slipped that under the door out, knocking for Captain Nathaniel to pick it up and deliver it. Then she crawled into the large cocoon-like web she made to completely encase her for the next few days. She would have to make something for Nathaniel, though, because he had walked in on her as she made it and she had been so frenzied in the process she almost ate him. That had not been her finest moment, and thank goodness it was Nathaniel and not anybody else. He was hard to throw off, that one. Sylvia respected that.

"Dear Auntie Griselda,

"So much has been going on! Princess Marianne finally made her official debut into fairy society and it was a very grand celebration. She still keeps her treasured talents a secret from her father, and there is something so awkward, so straining to watch. She needs a mother figure! I wish you were here. You would know just what to say. I have foremother memory, of course, but that is not the same as having raised my own child. I am doing my best. Channel me some of your spirit!

"However, why do you insist on inflicting Bog on these poor girls you keep mentioning to me? Any girl who'll willingly put up with that surly temper is not fitting Queen material, Auntie. That said, if you find a woman willing to challenge him to a real fight, let me know. I'll defy his edict to return and watch that.

"I do believe that over time, my presence in this Court has made something of a difference. The princesses are unafraid of me, and this is setting the tone for many of the people who see them regularly. There is talk of letting me leave the Palace grounds, even, to visit the nearby towns and villages. I will not lie: the idea does make me feel like an exhibit, but the princesses are such sweet girls, so curious about the Dark Forest. Do talk to Bog about a possible visitation from the Fairy princesses, Auntie, because they will not stop asking, and I promised them I would try.

"My former bodyguard, Captain Nathaniel, no longer watches over me. He has been replaced by a rotating company of protocol advisors. I even have an elf secretary, which is a strange feeling. All these years, I've always played secretary to Bog, and now here I am with my own secretary! I do believe this is Marianne's--Princess Marianne's--influence. She is small, but mighty.

"In your next letter, I wonder if you could slip me some herbs from the Dark Forest to cook with? Or at least make some tea? Fairy food is nice but it is nothing like food from home. I would say that I'd kill for a good meat jerky but that might alarm the person who vets my letters."

She didn't say she missed Captain Nathaniel, because the last thing she needed was for Aunt Griselda to take an interest in her nonexistant love life, even from afar.

But she missed his quiet presence a great deal. Incredible how calming he was, compared to the other fairies who nervously stuttered every time she answered the door.

"Dear Councilor Nathaniel,

"Thank you for the congratulations and well-wishes on my new house. It is strange to think of it as a home--it is still, in my mind, on the wrong side of the primroses. You are, of course, welcome to visit it anytime you like, so long as you give me prior notice.

"It is now my turn to tender you a hearty congratulations on being appointed to the legislative council. I am still trying to understand what it means, being from a foreign land with a very different form of government, but I am sure you are well-qualified for it.

"I look forward to your future accomplishments as councilor."

That was strangely awkward to write. She fiddled with the last line for a long time. Glancing at the wastebasket, she cringed at the drafts: ones where she accidentally still called him "Captain," ones she thought perhaps sounded too intimate (no one read her letters anymore but it was still embarrassing, though she wasn't sure why), ones that sounded too formal. What was the right balance of warm and professional?

The house, right on a brook between Sunny's village and the castle, was large, larger than the houses in the village, which made her feel awkward. These common folk, who have lived here longer than she ever did, living in much smaller, modest homes. She didn't deserve the house she got, she mused. But it was spacious enough for her needs, maybe too big, but that was filling up with the projects she was filling her time with. More weaving, more music, and more paperwork.

From her highest window, she could see the Dark Forest, the huddled trees beckoning to her. She tried not to look at it too often. The pang in her heart wasn't worth the view.

7: A Spring Ball

Councilor John was a portly fairy man who was from a merchant family that had bought its way up the ranks. He had recently been appointed to the trade council, and was one of the very few--well, maybe the only one--who openly supported trade with the Dark Forest.

He was also a bit of a windbag, which Sylvia politely tolerated even though she would like nothing more than to just go home. An hour in his company was quite enough to tire her out for the rest of the evening. But Sylvia had no other company at the ball, so she allowed him to monopolize her time. It wouldn't be the first time a social function like this one was occupied by business for her.

The Spring Ball was otherwise lively: Marianne was the life of the party, sweet and happy as she flew among the other young fairies in the upper half of the room. The older folks sedately mingled on the floor, talking shop, drinking wine.

"Good evening." They turned to see Nathaniel, standing ramrod straight as if he were still a soldier, though there was a slight relaxation to his stance.

Sylvia smiled, relieved to see him. "Councilor."

He nodded his head, returning the smile. "Madam Ambassador, it has been a while."

"Busy, busy."

"Councilor," he said to John. "Might I renew my acquaintance with Ambassador Sylvia? It has been a while since I saw her last, and you see her practically every week."

"Of course, Councilor," John said, looking vaguely amused. "Nothing like the company of an intelligent woman, eh?"

Nathaniel guided her away with a gentle hand on her elbow, towards a quieter corner of the ballroom. "You looked like you were about to faint there."

She laughed. "My hero. I might have." Then she softened, taking in his face. There were a few more lines than she had seen there before. "How have you been? I was... surprised to discover that you were no longer working with the castle guard." Disappointed, more like, and even moreso when she heard he had requested the transfer.

"Adapting to council life has been a little hard," he admitted. "But it was time for a career change, in no small part thanks to you." He grinned at her, which made him look years younger.

"Me?"

"I joined the guard to defend the Royal Family, as you know. Watching you at council, defending our princess, made me realize that that was where the true work is at."

"Why..." she was speechless, and put a hand to her mouth to hide her pleasure. "It, uhm... it must be a different world for you now."

"Oh yes, one with a few more freedoms, like this one."

"Like what?"

He glanced to the orchestra, then smiled at her. "A dance, Madam Ambassador?"

She blinked. She had seen the fairy dances, and Marianne and Dawn had taught her the steps, because of course they would, but no one had ever asked her before. "You realize I have eight feet, which raises your chances of getting your feet stepped on?"

"I also know your feet are set very far apart from mine, so I think we'll be fine."

"Also that you can't twirl me around?"

"Madam Ambassador, if you don't want to dance, I shan't take offense. We can take a mooonlit walk instead."

She drew a sharp breath. "Councilor." She held out her hand. "Let's see if you can lead as well as you flirt."

He could. It was a simple waltz, with no embellishing movement, quick enough that her skirts swished, slow enough that they fell into a comfortable rhythm and chatter.

"Are there no dances in the Dark Forest?" he asked.

"There are, but not quite so formal like this. The formal ones are often solo performances designed to attract mates." She grinned. "And thus only danced by men." She thought his grip on her hand got a little tighter, and amended. "There are some groups with their own dances. We spiders do fun things with webbing."

"It must be a sight to see."

"Oh, it's marvelous." She sighed, suddenly homesick. "On spring evenings, right after the rains, we challenge each other to dance on the webs without disturbing the dewdrops."

"No music?"

She laughed softly. "Councilor, our webs are also instruments." She didn't think about it often. Wearing skirts meant hiding access to her spinnarets. "Do you play?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid my physical skills are limited to combat. Are you still giving Princess Marianne secret lessons, by the way?"

"Occasionally. I try to meet with her once a week. She's easily distractable, which does terrible things for her footwork."

"A shame. She seems very capable. Perhaps I'll join you sometime."

She smiled. "I think Her Highness would appreciate that."

As the song ended, they walked off the floor, his hand on the small of her back as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Someone waved to him from the side of the room, and before she could say anything, he was leading her there, too.

"Donna," he greeted the waving fairy woman, one in a clump of four other fairy women. "Madam Ambassador, may I introduce my sister and her friends, Karen, May, Olivia, and Rain."

"Madam Ambassador," Donna said, her face unreadable. It was clear to Sylvia that the sister expected Nathaniel to not bring the goblin ambassador over. "Nathaniel, is this the goblin you were guarding last year?"

He nodded.

Sylvia stuck out a hand. "A pleasure."

Donna seemed to recover her sense of courtesy and took her hand, if hesitantly. Sylvia asked them all their houses, families, and took careful mental notes on who had which expressions.

They were all married, these women, no Spring debutantes. Sylvia felt she ought to be relieved to be around women her age, but their faint air of arrogance left much to be desired. They were friendly enough, and gossipy enough that when Nathaniel walked off to fetch a drink, they pressed in eagerly.

"Nathaniel hasn't danced with a woman in ten years," Donna said, much impressed. "We're all very shocked, because we were convinced he joined the castle guard to be around men."

Sylvia was caught very short by this sudden turn. "Councilor Nathaniel and I have only recently renewed our acquaintanceship. I haven't seen him in a year."

"Even during winter?"

"I hibernate in winter, Lady Donna." That wasn't strictly true, as winters in the Dark Forest weren't quite as bitingly cold. Still, Foresters got a lot of sleeping done in winter. Spring was a period of extended morning grouchiness as a result. "The first winter I joined the Huddle, but the second year I needed much needed time alone." She smiled faintly. "I'm sure everyone appreciated my absence."

"Oh no, Madam Ambassador!" This was Karen. "Some of us were actually quite worried for you! We had to have the elves check on your residence."

"Is it true that everyone goes naked in the Dark Forest?"

"Is it true that the Bog King has imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy? How did he do it?"

"Is it true that goblins have--"

"Is it true--"

Sylvia managed to stutter her way through some of the most awkward and possibly also most offensive questions she had ever fielded. So much for women being more genteel than men here. But her good grace must have done something, because eventually they moved onto her dress, and invited her to their embroidery circle.

When Nathaniel came to extricate her with ostensibly another dance, she almost fell into his arms in relief. "I'm leaving right after this," she gasped.

"That bad?"

"I mean, they are nice, but I'm not used to talking so much! And I thought the princesses were chatterboxes!"

"Oh no, don't you know, Madam Ambassador, chattering is the default mode of a fairy?"

She glowered at him. "Are you trying to make me hate my job, Councilor?"

8: Duo

Crown Princess Marianne of the Bright Meadow was in love. Dawn told Sylvia one day as they said embroidering together. "She met him at the Spring Ball, and he danced with her all night. Do you think I'll meet someone at the Spring Ball?"

It was hard to remember how small Dawn had been just a few scant years ago. "Life holds no such promises. Watch your lines."

Sylvia tried very hard to like him, but within a month, she decided she hated him.

She couldn't tell Marianne, who was so happy, beaming on the young man's arm at every function, nor Dawn, who would probably just tell her sister. So she ranted at Nathaniel instead.

