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melodymunson · 7 months

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Robin x fem!reader x Steve (Platonic Stobin ONLY!)

Ain't Nobody Loves me better than you

ao3 link

4.4K words

(Platonic Steve x Robin. NOTHING HAPPENS SEXUALLY BETWEEN STEVE AND ROBIN! Best friends Stobin with fem!reader x boyfriend Steve and Robin. All the interactions that are sexual are between Robin and the reader only. The reader is a virgin in terms of not being with a woman. Everyone is in their young 20s in this.)

NSFW warnings: handjob, blowjob, spanking, pussy eating, lesbian sex, usage of toys, dirty talk, pussy worship, p in v sex, double-sided dildo, use of a buttplug on the reader, and anal use of a dildo on fem! reader.

Thank you for beta-reading and for being one of my closest friends @corneliuswatkins

Dedicated to @keeryatmosphere for all our Steve convos and being a good friend!

Inspired partially by an amazing Stobin x reader series by @wtfsteveharrington

Synopsis: The reader works with Steve and Robin in the Family Video and already has an established relationship with Steve. When Robin finds out she likes girls and that they have unrequited feelings for each other, they plan a date night at Steve and the readers' condo.

Dating Steve made you so happy, and he was the one for you. Working together alongside your girl crush Robin was so much fun. You went shopping sometimes together at the Starcourt mall. Most of your friends had left and gone off to college, but Robin and Steve stayed. Robin went to community college locally and you and Steve worked at Family Video, as well as, part-time at a photo development center with her. They were best friends since high school, but once you started working together, you became super close. As an outsider in Hawkins, they made you feel more welcome than anyone else, especially since being the new girl in town was never easy. After working together a few months, the 3 of you were inseparable. Robin always told the best jokes, and you loved her personality. You had so much in common. When Steve asked you out on a date, you accepted. It went well and a week after and 2 more dates; he asked you to be his girlfriend, so of course you said yes.

One night after dating for about half a year, you sat him down to tell him about being into women and what you liked about them. Steve loved that you had so much love for men and women and he was your biggest supporter. He was curious if you had ever been with a woman and you told him no, nothing- except touching and kissing. Now that he knew you felt relieved, and he asked you honestly if you liked any girl. You told him the girl who was the object of your desires was Robin. He was more than alright with this and you discussed the possibility of a threesome after telling Robin about your feelings. Of course, neither of you wanted to pressure her but to take things slowly by asking her out on a date and coming over casually first. A few more weeks passed, but you got up the courage one day to ask Robin to come over when Steve was at work at the photo development center. She eagerly agreed, all smiles, and that Saturday she would come over. Luckily, it was a day off work for everyone.

At around 730, Robin knocked on your door with a bottle of champagne. It was such a pleasant surprise, especially to see her with not only a nice bottle of bubbly but to see her show up wearing one of your favorite outfits. She had on a red tank top and denim shorts. You were wearing your favorite dress and Steve was in a polo button-up blue shirt and black slacks. Once you invited her in, you led her to the dining room. Steve opened up the bottle of champagne and poured glasses for everyone. The centerpiece at the table was a beautiful bouquet of lilies in a vase Steve had bought for you.

"What should we toast to?" Robin questioned as she lifted her glass.

You and Steve raised your glasses as well as you all thought of something to celebrate.

"To good friends and to being friends for many more years," you toasted as your glass moved closer to theirs.

"To be friends forever," Robin agreed.

"To us," Steve replied before everyone clinked their glasses together.

Everyone drank their champagne, and more glasses were poured.

As the bread and pasta were passed around the table and served and the salad put onto plates, you thought about what could happen after the dinner. Over dessert, you wanted to talk about what you wanted with Robin and your true feelings for her. Everyone ate and made small talk discussing the latest movies and TV shows you were all into. Robin was always so easy to talk to and she was so articulate with her words and hands. You couldn't help but fall more for her with every passing moment. Once dinner was over, you served the dessert of Scoops ice cream mint chocolate chip flavored with tons of toppings like chocolate sauce, cherries, candies, and marshmallow fluff. It was so good. Little did you know, but Robin had strong feelings for you too, and shared such a strong bond with you already.

"Thanks again for inviting me over. It's good to see Dingus not wear his work uniform for once," Robin chuckled teasingly before giving his shoulder a friendly pat.

Steve knew tonight would be the night you told her about your feelings.

"I love having you here, Robin. So, have you been on any dates lately?" You ask her sweetly.

"No, just boring lame single land for me."

After she and Vickie went their separate ways, she had a few random flings, although nothing ever grew serious with any other woman.

"Well, you are a catch, Robin, and you will find someone for sure," Steve remarks with a wide smile and a flash of his teeth.

You finished up your ice cream and wiped your mouth with a napkin, trying to work up your confidence to admit your feelings for her.

"Robin, I like you. I know I'm with Steve, but you are the girl of my dreams."

Robin gulped and swallowed. She felt a sense of shyness and a red flush formed on her cheeks.

"I like you too. Since you are with Steve, I never tried anything. I didn't know even if you were into girls."

"Well, I am. I love spending time together. Steve knows, and he's perfectly fine with it."

"It's true Robin I am. I want you and Y/N to have fun together and I trust both of you," Steve admitted as he reached over and gently rubbed your back.

Robin had the biggest smile on her face, and she felt so unbelievably happy.

"Have fun together? As in? What exactly…" she asked, trying to play coy even though she wanted you so desperately and couldn't even care less if Steve watched or was involved.

"Just the two of us. Making love Robin. Steve wouldn't mind it at all."

"That's what I thought you meant. And I mean dingus could join in, I guess, as long as he doesn't touch me. And I don't want him ogling over me."

"You wish," Steve playfully teased her as he realized where this night was about to go and all the possibilities.

You leaned in close to Robin and kissed her. Her lips were soft and plump. She tasted so sweet and she kissed you back with eagerness and passion. The way her lips felt as you touched her clothed breast was enough to make you wet. Steve was watching with a glint in his eyes. He was so turned on from seeing you kiss Robin that he could already feel his cock harden in the strict confines of his pants. You looked back over at Steve once the kiss broke and kissed him, too. Kissing Steve was always fun, and his strong grip on your waist, as he pulled you into him, made you groan against his lips. Robin leaned in close to you, her lips ghosting over your neck before she kissed you again. This made you groan even louder into Steve's mouth. You turned back to Robin and gave her another kiss before getting up from the couch.

"Let's take this to the bedroom now," you told them firmly, more as a command than a suggestion.

They eagerly got up to follow you- no questions asked. As you made your way to the bedroom, you stripped your clothes off. Steve followed suit and Robin did too and soon all 3 of you were on the bed making out again, tongues tangled. As you kissed Steve, Robin played with your breasts, and when you kissed Steve, Robin peppered kisses on your chest. After some time of making out, you fingered yourself, getting wetter than ever for the both of them. They both loved your boobies so much especially Robin.

"Robin, I want you to please my pussy," you begged as you fingered yourself even harder.

Robin replaced your fingers with her own and finger-fucked you- slow at first, but then faster as you moaned her name. She was so hot for you and as she spread your legs even wider; you became more comfortable by laying back against the pillows. Getting up so you and Robin could have more room, Steve sat down on the nearby loveseat in your bedroom and watched as Robin pleased you with her fingers. As she worked her fingers expertly on your clit, you arched your back, your moans getting even louder now. Softly, Steve gasped at being so turned on by the scene of things. He was rock hard and as you looked over at him; you gave him a big grin. Robin licked down your body from your neck down to your chest and nipples, giving each of them equal attention with her mouth, as her fingers continued to fuck in and out of you at a rapid pace, wanting to make you cum. Once she reached your pussy with her mouth, she replaced her fingers with her tongue and wrapped your legs around her shoulders.

"Fuck yes, Robin, just like that," you groaned loudly, gripping the bed sheets beneath you.

As she licked and sucked on your clit, you locked eyes with hers, loving the feeling of her mouth and tongue. She was gentle and sweet with you and it was different with her than being with Steve, but you loved how both of them ate you out. Her tongue eagerly pleased you lapping at your pussy and digging her nails into your thighs and ass as she grinned at you and looked up at you seductively with her pretty eyes.

"You taste so fuckin good. Steve, your girlfriend's pussy tastes like heaven," she filthily groaned before going right back to eating you out and devouring you like it was her last meal on earth.

Steve couldn't help but stroke himself as he watched Robin eat you out.

"She is amazing, isn't she? Her taste is addicting," he groaned as he watched her go right back to pleasing your pussy.

"Robin, that's so fuckin good!" You cried out and arched your back as she hit your g-spot with her fingers and sucked your clit exactly how you liked it.

You watched Steve as he stroked himself and you were even more wet now and closer than ever to orgasm.

"Cum for me, beautiful," she begged you as she slapped your pussy and fingered you.

Your moans grew in crescendo as you fucked her face. As you came, you cried out her name. She kissed up your body, meeting your lips in a kiss so you could taste yourself.

Wasting no time, you got a butt plug from the nearby drawer and oiled it up with lube before inserting it and grabbing a big rubber dildo you planned to share with Robin. As soon as she saw it, her eyes widened.

"Want to make me happy, Robin? Do you want to use this toy with me as I give Steve a handjob?"

"I would love to."

Steve took that as his cue to get up from where he was sitting and go over to the bed. Once Robin adjusted to the size of the toy, you took the other end and inserted the toy inside of you.

"That looks so fuckin hot," Steve commented as he looked at the toy you and Robin were sharing.

"Be a good boy for me, Stevie."

He groaned in response and you rocked on the toy as Robin moved on her end and you stroked his shaft, wanting to please him as you had your fun with her.

Loving nothing more than the feeling of your hand, Steve rocked his hips swiftly and put his hands on them as you gripped his shaft. Robin looked at you longingly, especially at your chest as she moaned softly. The toy felt so good and Steves's cock in your hand made you wet with your slick. You gave equal attention to his shaft and the head of his cock as you rode the toy, groaning at the sight of your pussy as well as hers. Your eyes moved between the toy and your boyfriend's cock as the sounds of wet pussy filled the room. Moving his cock to your mouth, you licked the tip and sucked, loving his taste. He grunted as he rocked his hips and you took him inside your mouth and played with the sensitive buds of your nipples.

"That's it, baby, your mouth feels so good," Steve groaned as he watched you suck him off, taking even more of him into your mouth.

Feeling so close to her release, Robin moaned louder at the sensations from the toy combined with the sight of you playing with your breasts. Getting a steady pace with sucking his cock, you made lewd noises around his dick.

"Be a good girl for me," he encouraged you.

Spitting messily on his dick and rubbing his shaft with your hand, you kissed the tip of his pretty cock. He loved your luscious mouth and how you pleased him as you found pleasure with Robin and the toy in your pussy. You moaned loudly around his thick length.

"Mm s-close already," Robin uttered as she reached out to tweak your nipple, making you gasp in pleasure.

The stimulation from the toy was just about enough to drive you over the edge. You couldn't wait to find your release. Robins's pussy was so pretty, and she was so gorgeous as she rocked back and forth on the toy. Watching her breasts bounce as she rode the other end of the pink dildo, you hollowed out your cheeks to take Steve as best as you could. Not wanting to cum yet, he released his cock from your mouth as you pouted, loving the taste of his perfect cock and already missing it.

"Don't wanna cum yet, baby," he forewarned you.

"Okay, Stevie. Fuck, I'm so close to cumming again."

"Cum all over the toy, my pretty girl," Robin encouraged you as she panted, feeling the toy hit just the right spot, making her cum. Just moments later you were right there cumming with her.

Tossing the toy aside, you embraced her, fondled her breasts, and elicited a loud groan from her.

"I want to taste you so badly, Robin," you moaned into her ear after kissing her passionately and deeply.

"That's what I want more than anything else."

Getting on her back, she spread her legs for you as you got a vibrator to use on her as well that was red. Steve's cock was so hard as he got closer to you, wanting to fuck you more than ever. You also got out a purple glass dildo for him to use on you and handed it to him before whispering in his ear,

"Use the toy on my ass."

Upon hearing this, Steve blushed. He loved ass play with you and being able to pleasure you like this again was such a turn-on for him. Taking the toy from you, he put it aside for the moment. You shook your ass in the air, letting him get a good look at your glistening wet pussy and a good view of your ass and butt plug.

"I need your mouth so much," Robin pleaded with you.

Turning your attention back to her, you got on your hands and knees as Steve came up from behind you and lined himself up at your entrance. He gripped your hips, positioning you on his cock- filling you up with his delicious length. You moaned at the feeling of him now inside and finger-fucked Robin as he thrust inside of you. He went slowly at first- being as sensual as he could to let you get adjusted to how big his length was. Moans escaped your lips and Robin's as you used the vibrator on her pussy. He slapped your ass as you ate her out. She tasted so delicious and you couldn't wait to fuck her with your mouth. Even with the vibrator turned on at its lowest setting, her moans only grew in crescendo for you.

"Fuck this is amazing I love to fuck you, baby," Steve growled as he slapped your ass and took out your butt plug tossing it aside only to replace it with the head of the glass dildo you had picked out.

As you used the vibrator and added your tongue, Robin just about lost it because of your touch, mouth, and how good the toy was working her pussy. Holding her legs down, you licked and sucked on her clit nice and slowly. Her hands tangled in your hair as you ate her out like she was the sweetest and best thing you had ever tasted. Your pretty moans as well as hers could be heard as Steve fucked your ass with the toy and grunted as you rode his cock.

"Harder, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good inside of me. I love your big cock," you cried out for him, moaning as you played with Robin and pleased her pretty pussy.

You hoped you were doing it right for Robin and pleasing her to her liking, but judging from the sounds she was making; you felt like you probably were. The toy was working your ass so well as you clenched around it.

"Mmmm, that feels so fuckin' good," Robin praised you as she rocked her hips and writhed against your tongue and the toy as she bit her lip.

Tonight was all about you and pleasing you. They both wanted you so badly and they loved having you as theirs. Steve was having the time of his life as you rode his cock. Every time you fucked him, it was full of so much passion and now, with Robin in the mix and giving you what Steve couldn't, you truly were experiencing the best of both worlds.

Between Steve's thrusts and groans, Robin's moans, and the feeling of the toy in your ass, you wanted more than anything to come undone for them. You were close to your release, and couldn't wait to cum for him and taste all of her sweet juices as she came for you. The feeling of Steve filling you up with his cum was always one of the best experiences for you. He always took care of you and was the perfect lover- never selfish or rude, but always attuned to your needs and desires/wants.

"I want to cum for you, Steve. So close now, sir," you mewled as he hit your sweet spot with his cock.

The added stimulation from the toy made you want to cum. Robin was on the brink from the vibrations of the toy you were using on her clit as you deeply tongued her pussy and made her cry out in ecstasy for you.

"Cum for me baby, I'm so close too," Steve warned you now rubbing circles on your clit with one hand as his other hand still worked the toy so deeply inside of your ass.

"A little lower. Fuck! I love your tongue," Robin gasped and prettily groaned as you ate her out to her liking, moving your tongue lower and earning even more praise from her.

"Yes, perfect! Fuck, that's the spot!" She uttered in response, stifling a loud moan as you looked up at her and ate her out getting into it. She tasted so fuckin' good and sweet. Steve kept fucking you and watching your pretty ass as you rode his cock. He wanted desperately to make you cum and loved the sight in front of him.

The sensations, tastes, and feelings you were experiencing as you pleased this woman and Steve pleased you, were truly wonderful. All of your love for them was so strong and you couldn't imagine life without them. Everything with Steve and Robin was the best experience ever.

"That's it hunny take my cock like a good little slut. Be a good girl for me babe," Steve encouraged you as you mewled and whimpered, riding his cock, getting closer than ever to chasing your high.

Robin was so close and Steve was right there with you as sweat beaded on his brow. Having you like this in between him and Robin was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Making you feel good was his top priority, and Robin was pleasuring you with a woman's touch, and it was intoxicating. Everything with both of them was addicting.

"Fuck, I need to cum. Steve, Robin, I'm g-gonna," you warned them as you were practically driven over the edge by his cock and the incredibly sweet taste of her pussy. You hungrily ate her out as he fucked you and squeezed your ass.

"Cum for us," Robin encouraged you between moans, her eyes locked on yours.

You came so hard and Steve was there for you, loving the feeling of your wet pussy on his cock.

"Y/n I'm going to cum. With that tongue of yours, I can't resist," Robin groaned, getting to the brink of orgasm.

You responded by fingering her deeper and sucking her clit as Steve watched, about to bust inside of you.

"Fuck baby, I'm going to cum too," Steve admonished you as he felt his cock twitch inside of you as he thrust harder.

"Cum in me Steve. Cum all over my tongue, Robin," you requested them as you breathed heavily and felt Steve's cock begin to cum so deep inside of you as he rubbed your clit and practically overstimulated you getting you close to cumming again.

Robin thrust her hips, raising them even higher into your mouth. She loved to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. As she held onto your hair, holding it back, you tasted her sweet juices as she threw her head back and caressed her breasts, all while arching her back off the bed and calling out your name.

"That's it, baby, take my cum hunny," Steve praised you as he watched it drip down your legs and inner thighs- his fingers still working your clit so expertly.

"That feels so good! Fuck that mouth of yours will be the death of me," Robin gasped as she collapsed on the bed post-orgasm.

You felt your next orgasm come crashing over you as Steve worked his fingers inside of you. His lips met yours, practically devouring you, as he removed the toy from ass and put it aside.

Breathless and all fucked out, the three of you took comfort and solace in each other's arms as you lay in between them. The experience truly was one of the best nights and you couldn't wait to do it all over again someday.

"I loved that so much," you enthused feeling such euphoria. The experience was so passionate, loving, tender, and sensual.

Steve and Robin looked at you so lovingly and affectionately as you basked in the afterglow of post orgasm.

"I loved it too, baby. Having Robin here too was something else. I mean that in the best way possible," Steve admitted with a huge grin on his face.

"You are such a dingus, Steve. I had the best time with your girlfriend."

"We should do this more," you blurted out as your face turned pink and you blushed.

Robin ran lazy circles over your arm as Steve held your hand.

"If Robin will still have us."

"Let me think about it… Umm, yes! I loved every minute."

"Good. I don't want to give either of you up."

After that night together, Robin came over a lot more to hang out, watch movies, cook, bake, play board games, and just be with you and Steve. With her, though, things just felt right, and even though many people wouldn't understand your relationship dynamic, you still wanted them. You chose them every single day, and they chose you in return. As long as the 3 of you were happy together, that was all that mattered. Robin was your first time with a girl, and you were so happy it was with her. It was more than just the sex with them- so much more. They loved you and you had so much love for them. Date nights were special and romantic and their presence made you happier than you ever had been before. You fell more in love with her daily, and your love for Steve grew stronger, too. There were lots of dates and you spent so much time together having the time of your lives. Every date was special and as long as you had your 2 favorite people by your side, you had the best time of your life. You were happier than you ever were. Eventually, Robin moved in and had her room for her stuff, but you slept in the same bed. What was once just yours and Steve's was now hers, too.

One year, you even opened your own bakery/cafe and coffee shop with Robin and Steve. Working together was like living the dream. Loving them was the best thing ever and gave you so much happiness. When Dustin, Max, Mike, Lucas, Elle, and Will were older, you told them about your relationship as a happy and content throuple. They were overjoyed for the 3 of you and just wanted all of you to be happy. It didn't change any of their feelings for you, and your friendship with them stayed strong. Anyone who couldn't be happy for you did not have a place in your life and didn't deserve one, either. All holidays, birthdays, and anniversaries were celebrated with your boyfriend and girlfriend; you loved them so much. You fell in love with them more and more and being with 2 people just worked. They fit perfectly in your life and you would never give them up for anything or trade them for anything in the world. Eventually, you were pregnant with little nuggets and all over the moon about it. You had a small wedding ceremony that was private with only your closest friends and family after Steve proposed to you. Even though you were only legally married to Steve, Robin was just as much a part of it and you considered her your wife. The months of your pregnancy were filled with so much love and pampering from them and once you gave birth to twins, they were there with you to hold them first and get you anything you needed. Life with your new family brought you so much joy and you wouldn't have it any other way.

tag list @impmunson @bimbobaggins69 @somethingvicked @babygorewhore @inourtownofhawkins @undead-supernova @ali-r3n @harringtonfan4 @koskeepsake @munson-mjstan @bunnsandroses @steveslittlesunflower @emsgoodthinkin @jadeylovesmarvelxo @zestychili @s6raphic @probablyin-bed @corrodedcorpses @dollalicia @ofhawkinsandskippy @keeksandgigz @hcwthewestwaswcn @emmyshortcake @geeky-introvert @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @xxbimbobunnyxx @jozstankovich @djoekeeryy @shescreamslikeachild @mrprettywhenhecries

soundtrack

Chaka Khan-Ain't Nobody The Pointer Sisters - I'm So Excited DEF LEPPARD - "Pour Some Sugar On Me" Måneskin - I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE Scorpions - Believe In Love David Bowie - Modern Love Queen-Love Of My Life Freddie Mercury - Love Me Like There’s No Tomorrow Queen - Crazy Little Thing Called Love Extreme - More Than Words Ratt - You're In Love Tesla - Love Song Dokken - Heaven Sent Halestorm – Still of The Night (Whitesnake Cover) Mötley Crüe - You're All I Need Halestorm - I Want You (She's So Heavy) (The Beatles Cover) Hot Love - Twisted Sister

#stranger things #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #robin buckley x fem reader #stobin #platonic stobin #steve and robin #platonic with a capital p #steve harrington fic #robin buckley fic #steve harrington oneshot #robin buckley oneshot #stranger things fic

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rosedere · 2 months

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The Liyue Lotus and the Merchant from Snezhnaya

(Pantalone x Fem! Reader)

MDNI +18

Cw: kidnapping, Stalking, non con elements, Graphic violence (later chapters), Yandere content *will update as the series goes

Cross posted on AO3

Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Chapter 5. Communication lost in the mountains, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10~

Synopsis: Unfortunately, The Regerator develops a fixation with you while you are working undercover for Yelan. And there’s no one who can get in his way of his prized Lotus.

The parts of me buried underneath

They're glowing, do you see?

I know that you feel me now

No I'm never going down

You didn't hear from Yelan again.

…

It was total static from everyone.

A few weeks into your stay in your pagoda tower was when you had any sort of noteworthy event. Basking in the pouring sunlight from the opening of the balcony from the canopy bed, you only realized you were drifting off to sleep when the soft footsteps from the hallway began to grow louder in volume.

“Lián”

You felt something paper-textured land on your bloated stomach.

Eyes still closed in annoyance, you lifted your arm to shoo Galina away.

“Its from Your beloved~” she added as she sat besides you, pulling away at the curtain to allow more light in.

You only stayed silent, trying to relax into the cool silk pillow you were currently resting on.

“Lián, you've been sleeping a lot lately.”

Galina sighed, holding the back of her hand to your forehead. “Hopefully you didn't catch a cold when you went swimming,” she muttered to herself as she leaned back onto the bed, laying near your feet.

“Fine— let me see.”

Unfurling yourself from the confines of the sheets, you sat up to see a medium-sized box now toppled over onto your side of the bed.

The wrapping on the package was an intricate iridescent blue and white tissue paper encasing the box, topped with a small paper lily.

Carefully unwrapping the top of the bow, the rest of the package fell apart, revealing the contents inside the dark blue box. You reached for the envelope before observing the contents of the delicately wrapped items; the letter was a familiar Snezhnaya envelope you had handled in the past during missions.Delicate as you opened the envelope with your name written on it with a golden fountain dip pen, Piercing the letter with your sharpest nail.

The parchment was cold to the touch, several pages from first glance.

“So what is it, my lady?" Galina perched her hand under her chin.

"Unfortunately, I don't read as fast as Pantalone”

“Lián,

I have finally made it to Snezhnaya. By the time this letter should reach you, I'd have been here already for several weeks.

Thankfully, the… unfriendly gathering has ended sooner than I anticipated. I am currently catching up on certain duties I neglected before I came home.

In the meantime, until I have a certain day of arrival, I sent you some items that reminded me of you, hopefully reaching you along with this letter.

Every day I've been thinking about you, Lián; hopefully Galina and Fedor have been treating you well in my absence. I can't resist letting my mind wander to our first night together.

I can't wait until we are united again so we can share a few more nights like that one, my rooted lotus.

I have more to say and share with you about Snezhnaya, but I have been alerted to some issues involving one of my underlings that I must take care of, so I will leave the rest to your imagination until we both can come together.

The Regerator

You looked over at the gently wrapped items stacked neatly in a pile.

“Hmm, so it appears he could arrive any day now,” Galina mindlessly replied, now propped up on one of the smaller pillows on the bed.

“Any day? How did you get that from the letter?” you asked.

“I just know him; last time he said that he returned a week later,” she turned lying in the bed.

"Hey, did he also leave an extra envelope in there by any chance?”

You carefully laid the blue ink letter on the bedspread as you pulled the items out of the box; some you could immediately guess were clothes, while others felt like they were wrapped in a sturdy paper box.

Thinking that was it, two envelopes slipped out from the bottom.

One was on dark sapphire blue paper, and the other was a dusty violet color.

“Oh! That's it,” she reached over energetically for the dusty violet color before pocketing the other one in her hood pocket.

A smile graced her face as she eagerly opened the letter.

Humming as she read her letter, you noticed the back of the letter had a photograph of something—a few pictures from the thickness you could tell from the shape.

You didn't want to pry, so you returned your attention to the items strewn about now on the bed.

Reaching for a small rectangular one carelessly thrown on top of the several items now forming a small mountain, a silver ink print was on top as you further inspected the gift.

“To moma”

You were about to speak up, but Galina read your mind, grabbing a hold of the box in your hand.

"Sorry, my lady, you had to grab that~ hehe He must have packed them altogether,” she bashfully apologized.

“Ah no, its on me; I shouldn't have just assumed it was mine,” you smiled back at her, watching her handle the gift.

The photos on the back of the letter are now laying facing up on top of the letter as she unwrapped the gift eagerly.

You watched as she pulled the expensive wrapping off, again her mask concealing her face, but you could tell her mood instantly lightened as she held the now unwrapped gift.

“Is that?”

Galina nodded, holding the small statue.

You knew it was an ice creation—some vision holders becoming sculptors using their vision to create material.

But the place that was sculpted was somewhere you had never seen before.

The tall dome-like roofs and a small miniature garden with a snowy lake in front of the palace-like place.

The amount of detail was truly inspiring.

“My daughter... finally got a vision while I was away." Galina smiled, holding the small miniature in her gloved hand.

"She had desperately wanted to become one so she could serve the Tsaritsa”

She held the minature to her chest.

“I miss her so much.”

Galina's finger traced around the little pond that was sculpted into the side of the castle.

“The last time I saw her was when she was only a small toddler, barely able to stand,” she chuckled to herself.

Rolling on her stomach, she placed the minature on the wrapping, looking closer at it from behind.

“She told me in her letter that she will try to become an ice maiden under the tsaritsa as soon as her birthday comes next month.”

She glanced back up at you.

“ah— this might be a bit boring to you, my lady; I apologize once more.”

“No, it's alright, it's just-”

This is going to be awkward…

“Are you really a mother?” You blurted.

Startled by your blunt tone, you covered your mouth as you searched for any amount of offense in your words on her face.

Galina smiled mischievously at you before she rewrapped the small sculpture.

“Three”

“Including my younger sisters, so...”

Ten

Your eyes widen in surprise,thanking your hand for covering your mouth, as it was probably hanging down in shock.