"He is a blithering idiot! And dragging her to his level. She barely talks at council now, and everytime I look at her notes she's doodling his name somewhere. I get that it's young love, but come on. And he encourages this! Marianne doesn't need to go to council, because when he is King, he will handle it! Marianne doesn't need to worry her 'pretty little head' because when he is King, he'll take care of her! It makes me want to gag!"

Nathaniel, in turn, leaned back in his chair and looked up at her, because she was pacing on her ceiling. There was too much furniture on the floor. For a flier culture, there was a lot of floor furniture, she felt, so she paced on her walls and ceiling instead.

"I asked her to bring him to council meetings, and he apparently refused! And she sees nothing wrong with that! How can you claim to want to be King and then refuse to at least participate in the conversations which Kings are supposed to be in?"

"It's only been two months, Sylvia. Give them time." Nathaniel picked up his report again.

"It only takes a single blow to ruin a masterpiece," Sylvia lamented. "Look at my cousin. He used to be smarter, until one love affair ruined him, and possibly for life."

"I thought you said the Bog King was always recalcitrant, and surly, and uncooperative."

"Yes well, he at least used to be able to see past his own nose. And Marianne's form has gotten sloppy, just so you know. I'm no soldier, and even I can see that."

"You underestimate your skills."

Sylvia finished ranting and crossed her arms, taking a deep breath.

"How is your cousin, by the way?"

"Still an idiot."

By this she meant, and she knew Nathaniel understood, that the Bog King had not written her any letters beyond official responses to her reports, terse notes on what he agreed with and what he did not want to see. They were far and few in between, but given that fairy councils dragged business on forever and a half, Sylvia couldn't really blame him.

"What do you think of the young man, anyway?" She finally calmed down enough to walk down the wall and sit at the table, pouring herself a cup of tea.

"Well... I was surprised, honestly. Roland had never really struck me as anything but military. His talk about being King seems to be more about wanting to be a match for Marianne than actual qualification for the job." He sipped his own tea. "But then, love matches aren't really about qualifications, are they?"

"They are, for royals."

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow over his teacup. "Then why aren't you married to the Bog King?"

"You're adorable. Are you implying I'm qualified to be a royal?"

"Implying? I feel I am outright stating."

"Ha!" Sylvia rested her elbows on the table. "Spiders aren't really suited to being royalty. There have been two spider queens in the past, but they abdicated. Too much dealing with people. Too much pressure."

"But advising the King is enough pressure? How is that much different from being Queen?"

"It's a different set of responsibilities. Being Queen would have required too much personal proximity that interferes with advising the King. This much we agreed upon."

Nathaniel blinked at her. "You, ah, were involved with the Bog King?"

"Of course I was," she snorted. "We were best friends growing up. It was inevitable that we'd be dating at some point. But we were... closer, when we weren't romantically involved." She smiled pensively. "One day he'll meet someone, and she's going to be a lucky girl. If he finally snaps out of his ridiculous broody mode of life."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, broken by a hesitant question. "And you? Do you ever hope to find someone?"

Sylvia took a moment. It wasn't as though she had never thought about it. It was just so complicated.

"You don't have to answer that." Nathaniel picked up his report again.

"No. I mean." She sighed. "It's difficult, for my people." She looked into her tea. "My people are called widows, you know?"

"As in... the spiders who eat their husbands?"

She nodded. "It has definitely happened. It was definitely a thing. But that's not the real problem. It's our skin. We're venomous, and our skin is sometimes poisonous to people. Not everyone, but some. And... and mating is a difficult thing for us. Because exchanging fluids is difficult. The more likely widows conceive from a mating, the more likely the mate wastes away and dies from poison."

After a moment, Nathaniel leaned over and poured her more tea. "Is that why there are so few of you?"

"Yes and no. There are fewer of us because... because of the Purging Century." She drank her tea, watching his reaction carefully. "Do you know of it?"

He shook his head.

"You call it the Clearing For the Field," she said quietly. "I... none of my foremothers... ever like to think of it. But we remember."

He held her gaze steadily, and the lines around his eyes deepened with sadness.

She took a deep breath. "That, and coupled with the fact that most of us don't want to be widows... we just end up... not having children." She laughed a little. "It's a little hard to do. It's no fun to have sex with someone who you'd want to kill anyway, but when it's someone you do want to be with, what can you say? 'I want to have your children but there is a fifty-fifty chance you'll die'? That probably isn't healthy for a relationship. And it's not good for the children either, who will remember."

"There are no memories of mates who loved and gave themselves up willingly?"

"Those are the worst memories. Ruined husbands. Wasting away. Why would anyone want to inflict that on a loved one willingly?"

"Another reason to not be with the Bog King, I imagine."

"Ha. No. His line is actually immune. Long line of kings and queens who survived poisoning by ingesting it and making it part of their blood. It would be my luck the one person I know to be safe would be someone I can't be with." She shrugged. "Luckily it's not a priority anyway. That was another thing Bog and I differed in."

He nodded.

It occurred to her, then, something someone else had said. "What's your story, Councilor Didn't-Dance-With-A-Woman-For-Ten-Years?" She lowered her head to rest it on an arm.

He mimicked her shrug. "Not a priority." At her interested stare, he gave a small laugh. "I'm not joking. I simply don't feel the need, nor the desire. I aesthetically appreciate beauty, I suppose, but even during spring, when we're supposed to be at our most frisky, I simply don't get the urge."

It was her turn to fill his cup with tea.

"It's not that I never want to, but it is not necessarily tied to specific persons. And of course, one cannot cultivate any kind of physical affection with another without the expectations of... well."

"Mm. It is nice to cuddle. That is one thing I miss."

"How do you know if you're venomous to a person, anyway?"

Sylvia thought for a moment. "It depends. Some people get a rash when they come in contact with us. Others feel sick afterwards. There have been cases of people just keeling over and dying. They don't call us the clan of poison kisses for no reason."

He reached across the table, and touched her teacup. "May I?"

Her gaze flicked between his face and her cup. "It'd be your funeral, but I'd rather you not die in my house. It would be terrible for foreign relations."

"I'll fly out if I start feeling ill. Deal?"

He didn't die that night. Nor the next. Nor the next. She didn't know why he insisted on taking that risk, but she appreciated it.

Sylvia was comforted by the fact that she had one person in her life who seemed to dislike Roland as much as she did, though they weren't the only ones in the court who didn't support the match. Nathaniel also winced as the knight burst into song publicly, frowned as the Crown Princess squirmed in embarrassment and delight, and sighed as everyone gushed about how adorable the romance was. Eventually, though, it was clear that Nathaniel also hated Roland, but for some other different reason.

A visit to a blacksmith, Nathaniel giving the excuse that he wanted to fetch something on the way to the palace. There was a training barracks nearby, and they spotted the princesses and some friends giggling as they hovered at the top of the fence, looking in.

"I thought I should keep my hand in. Council meetings make me feel so soft after," Nathaniel was saying as he walked in.

The blacksmith was an elf, large and robust for his people, who grinned as he saw the fairy and the goblin walk in. "Councilor! Madam Ambassador! Welcome!"

"Master Kor. Is it done?"

"Yes it is! For a while, actually. I wasn't sure when you wanted it, but, here." The blacksmith unwrapped something and handed it to Nathaniel. Sylvia, standing behind him at the door observing the girls, didn't notice at first, until he touched her shoulder.

"Here."

"Hm?" She registered that he was holding a weapon to her.

"You favour the staff. I thought you might want one of your own."

"Sorry, what?" she realized she was being very slow on the uptake, but the staff was a beautiful iron with filigree designs on both ends, twining around like wisps of mist.

Or spiderwebs.

She gingerly took the staff, weighing it in her hand, her mouth open in a silent "oh." She almost missed Kor handing a sword to Nathaniel.

"Does the weight suit you, Madam Ambassador?" Kor asked eagerly. "Councilor Nathaniel only gave me the one you used for practice, but it's not the same thing."

"Want to try it out?" Nathaniel nodded to the training barracks.

"You realize that we don't use swords in the Dark Forest for a reason?" she drawled, letting him drag her by the hand to the gate. Past the grate she could see young soldiers practicing with each other.

Dawn's voice pierced the air. "It's Sylvia!"

Sylvia waved the staff at them. "Your Highnesses. Girls."

"Are you duelling the Councilor, Sylvia?" Marianne called out enthusiastically. "Can we watch?" She climbed over the wall now, dropping in front of them. "Is that a new weapon? Can I see?"

"Of course you may. Hold that for me a moment, please." Sylvia dropped the staff into Marianne's eager hands. "Now be aware, Councilor Nathaniel," she said as she started undoing the front buttons of her dress, "that you are about to fight a goblin." She threw off the dress, and her rightmost leg kicked it to the corner. "In case you needed a reminder of what you're up against," she told him at the sight of his raised eyebrow. It had been a while since she'd gone about without a dress.

"Madam Sylvia!" Dawn almost shrieked. "It's going to get dirty!" She swooped down to rescue the dress.

The soldiers in the barracks had stopped, wide-eyed. Roland flitted over, flinty-eyed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What're you up to here, Councilor? Goblins not allowed in the barracks! We're supposed to be keeping them out!"

"The Ambassador has political immunity, Lieutenant," Nathaniel said, shrugging off his coat. "And we shan't be long."

"I'll leave as soon as I kick his ass," Sylvia promised, and the girls behind her laughed. She held her hand out to Marianne, who gave her back her staff.

"Captain."

"Pardon?" Nathaniel asked.

"I'm Captain now."

"Oh, that's nice." He drew out a little hourglass from a breastpocket. "Your Highness? Would you mind very much timing us?"

"Oh, I'd love to!" Marianne held out her hands as Nathaniel tossed it to her.

"Marianne!" Roland pleaded.

"It'll be fine, Roland! It'll be fun! I've never seen them fight each other before!" She grinned up at him. "Ready?" she called, holding up the hourglass.

Nathaniel took his stance, and Sylvia checked her talons. "Anytime."

"Go!"

Despite Sylvia's relaxed opening stance, she met Nathaniel's sword easily. Twisting her body, she kicked at his legs with three of her own, almost throwing him off balance. He caught himself with his wings, landing blows. She jabbed and parried, he returned the blows with full force.

Propelling himself with his wings, he landed a solid kick to her front carapace. She slid backwards, her hind legs keeping her upright, swinging the staff wide to parry his next blow coming at her side, and kicked him back. He flew up, preparing even more momentum.

She flung a hand from her spinnarets and threw a thread up at his feet, snagging him and pulling.

The girls gasped as she soared up while he fell, her legs wrapping around his front. She pulled the staff up to his neck, and he stopped it with his sword, uncomfortably close to his own nose. He spun higher and around, trying to throw her off, but her legs bit into him tighter. Too far above for anyone to see, she let one hand go of her staff, wrapping a hand around his neck.