“Its a long story, but im all they have; its why im here with Fedor,” she sighed, reaching for the photographs.

She grabbed the last photo from the back, placing it on your covered lap.

The photo showed three girls in some sort of igloo in the wilderness; the oldest sitting on the left of the embankment looked to be at least sixteen—a young teen—while the other two sitting in the poorly constructed igloo looked to be no older than six.

Galina placed a finger on the oldest one.

“That one is my Victoria,” she pointed to the girl. “She looks more like her… father than I, but she is such a sweet girl.”

She then pointed to the two girls inside the igloo.

“These two are my twins, Brki and Ivanna.”

You looked closer inside the igloo to see the two smiling girls more in detail; their eyes, hair, and body structure were identical.

“I was so lucky to have them; I'm sure they're probably impatiently waiting for my return again,” she smiled, looking back down at the picture.

You watched her fondly touch the small photograph of her children; absorbed in her world that was depicted in the photo.

“I certainly hope I'm not overstepping since... "I'm not a mother and all.” You looked down at your hands before you laid on your side, facing Galina on the bed.

“Why don't you work closer to Snezhnaya instead of being so far from them?”

“If I had my babies somewhere in a region all by themselves, I'd probably lose sleep knowing I was doing such a dangerous job.”

Galina's smile softened as she carefully laid the photo next to the minature.

“I would if I could, Lián.”

“I thought this might have been the trip my Lord Pantalone would have offered to take me and Fedor along back home,” she exhaled.

“But I guess I signed up a week too late to stay; now I work for the Regerator.”

She tucked the letter and photographs inside the wrappings.

“I guess better this way; I'd probably be dead if I worked for the home harbingers like Il Dottore or Coloumbina…” she chuckled half-heartedly. "Ah, you haven't met them yet, but they certainly... are strange,” she smiled to herself.

You smiled back at Galina as she tucked her gifts in her opposite coat pocket.

“I must write my babies a letter before the day ends,” she stretched out onto your bed.

“Hey—can I see what your beloved brought for you this time?”

“Please~” she asked, propping her head up with her hands.

“Sounds fair to me since you shared what you were sent in the mail,” you sluggishly moved back up in a sitting position.

Checking to make sure nothing else was mixed up.

You grabbed the top item; wrapped in a very sturdy tissue-like paper. Gingerly pulled the ribbon on top, making the whole wrapping come off.

“Oh wow, miss Lián! Its so beautiful,” her eyes lit up.

“Err.. but what is it?” You tilted your head.

The sheer cloth was so long that you had to keep unrolling the dark sapphire material at least 30 times until you could observe the full tapestry of cloth.

A white-tinsel lotus design ebbed all around the sheer fabric, reaching the ends of the ground. The horizontals had a very expensive tassel and metal accessories hanging low on the bottom all the way to the top.

"Ah, Miss Lián, that's a...”

Galina stroked her chin in thought for a moment.

“Oh! I remember the Liyue word for it… A veil”

“Like for….” You swallowed thickly. “A bride?”

“Oh no, at least not in our culture it isnt— women of high status wear them to mimic the Tsaritsa's own veil to shield her innocence,” Galina pointed at the fabric.

“If I wasn't so lazy, I'd show you right now how it's worn, but I have a feeling I might know what at least two of the other packages entail.” She glanced over towards the uneven mountain of gifts.

“It certainly is beautiful, but I don't know if I'll be able to wear it in our humid climate,” you sighed.

“You can always weave it into your hair like some of the previous Harbingers and some Harbinger spouses do,” she smiled. "But, to be honest with you, I think he mostly got it for you to wear as a shawl like the ones you adore so much.” Galina lowered her voice.

Letting curiosity get the best of you, the decision to wear the veil was all your brain was telling you to do as you carefully slid out of bed, standing on bare feet as you wrapped the fabric around your gown.

“So it just goes over me?” You questioned now standing next to the long fabric.

"Yup,” Galina quickly responded, looking over at you.

You began to unwrap the veil, opening it up like a bedsheet before placing it on top of your messy hair.

Dropping the veil to the ground, it laid around your feet gracefully, catching the light from outside as you twirled underneath the long fabric.

“Its beautiful.” You touched the inside of the veil, really feeling the soft netted material.

"Oh, but wait until you see the second piece that goes with it,” she chuckled, her belly crawling towards the mountain of presents laying where you had previously disturbed.

She began sorting through the gifts before she settled on the largest one, nestled underneath a few other items.

“Here, try this one.”

You approached with the veil still over your head, grabbing the package, now intrigued.“Id offer to unwrap it for you, my lady, but Id rather not get caught by Fedor,” she scratched the back of her head.

“If you want to, you can,” you held the gift back towards her. “You can be my assistant,” Your veil unintentionally jingled as you held it out to her.

Galina nodded before opening the carefully wrapped present for you.

She went quickly to work as she unwrapped the tightly bound package.

Another heavy-looking garment tightly folded; the white fur was mostly what you identified until you looked closer, realizing it was another long item of fabric.

“This part I'll let you unwrap,” she handed the item to you.

unfolding the very tightly packed item, watching a cascade of snow whites and icy blues sparkle and twinkle back at you.

The top silmy mantle around the collar reminds you of an artic fox; the fur is a second layer underneath the thick peacoat material; the tulle layer underneath acting like a long dress as it also pooled and complimented the robe part of the long splits that rain besides the ribs of the coat.

"Normally, women in snezhnaya also wear a layered robe underneath this coat, just like the Tsaritsa” Galina pointed to the sleeves.

“Im surprised why he bought you these specifically since normally that particular outfit is worn for special occasions.”

“special meaning?” You trailed.

“Like an engagement or being pinned as a harbinger is the one I can think of at the top of my head,” she flicked her eyes towards the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room.

“I would show you Pantalone's, but it seems he took his winter formal coat on business with him,” she looked back at the coat still in your hand.

“He has one identical to that one, but it seems he custom ordered it while he was over there,” Galina sighed, “which is something not anyone is honored to receive from Snezhnayans.”

Astonished, you took a step back as you looked closer at the coat. You realized initially that what seemed to be sleeves was actually more of a split poncho with a lack of a better term. Deciding to try it as well, you opened the front of the insulated coat. The soft mink feeling inside was very warm, and of course it had the quality of something you have never been blessed to wear.

“It's kind of heavy.” You walked towards the end of the ornate gateway leading to the bedroom door, the crystal material catching more light than your veil.

“They certainly are; the more layers, the better, my lady,” Galina watched as you carefully walked back towards the bed.

Sighing, you sat on the edge of the bed before lying back on the bed.

“My lady? Are you okay?” Galina sat up, sitting besides you, where the material cascaded down the tall bed.

“Just a bit winded—I think I just haven't been sleeping well,” you murmured before removing your arms from the sleeves. “I'll be alright once I close my eyes for a moment,” you replied, burying your face into the covers.

“Ah— but do you want to unwrap the rest of your gifts first? It seems there are about four more.” Galina began to neatly stack the few items left on the bed.

“Maybe later—” you yawned.

“My lady, at least let me take your jacket off of you.” Galina fussed as she began to carefully lift you up.

“My lord would kill me if he found out I let you roll around in them,” she began to carefully begin the process of undressing and disasembling your outfit.

“Galina? Are you in here?” Fedor's voice boomed from the walkway outside.

Your cheery guard looked towards the balcony outside; the pyro energy radiating around where Fedor had teleported.

"Ah, one moment—Im undressing our lords, beloved,” she finished unrolling the veil into a neat square on the bed.

“This is an urgent matter, my comrade; a crane has been spotted.”

Galina froze before dropping the fabric on the bed.

She quickly removed your long jacket and laid it on top of the bed, where the items were stacked, before she laid you back into one of the larger pillows on your bed.

“I'm sorry, my lady; I'll dress you properly later.”

“Please stay in your bedroom and do not open any doors until we arrive,” Galina calmly told you.

Your eyes, however, were already closing as you heard Galina and Fedor hurry out of the room before they closed the gate to the balcony.

Silence except for the occasional bird call or sway of wind passing through the bedroom.

As much as your body was dragging you down, however, you knew you had to continue your real mission.

Especially since Pantalone was already getting ready to come back.

Pulling yourself up, you looked around the room you had become accustomed to for the several days you lived here.

Unfortunately, you didn't find much in his various drawers, desks, and vases of scrolls; seemingly, he took everything with him on his business in the ever-frozen wasteland.

Walking over to the bedroom door unshockingly, it was very obviously locked from the outside.

No way out

Leaning against the door, you lazily looked over towards the bathroom.

On one of these absentee days at Pantalones Estate, you were tasked with washing yourself while Galina stepped away to figure out where the smoke in the lower kitchen was from.

You would have started by yourself drying your body off, but you noticed only a few washcloths left.

Sighing to yourself as you sat on the edge of the stone ledge that formed the natural tub, you felt one that was… out of place.

Not in appearance, but the large section of stone was loose.

Assuming it was just a loose stone, you pulled at the slate. A rumble occurred, and a wall was revealed below your feet.

A passage.

You carefully lowered yourself into the earthy passage, leaving barely enough room for one person to squeeze through. Wherever you landed, you were extremely unsure as you reached the end of your descent. The walls were tall; you could feel a draft, but there was no light at all in the room. You cursed yourself for not having a pyro vision as you felt and touched everything until you ran your hands on a switch, the handle protruding in front of you.

Pulling it revealed a network.

Tunnels.

Each leading deeper into the mountain.

Only before you were about to decide which mossy-covered entrance to take, you were alerted by Galina's sing song voice from above.

Today was going to be different.

Grabbing a large stick that was lying in one of the various vases in the restroom, you began your descent once more.

Climbing down, you noticed the lights had been turned off once more. Doing the same as you did the first time you felt up against the natural wall of the cave before you hit the switch from the walls.

The light turning on revealed a much more disturbing scene from the last time you were down.

Dried blood.

Everywhere.

The rusty smell disguises itself under the moist and earthy scent of the cave.

It seemed something got attacked down here.

You carefully tread with bare feet on the earthy stone around the scene before you.

Most of the blood was concentrated in the middle of the cavernous area before a trail led to the utmost left cavern.

Maneuvering quietly, you thanked the archons. Your nausea was at bay for the first time all day, or you'd have surely vomited in the humid cavern.

Thankfully, it seemed the switch's power extended to the cavern, really illuminating the long trail as whoever or whatever carried itself this way.

Finally reaching the back of the long cavern, you found nothing.

Literally, not even a trail of blood remained in the area. no corpse or sign of the person left.

The iron bars surrounded the area.

A makeshift prison.

Chilled, you kept your investigation mode on, examining every rock and iron bar.

But nothing came of the cavern.

Or the one next to it.

It wasn't until you wandered to the last worn path that you heard the familiar breeze of the mountain create a draft as you walked further inside.

Eventually, you took a windy path before the natural sunlight of the sky poured into the passage.

Practically running, you raced towards the opening of the cave. cautiously approaching the edge of the cave, listening for any suspicious sounds. Cursing yourself for the lack of elemental energy, you armed yourself with the stick before you stepped one foot out.

Entering the sunlight by yourself was a right you took for granted.

Overwhelmed by the familiar image of the mountain ranges and various wooden bridges in the distance, you knew.

"It finally took you long enough.”

At first, you thought an annoying mirage had formed above you. Craning your neck up with your stick, you pointed up at your possible threat.

Her mauve lips only upturned in an amused smile as she giggled behind her hands.

“I knew it was bad, but not this bad; my last subordinate would threaten me with a stick." She brushed her hair behind her ear from her spot on the tall tree branch above.

Patting on the tall branch as an invitation for you to come join her only made you scowl in response.

"Fine, stay down there, but those two annoyances are going to spot you and blow your cover.” Yelan pointed to the downward natural path beside you.

Lunging with your stick, you reached the tree branch with no hesitation, perching in a squat beside Yelan.

“Why are you here?” You asked, crossing your arms.

“Same reason you're here." She stretched her arms above her head briefly.

“I wanted to see if you took the Regerator down or if that blood was from you,” she quietly laughed.

“So you're saying the blood wasn't from you murdering all of the fatui down there?” You rolled your eyes.

“Not yet,” she smiled as she poked your nose.

Flicking her hand in retaliation, you both paused as you looked down the mountain path.

Eventually the laugh slipped from your mouth, leading Yelan to follow in your footsteps. Her infectious laugh a comforting sound, reminding you of the time before being undercover.

when you and Yelan were just subordinates.

“So I'm going to assume then you don't know what occurred down there either.”

You nodded, only shrugging.

“I can't be a useful source since when I first stumbled upon the passage leading to that makeshift prison, I couldn't wander further inside, but I do recall no blood was in there yet.”

“It may be a good sign." Yelan interjected, “The passage you just came out of was manmade,” her finger pointed at the jagged edges the entrance had, “the prisoner escaped down the cliff to down the mountain.”

“They must have had a vision,” you deduced as you looked down the misty mountain range below.

It was Yelan's turn to nod in silent acknowledgement.

“Hang on, how did you find this place? I don't even know where I am,” you exclaimed.

Yelan only raised a perfect brow.

“Im not kidding, I snuck into the prison from the bathroom in Pantalones master bedroom looking for an escape.”

Yelan looked back at the cavern opening once more in thought.

“We found Dan, but he was dead at the base of this mountain, concealed in the amber." Yelan shrugged before looking down at the base of the mountain.

“I decided to scout the area to see if any activity would occur when I found camps of fatui surrounding this entire mountain.”

You leaned in, listening intently with interest as Yelan looked cautiously around.

“Following a few of them led me to halfway to the mountain before I was somehow spotted, and now I'm here,” she pursed her lip.

“So what's the next step? I haven't gotten any word from inside the Fatui about what's going on or if they're involved as well,” you murmured. “Im essentially being watched everywhere I go inside his residence,” scratching your wrist out of nerves.

“Your my Fatui informant; despite what it seems like, you have a lot of value out of everyone right now,” Yelan placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, I'll treat you to the best Liyue beer in the harbor once we catch The Regerator,” Yelan smiled.

“For now, you need to keep gaining all of their trust, no matter what it is, until you have definitive evidence and a plan. We can avenge our fallen and bring Pantalone to justice,” she passionately assured you.

For a moment, it grew silent. The mountains natural sound being amplified around the both of you.

“I have to head back, Yelan," you said as you stood up on top of the tall limb.

“As do I as well; I'm sure they assumed I slid all the way down the mountain by now at this point.”

You both laughed, Yelan rising to her feet as well, both being at eye level.

“Since I know now where you are, we can both converge higher up from here near the amber on the next waning moon this month,” she said, pointing at a small landing above the manmade mountain.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Until then, (name)”

Note: Bad news and Good news:

Bad news: Im apart of the Boycotting Hoyo which means besides not playing the game and review bombing I will not be continuing this story until Hoyo stops pretending dark skin tones dont exists :D I will not argue about it as im firm on my stance and I hope everyone respects my choice and hopefully I can continue my genshin/and honkai stories once more as I really love the characters and such!

Good news: I wont be a complete asshole and since I have the rest of the 6 chapters written I will begin editing and posting those but I will not update anymore after the six one has been posted!

Again im sad I have to say all of this but I was already angry at genshin because of sumeru and then for them to do the same thing again to a group that already get talked over and their concerns and issues ignored makes me dislike them even more...

Petition + Review bomb tf out of the games on the app store btw

#yandere pantalone #yandere genshin x reader #Yandere pantalone x reader #reader insert #yandere x you #yandere content #genshin x reader

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railingsofsorrow · 1 year

Text

RAILINGSOFSORROW'S FICS RECS (0.1)

here's the 1st part of a recs list of my favourite fics! (had to split in two because tumblr was being a nightmare) have it mind that they can either be on tumblr or ao3.

the (+) means it has a smut masterlists: [0.1] [0.2]

↯

━━ CRIMINAL MINDS

↬flight risk by @brywrites (s.reid x reader) (series)

I didn't know I could feel so safe reading about a pilot and a profiler, given their jobs, but I did and this fic is so magical. I loved the analogies the angst everything plz read it.

↬the sleep chronicles by @stickseasn (s.reid x reader)

↬a moment of weakness by @writer-in-theory (s.reid x reader) (series)

↬lepus the hare by @↑ (s.reid x reader)

↬(in)visible by @foxy-eva (s.reid x reader)

I felt like the words were being said to me *crying*

↬sundays by @definitelynotkatesblog (s.reid x reader)

↬ if you'll have me by @reidscanehand (s.reid x reader)

↬mister spencer by @imagining-in-the-margins (s.reid x singlemom!reader)

↬fall apart by @spencersimp (s.reid x reader)

↬bluebell by stillmarauding (ao3)

this one is really good, 90 chapters so far and still updating.

↬lost at sea by @five-bi-five-mind (j.jareau x reader)

literally everything written by this account is amazing.

↬breakfast by @↑ (j.jareau x reader)

↬ spontaneous phenomena by @luveline (a.hotchner x reader)

彡

━━ HARRY POTTER

1. [marauders era]

↬interrupted by @cosmal (rubgy!james x f!reader)

↬chocolate orange by @↑ (r.lupin x reader)

↬crooked ties by @cupids-crystals (j.potter x reader)

↬mary macdonald by @↑ (r.lupin x sister!reader)

↬first class let down by @starstruckwillows (adhd!j.potter x reader)

↬oh bloody hell by @gtgbabie0 (j.potter x reader)

↬championship cups by @perpetuallydaydreaming (j.potter x reader)

↬bun in the oven by @letterstotheflre (r.lupin x f!reader)

↬never be another by @cryonme (r.lupin x reader)

↬he loves you by @↑ (r.black x reader)

↬cursed by @pregnant-piggy (s.black x reader) (series)

all of their fics are great.

↬off days by @messers-moony (s.black × daughter!reader)

I love everything they write + wolfstar dads<;33

↬she's a fighter by @stylesparker (r.black x reader)

↬little king by @acosmis-t (r.black x reader)

↬cocoa by @earlgreydream (r.black x reader)

from time to time I come back to reread it. it's a comfort blurb <3

↬ours by @janesociety (l.evans x f!reader)

why are there barely any lily evans fics??? let's change that.

↬loving is easy by rxgulus (jegulus; background wolfstar)

I've gushed about this fic on here. I love everything about it, remus being a tease, james being a simp, sirius being a drama queen and regulus being regulus. there's also baby harry at some point. it is my favourite one for a reason go read it.

↬step into the daylight and let it go by serendipitysirius (jegulus; background wolfstar) (currently being updated)

I have at least five quotes from this fic glued on my bedroom walls. it is that special to me.

↬drugs and surgical scrubs by anauro (jegulus; background wolfstar; rosekiller) (currently being updated)

one of the best piece of work I've ever read, worth every tear.

↬absent mindedly making me want you by calamitoustide (jegulus; background wolfstar) (completed)

my FAVORITE fic of all time, I love the way james and reg are portrayed in this, it's so raw and innocent and special.

↬papa mia! by chasingthestar (jegulus; background wolfstar & marylily) (currently being updated)

the angst kills me but the fluff is worth it.

↬a doorstep of affection by @marauders-venting (wolfstar)

↬unlovable by @masivechaos (dads!wolfstar x reader)

↬panic by @sp1rit-realm (platonic/poly! marauders x reader)

all of their fics are amazing.

↬boyfriend swap by @v1oletvenus (s.black x reader; platonic!j.potter x reader)

↬mouth of september by @luveline (platonic!marauders x reader)

one of my favourites.

1. [golden trio era]

↬ just the medicine by @vanillann (d.malfoy x reader)

↬evergreen by @starlitsilvereyes (drarry)

↬say the words then stay around by teatrolley (drarry)

it's an orphan account but it's still available and it's so so good.

↬ all wounds heal by @willowbleedsonpaper (t. nott x reader; d.malfoy x reader)

funfact: theo nott fics was what got me into the marauders wormhole plus this is a work of art.

↬ twinkle by @sapphicwhxre (h.granger x reader)

↬not like any other by @hadesrise (h.potter x slytherin!male!reader)

↬harry calls you after a breakdown by @igncrantbliss (h.potter x reader)

#criminal minds fic recs #harry potter fic recs #marauders fic rec #railingsofsorrowficrecs

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svnflower-writes · 5 months

Text

i wanna find out

part one. ao3 | series masterlist

description: james is confused, but no less confused as he was when he was a high school student and denying his infatuation with his best friend's brother. now, regulus is a regular at the cafe he works in, and james doesn't know what to do.

warnings: none it's fluffy james is so cute

note: (reblog and comment please please please i need the validation) HI HELLO I AM BACK OKAY SO i heard the new gracie song and i went insane bc its so jegulus and wrote this in one hour in english class and its unedited. anyway this is a series, the masterlist is linked at the top. this chapter has been on ao3 since yesterday but i didn't get around to posting it here. lowkey think this is terrible but oh wellll

taglist: (i included the people on my marauders taglist so lmk if you don't wanna be on this one) @thestarslittleking @chaserofstars11 @gu1lty-as-sin @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies @a-beautiful-fool @optimizedchaos @star-ch4ser @qwerty-keysmash @lost-in-reveriie @tulips-best @nqds

Upon his first week at high school, James Potter had come to the conclusion that he would end up with Lily Evans if it was the last thing he did. She was exactly the kind of girl he liked, she was pretty and opinionated and she seemed like the sweetest person he’d ever met. Remus had chuckled at his lovesick pining, not having the heart to tell the messy haired boy that your crush when you’re eleven years old is never your soulmate.

He pined after Lily for two years, with no clear progression other than Lily awkwardly smiling at him each time they passed in the hallways. Safe to say, James’ feelings were not reciprocated, and Marelne had grown a habit of snickering at the way his eyes followed her down the hall.

A few students at school had thought he was overdoing it slightly, but he really wasn’t. He wasn’t overly pushy, and he had only asked her out once or twice. He was clear about his feelings, but wasn't going to make her uncomfortable. James Potter was a gentleman in the truest sense of the word, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel an undeniable feeling of heartache when she walked past and ignored his presence.

Now, however, James was in university. He was as over Lily as he had ever been, and he had escaped the inherent unpleasantries that come with being a teen going through the heartache of growing up. He felt undeniably free, and not to mention his psychology course was helping him understand himself better than ever. He was happier than ever, saying otherwise would be a blatant understatement. He was living in a flat with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, which had been his dream since primary school.

Lily was now one of his closest friends, and she worked at the flower shop that had a door into the coffee shop James worked in. Lily’s law degree and James’ psychology one made them a perfect pair, and much to Remus’ surprise, the two studied together regularly. The fact that James’ attention span and motivation had changed since high school was something no one had expected, and although he still struggled, he had his tactics to get back on track.

Some things never change, though, and James still hated quiet, slow paced days more than death itself. He could deal with stressful, busy days, but the mundane was his greatest oppressor, the repetitiveness of a quiet day driving him to the edge of his sanity. Today happened to be one of those days, he sat behind the counter at the small coffee shop he worked in as customers filtered in once every half an hour.

He sat, watching the slow ticking of the clock as the time went by as slow as it possibly could. It was 12:38pm, and 12:20 felt like hours ago. Blankly staring at the wall, the coffee he’d made himself had been discarded on the counter next to him and he didn’t bother picking it up, knowing that after half an hour of it sitting there, it would surely be cold. Each time someone walked past the door of the shop, James perked up—only to sigh as they walked past without a second thought. James’ tendency to romanticise everything that life had to offer often left him disappointed.

Finally, he heard the bell signalling that someone had opened the door sound, and his head snapped up in relief. ‘ My saviour, love of my life, thank god you’re here.’ his brain sung as he sprung up from his seated position, standing at the counter within seconds of the boy walking into the shop. His signature smile appeared on his face, “hi, how’s your day going?”

The boy seemed to falter, as if his carefully planned interaction of simply ordering what he wanted and leaving had been disrupted by a simple question. His dull blue eyes widened, and his lips fell open in a dumbfounded expression before he picked himself up and showed James a tight lipped smile. “Uh, I’m good.”

James noticed that this small interaction had absolutely foiled his carefully planned coffee order, and the boy had entirely forgotten to say what he wanted. James smiled softly, chuckling in his head. He always thought it was interesting how common these interactions seemed to be when you worked in a coffee shop. The psychology major in him couldn’t help but psychoanalyse these interactions, which made working in hospitality both intriguing and perplexing. He found that you could get a pretty good idea of someone’s mindset and what their day to day life is like by doing this, and it almost acted as revision for his upcoming exam.

“What can I get you today?”

Embarrassment flushed over the dark haired boy’s face, and he automatically sent another tight lipped smile to try and compensate for his forgetfulness. A strand of his soft black curls fell over his eyes, and James could tell just by his body language and the look in his eyes that it annoyed him to no end. “A black coffee, please.”

That was fitting, James thought. With the tidy (almost obnoxiously so) outfit and the carefully styled short black hair, a black coffee was the only thing that really made sense for him.

“And can I have a name for that?”

Stupid boy, you know his name.

“Regulus.”

James knew how to spell it.

He knew how to spell it and he hated that. Regulus was his best friend’s brother, and things between Sirius and his younger brother were rough. They got along until they didn’t. Sirius had spent more evenings than James could count frantically ranting about him on evenings at James’ house after school. When Sirius had left for high school, Regulus had distanced himself from Sirius more than he ever had before. Regulus had always been detatched, and James knew this from Sirius’ extensive complaints.

James he knew he shouldn’t have been so enamoured with Regulus in his high school years as he was, but when James fell for someone he fell for them. He fell for them intensly and irreversably and everyone he had ever loved lived in his heart for eternity. It may seem like James was feeling too insensely, but for him to not love so deeply and fully would mean he was not James Potter. He could not be in any sort of relationship without loving them to the end of the earth. His mother had always told him to cherish this, that his way of loving was incredibly pure and a love that many people would give anything to be the recipient of. But based off his past relationships, his love was not something to be cherished.

“Alright, I’ll have that ready for you soon.”

While he was making the coffee, James allowed himself to watch Regulus, noticing the way his hair was slightly more inclined to falling to the right side of his forehead, the way his greyish-blue eyes fixed on one spot of the wall and didn’t seem to move. He watched as his hands anxiously clasped together in his lap and his foot tapped.

James was a master of the art of noticing, and he tended to read into what people did, more so than was probably helpful. But James had always been observant, even as a toddler he had had an integral interest in people. He understood when people said that the human race was done for, but he was compelled to disagree. He had a sense of optimism that many thought was overbearing, but in the same way, James sometimes found their pessimism slightly disheartening.

Regulus intrigued him, although the boy was made of very few words and made him fiddle with his hands behind the counter and cause his eyes to flutter around the room to look anywhere other than his eyes. Regulus was pretty. He was the definition of pretty, with his wavy black hair and his grey eyes that shone with something James couldn’t quite place. James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. Unsure of what this was, he played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t figure out. It was undeniable that Regulus made James shy, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. This was merely a customer that would show up to the coffee shop once and never again—after all, he hadn’t seen Regulus in the shop at all earlier in the year.

For a reason James couldn’t quite place, there was a hint of awkwardness between him and Regulus. They respected each other, sure, but when they were alone, without Sirius or Remus, James felt an intense urge to sink into the ground and never reappear. He played it off as simply nervousness around someone new—not that it was common for James to ever feel nervous around new people. Regulus had this aura about him, one that James couldn’t quite place. It was undeniable that Regulus made James nervous, but James would deny the reason for this nervousness for as long as he possibly could—and longer. Regulus didn’t speak much, and James tried but failed to match this. The silence felt awkward, and he couldn’t go for long sitting in silence with him until he overshared, making the situation more awkward than it had been beforehand.

“Long black for Regulus?”