"In the Dark Forest, you'd be dead," she whispered into his ear as she curled her fingers and dug her talons into his neck. "Should have worn some armour, Councilor."

"Time!" Marianne called from below.

"Well, if I die tonight, you will have sex with me, right? Something to remember me by," he breathed, not really winded.

"Ohhh, you, Councilor, are a true flirt!" She let go of his neck. "Can you get us down? I could let go, but the ground looks hard and I might sprain a foot."

He was laughing as he lowered them down. She jumped off his back, grinning as she took her dress from Dawn.

"A tie!" Marianne proclaimed.

"No, she won," Nathaniel said off-handedly, rubbing his neck. "Sharp claws."

"Really? We didn't see."

"That's the point, Your Highness." Sylvia buttoned up, Dawn helping her adjust her skirts over her back legs.

"Can you see it now, though?" Nathaniel pointed to his neck. "I might have to raise my collar." He touched the little red crescents. "That stings."

"Let me see." She brushed her fingertips over the scratchmarks. "Hm, I did get you good."

"Madam Sylvia, your dress has a splotch!" Dawn complained. Sometimes she was a bossy mother hen of a thing.

"That was the coolest thing!" The crown princess was clasping her hands together as she gushed. "Councilor, will you show me how that kick is done?"

"Now now, Marianne!" Roland exclaimed. "Why would you need to learn that for?"

"It looks cool!"

"Babycakes, I'll do it for you if it means so much to you."

"You'll teach me?" Marianne's excited squeal went up two octaves.

"Uh, no... no, I mean that--"

"Your Highness, if you'd like to stop by my house a week from now, Councilor Nathaniel can teach you that move." Sylvia fussed with Nathaniel's collar, helping him hide the clawmarks.

"Can I come too?" Dawn asked. "I finished a piece I'd really like to show you."

"You are always welcome, Your Highness," Sylvia said fondly.

Behind them Roland made an unhappy noise as he stalked off to his soldiers.

"That was really something!" one of them exclaimed.

"A whole new fight style! We gotta find some goblins to spar with sometime."

"That's disgusting," Roland sputtered. "I mean, yeah, it'd be interesting and make us better fighters, but still disgusting."

Sylvia watched Marianne draw in a sharp gasp, and even Dawn had gone still. Nathaniel started walking towards the soldiers. "Nathaniel, no-" She sighed. "It's not a big deal."

"It... it kinda is," Marianne muttered, embarrassed. She scratched the back of her head uncertainly. "Insulting a foreign dignitary can be grounds for arrest. I'll... I'll talk to him."

"Can you?" Sylvia asked, then paused to think of the implications of the question that the crown princess had definitely caught.

Nathaniel strode back, his gaze flinty, mouth set in a thin line.

"That really wasn't necessary. I've heard much worse."

He shook his head. "I know. From private citizens. But Roland is wearing his uniform, and saying that as a ranking officer. He needs to watch his mouth. He needs to learn," he continued, raising his voice, "especially if he wants to be King!"

"Enough," Sylvia said quietly. "Councilor, I don't need more gossip about me from your defense."

He frowned down at her. "It's a little late for that."

And that was how Ambassador Sylvia found out that apparently she and Councilor Nathaniel were, in fairy words, a thing.

9: Apology

"Roland says sorry."

Sylvia pulled the thread up, and made another knot. "For what?"

"For... for insulting you the other week."

"Captain Roland insulted me many times the other week. Which particular insult is he apologizing for?"

Marianne sighed, dropping her face into her arms on the table. "I am so sorry. It's just... I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Your Highness. You're not the one making the insults, are you?"

It was a rare afternoon that Sylvia got to spend time with just the Crown Princess. It wasn't for lack of trying. When she wasn't in meetings, or studying, or performing some public function, Marianne spent her free time with her intended, Roland. He was off on some border patrol right now, and Marianne followed Dawn down to the elf village to visit Sunny. The two of them were off pulling some prank, and Marianne called on Sylvia instead.

"Did he apologize to you, by the way, for insulting your sword?"

"What? He didn't--" Marianne frowned, then sighed. "He didn't insult my sword."

"He said, and I quote, 'what a cute little thing,' which I think implies that he doesn't take your weapon seriously. Which, I might add, you haven't been practicing with lately. You know you're naturally clumsy, Your Highness, that's why you need practice." Sylvia stopped and sighed herself. "Now it's my turn to apologize. I shouldn't be lecturing you like this. You know it better yourself."

"No! I mean, you're right, I should be practicing, it's just--Roland really doesn't like me swordfighting."

"But you love swordfighting!"

"But I love him too! Isn't loving a person worth more than loving something like swordfighting?"

"No," Sylvia said flatly, foremother memory gauging the situation and recognizing that this needed an intervention. "It's not worth it to stop doing something you love, many things you love in your case, just for a man." She ran a finger through her hair, trying to think of what she could say. "Especially when he's not giving up anything for you."

"He's going to be my King. That's got to be worth something." Marianne was pensive. "He's giving up an easy life to be my King."

"He's not exactly broken up about that," Sylvia replied dryly. "Marianne, I just... I dislike seeing you like this. You shouldn't have to apologize because the guy you love is screwing things up. You should be with someone who makes you feel proud."

"I am proud!" Marianne frowned. "I'm so, so unbelievably proud. I mean, look at him! He's so perfect!" She allowed herself a dreamy smile. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be with him sometimes. Don't you... don't you ever feel that way about Nathaniel?"

"Marianne, don't switch the subject." Sylvia put her sewing down. "You are the Crown Princess of the Bright Meadow. You are brilliant, visionary, and compassionate." She reached across the table to take Marianne's hands. "You wouldn't be the first woman in the world to be worn down by a man blinding you with his charm, but believe me when I say, he's lucky to have you, not the other way around. He will be elevated above his peers. What do you stand to get?"

Marianne gave her an uncertain look. "Love?"

Sylvia sighed. "I'm sorry. I just. I know you love him. It just burns me to see that he doesn't really support your ideas, and he's to be your king. And politically, that's a problem for me, because you know how hard it's been to even get the council to even consider trade with the Dark Forest. And personally, that's a problem for me, because Roland doesn't like goblins, and I'm not about to get some magic spell to make me something else." She decided to change tactics, and turn the topic to something that would pull Marianne out of her morose mood. "Speaking of Kings, I finally heard from the Bog King, and he's agreed to the border market."

"He did?" Mariane's face completely lit up.

That's more like it. Sylvia nodded. "As long as the Fairy Kingdom arranges it, that is. Remember, the last time it stopped was because the Fairy Kingdom refused to help put it up."

"That's so great! I'll ask Sunny if we can get the elves to help, too."

"They'll be more likely to benefit, so that would be nice."

"Could we have a festival of it, maybe? Like a party? That would be so much fun!"

They pored over a map, to determine the best spot for a market. Sylvia would have to write for permission for the exact spot, since it was supposed to spill over. Griselda could help spreading word about the market, too. Finally. Finally they were getting somewhere.

King Dagda's reaction, as Sylvia expected, was rather lukewarm. He recognized the benefits of the border market, but seemed less than concerned about organizing it.

"This will be Marianne's project, Ambassador. I trust you will help her with it?"

She nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"And notify Captain Roland, since it's his responsibility to secure the border."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Tell Captain Roland," the King said again patiently, "because we'll want to make sure it's kept orderly."

"Is Your Majesty implying... that the border market will have increased crime rates because of its proximity to the Dark Forest?" Sylvia asked, eyes narrowing.

"That will be for Captain Roland to determine," King Dagda snapped. "It's his job as future King to judge what's best for the people!"

Sylvia drew herself up. "It is also Princess Marianne's duty and judgement, and she is the one inheriting the throne. When did the Fairy Kingdom start ignoring birthright over marital ties?"

"Do not presume your Living Memory trumps my decision, Madam Ambassador." King Dagda paused, and sighed wearily. "I... We apologize, Madam Ambassador. It has been a long day."

"Of course." It was mid-afternoon.

"And... I understand your... misgivings about Captain Roland. He is not as open to increased contact as my daughter is, I see that. But... he will be my son-in-law, and I have to support him."

King Dagda was lost to her. She recognized that immediately, even without the insight of foremother memory.

Nothing would stop her from celebrating this one small victory, though. Years after arriving in this weirdly stuffy kingdom, with its incomprehensible rules and systems, its distasteful caste system, its petty noble houses, and its bickering councils, something was finally happening.

There would be dancing, Marianne declared. Dawn was thrilled, even moreso when Sunny made arrangements for a concert.

For the first time in years, Sylvia met goblins again, and she wept.

"Sorry," she muttered later to Nathaniel as he spurred the dragonflies on. She knew she was saying it to his chest, since she was sitting on the leaf they were riding on, clinging to him, but she was so exhausted she couldn't stand anymore.

"For what?" he asked, keeping his voice light.

"Being a sobbing mess out of everything tonight. Taking up so much space on this leaf. Introducing you to goblin beer." She thought a moment. "Actually, not the last one. Your face was the best face."

He laughed. "You've nothing to be sorry for. You were so happy tonight. It's the happiest I've ever seen you, I think."

"What, am I usually a sad person?"

He nodded, staring straight ahead. "I don't know if you've noticed, but sometimes it looks like your Living Memory is weighing you down. If not, then your exile. Tonight was the first time I've ever seen you look like you had nothing on your shoulders."

"You must not be paying attention to me when I'm knitting."

"You know what I mean."

"Well, sorry anyway."

"For what, now?"

"I'm so tired I can hardly think straight. I might eat you when I get home."

He stroked her hair. "That's all right."

When they arrived at her house, she stumbled through her door while he let the dragonflies go. She was still fumbling her way--stupid furniture!--when she felt him grab her under her arms and carry her to her bedroom. They fell into her web with a soft oopf.

"Have I thanked you for your service, Councilor Nathaniel?"

"You may have."

"I shall do it properly tomorrow. Good night, Councilor."

"Good night, Madam Ambassador."

10: Aftermath

Ambassador Sylvia was dressed in red at the wedding of Crown Princess Marianne to Captain Roland of the border guard. She wore it out of spite, because spider widows wore red to signal that they had eaten a husband. (This had not been the case in three centuries, but she liked the detail.)

She stared straight ahead, because at one point Councilor Nathaniel had whispered to her that she was glaring at the groom in such a hostile manner it might be misconstrued. They were standing in a small cluster of people who decidedly also did not like Captain Roland, and had vocalized their disapproval for the gadfly guard more than once in public. Their criticisms were varied: he was an upstart; he was from a minor house; he was frivolous; he was a bad influence on the princess; he would be a disaster of a king.