He says his name, although there is no one else in the shop to mistake the coffee as their own. But James likes the way his name sounds on his lips, as horrifically cheesy as that may sound.

Stop it. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He’s off-limits and you know that.

Looking up, Regulus looked up and flashed a small, awkward smile, walking to the counter and reaching for the coffee. As his fingers wrapped around the cup, they brushed James’ fingers, and his grey eyes flickered up to meet James’ deep brown ones. “Thank you,” he looked away quickly and was out of the shop before James could even respond.

Okay, James thought, okay, this is okay. He just has to make it out of the shop and then I’ll never see him again.

But then Regulus stops halfway out of the door, sending James a wonky smile and a soft “I’ll see you around.” His eyes are twinkling with something unrecognisable, and once he leaves James allows himself to breathe and forces the dorky smile off his face as he swears under his breath.

Stupid, stupid boy.

#series: you're the risk i'm gonna take it #luc writes #luc posts #jegulus #james potter x regulus black #james potter #regulus black #james and regulus #james x regulus #coffee shop au #university au #no magic au

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jamesunderwater · 7 months

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Jily Microfic - Opponent

@jilymicrofics - feb 27th, prompt: opponent - words: 911 Summary: Lily might have a heart murmur, might have a crush, it's hard to tell, but she's definitely a feminist, and in case you were wondering, she doesn't care at all if another girl shows interest in James Potter. read the rest in this lil academic rivals to lovers series on my AO3, here! (and stay tuned as this is part 1 of 3 for a little end-of-the-month academic rivals finale ;D) Read Part 2 here & Part 3 here!

Lily Evans is a feminist – she’s obviously a feminist. She’s not about to treat another woman like an opponent just because the girl's got a crush on a boy Lily only mildly, maybe, a little bit – she isn’t even really sure she – likes. Especially not if that boy is James Potter.

(Again, she isn’t sure – it could just be a heart murmur, she’s looking into it.)

So Tamara Campbell told her friend Maritza Acebo who told Mary Macdonald that Tamara thinks James Potter is cute – so what? When Mary asked James what he thinks of Tamara, he only said, “She’s cute, yeah,” and that’s not exactly I’m going to ask her out this instant sort of language. And so what if he does ask her out? The only reason Lily has to care is if some ninny gets James Potter distracted from his studies, leaving Lily without a challenge.

Sorry, not ninny – she’s a feminist. Some girl. Some lovely, “sure, she’s cute” girl, who is probably of at least average intelligence but – it’s only a fact, nothing subjective about it – surely is no intellectual equal to James Potter, and probably only likes him because she thinks he’s some gorgeous quidditch star with sexy hair and a great smile. And, you know, it isn’t Lily’s fault that Tamara’s high-pitched laugh sounds like the laugh of a ninny. Maybe she shouldn’t squeal so loud the entire corridor hears her just because Potter told one stupid joke…

—

“Happy anniversary,” James says, a proud grin on his face. He’s standing in front of Lily’s desk in their office, bouncing on his heels. He’s sure this is an idiotic idea, but since Lily already thinks he’s a fool, James figures there’s no harm in trying his luck. And whether she smiles or just smirks and rolls her eyes, either expression will be better than the perpetual frown she’s worn the last week.

When Lily lifts an eyebrow, he brandishes a plate from behind his back, placing it before her.

“What’s this?” she asks him, her tone flatter than he’d imagined it would be.

“Lemon tart,” James answers, his smile wavering a bit. “It’s your favorite…isn’t it?”

She stares at the plate for what feels like a century, and James can’t make any sense of what’s happening behind her blank expression. Finally, she says, “Yeah, I like it fine,” her voice lifting forcefully.

James wishes he were being buried alive, or burned at a stake, or plummeting from three hundred feet in the air – anything besides standing here in this moment.

“Oh,” he manages through desert-dry lips. Clearing his throat, James attempts a recovery, his entire face on fire. “Well, I just thought – it’s been two whole months of being Head students together…” This explanation is going terribly. Is there a spell for turning the floor to quicksand? Can it be done non-verbally? “And we haven’t killed each other yet, so…” He forces a chuckle. “Thought we might celebrate.”

Lily looks at him then, finally, and the green of her eyes is wrong somehow. Too bright and too dull all at once. “Yeah,” she says, her lips down-turned. “Quite a feat.”

His heart squeezes in fear and warning bells chime loudly in his ears, but he asks anyway, “Are you alright?”

She clears her throat, and suddenly she’s standing and gathering her books into her arms. “I’m fine. Thanks for the dessert.”

She disappears in a blur of red, the lemon tart still on her desk.

—

It’s her own fault, really. She should have just said she liked the damn lemon tart. Why didn’t she tell him she liked the lemon tart? Lily stares across the Gryffindor table, where a few seats down James is watching Tamara Campbell giggle at a decibel only pixies could match.

This is the third day in a row she’s had lunch at their table, her blue tie sticking out amongst the rows of red. There’s absolutely a rule about students of other houses switching tables, Lily’s sure of it – and if there isn’t, there really should be. This is…this is fraternizing with the enemy, if you really think about it, given they’ve got a match against Ravenclaw in two weeks.

Lily grumbles in irritation. Two years ago she’d never have been able to say the quidditch schedule if asked. She’s been utterly compromised. Her Charms essay due tomorrow is only half-written; this morning, her potion was only the third best in class, and she hadn’t even cared about the disapproving look on Slughorn’s face.

Another giggling shriek reaches its crescendo, and she’s simply had enough. Leaving her plate hardly touched, Lily gets up from the table and heads for the door.

“Hey, Evans, hold on a moment–”

She barely muffles a groan at the sound of his voice, quickening her pace as she passes him.

James, with his spider-long legs, is beside her in an instant. “D’you mind trading patrols with me on Friday?” he asks, speaking to her like she’s a child on the verge of a tantrum, as he’s done ever since the lemon tart incident. “I’ve…got a…” He trails off, suddenly looking incredibly sheepish.

“Fine,” Lily cuts him off quickly to avoid hearing his bumbling explanation. Her anatomy’s gone all wrong; her lungs are in her throat, her heart is in her stomach, her brain's disintegrating altogether…

She leaves in a rush, eyes burning, unable to tell who she thinks is more stupid: James Potter, or herself.

To be continued...

#jily microfic #jilymicrofics #jily #jily fic #jily*#james potter #lily evans #jple #hp #my writing

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saintsenara · 1 year

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rare pair tag game

thanks for the tag, @said-snape-softly :)

i'm pretty sure everyone has done this by now, but if you'd like to, please consider this a blanket tag.

apart from all the tomarry and the odd dabble in remadora, i am a rare-pair enthusiast, so i am delighted to spread some propaganda here... the criterion i've used for a rare-pair is less than 2500 works on ao3.

pairs, little metas, fic recommendations, and some suggestions for authors to follow under the cut.

sirius black/severus snape

why i ship it:

this one can just about claim to be a rare-pair.

sirius and severus are narrative mirrors, whose complicated relationship to themselves and to each other is crucial for driving several of the most important arcs in the series.

in particular, sirius - constantly haunted by guilt and grief over his role in the death of the man he loved [you can decide if his love for james is platonic or not, but i definitely think the text thinks it isn't...], trapped in his childhood home, unable to have his real loyalties acknowledged before his death by the fact he's on the run - leads harry through his journey in hero-worshipping, then being disappointed in, then forgiving james. and then promptly dies.

this is one of harry's most significant areas of personal growth - it begins to chip away at his rather black-and-white morality, which is finally destroyed by his ability to confront the complexity of dumbledore in deathly hallows - but it is also key narratively: harry coming to understand james starts to hint to the reader that it is lily - otherwise absent from her son's conception of himself - who is the key to the mystery...

which brings us to severus - constantly haunted by guilt and grief over his role in the death of the woman he loved, trapped in his childhood home, unable to have his real loyalties acknowledged before his death by the fact he's a spy - who gives harry, and us, the final piece of the puzzle. and then promptly dies.

put them together, though? well, you get the delicious tension of two fundamentally broken people - who cannot comprehend the possibility of their own redemption - bound to each other. can they forgive each other and themselves? is it a disaster? the story can go either way.

and even in fluff there is so much potential for d r a m a between sirius' recklessness and severus' cunning, sirius' emotional control and severus' temper, the fact that sirius is canonically hot and severus is canonically not, how they react to harry and draco [i don't usually accept the fanon that severus is his godfather, except when it means snack can be fighting about it], and so on.

and i'm a sucker for two bitter old men getting a happy ending. sue me.

want to give it a read?

if you trust nothing else i say in my life [and why should you] you can trust this - second life by nwhiker and cassandra7 is one of the greatest pieces of writing i have ever seen, not only in this pairing but in this fandom full stop. it's a profound and solemn meditation on loving and grieving, choice and chance, and the great pain caused by the divide between the magical and the muggle worlds.

then, for gorgeous angst with a happy ending - two boys kissing by @writcraft and the merit in trying by brightened

albus dumbledore/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

the facetious answer is because they wouldn't be so obsessed with each other if there wasn't some sexual tension underneath it.

the facetious and nsfw answer is because it appeals to the part of me whose favourite book aged 11 was lolita

the serious answer is that they should be horrifying together: they're both liars; both incredibly self-righteous; both living behind masks which conceal their true emotions and motivations; dumbledore took one look at tom as an eleven-year-old, said "he reminds me of gellert", and then did nothing about it; tom thinks dumbledore's a hypocrite and is right, although not for the reasons he thinks; there is a colossal age gap; there is virtually no scenario in any timeline where they could be openly in a relationship unless one of them is concealing his identity; and - really, this seems quite minor in the grand scheme of things - they are constantly trying to destroy each other.

but.

intellectually, they are the only two characters in the series who could be the other's equal - i'm sure that violent arguments about the twelve uses of dragon's blood trigger the majority of their sexual encounters, and a man who's passionate about your research is hot.

if either of them ever fancy being honest - so, no - there is a shared cavernous [although, in tom's case, unacknowledged] grief in their lives which has shaped their not-as-divergent-as-the-text-thinks-they-are views on death, love, duty and so on. their active refusal to understand each other [i.e. dumbledore entirely misreading voldemort's motivations in the job interview scene] and commitment to constantly underestimating each other [i.e. voldemort bouncing around like an idiot in the chamber of secrets instead of using his brain and remembering what a phoenix is] could, in time, lead to something almost resembling acceptance. i mean, just imagine the hurt/comfort sex which happens when voldemort finds out about grindledore.

the way dumbledore describes the young riddle - "self-sufficient, secretive, and, apparently, friendless" - is also an exact description of him. that each sees himself in the other canonically drives their hatred of each other, but it could also appeal to two very vain men in a much racier way. after all, who doesn't want to bang their narrative mirror?

and being an orphan probably doesn't seem so bad when you realise your boyfriend's family is aberforth.

want to give it a read?

i can't recommend concordance by @laeveteinn enough, particularly for one of the best-written dumbledores i've ever seen. i find dumbledore is often written either as far more whimsical than i'd like, or far more fiery and radical [when one of his most interesting personality traits in canon is his tendency towards inaction], but this dumbledore is the perfect balance of contradictions, while tom is his canonical feral self, longing to perceived, rather than the emotionless sociopath of so many other stories.

i also recommend as an entire ocean in a drop by eldritcher, which really leans into just how similar these two are underneath all the artifice.

albus dumbledore/severus snape

why i ship it:

well, we've had dumbledore with one lost boy, let's have him with another [i haven't been brave enough to venture into dumbledore/harry yet, but i'll take recommendations...]

as with riddledore, we have the potential for horror here: a vast power imbalance; enormous age gap; the fact dumbledore sends snape out to potentially die every time he goes off to voldemort; and - this is the crucial one - the fact that dumbledore's recognition of himself in snape is pure self-loathing ["you disgust me"] manifested in punishment [allowing snape to be humiliated in front of fudge, not stopping the presumed-to-be-real moody searching his office, making him give harry occlumency lessons, not letting him teach defence against the dark arts].

but then this stops, when snape does the tremendously brave thing of agreeing to kill dumbledore, and their dynamic equalises, as dumbledore recognises that snape is courageous, steadfast, and redeemed. i'm always struck in half-blood prince by the fact that dumbledore has it with harry's sniping about snape and straight-up tells him to shut up, as well as by the fact that he very nearly gives the game away and confesses why snape switched sides [the thing he promised not to do] when harry finds out it was snape who gave voldemort the prophecy.

and within this equalised dynamic - so this hot geriatric sex is happening in the afterlife, i guess - we have two men who are intellectual close-to-equals, who understand grief and guilt, whose aesthetic senses are charmingly mismatched, who are rarely honest but might be for each other, and who have lots of profound similarities which might lead somewhere...

want to give it a read?

cheerfully disregarding everything i've just said about how snumbledore could work, i highly recommend in infinite remorse of soul by @perverse-idyll, which is a chilling look at how dumbledore uses the power imbalance between the two to assuage his own guilt through snape's humiliation.

for something much more wholesome, i'm a big fan of byzantium by eldritcher

petunia dursley/severus snape

why i ship it:

because vernon is a dick.

i'm fond of petunia, who i think is one of the most interesting characters in the series because of how full of contradictions she is, and who i think is also a victim in fandom spaces of how the adult cast was aged up for the films [in canon, she's only in her early twenties when lily dies, and the implication is that vernon is a good deal older than her)] which makes her inadequacies, such as her inability to truly care for either child in the household, seem much more nuanced than they do if she's pictured as a middle-aged woman with considerable life experience.

like snape, she teeters on a knife edge between various chasms: she is a working-class girl from the midlands made good in middle-class surrey, he is a working-class half-blood boy who spends most of his life in pureblood circles; she ends up with her whole life wrapped up in a square little house when she's barely out of her teens, he ends up with his whole life wrapped up in spying at the same age; she hates the wizarding world and yet covets it, he hates the muggle world and yet cannot escape it; she loves lily and she hates her and she loathes her for dying, he... well, you know the rest.

want to give it a read?

i was first convinced by this pairing by the lovely regretfully yours by @maria-de-salinas, which takes both snape and petunia's awkwardness and bitterness and moulds it into something really tender.

i also highly recommend barking at the moon by rinsbane, the summary of which speaks for itself.

merope gaunt/tom riddle sr.

why i ship it:

our first canon pairing, and probably the most problematic of the canon relationships, since the series never acknowledges that tom sr. is a rape victim.

but i have found myself recently in my merope era and, in particular, in an attempt to give her more nuance than she gets in canon. as i've said to anyone who'll listen in the three broomsticks discord server, i loathe the implication in canon that merope dies because she just cba to live [since it directly justifies voldemort's belief that her death was shameful] and prefer to see her as someone who was desperate to escape a truly horrifying life [the fact she's going to be forced into an incestuous relationship with morfin is right there in canon...] and so did something she didn't have the capacity to understand the implications of [this is not a woman who's ever heard of consent] because she thought it would give her the first chance to be happy in her life, watched it all crash and burn around her, and would have very much liked to have lived to raise her son.

i doubt there was anything real or tender in her relationship with tom sr., of course, and his escape - while merely a brief stay of execution from his son's perspective - is tremendously brave. it's impossible to write tom/merope fluff [although i respect you if you're inclined to try] but fanfiction gives a space to explore the intricacies of their relationship which canon doesn't allow, and i'm obsessed.

want to give it a read?

i'm recommending myself here, and assuring you that you will enjoy: enchanter's nightshade, which explores how merope's attempts to keep her husband enslaved fail; the snow child, which treats the relationship as folk-horror; and the shack at the end of the lane, in which there is redemption, in the end.

the best exploration of tom sr. dealing with the fallout of the relationship is @phantomato's exquisite ganymede, which feels so truly embodied that you can't pull yourself away from the page.

bellatrix lestrange/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

our second canon pairing, i am obsessed with these two and the tragedy and - to some extent - tenderness bound up in their relationship [which can be proven to be there because noted softy @whinlatter loves them].

i've written before about my conviction - in contrast to a lot of bellatrix fans - that her relationship with rodolphus is utterly miserable, and that voldemort is the only man in her life who can understand her desire to make a life for herself which is not constrained by the gendered expectations of her social class.

obviously, lord voldemort is not a shining paragon of a boyfriend [and he is an awful choice as a baby daddy, bella, get it together], but i think the enormous power imbalance is perhaps slightly less enormous than is sometimes assumed - certainly, she tells him to his face in half-blood prince that he's wrong to trust snape [she's a clever woman], voldemort never physically punishes her for anything [rip to lucius malfoy, who seems to get picked for this in her stead], and voldemort tolerates a surprising amount of nonsense from her which shatters his mystique.

all of which is to say... the scream when she dies isn't just because he's losing the war.

want to give it a read?

tee hee, i'm recommending myself again, and encouraging you to take a look at: atramentum, bellamort's last afternoon together before voldemort goes to the potters; nor all that glisters gold, bellatrix's life - including her relationship with voldemort - through sirius' eyes; and death (eaters) in paradise, because murderous psychopaths deserve crack fics too.

draco malfoy/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

because the ship name is taco.

these two are a pairing which i enjoy with my tongue firmly in my cheek [and tom's tongue firmly in draco's], as i do with most other things in which draco is a main character [do i want to read drarry angst? no! do i want to chuckle? absolutely!], although this should not be taken as saying that many of taco's fabulous authors don't manage to make the pairing entirely plausible.

in fact, consensual taco [non-con is, of course, its own beast] often has some of the best characterisation of both tom [fretful, mercurial, stubborn, and nowhere near as charming as he thinks he is] and draco [prissy, a very good judge of character, someone who likes being taken care of, and much braver than he appears if he absolutely has to be] i've seen in the fandom, largely because - unlike other voldemort-centric ships [especially tomarry, but also voldemort + any of the adult death eaters] - there's no sense of inevitability there. these two aren't connected by a shared bit of soul, or a prophecy, or having gone to school together, or having been hooked in by voldemort in the first war when he was unassailable.

they have to choose each other. or, more accurately, draco has to choose tom, and tom has to get chosen.

and the results have me entertained.

want to give it a read?

then you will want to have a look at the travelling cabinet by @the-paper-monkey [and its sequel, bluebeard], truly the gold standard of taco content with an absolutely brilliant draco, whose sheer capacity to cling on and make himself an irremovable part of tom's life may just end up changing the course of history.

narcissa malfoy/severus snape

why i ship it:

because i am in deep with the conspiracy theory that it's canon. i am absolutely certain that narcissa is the person that voldemort is referring to at the end of deathly hallows - "he desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him". it seems highly unlikely to me that the canonical voldemort would give a shit about snape fancying any random pureblood [although the snapemort version is, naturally, hugely jealous], but snape having had some sort of liaison with narcissa, and the ability knowing this gives voldemort to humiliate snape, narcissa, the memory of lily, bellatrix, lucius, and draco is definitely information he would go out of his way to remember...

plus, how do you know where he lives, babe? v suspicious.

want to give it a read?

if you want some fluff, you will very much enjoy the incredibly sweet the reformed man by gingertart50, which features narcissa nursing snape back to health post-nagini and is a favourite re-read for me when i'm drunk and it's christmas.

if you want some very-much-not-fluff, other women and of purer blood by yours truly will scratch the itch...

minerva mcgonagall/severus snape

why i ship it:

because i'm an equal-opportunity age-gap fan, and there is far too little older woman/younger man in the fandom.

and look, i'll admit it, i'm a fan of the fanon that snape and mcgonagall are friends prior to dumbledore's death - i'm not sure it's canonically plausible, but this sign can't stop me because i can't read - and i like the idea of that blossoming into something more, especially in fics where snape survives the second war. after all, he is a man who definitely needs to be treated quite strictly [and i don't just mean in the staff room], there is a shared loneliness and grief to them both, they're intellectual equals despite the age gap, and bickering about quidditch is absolutely fine as a method of foreplay.

plus, you can't tell me dumbledore's portrait doesn't ship it.

want to give it a read?

for a fic which shows minerva at her acerbic - and yet still sensual - best, always but not necessarily forever by gingertart50 is an old, fluffy, and very funny, favourite.

for something much more bittersweet, that good night by kelly_chambliss has my heart.

severus snape/tom riddle | voldemort

why i ship it:

because voldemort is canonically down bad for it - there is no need to believe snape's ridiculous cover story for not attending his resurrection, to try and spare lily as a treat for his man, and to give him a nice, painful death which allows the narrative to move on and harry to defeat him if the dark lord isn't firmly in his simp era.

more seriously, they obviously have an enormous amount in common, particularly in terms of their backgrounds [harry draws a connection between all three of them, but actually the fact that harry is rich in the wizarding world, not a slytherin, and with a muggle mother, therefore giving him a pureblood name, means he can't relate to the post-childhood experience of both halves of snapemort].

as a result, i think snape is the death eater who comes the closest to understanding voldemort's motivations - above all, the fact that he's not seeking an oligarchy, which the malfoys etc. obviously believe - while voldemort is someone snape feels understands his intellectual interests and his creativity.

want to give it a read?

boy, are you in luck, because i myself have a snapemort wip - scylla and charybdis. it is not wholesome.

tom riddle/myrtle warren

why i ship it:

because it started as crack and now i love them.

in particular, i just have so much respect for being incredibly annoying as a method of seduction, and i think myrtle's commitment to just following tom around chattering at him - and, therefore, without her realising it, preventing him from committing all sorts of crimes - is iconic.

want to give it a read?

then my unhinged rom-com - bookbinding - shall provide.

tom riddle | voldemort/ginny weasley

why i ship it:

because i enjoy seeing my dear friends who ship hinny shake and cry.

but also because ginny and tom have an enormous number of similarities, right down to the fact that they both have yew wands [if you're sick of people saying harry has an oedipus complex, you'll be delighted to be confronted with the mountain of evidence ginny reminds him of the villain who keeps trying to kill him instead].

they are both very good liars, quick thinking, remarkably resistant to shame, possessed of nerves of steel, predisposed to violence, brown-eyed, so hot they have harry gagged, and the profound enemy of someone whose surname is smith.

despite what he claims, tom was absolutely not just sat politely in that diary gritting his teeth while ginny complained about having second hand robes and idiot brothers. as he says, he opted "to start feeding [her] a few of my secrets", and i think it's justifiable from canon that they were at the very least half-truths [for example, i would not be shocked to discover he tells her he's a half-blood orphan brought up against his will in the muggle world - there's no other reason, i think, for him to successfully make her tell him these things about harry without it], which means that ginny has lots of lovely emotional leverage over him.

plus, as with tomarry, you have the element of "this is kind of inevitable" in the relationship, and the mysteries of fate are always sexy.

want to give it a read?

this is a tommary/hinny/tominny triad, but it has had me in a chokehold since the first time i read it - shameful company by merrivale, which, truly iconically, manages to be epilogue compliant.

#asenora fic recs #rare pair tag game #starprince #snirius #snack hp #riddledore #snumbledore #petunia dursley x severus snape #merope gaunt x tom riddle sr #bellamort #tom riddle x draco malfoy #snarcissa #minerva mcgonagall x severus snape #snapemort #tom riddle x myrtle warren #tom riddle x ginny weasley #lots to read

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greenerteacups · 5 months

Note

I’ve meaning to send this ask for ages and finally found the courage to do so :) I started reading lionheart on a whim in the beginning of November and since them after reading everything a couple of times, all I can say is that it is a masterpiece. I am so in love with your writing, especially with how you give Draco the space to be gracious and grow up. I love for example when they are in the Slytherin common room and Draco see for himself that the mermaids are sentient beings just like him. Also, I am completely enamored with the golden quartet (?), the relationships between them feel much more balanced, and I have so much love for Harry, Hermione, and Ron. I do think you does the characters justice, if not written in a better and more honest, human way. Btw, I love your Narcisa because I am such an apologist for her and her crimes. (If Narcisa has million fans, then I'm one of them. If Narcisa has one fan, then I'm THAT ONE. If Narcisa has no fans, that means I'm dead.). This also aplies for hermione. Anyway, all I am trying to do is to put into words what the world you design means to me, but alas I do not seem to have. When the time comes for my unborn children to read the Harry Potter series, I am showing them your books and telling them it is canon.

Now that I am done showering you with complements, I have a couple of questions. First, after reading the last chapter (which I adored), the fight between Draco and Sirius, one of my favorite moments, kept coming to mind. Was it intentional for Draco to give such honest wake up call for Theo basing himself from the talk he had with Sirius years ago? Secondly, I am not sure with you already answer this, if so, feel free to tell me, but if you could choose Poet, Soldier or King for each – Draco, Harry, Hermione, and Ron – which one would they be?

Thank you for taking the time to read. I usually download each chapter because I like to highlight my favorite parts, I will try to be more present on AO3! And sorry for any English mistakes, it is not my first language!

Thank you, my friend! This is a completely lovely ask, and as I often do with lovely asks, I've hoarded it for a while to re-read whenever I want a nice treat. However, I've left the question unanswered long enough.

If we're going to do the Soldier/Poet/King test, I want to complicate it a little. You can either do it by personality (the way we do when we say "I'm soldier!" or "I'm poet!") or you can do it by narrative role, i.e. what you actually do in the context of the story. Those can be different. For instance, you can be a poet-coded soldier (your chosen weapon is your word, but you're pushed by your circumstances to fight), or a soldier-coded king (you carry a mighty sword, but you're forced off the battlefield to rule, i.e. you want to fight but you can't). That opens up the range of ways to fill the role. So it's like:

Obviously, the central axis here is going to be the most satisfied/content with their lot in life, but there's a broad range of happinesses.

If you ask me, Harry is a poet-coded king, because he's incredibly reluctant to take leadership, and he doesn't want anyone to fight for him. He runs away in Deathly Hallows because he can't stand to be at the center of a war (which is going to happen anyway) and has only accepted Ron and Hermione's sacrifice begrudgingly. It's also worth saying that Harry's best moments come when he's trying to talk someone down: he's telling Remus to go back to Tonks, he's telling Slughorn to preserve Lily's memory by being noble for her sake, he's telling Riddle to "try for remorse." Harry is at his best when he's giving consolation and understanding, not when he's fighting; his signature spell is Expelliarmus. Kid's not a soldier. And he hates the idea of being a king. (This is, not coincidentally, one of the unhappiest combinations.)

I read Ron as a true soldier, not because he enjoys fighting, but because that's almost always his knee-jerk reaction to conflict, and it's also where a lot of his strengths lie. Ron is brash and bold and he will swing if you step to him, and that's why people love him (or hate him, if they do). Even in his best moments, when he's being a strategist and tactician, he's employing his skills in the service of battle. And the narrative is happy to put him in positions where that's the skill he has to contribute. He thinks of the basilisk fangs and the house-elves in the kitchens; he's good at tactics, but he doesn't do broad-strokes strategy.

Hermione is king-coded soldier, because I think in a different series of novels, she is absolutely the protagonist, and she kind of thinks she should be. She's proactive, driven, clever, and calculating, and she orders people around like she's the boss of them — usually with good reason, but she still does. She sees herself as the HBIC, and she often gets a bit irritated when other people don't jive with that idea. It's funny how often Harry gets along by just doing what Hermione tells him. That being said, her narrative role is being sworn in Harry's service, and as the books go on, she increasingly embraces that. She defends him and offers to risk her life for him, sacrifices volumes (her parents!!) and compromises her safety (gets tortured!) for his sake, all without complaining or seeming to begrudge Harry at all. He's her king; she's his knight. Which is another way of saying soldier.