Sylvia agreed with the last reason, although her main reason was more personal. Through careful inquiries and through watching Captain Roland's behaviour around Marianne when she and Nathaniel were present, she was thoroughly convinced that Roland was purposefully steering Marianne away from anyone who would talk some sense into her.

She had attempted to spend the last winter in the Fairy Huddle to try to stop this disaster of a wedding from moving forward. It did not go well, since everytime she had tried to approach Marianne, she would be stymied by Roland's warbling. She overheard him bragging about becoming King by snaring the Crown Princess and it took everything to not stomp him into the ground. Nathaniel spread his own careful whispers--such a subtle man--which almost got Roland into trouble with the King, but the satisfaction didn't last long.

It was especially hard to watch the couple interact. Watching him downplay her achievements unless it made him look good, watching him pay her backhanded compliments that reflected back onto him, listening to him declare public affection for her. And Marianne, so young, so dazzled by it all.

And here they were. She was going to watch, as so many foremothers had, a young woman give herself to an unworthy man.

Nathaniel had an arm around her waist, at her request because she didn't think she could stop herself from killing Roland if she had to go. But she was here nonetheless, because she wanted to support Marianne's decision--this was Marianne's decision, and she had to respect that. Foremother memory told her that trying to steer her away from it would only destroy any rapport she had built with the princess, and if this marriage had to happen, she needed all of it.

A kiss on her ear distracted her. She frowned up at Nathaniel. "What was that for?" she hissed.

"You looked like you could use a distraction."

She took a deep breath. "I suppose I do at that."

The wait seemed to take forever. The crowds started whispering.

"Is she all right?"

"Where is she?"

"What could be taking so long?"

Sylvia wondered if she should be feeling relief. Instead, something cold in her heart growled.

Dawn flew in then, overhead the crowd and straight to her royal father, standing at the altar with Roland. She glanced around nervously and whispered something.

"What?" King Dagda's soft gasp echoed throughout the hall.

"Just what I said, Daddy."

"But that's ridiculous! You can't just... cancel a wedding, on the day of!" At the collective gasp that went up in the room, he looked around, and went back to an angry whisper.

"No!" Dawn's whisper was insistent enough to be heard. "She said the wedding's off! I don't know why!"

King Dagda turned to Roland, as if the groom could give an accounting of his bride's sudden behaviour.

Roland gulped, and gave his best reassuring smile. "Your Majesty, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. Pre-wedding jitters."

"A misunderstanding that would lead to a cancelled wedding?" Dagda, at least, sounded suitably skeptical.

A series of images flashed through her face, then. "He has done something," Sylvia growled under her breath.

Nathaniel gave her a sharp look, and several members in their coterie also turned.

"Look at that face. The face of the guilty. He has done something to hurt her." She knew she wasn't being very loud, not loud enough to be heard at the front, but also that she shouldn't be saying anything.

Unfortunately, a nearby councilor who did not share her sentiments overheard, and turned to frown at whoever was saying that. "Don't be ridiculous. Princess Marianne has always been flighty--"

"You shut up. How dare you insult a princess of the realm." Sylvia took a step forward and felt Nathaniel's arm tighten around her waist, restraining her. The councilor had recognized the source of the voice, and was quickly paling. "How dare you insult your own princess, who is to be your sovereign. Have some respect."

"Patience, Madam Ambassador," Councilor John murmured. "It's not like you have any proof."

"I am Living Memory, Councilor. I know the face of guilt. I have seen it many, many times before, with enough hindsight to recognize it when it is right in front of me."

The whispers were already roaring into an upset hubbub. King Dagda raised his arms for quiet, to little avail. "Princess Marianne is unwell. We will postpone this wedding to a later date. Thank you for coming."

"Your Majesty, there's no need to cancel!" Roland tried to salvage the occasion. "Maybe I should just go talk to her? I'm sure it's just a minor thing! You know how Marianne gets." He turned to Dawn.

King Dagda also turned to Dawn.

Dawn was squinting at Roland with extreme prejudice. "She was crying really hard and doesn't want to see anyone." She didn't even bother whispering her reply.

"I'll talk to her--"

"She doesn't want to see anyone."

Sylvia took a step towards the altar, but Nathaniel gripped her waist harder. "Are you going to make a scene?"

"You heard Dawn. He made her cry. He hurt her."

"And we all bleed with her. But are you going to make a scene, and will it help?"

She stopped short. She did want to make a scene. It would be utterly satisfying. She ran through the possible scenarios in her head. Yell at Roland publicly, and incur King Dagda's wrath, with possible punishment. Marianne would still be hurt. Don't tell at Roland now, stew in silence, and maybe destroy something afterwards. Marianne would still be hurt.

She settled for fuming quietly at Nathaniel. "I hate it when you're smarter than me, you know that?"

"I'm sure you do," he said soothingly, carefully ushering her out. "Let's go get some tea and celebrate this cancellation, shall we?"

The wedding day was a holiday for the kingdom, and it was abuzz with news of the cancelled nuptials. Nathaniel's house was closer to the castle, and by the time they got there, there was a small gathering of gossips in the parlour.

"Sylvia!" Donna almost shrieked as soon as she sighted the couple. She practically ran over to them to drag them over. "Nathaniel! Did you know? What happened? Surely you must know, Sylvia, you were all but accusing Captain Roland in the hall!" She practically pushed Sylvia down to sit next in the most available space between the ladies' chairs.

Sylvia shrugged. "I have no proof, as was pointed out to me earlier."

"But you have an inkling? Do tell! What does your Living Memory suspect?" Donna shoved a cup of tea into her hands.

She sighed, feeling theatrical. Donna and her friends weren't her favourite people, and she suspected they talked about her behind her back. But they could be useful here... "Well, she probably found some proof he didn't love her. Could have been anything, really. Found some love letters, or saw another woman's things among his, or something equally dramatic."

This caused an outburst. "But he was always so affectionate!" "Couldn't stop singing about his love for her!" "They looked so happy together!"

"Ladies, you and I are old enough to know that sometimes lovers are not true to you, no matter how it looks." Sylvia took a sip of tea before she continued. "Besides, I thought this one was obvious, anyway. Surely you heard him bragging about becoming King? Why does a man in love need to do that?"

"Well, I never! What bad taste!" And the group descended into outrage.

"And he never supported her," Nathaniel added mournfully, placing a supporting hand on Sylvia's shoulder. "What kind of King doesn't support his Queen? Especially a King marrying into the throne? Always seemed to me he had his own agenda."

"You never trusted him, Nathaniel! Especially with your pro-goblin politics!"

A crowd of gasps, and the whole group turned to Sylvia, wide-eyed.

"Considering Princess Marianne's desires for diplomatic relations with the Dark Forest, a marriage to Captain Roland would have totally undermined her," Nathaniel said, sounding offended.

No one looked like they heard him, though. Sylvia didn't move, just looked around the room, wondering if she was supposed to do something in the sudden silence that descended. Were there such awkward moments in memory? She couldn't think of anyway.

"Uhm. I, uh, like Councilor Nathaniel's pro-goblin politics." As if to make her point, she patted his hand on her shoulder.

Nathaniel took her hand. "Donna, we'd love to stay and chat, but we came to pick up a few things and were going to call on some of the other councilors to discuss some matters. Hope you don't mind."

There was a rhubarb growing behind them as they left the room, but one question made them quicken their pace.

"Have they set a wedding date?"

A few more calls, a few well-placed words here and there with people sympathetic to the princess, respectful of Nathaniel's standing and well-aware of Sylvia's status--not just as a Living Memory, but also as occasional confidant of the princesses--and they ended their day at Sylvia's house, feeling pleased with their work.

They avoided talk about a wedding date and spent a marvelous night sleeping soundly. Sylvia had been convinced that two-legged creatures wouldn't be able to get in and out of her hammock web easily, but Nathaniel rolled in and out of it with ease, and he was warm and soft. He was also very vocally appreciative of it, favourably comparing it to the flower beds of the fairies regularly. Their sleeping arrangements were made all the more pleasant with the realization that neither of them were morning people.

So the knock on Sylvia's door at dawn was an unwelcome thing. For several moments, neither moved, though they were awake and knew it.

When the knocking got more insistent, Sylvia sighed and pushed herself up. "I'll get it."

"No, you're naked, I'll get it, who knows who's at the door."

"You're also naked."

"I have a robe." He used his wings to push himself off, which also had the effect of pushing her back down.

Sylvia considered the wisdom of letting him open the door when the whole neighbourhood knew whose house it was. While they didn't advertise their relationship, and they were not necessarily secretive, but it wasn't common knowledge that Nathaniel regularly slept over either.

"Councilor Nathaniel!" greeted a very unexpected voice. "I, uh, good morning!"

"Uhm. Your... Highness?"

Sylvia sat up with an oath. "Marianne?" She stumbled out of the bedroom and knocked over several pieces of furniture to get to the front door. "Marianne!"

The Crown Princess stood there wearing a white dress tattered at her knees. Her black boots were scuffed, and her hands gripped a training sword. "Uhm. Hi."

Her eyes... Sylvia was alarmed at the blue-black surrounding them. "Did someone hit you?" she exclaimed. "On both eyes?"

"What? No! No, I did this. It's... it's just berry juice. I was trying something new."

Both Sylvia and Nathaniel sighed in unison. "But what are you doing here? It's... so early! Don't tell me you want to train right now?"

Marianne bowed her head. "Uh. Not now, I was going to wait until Councilor Nathaniel got here, because I didn't realize that he was here."

"Is this a girl talk thing? Should I go?" Nathaniel asked.

Sylvia plucked at the sleeve of his robe. "Yes. Get back to bed or get dressed and leave us be. Come in, Your Highness, I'll put on some tea."

11: Outpouring

"You were right," Marianne said into her cup. "About Roland. About everything. I should have listened to you."

Sylvia made a sympathetic sound. "You were in love. It happens. You can't blame yourself for what he did wrong."

"But I should have seen it coming," the princess insisted. "And I... I knew. I knew something was wrong but I was just... so happy. He was like the sun, and I just... I got burned."

It was still too early in the morning, so Sylvia let sympathetic silence settle in.

Marianne burst into tears. Large tears ran down her face as her small body shook with such violence Sylvia stood up in alarm. Quickly, the goblin ran around the table to put an arm around the fairy princess. "It wasn't your fault, Marianne. It was never your fault. He chose to do whatever it is he did. He hurt you. You were in love. That's not a bad thing."

"If it wasn't bad," Marianne yelled, her voice piercing in its pain, "then why does it hurt so much?"