Draco is a poet-coded soldier, or possibly a poet-coded king, depending on what direction you take his arc from the source material. In the books, he's kind of a flop, God bless him, he doesn't really manage much in the final days of the war. Besides refusing to identify Harry (after identifying both of Harry's well-known travel companions... booboo you tried), he's basically fit for neither use nor ornament from Book 6 onward. But taken more broadly, he is someone who absolutely does not want to be here — he doesn't want to fight, he doesn't want to be in danger, he doesn't want to risk people — getting conscripted forcibly into a conflict that was running for years before he was born. And he's conscripted, like Harry, because of his heritage; it's a position he was born into. Depending on how you read his relationship to power, and having it, he can either be a soldier or a king, or someone teetering on the cusp between them.

#i've deliberately leaned into their canon characterizations here to avoid spoilers #but I don't think they're fundamentally different in LH #I think of LH as just... sitting down at the DJ booth and changing the mixing #also by the way you never ever have to apologize for your English to me. I make typos all the time #and I don't know what your first language is but I'm willing to bet you speak a lot more of mine than I do of yours #so you're the one putting the effort into allowing us to communicate with each other #the correct response to that act of generosity is gratitude #greenteacup asks #lionheart spoilers

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sequinsmile-x · 5 months

Text

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Sixty Nine

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends,

I know this is earlier in the day than I usually post but I am at a concert tonight - and I didn't want y'all to wait even one more day for this chapter!

So so sorry about the delay on this! I was sick and then had other fics to write, but SGW is BACK and I will go back to weekly updates I promise <3

As ever, your love for this fic means the world to me - as do any comments about what you think!

-x-

Words: 3.7k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She blows out a steady breath as she steps back to look at herself in the mirror, her hand pressed against her shoulder as she rolls it slightly, easing the ache that would build if it was still for too long.

“Is it hurting?”

She turns to look at her husband, a smile spreading across her face as she sees Lily sitting on his hip. Looking at him now, she never would have known he’d gone away. The beard was gone, something she protested heavily as she stood and watched him shave it off a week ago, and he was back in his sharp edged suits, a stern look about him that she’d always enjoyed that only seemed to be enhanced by their little girl in his arms.

Emily shakes her head and lets her hand drop from her shoulder, “It just aches a little,” she assures him, “It’s fine.”

He hums, not sure if he believes her, “If you’re not ready to go back to work-”

“I am ready,” she says, cutting him off as she turns her attention to Lily, smiling as she tickles the little girl’s belly, “Daddy is just being silly.”

“Mama!” Lily exclaims, reaching out for Emily who immediately goes to take her out of Aaron’s arms, pausing only briefly to raise her eyebrow at him as he tries to stop her out of instinct, still acting as if her shoulder was out of action like it had been the last few weeks.

“Come here, sweet girl,” Emily says, settling Lily on her good side as she presses a kiss to her temple, “Mommy is going to miss you when she’s at work today.”

Aaron smiles as he watches them together for a moment before he steps closer, pulled towards them as if magnetized, and he wraps his arms around them both, “Mommy is starting her new job today,” he directs at Lily, smiling when she sucks on her fist, “So we need to wish her luck.”

It would be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous, but she was looking forward to her new job. Despite the circumstances, she felt like she had earned it, something that Aaron had told her multiple times over the last few weeks. She knew she could do it, but she wasn’t sure what the Counterterrorism unit would make of her being in charge, not when she knew some of them held her responsible for their boss being fired when his arrogance could have led to her losing her life.

Emily hums contentedly as she leans into his side, enjoying the closeness she’d had on demand for weeks, something she’d miss as they both returned to work full-time. She smiles as her eyes meet his, purposely looking up at him through her lashes, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip.

“Sure you can handle sitting opposite your wife in the Unit Chief briefing later?”

He chuckles and cups the back of her head, tugging her in for a brief kiss, “Sweetheart,” he starts, kissing her again, “For the first 18 months you were in the BAU I managed to suppress my feelings for you, I think I can manage this.”

She narrows her eyes at him, at the confidence she’s not even sure he buys into, and adjusts her hold on Lily.

“You sure do like to re-write that part of our history, honey,” she teases, reaching out to straighten his lapel, her smile turning into a smirk as he shudders at the simple touch. It had been far too long since she’d had sex with her husband. Her injury had meant her doctor had only just signed her off in the last day or so, and Aaron had been sticking to her doctor’s orders to the letter. She felt like she was on the edge, like she was close to bursting, and it felt good to know she wasn’t the only one, “How about we make this interesting?”

He narrows his eyes at her, curiosity quickly overtaking any concern about what he was sure would be inappropriate, “What do you mean?”

She shrugs innocently, a glint in her eyes that seemed almost misplaced as she held their daughter close.

“First one to…” she drifts off and looks at Lily, the little girl babbling to herself as she wraps her hand around Emily’s necklace. Emily felt increasingly aware of the fact that Lily could start repeating words so was trying to be careful, well aware if her daughter said a curse word anytime soon she’d never live it down. She was longing for Lily to say Dada again, a word she seemed to have lost since the first time she’d said it. Emily had half convinced herself that it was just a sound her daughter had made instead of a word, wilfully ignoring that she’d said it again when JJ pointed at a picture of Aaron during the girl's night she and Penelope had brought to their home. She clears her throat and looks back up at her husband, raising her eyebrow as she carries on, “...lose their cool pays for the next date night?”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, smiling at his wife despite himself, “Em-”

“Unless,” she says, stepping closer again, her breath skipping over his cheek, “You think you’d lose?”

He knows what she’s doing, that she’s purposely tapping into his competitive nature, a not-so-subtle attempt to dampen down any nerves she is feeling about her first day as Unit Chief. He clears his throat and presses his lips to her cheek before he moves just enough to catch her ear, smiling as she shivers, her lips pressing together as she holds back a groan.

“You’re on, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her cheek again, “Remember Dave is making dinner for us all tonight, so you’ll have to keep your hands to yourself a little longer,” he winks at her and leaves the room. She stares at his ass the entire time and shakes her head at herself, blowing out a slow breath as she tries to get control of herself again.

“Get it together, Emily.”

___

He distracts her all day.

She knows she started it. She knows it’s an attempt to relax her, to pull her out of her own head after an awkward first meeting as the Unit Chief of her team, but she’s sure she’s going to lose her damn mind. He walks into the meeting with all of the other Unit Chiefs and Strauss with his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He flashes a look at her, something she knows everyone else will miss, and she narrows her eyes at him across the conference table as he casually updates the room on the BAU’s activities.

It’s a game they play back and forth. She makes a point of going to his office for lunch, pressing herself a little closer to him than she usually would on his couch, acting innocent when he tenses as she wipes some mayo from the corner of his mouth once he’s done with his sandwich, purposely lingering a little longer than necessary. She presses a kiss to his cheek as she leaves, throwing him a wink over her shoulder as she heads back to her own office.

Aaron knows he’s getting to her when she starts to text him in the middle of the afternoon, thinly veiled flirty messages that slip under his skin, making his need for his wife as strong as it had ever been. He missed her, he missed being with her. He knew if she’d had her way they would have had sex weeks ago, but he didn’t want to hurt her, didn’t want the memory of their first night together again to be tainted by anything.

He watches the clock until it’s time to go home and he smiles as she appears in his doorway again, but it slips as she sighs, her shoulders slumping as she steps into his office.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

She huffs out a breath as he walks over, wrapping his arms around her, “The babysitter is sick,” she says, “She just called.”

He groans and runs his hand up and down her back, “I can take Lily home, I know you were looking forward to seeing the team tonight.”

“No, honey, it’s your welcome home party,” she says, looping her arms around his neck, “You should go.”

He smiles softly at her and presses a kiss to her lips, “Or, we both go and use her as an excuse to leave early.”

She gasps in mock outrage as he waggles his eyebrows at her, “Are you suggesting we use our adorable baby girl as a reason so we can go home and have sex?”

He suppresses a smile, clearing his throat to choke down a laugh as he pretends to think about it for a moment, “Yes.”

She laughs and leans in to press a kiss against his lips, pulling back barely enough to speak, “I married a genius.”

They let the others know they’ll be late and head to the daycare, both happy to see Lily after a long day at work. She chatters to herself in the back of the car the entire journey to Dave’s, a string of nonsensical words with the odd Mama and occasional sound that was achingly close to Dada.

Aaron smiles at Lily as he gets her out of her car seat and he presses a kiss to the side of her head before he settles her on his hip.

“Okay, Lily-Pad,” he says, walking towards the front door, throwing Emily a smile as she walks alongside him, “No matter what your Aunt Pen says, you don’t need any more tutus, okay?” He looks at the baby and she giggles, pressing her hands against his face, her laughter only getting louder when he makes a show of kissing her hand, “Glad we’re in agreement.”

Emily watches them fondly, the desire she’d felt for him all day, slowly simmering in her gut, coming to a boil as he watches her with their little girl. She rings the doorbell as soon as they step on the porch, and the door immediately opens, Penelope’s delighted face is the first thing she sees.

“Hi Pen,” Emily says, smiling as her friend waves at her before bypassing her completely, immediately walking over to Aaron.

“Give me my niece,” Penelope says, already taking Lily out of Aaron’s arms, “Look at you Mini Peaches,” she says, smiling as the little girl grabs her brightly coloured cardigan, babbling loudly, “I can’t believe it’s your first birthday in a couple of weeks.”

“Me neither,” Emily laments, leaning into her husband's side as he wraps an arm around her, “She’s growing up so fast.”

“Yes,” Dave says sarcastically as he walks into the foyer, his eyebrow raised, “First she’ll be turning one, and before we know it she’ll be going off to college.”

Emily narrows her eyes, playful irritation flowing from her as she settles into the familiarity of all of this, the sense of home and family that had been missing since Aaron had gone to Pakistan.

“Shut up, Dave,” she mutters, not longer able to fight the smile as she links her hand through her husbands, “I need some wine after the day I’ve had,” she looks at Penelope, “You’re okay with her for a little bit?”

Penelope nods enthusiastically, tightening her hold on Lily, “I’d take her forever, you know that.”

Emily chuckles and pulls Aaron towards the kitchen, smiling as he makes sure he’s only one step behind her, his hand on her hip as he follows her closely.

“You know,” she says, turning in his embrace as they step into the kitchen, “Dave has a lot of spots in this place where we could sneak off to.”

He hums and pulls her closer, his hand spread wide on her back, “Is that you admitting defeat?”

She raises an eyebrow at him and leans in as close as she can, her lips ghosting over his, “Oh honey, we both know you were about to suggest it too.”

There’s a pause, a moment of silence that passes between them, before he smiles, “Call it a draw?”

She nods excitedly and reaches for his hand again, pulling him out of the kitchen and towards the small bathroom nearby, laughing as he locks the door behind them. As soon as she hears the click of the lock he’s on her, his hands on her hips as he traps her between him and the counter, his lips swallowing the gasp she lets out.

She sighs contentedly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her hands sinking into his hair. He runs his hand up and down her side, helping her up onto the counter and moaning when she wraps one of her legs around his waist. He grabs her thigh, his hand warm and heavy and supportive as he holds her leg in place, moaning again when she rolls her hips against his.

He gasps as he pulls back, resting his forehead against hers, “God I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she says breathlessly, pulling him back into the kiss, “I’ve missed you so much.”

She hooks her other leg around him, pulling him impossibly closer, sighing contentedly as he settles into the cradle of her hips. He shifts to start kissing her cheek, and then her jaw, working his way down her throat and to her collarbone. She throws her head back, her eyes just drifting shut as she gets lost in him, just when there’s a loud knock on the door, making them both jump and hit their heads together.

“Son of a bitch,” Emily exclaims, just as Dave’s amused voice travels through the locked door.

“Please don’t make your next kid in my house.”

Emily rolls her eyes and rests her forehead on Aaron’s shoulder, smiling when he kisses the top of her head, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

“We’ll be right out, Dave.”

Emily groans as they hear the other man laugh before he, thankfully, leaves without further comment, his footsteps retreating back towards the living room. She lifts her head up and smiles at Aaron, leaning into his palm as he cups her cheek, tracing his thumb back and forth over her skin.

“Later?” He asks and she nods, turning her head to kiss his palm.

“Later.”

He helps her down off the counter, his touch softer as his hand settles on her lower back as he guides her out of the bathroom. Emily tries to ignore the delight on Penelope’s face as they walk into the living room, everyone except Dave, who was finishing off cooking dinner, were surrounding them. She’s sitting on the floor with Lily, the baby girl surrounded by toys Emily had never seen before in her life, and she points towards them as they walk in.

“There they are Lily,” she says, raising her eyebrow at Emily as she looks up, “There’s Mama and Dada.”

Emily bends down to pick up Lily up but she scoots past her, crawling towards Aaron at a speed Emily is sure she’ll find terrifying once Lily can walk.

“Dada!”

The room falls into silence as Lily’s voice echoes around them, her tiny hands grasping at Aaron’s pants as she pulls herself into a standing position. Emily feels her chest go warm as her husband looks at her, the adoration painted across his face as he picks Lily up, hoisting her onto his hip.

“What did you just say, princess?” He asks, tickling her belly to make her laugh, “Did you say Dada?”

“Dada!” Lily repeats, placing her hands on his cheeks as she squishes them with her tiny fists.

“Oh that’s so sweet,” Penelope says as she stands up, her hand on her chest, “It was so cute when she said it at girl's night.”

Emily freezes, her eyes going wide as she sees Aaron stiffen, his gaze immediately locking with hers, realisation spreading through him as he looks back at Penelope, “She said it before?”

“Yeah,” Penelope says, “When we came over to your place a few weeks…” She drifts off as JJ elbows her in the ribs, cutting her off as she clears her throat and nods between Aaron and Emily. Penelope finally catches up with everyone else in the room, the awkwardness cutting through her excitement, “Oh crap.”

Emily steps towards Aaron, “Aaron-”

“Dinner’s ready,” Dave says as he steps into the room, his smile immediately dropping when he senses the tension, “What’s going on?”

Aaron is the first to move, passing Lily over to Emily as he steps past her, their eyes meeting for a second before he smiles tightly at her.