"Because... it was real for you."

"Why wasn't it real for him? Why wasn't I enough for him? What's wrong with me?" The wails were louder now, full of anguish.

"There's nothing wrong with you."

"There must have been! Why didn't he love me if there wasn't something wrong with me? Why did I fall in love with someone like him?"

"Because you, Your Highness, have an open and warm heart, which he chose to take advantage of. It has nothing to do with your wrongness."

"Of course it does," Marianne retorted, even through her tears. "I know what they say about me, Sylvia. I'm not a good princess. I'm too loud, too rough, too demanding. I'm not soft enough, I'm not sweet, I'm not gentle, I'm nothing a fairy princess should be. And I thought... I thought I found someone who thought I was."

"You found someone who pretended you were the fairy princess that you are not, Your Highness," Sylvia said softly. "Not someone who saw you for the fairy princess you are."

An oath from the back of the house distracted them. Something rolled on the floor of the kitchen and someone picked it up and fiddled with it.

"Nathaniel, aren't you supposed to be at a meeting?" Sylvia called.

"Running late. I'll take the backdoor out. You ladies carry on."

"There's a council meeting today? Why wasn't I told?" Marianne sat up.

"Because you were supposed to be on your honeymoon today," Sylvia said dryly.

"Guess that's not happening." Marianne fiercely wiped her face dry wth the back of her hands. She took a deep breath. "I'm going to it."

"Are you sure? Shouldn't you take a break?"

"No." Marianne frowned. "I'm going to be the fairy princess I should have been. I've wasted so much time already. Councilor Nathaniel!"

"Your Highness?" Nathaniel stuck his head into the dining room from the kitchen.

"Kindly escort me to the legislative council meeting."

Nathaniel threw a slightly-panicked look at Sylvia, who nodded seriously. "Uh. Okay. I mean! Of course, Your Highness."

Crown Princess Marianne threw herself into her work with a ferocity that made people nervous. Her supporters were pleased to see her new no-holds-barred approach, and if she got more unpopular with the elder councilmen, it didn't seem to matter, because she went toe-to-toe with them to push her new initiatives through. She hid her hurt under a mask of efficiency and wore off her angry energy through training.

When King Dagda summoned Sylvia, she had hoped it would be about finally opening talks with the Dark Forest. Unfortunately, she had probably hoped for too much.

"What has happened to my daughter?" he demanded as soon as the servants left them alone. "What made her into this?"

Sylvia stared at him, astonished. "I... why would I know that?"

"I know she went to see you after the day of the wedding. I need to know." His face was the pleading one of a broken father, desperately wanting to understand. "What could have done this to my little girl?"

"A broken heart."

"But that was a misunderstanding!" King Dagda burst out. "If she would just listen to Roland, let him talk to her--"

"That would not be wise," Sylvia cut him off. "When Captain Roland is likely the source of the hurt."

"But what did he do?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I know you had no love for Roland. But you didn't have to poison my daughter against the man she loved to get what you wanted!"

Sylvia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"What did you do? Why is she like this now?"

"I have done nothing. As for why she is like this now, perhaps you should be asking her."

"She won't tell me what happened! She won't tell me what's wrong!" He sighed. "I have never been that close to her, but... I am still her father. I don't understand why she won't talk to me." He glared at her. "But she speaks to you. So I can only surmise that you know."

"Ah." Sylvia sighed. "Actually, I don't know. She never told me."

"Never told you..."

"No. I never asked. If she wanted to tell, she would have said something. I only have my suspicions, but beyond that, the mind of Her Highness is beyond my ken."

"Then tell me... with your Living Memory, what you can know of my daughter's hurt. Tell me how I can restore her to what she was."

"You can't," she said bluntly. "She had her heart broken, and you can't make a heart un-broken again. That's not how it works. You give her time and space to heal, let her find her own way."

"I am asking you for help!"

"I am giving it to you."

"Is this how you served the Bog King? With inactionable advice and evasion?"

Sylvia rose to her full height, towering over the fairy man in his chair. He shrank back from her.

"Guards!" he cried.

She started walking to the door. "I'll see myself out," she said curtly.

She swept out the room in high dudgeon, stewing her way down the corridors of the wretched castle with its high ceilings and narrow hallways specifically designed for fliers.

"Sylvia!"

She stopped short at Nathaniel's voice. "Councilor," she bit out as he approached, his face full of concern.

He took her hands in his. "What happened? I was told that you were in an audience with the King."

She winced. "It didn't go well. I walked out on him."

"You what?"

"He wanted me to tell him what happened to Her Highness and didn't like what I had to say."

"Councilor Nathaniel!" a page flew to them. "His Majesty demands to see you. Now."

"Me...?"

They exchanged glances.

"Now, Councilor."

"What about?"

"He didn't say."

"I'm going home," Sylvia said softly. "I'll see you later."

Later did not happen. Ambassador Sylvia was under house arrest for conspiring against the Crown. People could come to see her, but were discouraged from doing so under threat of being accused of the same. No one could tell her what happened to Councilor Nathaniel. She was left to wring her hands as she paced her ceiling.

A shy knock from the back of the house caught her attention. She thought it was the back door, but it was the small delivery door instead in the corner of the kitchen. Made specifically for the elves who couldn't reach the door knobs of her main doors, it wasn't always locked, but she hadn't been expecting anything.

She opened it. "Master Sunny! What are you doing here? The perimeter is guarded!"

"Here to deliver some food and goods!" Sunny said with bright cheer. He held bags in his arms. "Princess Marianne insisted I come check and make sure you're okay. She would have come herself, but she couldn't get away from her schedule."

"Have you heard from Nathaniel?"

"Apparently also under house arrest." Sunny looked around, and then whispered, "Dawn says she spied on his meeting with her Dad. Said he wouldn't agree to testify against you."

"So there is to be a trial, then?"

"Don't know. Might not come to that. Marianne is arguing against it."

Sylvia shook her head. "There's only so much she can do."

"Keep your spirits up, Madam Sylvia! Like I always say, don't worry about a thing!"

She patted his head. "You're sweet. Best be on your way now."

There were letters. She sorted them into separate piles: official business from people who hadn't yet realized anything was wrong; letters of accusation, often unsigned; letters of support, sometimes also unsigned; personal correspondence with no political content whatsoever.

A fortnight passed with few visitors, no real news, until the sound of dragonflies buzzing over attracted her attention. There were too many for a company call, and elves didn't tend to travel in packs like that. She ran to a window to see a small army in the sky.

Ugh, no, an international incident. Where were they going? The palace? Ugh, of course... not like the goblins knew where she lived. And was that...? Her heart sank at the figure in the center of the formation.

She banged on her front door. "Send for Princess Marianne immediately!" she yelled. "The Bog King approaches!"

She saw him several hours later, after she was humiliatingly dragged to the castle by two fairy soldiers who picked her up by the upper arms and flew her overhead without a care for her person. As she was shoved into the throne room, she saw King Dagda, and the tall dark person of her cousin.

"What is the meaning of this?" Bog growled, and she wasn't sure at who.

She wrenched her arms free of the fairy soldiers' grips.

To his credit, the Bog King swung to King Dagda, fury in his face.

"Bog King," King Dagda began, "she is a prisoner of the Fairy Kingdom--"

"I know what you've told me. And I have told you, the Dark Forest is responsible for its own." Bog stamped his way to her, leveling a glare at the soldiers. They backed off. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"No," she snapped, because she had expected a better reunion than this. "No, I am not all right." She could feel her voice going higher, and she didn't care. "Five years. Five years I've been in this miserable field working myself to the bone to cultivate trade relations, being met with resistance at every juncture. Five years of insults, gossip, criticism from every corner, and complete silence from my king and only family, five years! Five years, and now I'm under house arrest, accused of a crime on the basis of rumours, against a sovereign to whom I have done my utmost to appease, I have no news about the man I love, and my own king and cousin is asking me if I'm all right! No! No, I am not all right!" She was full-on yelling straight into the Bog King's face, raising herself to her full height so she could go nose-to-nose with him, and practically spitting at him as she stabbed a finger at his chest. "You banished me! For a thing I did not do, may I add! And I am now under house arrest! Also for a thing I did not do! How dare you treat a widow of foremother memory this year!" She swung to King Dagda. "And you! How dare you disrespect Living Memory like this! I have done nothing against the Crown, and maybe you should be a better father to your child rather than throwing accusations at foreign dignitaries!"

Princess Marianne and Princess Dawn chose that moment to barge into the throne room. "Dad!" "What's going on!"

Dawn gasped. "Madam Sylvia! Are you all right?"

Marianne, however, stomped her way to her father, hands on her hips. "What in all the fields is this!"

"The Bog King is here to retrieve the ambassador," King Dagda said evasively.

"What?" Marianne spun around, finally noticing the dark monarch in the room. "But--Sylvia didn't do anything wrong!"

"I'll be taking her home regardless," Bog rumbled. "Given the hostile environment."

Marianne paused. "You're the Bog King, aren't you? Sylvia has done great work in the time she's been here! She can't leave now!" She swung around to her father. "Especially not on conspiracy charges! She's done nothing!"

"I have it on good authority that Sylvia has been undermining crown authority among the ranks of the noble houses," King Dagda said, face reddening. "She's dangerous, and I won't have a goblin bring down this kingdom."

The Bog King snarled as he took a step forward. "Are you accusing my cousin of being a liar?"

"Whose authority?" Marianne demanded.

King Dagda seemed to shift uncomfortable under Marianne's gaze. "Darling, it's for your own good."

"Who?" Marianne's voice was hard, grating, dark.

"Captain Roland has uncovered a conspiracy among the councilors. He is rounding up guilty parties as we speak."

"Captain Roland," Marianne said in a low voice, practically a growl that mimicked the Bog King's, "is a liar. You can't trust him."

"What am I to think, Marianne?" King Dagda asked, pained. "This goblin comes to our kingdom, and suddenly you're being difficult and you change and you end your engagement without reason. How can I believe that she hasn't done anything?"

"I had a reason!" she yelled. "You didn't need to bring anybody else into this! You didn't need to arrest anybody! If there was a conspiracy, that would be Roland's fault!" She drew back a little, hands at her mouth trembling and tears at her eyes. Then she visibly steeled herself. "He never loved me. He was just using me."

King Dagda sat forward on this throne. "Marianne...?"

"If you send Sylvia away now, because of something Roland said... I'll leave too."

"Marianne!" Dawn gasped, flitting to her sister's side.

"I don't understand," King Dagda gasped.

"You said it yourself. I'm difficult. I'm different. I'm unique." Marianne put her hands on her hips. "I'm not the perfect fairy princess you want me to be, and you'll round up my friends and supporters on the say-so of the cheating, chattering, power-hungry, pig-headed son of a--"

"Is this family drama usual here?" Bog asked Sylvia.

"You're one to talk," Sylvia snarled at him. "Is this the case then?" she asked King Dagda sharply. "You're allowing a soldier to arrest whoever he thinks is a conspirator... because you trust him over your own flesh and blood?"

"No! I am trying to protect my family!"

"How is it protecting us when you won't even listen to us, Daddy?" Dawn pointed out. "We've been trying to tell you that Sylvia's innocent for days now."

"EVERYBODY BE QUIET!"

Everyone gaped in the wake of the Bog King's roar.

"I don't know what is going on here. But your house is not in order, King Dagda," Bog rumbled. He turned to the princesses. "It would seem that you have a crisis of authority on your hands. I remember when my own father went mad, as kings must eventually do. That is when the heir must step up, to prove themselves worthy of the throne and unwilling to be pushed around."

"That's not how it's done here, but your, ah, solidarity is appreciated," Marianne said wryly. She straightened. "You're right, though. There is clearly a cadre of conspirators trying to undermine my authority before I even take the throne, and it's time for me to deal with it. Dad?"

"Yes, dear?" Dagda asked, sounding weaker than before.

"Do you trust me? Your own heir? To make decisions that best benefit the kingdom?"

King Dagda hesitated, clearly dreading her next actions. "Yes," he finally said. "I do."

"Then I call for Captain Roland to immediately stop his search for so-called conspirators. I order that all current conspirators under arrest be released."

"Oh thank goodness," Sylvia sighed, rolling her eyes.

In short order, Crown Princess Marianne took over, not quite named Regent but close enough, with King Dagda pleading illness. Ambassador Sylvia was released. The Bog King agreed to stand down and take his army back to the Dark Forest. Together they were escorted back to Sylvia's house, and the goblin army buzzed around them, resting on the field by the brook.

"We have to return home, and in case civil war breaks out, I don't want you here," Bog told her as soon as they were inside.

Sylvia paused for a moment, then went back to boiling water for tea.

"I know this isn't the best time to recall you... you clearly have affection for the two princesses, but after all that happened, I don't feel safe with you staying."

"You felt perfectly safe with me being here before, back when I was practically the only goblin the entire Fairy Court had encountered in a hundred years."

Bog cricked his neck. She hoped guilt was giving him a neckache. "I know. But things change."

"That, they do, because some of us fight for it."

"And I see the results. You've done fine work. Consider your return your reward."

Sylvia smashed a cup on the floor. She swung to Bog, eyes narrowed as she prowled towards him. "Is that it? Five years, and I just--pick up my life and go home with you as if nothing happened? How dare you. How dare you! Damn you, where have you been?"

"Are you done?"

"No." And she slapped him.

He staggered back from the force, and touched the corner of his mouth. "I should--"

"What, punish me? You did that, for five years! You sent me away from home! And I have done just fine without you. Where will you exile me to next, Bog King?"

To his credit, his eyes softened. He sighed deeply, and took her trembling hands in his. "I did wrong, cousin, and I am sorry. I ignored your counsel, and rather than face up to what you had to say, I sent you away so I wouldn't have to listen. I sent you to a place I knew to be hostile to our kind for a task I myself deemed impossible. I had no excuse, and perhaps there'll be nothing to earn your forgiveness, but know that I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."

"Free the Sugar Plum Fairy."

"Of course."

"Permit trade delegations and royal visitations."

"Most assuredly."

"Open the borders."

"Well, we have to negotiate that, what with deciding--" He stopped when he saw her glaring at him. "Certainly."

"Overturn your ban on love. Let me have mine."

He opened his mouth, or maybe he dropped his jaw, she didn't know and didn't care. "Shouldn't that depend on my meeting him?"

"I'm not asking for your permission," she told him sourly.

He still grimaced.

"Just because you've sworn off love, Bog King, doesn't mean the rest of the world has. Life moves on. I don't actually need your blessing, just as you don't need my forgiveness. Suck on that, if you will."

A loud growling chorus outside drew their attention. Sylvia looked out the window to find the goblins surrounding the house snarling at the sky. She went outside, to see a fairy hovering above, taking in the scene. He didn't look too perturbed, more like scanning the area for something. She would recognize those mottled brown and grey wings anywhere.

As soon as he saw her, he flew down, alighting in her arms, gathering her in his. He rubbed his thumb between her shoulder blades, breathing in the scent of her hair, and she nuzzled the crook of his neck. For a moment, everything else faded away in a rush of relief.

"You're all right," she whispered. "What happened?"

"House arrest. Just like you. I'm fine. I suppose they released you as soon as they saw the goblin army approaching."

She huffed. "Not before my cousin got into a shouting match with the king. Princess Marianne is in charge now."

"Yes. It's going to be a few... very exciting days, if not weeks."

"I shall be sad to miss it."

He drew away from her. "What?"

"I have been recalled." Her voice was soft, and her fingers idly played with his collar.

He touched his forehead to hers. "You've been wanting it for a long time."

"Not like this though. What will I do without you?"

"You will carry on, as you always have."

She ran her hands over his face, memorizing its feel under her fingertips, on her palm, his breath on her skin.

"Surely foremother memory has given you that fortitude."

"Foremother memory doesn't define who I am or what I feel. I'm not my foremothers. This... this pain will be mine, because every such pain is unique, never felt before."

He captured her hand as it ran down his cheek, kissing it and keeping it there. "I will come visit as soon as I can, then."

"Even if you might get eaten?"

He shrugged. "You've tried before, and I like to think I survived that." He smiled. "Otherwise the last four years have been a good dream. It is not so hard an afterlife, falling in love with you."

"Such a flirt, Councilor," she retorted, but there was no bite.

"Madam Ambassador, you are the one with irresistable charms."

The Bog King snorted, and Sylvia turned to see him leaning on the doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed. He gestured to Nathaniel with his chin. "Is that the one?"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Mind your business, cousin." And she went back to holding Nathaniel close, until it was untenable to ignore the crowd of curious goblins around them, and a joining crowd of equally curious elves in the further distance.

Fall passed. Sylvia spent a lot of it visiting friends and family. Many of her kind were solitary creatures in pockets of the Dark Forest, so not seeing each other for long periods of time was normal, but they had all heard of the unusual circumstances of her exile, and were unbearably curious as a result.

Winter came and went. Sylvia spent a lot of it brooding.

As soon as spring arrived, warm enough to leave the castle and her coccoons, she took to the highest tree and wove a web to sit in and wait for a pair of brown-grey wings.

He found her as though he caught her scent through the forest, grasping her tightly in his arms and swinging her around mid-air as she laughed, and then they breathlessly fell into her web, making wordless promises to each other.

12: A Wedding Party

It was a rapidly-changing fairy government that Sylvia returned to, not as ambassador, but as part of a royal visit. The fairy princesses had visited her a fair number of times over the year, and Sylvia had to keep Griselda busy to keep the queen mother out of the negotiation room where Princess Marianne and the Bog King conferred at length over terms and provisions.

It would not do for them to be intruded upon. Although once in a while Dawn would whisper that yes, the two had gone out to stretch their wings, and it was safe to not distract Griselda anymore. Sylvia pressed a finger to her lips if anyone seemed to want to comment on how the Bog King gazed overlong at Crown Princess Marianne, or remark on the smile that played at Crown Princess Marianne's lips sometimes as the Bog King made conversation that might have been utterly boring otherwise.

Her house in the Fairy Kingdom was kept neat and tidy by Nathaniel in her absence. They announced their engagement at a quiet dinner held at her house, which pleased everyone in attendance (and upset some others because they had not been in attendance for the momentous occasion). The wedding itself they held at the border market on a calm midsummer evening.

They dispensed with the usual officiant and elder, calmly reciting promises to each other in front of an audience. But the Bog King surprised them when he approached, tokens in his hands.

"I bring you blessings," he said softly, only for them to hear. "I bring you the benediction of the Northern Spiders, and I bring you the benediction of the Southern Scorpions. I bring you the benediction of the Swarm." He let each token fall at their feet as he recited the names of the clans and goblin families that delivered their private blessings through the King. "And I gift you my blessing, blood kin, recognition of the royal line, and promises of loyalty to yours."

She hadn't quite forgiven him just yet, but she gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, and leaned forward a little for the kiss he laid on her forehead.

Their first dance was with each other. Bog claimed the second dance with Sylvia, to the oohs-and-aahs of several goblins. Dawn took to the floor with her best friend, Sunny.

"Who would have thought that the almighty Bog King could dance so well?" Marianne laughed at the edge of the dance floor to Nathaniel.

"Surely Your Highness must realized by now not to underestimate him." Nathaniel grinned. "May I have the honour? Since my bride seems to be occupied at the moment."

Marianne gladly took his hand, and they chatted about a council motion as they swirled about the dance floor, until they almost bumped into Sylvia and Bog.

"I'd like to dance with my new husband again," Sylvia declared loudly as soon as she was within earshot of Nathaniel. "Swap partners?"

Griselda cackled--loudly--and almost ruined the moment as the Bog King shyly took Princess Marianne's hands. The nervous tension in his body bled out within a few moments, though, as they kept on dancing and conversing as if they did such a thing every day. If they seemed to dance much closer than was perhaps appropriate, no one said a thing.

"Think they'll have a happy ending, too?" Nathaniel asked softly.

Sylvia kissed his clever mouth. "Oh, love, there are no happy endings, just happy transformations."

#fanfic?#strange magic #maybe #idk anymore #fun though

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hlgirldirectionfics · 8 years

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sink into tomorrow by brainwaves

For the past five years, she’s been tiptoeing carefully around the subject, steadfastly refusing to talk about the possibility, and putting up a front to hide what she was always terrified of feeling. Maybe it’s been a long time coming. Maybe Louis was just the final push she needed. She tries to see this less as a death sentence and more as an opportunity to tell the truth for once.

Harry is the new (supposedly heterosexual) freshman who gets convinced by pretty blue eyes and soft skin to join a club about body positivity and self-image. Louis is the definitely-not-male upperclassman who makes her come to terms with some things she's been denying.(14k)

Sweet Seducing Sighs by twoboyskissing

harry and louis are best friends. harry decides that it's time to tell louis that she likes girls. (2k)

long way from the playground by ariadne_odair

“You want one?” Harry asks, utterly oblivious to Louis’ miniature panic attack. “Babe, do you want a cup of tea?”

Babe. Louis is dead. Louis is so dead. She’s a walking corpse over here, oh and apparently she’s hysterical. Well this is just a giant train wreck.

Louis should really get over being in love with her best friend. Harry doesn't help by acting less than platonic. Liam is Liam and Niall is the best wing woman ever. (15k)

Blush by orphan_account

“I’ve never wanted to kiss a girl but like, every time I look at your lips I just wanna… fucking kiss you all night long.” Harry’s eyes open wide as Louis’ drop to Harry’s mouth; her lips are swollen from biting them all night, red and wet and plump.

“Then why don’t you?” Harry whispers.

or, the Christmas fic in which Louis is 99.5% sure she’s straight and Harry likes to walk around shirtless and watch lesbian films (15k)

said i'll always be a friend by daddylouist

Harry and Louis have been best friends and in love with each other since 7th grade. They end up together after watching porn.

the one where harry and louis watch porn and fuck (3k)

No Road Left by Jamboree2

Louis waltzes back into the kitchen, and Harry doesn’t remember how she normally acts around her. Platonic gal pals, right.

She decides to lean against the fridge casually. Casual. She’s cool as a cucumber. Louis gives her a weird look. Fuck. She must be giving off weird love vibes or something. “Why are you being weird?”

Oh shit. She’s on to Harry. Harry is in love with Louis and the whole world knows it.

or the one where louis and harry go on a road trip. they're in love with each other, it just takes them a little while to figure it out. (19k)

don't fall in love with the moment (and think you're in love with the girl) by traumatic

The first time Louis realizes she's meant to teacher is during her final year at school. She's standing in front of her friends, her enemies, her teacher, as she gets a grade on how well she explains the reproductive cycle. She stares at them and they stare back, listening and watching her with careful, attentive eyes. She opens her mouth, swallows back her fear, and teaches. It's the most important moment of Louis' entire life.

or where Louis is a British teacher living in an American world and Harry's just a girl that seems to be a magnet for thieves. (11k)

Hawkeye, Not Hulk by kikikryslee

Everyone at the party was having a blast, but Louis sat on the kitchen counter drinking some of her mom’s sangria. She wished that she could be brave enough to text Harry, because they needed to talk. But she wasn’t brave. She was eighteen and afraid of her best friend not liking her back. With a sigh, she took another sip from her cup. It was going to be a long night. Or, the one where Harry and Louis have been best friends since they were kids, and they're the only two people in the world that don't know they like each other. (8k)

We Beat the Odds Together by annewithane

Louis shoves Harry towards the bed. “Take your top off.”

It’s the first day back after winter break and over a month since Louis has seen Harry’s boobs. Aside from the picture Harry had sent her on her birthday.

And then they’re right in front of her. And they’re pierced.

“What the fuck?” Louis steps forward, grabbing onto Harry’s waist. “When did you get these?” They were definitely not in the photo. Louis would have noticed them having looked at the picture multiple times since Harry first sent it.

University AU where two girl take their time falling in love. (6k)

#mine #larry stylinson #fem larry #girl direction #friendstolovers

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beast-bae · 8 years

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Sterek Fic Rec (last updated 21.2.17)

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it's getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there's only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up.Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.Hey :) because I’m always searching for new sterek fanfics on tumblr and I love seeing Sterek Fic Recs I decited to make a post with all of my favourite (can I get this word even bigger? bc I love those fics to death!) Sterek fanfics.

I will continue updating it ;) and I would really appreciate it if you could send me links to your favourite Sterek ffs <3

All of them are on Ao3! Also all of them are complete (except for Home by TheTypewriterGirl but there is only one chapter missing )!!

Also there is no specific order!

Also I try to find the authors on tumblr so you can visit them <3

This is gonna be a LOOooOOoONG post

Have fun reading :)

________________

Prince Among Wolves by tylerfucklin (Deshonanana) | 101k, Explict | kid fic |

Looking for full day/evening sitter. 2 twin boys age 4. Must have exp. w/werewolves. Must be human. No pedophiles. No teenage girls. Pay negotiable.

Home by TheTypewriterGirl | 160k, not finished yet 17/18!! | @stiles-and-the-sourwolf |

January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?

Move a Mountain by ZainClaw | 69k, Explict | road trip/biker fic | @zainclaw |

Stiles goes camping with his friends in New Mexico after graduation where they befriend a biker gang led by Derek: a guy whom Stiles can’t decide if he will be either relieved or devastated to never see again once their week is up.

my wings a hurricane by kellifer_fic | 20k | dracon fic | @kellifer-k |

Stiles had been like any other kid growing up in the era of dragons. He'd watched the cartoons, the news stories, had the lunch box. When his screening at Beacon Hills High had come up negative, he'd been disappointed but unsurprised. His positive results were returned three years too late for it to be in any way convenient or cool.

Or, the one where they ride dragons.

Fly a Little Faster by mirrorkill | 32k | time travel fic | @mirrorkill |

Everyone knows when you go back in time, you shouldn't step on an ant, just in case you accidentally kill your own grandparent or something. But what happens when you go back in time and, uh, accidentally interrupt the one event that apparently made the Grumpiest Alpha in Town into a ball of mindless manpain?

Well, if Marty McFly can do it, so can Stiles Stilinski. All he has to do is get Derek and Paige to fall in love before he gets pulled back to his own time. And before he makes anything worse. That's easy as pie, right? Right?

Sweeter Than a Cherry Pie by kitsunequeen | 5k | pretend relationship | @stilesbansheequeen |

When Cora asks Stiles to be her pretend boyfriend for a New Year's family dinner, he figures he can do a friend a favor. When he hooks up with an incredible guy, Derek, the night before, only to wake up alone in the morning, he supposes he can handle that too. But when he shows up at Cora's house and Derek turns out to be her brother, well... that's a bit of a bigger problem.

Hale of a time by jamesm97 | 3k | halebait!stiles |

Stiles knows that his werewolf family are acting weird around him, not that that's strange they are werewolves after all but they don't know that he knows they are. They seem to be getting progressively touchy feely as his 16th birthday approaches.

HALEBAIT! STILES STILINSKI - where all the Hales are attracted to Stiles, but only one of them is insanely in love & lust with him

Settle down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale | 153k, Explict | mpreg!!| @hoechliniseverything ( whatthehale) @dylansneck (wearing_tearing) |

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

Stilinski’s Home for Wayward Wolves by owlpostagain | 35k |

“At least your puppies knock first,” Stiles snorts. “Here I thought their alpha raised them to be well-mannered.”   

“There’s a sign,” Derek responds stiffly.   

Stiles, whose curiosity outweighs even his hardest of grudges, abandons his chilly façade of nonchalance in a heartbeat. He jumps right up and all but pushes Derek out of the way in his effort to get to the window, and sure enough when he leans outside there’s a laminated strip of cardstock duct taped to the vinyl siding:   

DON’T FORGET TO KNOCK Stiles gets cranky when we scare him

---

Or, in which Stiles Stilinski moves to Beacon Hills for his junior year of high school and accidentally adopts a pack of teenage werewolves.

I Was Present While You Were Unconscious by CharWright5 | 19k, Mature | @kitstiles |

Stiles had often thought about how he'd meet his soul mate, the literal muscular man of his dreams. He just didn't ever imagine finding him on Facebook where a friend had shared a news article about a werewolf John Doe in a coma after a car wreck four hours out of town. And he also didn't expect to bond and fall in love with the guy's family before ever saying two words to him out loud.

But Not With Haste by uraneia | 21k, Explict | x-man AU |

It's been years since Derek escaped from the hunters who killed his family and bound him in his human form. He travels solo, never staying in one place, keeping under the radar--until a skinny, smart-mouthed kid stows away in the back of his truck.

Four months ago Stiles's first kiss put his best friend in a coma. His dad gave him a couple hundred bucks and a hug and told him to run. By the time Stiles witnesses the cage fighter known as Wolverine take out a shotgun and its wielder with his bare hands, he's got a plan. He knows there's a school in New York for kids like him. All he has to do is get there.

OR, in which Derek is the werewolf version of Wolverine and Stiles is Rogue and the plot of X-Men progresses accordingly, with a few notable deviations.

Cornerstone by Vendelin | 84k, Explict | @ljummen |

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

just to know your name by bibliosexual | 3k | @bibliosexxual |

They're about fifteen minutes into the Skype call on Tuesday night when this guy wanders straight out of one of Derek’s wet dreams and into the frame, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and a tight grey Guns N’ Roses tee. He’s lithely muscled, with a cute upturned nose and some of the most beautiful bone structure Derek has ever seen. Derek can see his nipples through his shirt. He feels all the blood in his body rushing to his dick.

“There should be a note about that on page nineteen,” Scott is saying, distantly, while Mystery Guy yawns adorably, nose scrunching, and runs a hand through his messy hair. He looks like he’s totally oblivious to Scott’s webcam, or to Scott. He looks like he just woke up. He looks like something out of an underwear ad, or softcore porn.

Mystery Guy bends down, thigh muscles flexing, and starts digging through Scott’s dresser drawers for a pair of sweatpants. Scott doesn’t ever turn around. He just keeps talking about… something. Something unimportant.

Mystery Guy has a mole high up on the back of his right thigh and Derek wants to lick it.

Bite Down Hard by KuriKuri | 26k, Explict | @authorkurikuri

For a moment, Derek can’t breathe.Because moles aren’t the only thing marring the pale skin of Stiles’ neck. Oh no, that’s –– that’s a bond bite. A bond bite which Stiles definitely did not have yesterday, and which appears to have roughly the same dimensions as Derek’s own mouth.Shit.

(Or: In which Secret Service Agent Derek Hale accidentally gets bonded to First Son Stiles Stilinski. Oops.)

Tangled Up In You by Morgana, Winchesterek | 105k, Explict | BDSM! | @sterekbros

Something is missing from Stiles’ sex life. Maybe it’s the fact that none of his partners share any of his kinks. While doing laundry over Thanksgiving break at Berkeley, Scott finds a flyer adverting, “WALK ON THE WILD SIDE! LET US TAKE YOU INTO THE DARKNESS AND BRING YOU SAFELY OUT AGAIN! EXPERIENCE PLEASURE AND PAIN AT THE HANDS OF ONE OF OUR EXPERIENCED, DISCREET PROFESSIONALS.” Stiles thinks it’s his kinda thing, but doesn’t have the money to pay for a session. Scott offers, only if Stiles refrains from telling him all about his kinky needs, so Stiles agrees. Enter Derek Hale, professional dominant. Stiles has his first session with Derek and can’t get enough (plus, Derek is HOT and Stiles just wants him all for himself).

It’s a Schlong Story by floatingstark | 33k, Explict | ex-porn star Derek |

"Do you like him?"

"Of course I do, he’s great!"

"Then what is the fucking problem?"

"My dick!"

-or-

Ex-Porn Star Derek Hale has a lot of issues but Ice Cream Parlor Owner Stiles Stilinski is not one of them.

I Might Be A Fool by prettylittlementirosa | 35k, Explict| College AU | @bisexualbcky

The thing about Stiles, though, is that for him, turned on and angry are not mutually exclusive feelings. He may be painfully hard but that doesn’t mean he’s not also ready to strangle Derek for having the audacity to act like this is something that’s happening to him, not something that is almost entirely his fault. So when Derek let’s out what must be his hundredth long-suffering sigh, Stiles snaps.

(or the one that was supposed to be a GRΣΣK AU but is mostly just a study in the gratuitous and inconsistent use of punctuation)

Expiration Dates by KaliopeShipsIt | 227k, Mature | mpreg! | @kaliopeshipsit

When 13-year old orphaned Derek Hale tests positive as a male carrier, his newly appointed guardian and uncle Peter uses his influence to make the test result go away, aware that in their deeply carrier-phobic society his nephew’s status could prove to be the downfall of the family company.

16 years later Derek is pressured into firing eight months-pregnant Danny Mahealani, creating a publicity scandal that, as the Equal Rights for Carriers movement gains more and more ground, results in an unprecedented media outrage targeted towards Hale & Argent Publishers.

A very reluctant Derek finds himself forced into defending his company’s prejudiced views on national television, facing off in heated debates against Stiles Stilinski, a guy he happened to have a one-night stand with months ago and has been pining over ever since. Stiles is a disgruntled former Hale & Argent employee, a staunch supporter of the ERC movement, he hates everything Derek stands for … and, courtesy of an expired condom, he’s also, unknowingly, the father of the child Derek wasn’t even aware he could carry in the first place.

Between Dusk and Dawn by impalagirl, wilddragonflying | 19k, Mature| vampire fic |

He's in the middle of a crowded bar when he smells it. For the first time in fifty years, Stiles Stilinski's mouth begins to water, and he's suddenly on high alert, twisting in his seat to scan the room with sharp eyes. Of course, it doesn't take long to spot him. He's as gorgeous as ever, tall and broad with dark hair and light eyes. He's wearing glasses this time, and damn, he looks good with a beard. Stiles had almost forgotten that; it's been so long since he's seen him with more than yesterday's stubble.

Marks and Mics by DLanaDHZ | 70k, Mature | Soulmate AU | @dlanadhz

Hale siblings Derek and Laura have been hired to run security for Stiles Stilinski's music tour. Business as usual, except someone is trying really hard to prove they're incapable and hurt Stiles. Derek finds himself curious about Stiles' bitter attitude and a strange illness that plagues the singer. And on top of that, Derek's soulmate remains elusive.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5 | 200k, Explict | SoulmateAU Stillinski Twins | @kitstiles

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Hidden Omega by Akinasky | 107k, Explict | College fic |

As Stiles leaves for college, he must hide who he really is and then he meets his roommate and likes him ... a lot only there is no chance for him to fill the needs that Stiles has as an Omega. Then he also finds his Alpha, Derek Hale (of course) and they all struggle to find their way and learning more about the special aspects of being an Omega and trying to have a unique relationship that will never be typical especially with Stiles, pushing and bossy Stiles as the Omega.

Fucked Up Like You by damnfancyscotch | 38k | @damnfancyscotch

The boy was dirty. Very dirty. Most likely from the trap he’d been found in, the leg snare Derek figured, even though Peter hadn’t mentioned what type of trap it was. Mud dried and flaked off in patches on his left forearm, caked into the front of his sleeveless rough-hewn tunic and threadbare pants, up from his bare feet all the way to his knees, a dark streak painting the right side of his neck and continuing up into his clumsily cut brown hair - clearly he’d done it himself with a knife and perhaps no reflective surface, though judging by his appearance, a pond or puddle could have done just fine for him. Derek realized a lot of the spots he assumed to be mud were actually moles that dotted all along the boy’s skin.

Derek watched as the boy studied him back in silence, sitting with his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He stared hard at the crescent-shaped insignia picked out in silver and green sewn onto the dark gray fabric over Derek’s heart, a slight frown wrinkling his brow. The boy had to know about the Hales if he was part of the Argent pack.

“What’s your name?”

“St… Stiles.”

I Could Be Long Gone by idratherwrite | 26k, Explict | A/B/O-Dynamics | @ashleighblogs

Humans alphas and betas are used to treating human omegas like objects. Stiles and his father have managed to hide for years the fact that Stiles is an omega. When Stiles arrives at Beacon Hills he meets one Scott McCall and his friends and family, who are hiding an even bigger secret.

It's almost everything that Stiles wants.

Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence | 178k, Mature | College AU | @effinlemon |

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

A Princely Claim by kaistrex (weishen) | 40k, Explict | Royal Stiles | @kaistrex

In a world where werewolves die if they’re unable to Claim their mate and to refuse them is classed as murder, Alpha Derek Hale makes his very public Claim for Crown Prince Stiles of Beacon. The Royal Family are left with no choice but to accept, no matter the Prince’s imminent marriage to Princess Lydia of Kanima, to whom he’s been betrothed since birth. After having already faced the future of one loveless marriage, Prince Stiles is determined to make things with Derek work.

Kaleidoscope by Vendelin | 54k, Explict | @ljummen

Stiles spends a year before college working at the all-night coffee shop in town. It's nice and quiet, until one dark and brooding Derek starts coming in every morning, ordering coffee so strong that it should not be fit for human consumption. Ever. Stiles tries not to be affected by the mystery guy, but it's not like anything else happens around here, so really, what did you expect? And when he's already in too deep, he realises he might even be in way over his head...

Play Crack the Sky by WeAreTheCyclones | 122k, Mature | Rock Band AU | @wearethecyclones

Excerpt from “Hale Pulls the Plug on the Future of Rock,” Rolling Stone, Issue 1203 – Oct. 2014 “Fans and music industry vets alike are left reeling in the wake of bassist Derek Hale’s sudden departure from Smokes for Harris. At a time when the foursome from Beacon Hills, California seems to be on the cusp of rock superstardom after just one double platinum record, Smokes has everything to lose.”

Excerpt from “Smokes for Harris: Gladiator,” SPIN.com – Feb. 2015 “Smokes for Harris gives in a little to the pop punk of yesteryear in their sophomore effort, but rather than pandering to fans of a lost era they elevate the genre in a way that hasn’t been seen in quite some time. Frontman Stiles Stilinski works double duty as singer and primary songwriter and proves that he can handle the task even without former bassist Derek Hale."

Grey Rainbow by LoveActually_rps | 13k, Mature | @loveactually-rps

“Stiles?” Derek glanced at Stiles’ sleeping form. He didn’t even twitch. Derek continued. “If we…” his lips curved in a fond smile, fingers moving to smooth the creases of Stiles’ eyebrows, his voice coming as whisper. “... as in, you and me - If we get a chance someday… any day, to be together, y’know? I wouldn't mind you wooing me with flowers and all that cliched romantic shit. And you can even flirt with me. I approve.” He gazed at Stiles’ calm face for a long while before drifting off into quiet slumber with the sound of Stiles’ soft snoring in the background.

[aka, after pinning for his best friend for four years, Derek learns his teenage crush is easy, but his life isn’t]

Animal Instincts by BlueRunawayMoon | 262k, Explict | 2nd part is NOT FINISHED | @

Things are not going well for Stiles. Not only is he drifting from the pack, but he cant sleep and hardly eats, and its never been more clear to him that being a human leaves him at a major disadvantage. As if things weren't bad enough, he and Malia are on the rocks, and then there is the fact that Derek wants to kill him, of course. Derek, who he dreams about every night. Derek, who is losing control of his inner wolf, when said wolf seems to want Stiles dead.

But because Stiles is the universe's bitch, a new, terrifying and seemingly unbeatable monster arrives in Beacon Hills, and the pack have no idea how to stop it. When people start going crazy and attacking others, the Pack learn the creature is involved somehow. Now, with Stiles life in jeopardy, they must find a way to cure him before its too late.

Slow burn with lots of sexual tension and build up.

*There is a Stiles/Original Character pair up, but end game is Sterek. Pinky promise :) *

Strong Alpha, Strong Pups by Snare | 7k, Explict | A/B/O -Dynamics | @4fuxake

Omegas are weak. Stiles is an Omega, but Stiles has magic. Stiles is strong.

Stiles is strong, so Alpha needs to be stronger. Strong Alpha, strong pups.

Stripped & Polished by Morgana, Winchesterek | 77k, Explict |

Stiles is 17 and he’s sick of being a virgin. The last two and a half years of trying to get laid by every guy in the school (both straight and gay) haven’t worked out and the time he came onto his long time crush Jackson Whittemore blew up in his face. That was it. He was going to go out to a club and find someone to fuck him and they would be just as good as anyone else he was trying to have sex with. He goes to Jungle to scope out his prospects.

Just to See You Again by MellytheHun | 15k, Explict | @loserchildhotpants

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

Reach Out by weathervaanes | 20k, Explict | @weathervaanes

Or, In Which Stiles Falls in Love Twice...With the Same Person

-0-

Stiles sees the flyer on his very last day at Beacon Hills High School. It’s hanging, unassuming, in the hall near the front entrance along with bulletins and other flyers, advertisements, posters for free student concerts, but the fact that the word “sex” is written in a font two times larger than the rest of the page catches his attention.

It’s an advice hotline for a whole range of things, from teenage angst to how to deal with your parents telling you you’re adopted and a whole mess in the middle. Stiles thinks it’s funny, though, that they offer advice on sexuality and sex education. It makes sense on the one hand, since high school sex ed does jack shit for actual learning, but anyone who really wants to know stuff has an infinite source of knowledge right on their phone—the internet.

So it starts off as a joke.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm | 118k, Explict | @coyotoqueens

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life.

There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

One life stand by Vendelin | 84k, Explict | @ljummen

All Derek wants is Stiles's time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It's the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he's ever had, and he's more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it's just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

Can’t rely on me by Littleredridinghunter | 116k |

Set at the end of season 2, Gerard beats Stiles up, but it's a lot worse than anyone knows.

The pack let him down, that's not really a surprise lately.

When Danny finds Stiles nearly bleeding to death the next day it's the start of a beautiful friendship.

Can the pack make amends before it's too late? Will Stiles ever forgive them for not being there for him when he needed them the most?

#Sterek fic rec #sterek fanfiction #fanfiction #fic rec #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek hale x stiles stilinski #derek x stiles #dylan o'brien #tyler hoechlin #Scott McCall #werewolf #werewolves #Tyler Posey #lydia martin #Holland Roden

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