“Nothing,” he says, “I’ll help you serve.”

The moment he’s out of the room Penelope is apologetic, her words fast and jumbled as Emily waves her off, smiling tightly as she tells her it’s fine, cursing herself for keeping the secret in the first place, for not remembering to tell Penelope and JJ she hadn’t told Aaron.

Dinner is long and awkward, and she’s grateful when Lily falls asleep in her arms, the perfect excuse to leave - albeit a completely different one to the one she’d hoped for. They drive home in silence, and she lifts Lily out of her car seat and carries her inside and upstairs, muttering to her husband that she’d put her to bed - the first words they’d exchanged since they were standing in Dave’s living room. She changes Lily into her pjyamas, grateful when the little girl stays asleep, and then she settles her into her crib, leaning down and kissing her daughter's cheek, her love for her whispered against her skin.

She blows out a steady breath before she heads down the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest as she steps into the kitchen, her gaze fixed on Aaron’s back as he unloads the dishwasher. She clears her throat and he sighs, turning to look at her, his expression stern in a way it hadn’t been with her in a long time.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She presses her lips together and a shaky laugh escapes her, “How was I supposed to tell you? I didn’t want to tell you over that shitty satellite phone, or via email,” she says, throwing her hands up, “Our daughter said your name first. And you weren’t here for it. I didn’t want to drop that on you whilst you were on the other side of the world.”

“I’ve been back for a month.” He says, trying to sound calmer than he feels, irritation he rarely felt towards her thrumming in his veins.

She sighs and nods, “I…I wanted you to have that moment.”

He doesn’t fully understand the anger he feels. He knows she doesn’t deserve it, that he should turn it inwards, but in the moment he can’t. All he could focus on was the lie, the embarrassment he’d felt in front of their friends when some of them had clearly known something about his little girl that he hadn’t.

“You wanted me to have that moment? You took it from me,” he seethes, his shoulders tight as he looks at her and she scoffs, the anger that had been sparking in her gut catching fire, burning in her veins as she clenches her teeth.

“I took it from you? You’re the one who left, Aaron,” she replies, her arms crossed over her chest, “You left and I was here just living our life.”

He frowns, the fight starting to drain out of him as his shoulders slump, “You said you were okay with me going.”

Everything she’d felt for weeks, months, bubbles to the surface and she growls in frustration and covers her eyes with her hands, taking a moment to blow out a breath as she shakes her head.

“I was,” she half shouts, shaking her head again as her hands drop from her face, “I am, but you have to understand that things here didn’t just…pause because you were gone. I was still here,” she points upstairs, “Lily was still here. And I stand by any decision I made whilst you were gone to protect us, or you,” she presses her lips together, “I know it sucks, I can’t even imagine how I’d feel if I missed out on her saying Mama for the first time, but you cannot blame me for this. It’s not my fault.”

He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose, any remaining fight leaving him as he steps towards her, “I know it’s not your fault,” he says, grateful that she doesn’t flinch when he pulls her into a hug, that she sinks into his embrace, “I’m sorry.”

She hooks her arms around him, her palms resting on his shoulders as she nods against him, “Me too.”

He runs his hand up and down her back and turns his head to kiss the side of her head, “I’m so sorry I missed it.”

She clenches her eyes shut and holds him tighter, heaving in a shaky breath before she looks up at him. She sniffs, pushing back tears she doesn’t want to shed and she places her hand on his cheek, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

He tucks some of her hair behind her ear and leans down to kiss her, his hand cupping the back of her head as he holds her in place. When he pulls back he rests his forehead against hers, his smile soft, “I love you.”

She smiles and nods, her forehead knocking against his slightly, “I love you too,” she kisses him again, deepening it this time, her hands grasping at his lapels as she holds him closer. When the kiss ends she nudges her nose against his, “Make-up sex?”

He laughs, the sound deep and loud, vibrating from his chest into hers, and he nods, kissing her fiercely as he backs her out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“Make-up sex.”

-x-

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lumosatnight · 1 year

Text

A Consolation: A Narlily Microfic Series

I’m trying something new! This will be one continuous story with 32 parts updated daily throughout May. It will contain explicit content involving consensual underage sex. Other content warnings for infidelity, canon-typical wartime angst, and mentions of pregnancy. Thank you @nanneramma for infecting me with Narlily brainrot and for being my beta. Go check out her AMAZINGLY SPECTACULAR Narlily microfic series!

You can also follow along on AO3 if you would prefer.

🌸🌸🌸

@sapphicmicrofics day 1 ‘sunset’ @microficmay day 1 ‘yearn’

Sixth year. First day. Sunset.

Bangers and mash, steak and kidney pie. Treacle tart, custard creams, crêpes au chocolat.

Severus stuffs his face. Lucius picks at his food.

Narcissa ignores them all — there is only one thing that holds her attention today.

Red and gold.

Lily laughs across the hall.

🌸🌸🌸

Read on AO3 | Day 2 →

#sapphic microfics #microficmay2023 #narlily #narcissa x lily #hp femslash #hp microfic #50 words #lumosdrabbles

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patolemus · 1 year

Note

Could you share some of your Lucemond fic recs?

I have a lot of lucemond recs, but the ones I like the most are these:

the beast you’ve made of me by MaidenMotherCrone. Probably my favorite hotd fic of all time. Lucerys is taken hostage by the greens in Storm’s End, and it all goes downhill from there. Incomplete, but has consistent updates. Currently it only has eleven chapters left. If you’ve been following me for a while you’ll know I always go crazy when this updates.

Hiding in plain sight by Unohanabbygirl. A bit dark, but not extremely so. It’s abo, Lucerys goes into heat and triggers Aemond’s rut. He is raped by Aemond in Storm’s End, and left for dead. He’s nursed back to health by strangers who don’t know who he is, while everyone else thinks he’s dead. Updated pretty consistently.

Forget me not by Unohanabbygirl. A modern reincarnation au. Everyone remembers their past life except Lucerys. Targaryen royalty, as well as important figures from the ASOIAF saga, are historical characters. It treats topics like sexual assault and drug abuse, as well as trauma in general. One of the best fics I’ve ever read. It’s incomplete, but updates are consistent.

The — heir of the tides; series by thehundrethpoet. It’s a canon divergence fic where Lucerys takes out his eye on Storm’s End. Series is incomplete, but the first two parts are done and the third one is about to be completed and updated consistently.

The Key To Your Heart by Avonne. A modern au about lucemond’s relationship. I don’t know how else to describe it without spoiling it, but I enjoyed it a lot. It’s completed, and a second part is currently being written.

Calendario de Adviento para una muerte asegurada by Aynnita. It’s written in Spanish (my first language). It’s also a modern au where the Targaryens are still royalty, and lucemond go to a boarding school in the North. Lucerys broke his engagement to Rhaena, and his parents want to know why. He tells them he has a partner, and promises to introduce them on Christmas Eve. Of course, both sides of the family are estranged. It’s incomplete but not abandoned, with only one chapter before it’s finished.

The gilded lilies series by corviids. After being believed to be dead, both Aemond and Lucerys return to King’s Landing just as Rhaenyra is taking control of the Red Keep, and it seems the gods are planning something for them. It’s abo, Aemond is an Alpha and Lucerys an Omega. This is my favorite out of the few fics with this concept. The main piece is incomplete, but it has several one shots post canon that are finished.

Arsonist’s Lullaby by orphan_account. Aemond sides with the blacks during the dance because he falls in love with Lucerys. It’s one of my favorite takes of this particular canon divergence, and it’s completed.

The Holiday by archimedesprinciple. A modern Christmas au where Aemond is part of law enforcement and Lucerys works at a bank. They are still related, but the incest is toned down to ‘standard levels of modern aristocracy’. There are many unresolved issues in this one, but it’s completed and has a happy ending.

I hope you like these recs! I scoured my ao3 bookmarks for these ones, but there’s more I didn’t add on account of them being in completed and not being updated for a while.

#anonymous #ask #fic recs #lucemond #hotd #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #aemond x lucerys #ao3 #fanfiction

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eastwindmlk · 5 months

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Are you sick of my sick fics yet? This should be the last @jilymicro-oops in the series. This is part three. Part One Part Two Or read the whole thing on AO3 Prompt: Grow, Jan 2. Word count: 1775

James woke up, blinking against the daylight, feeling drowsy. It had been one of those naps where it was hard to tell what year it was. For all he knew, he could have slept for a full day or a full ten minutes. It did not particularly matter because, even without his glasses, he would recognise the glowing copper of Lily Evans's hair anywhere. Whatever had happened to let him wake up next to her, he would have to hunt down and thank.

This was a sight he could get used to. Or rather, he would like to get used to it.

Right now, it did not seem like Lily was aware that he was awake. Going by the fuzzy outline of her, he could get through squinting without his glasses; she was reading. He could see the slight curve of her, which he recognised as her being engrossed in the pages of some penny-dreadful or whatever muggle paperback she'd managed to get her hands on. He made a mental note to ask if she was reading something interesting later. James found himself having to make a choice.

He could either lay there with his eyes closed and enjoy the fact that she was nearby, or he could make himself known and start figuring out why she was here.

It took him about one breath to decide that he was going to stretch this moment a little longer. In the hopes of recalling details that had led to his good fortune.

His eyes fluttered closed once more, and he let his thoughts drift. Shifting to his side as he tugged at the blanket, the scent of lavender and eucalyptus tickled his nose, and slowly but surely that afternoon had come back to him. And with that came a warmth that spread from his chest, radiating through his entire body.

The reason Lily Evans was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading, was because he was not just in any bed. He was in her bed. He’d stumbled his way up to the girl’s dorm, using his head boy privileges for the first time. And with that, he used up all the energy he had left in his body. Letting Lily lead him to her bed, plush with extra pillows and a lovely floral pattern throw.

She had been surprisingly gentle with him, considering the fact that he had invaded her personal space. She had given him some muggle medicine and tucked him in. If he had not been burning up before, he would be now.

The memory of her hands on his chest, the gentle touches, and the almost kiss. He must have dreamed most of it. A beautiful fever dream that James did not want to end.

So, he kept still. Enjoying the pleasant silence. He was almost jolted by her quiet gasp. His eyes opened to see her lift the book closer to her face. Making him wonder what she was reading.

The sound of her voice took him by surprise. “I know you're awake, Potter,” she told him. He could hear the smirk in her voice. But he didn't move. He just snuggled deeper into the down duvet and pressed his eyes closed.

“How did you know?” James huffed, more than a little disappointed that his stay here would be over soon. She would likely drag him to the hospital wing.

Pulling the blanket up to his nose, he found himself disappointed by the fact that the only thing he could smell was the balm she’d used. Though, at the same time, he mentally slapped himself for letting the weird part of his brain take over. To wonder what her bed smelled like when he had not been invited into it.

His hand slowly crept out from between the sheets, searching for his glasses. To properly see the look of disappointment that was surely gracing her lovely features. Fingers find the cool metal on the edge of the bedside table.

“You stopped snoring,” she informed him, his fingers halting for just long enough to shoot an offended look. He peered at her silhouette over the edge of the throw.

His eyes narrowed at the redhead as he pushed his glasses onto his nose. “I do not snore,” he said, giving a curt, determined sort of nod. He blinked her thoroughly amused features into focus. Her smile was infectious, and soon he could not fight the corners of his lips any longer, allowing them to pull up into a smile.

“Are you sure?” Lily asked, leaning over to put away her book. Her cool fingers were ghosting over his forehead. Making James sigh in relief.

In response, she pressed her full hand against his sweaty face. She exchanged it for her other hand when the first warmed up. “I should get you a washcloth,” she murmured, almost to herself, as she withdrew. Leaving him disappointed as he watched her disappear into the bathroom.

Pushing himself up to sit and drink in the room once more. Now with a clearer mind than before. From where he sat, he had a good view of the room. It was almost funny how he could tell who had claimed which bed.

The wall beside Marlene’s bed was plastered with posters of The Holyhead Harpies. He offered the smiling women a glare. The last game against Puddlemere still hurt a little. A loss he was not quick to forget.

Hestia had a large collection of pocketbooks, like Lily had been reading. All organised neatly by number. The bouquet of roses she’d received for Valentine’s last year hangs from one of the posters.

Dorcas’ bedside table looked a lot like Remus', with due and overdue homework almost sliding off the edge. A few quills sticking out from the drawer and a picture from her holiday to Morocco, she would not shut up about, balanced precariously on top of her Arithmancy textbook.

He assumed the fiddle fern cutting was Mary’s and was a little surprised to see a Magpie blanket tucked neatly into the sides of her meticulously made bed.

Leaning his head back, James spotted little stars hanging from the canopy. They seemed charmed to give off a soft light. Subtle enough to make a night’s sky when the curtains were drawn, he assumed. Making him want to give it a try.

But as he moved forward to tug at the crimson curtains, he spotted something on the poster. His fingers were running along the little heart carved into it. His heart stuttered into a sprint as he traced the initials inside. ‘J+L’.

He refused to believe that this was a coincidence. What would be the chance that Lily would pick that bed? Even after another hacking cough, he could not get the smile to leave his face.

"What are you grinning about?" Lily asked, startling him out of his little moment.

He made an effort to compose his face, pulling up his shoulders nonchalantly and sinking back into his pillows. "Nothing, just fascinating to see..." James motioned around the room.

"I do hope that you found nothing too incriminating," she responded, sitting down next to him again and lifting the cold cloth to his forehead.

James leaned into her hand, eyes flitting closed, enjoying the sensation. Enjoying the idea of being this close to Lily. "Nothing too terrible. I did not expect Meadows to be this messy. She always seems so organised."

Lily let out a breathy laugh; he could feel her breath fan over him. The sweet peppermint scent lingers on his tongue. She was so close, he could taste her.

And good Godric, he wanted to taste her.

James leaned in.

Their noses brushed together.

Just...

Lily pushed his head down just as their lips were about to meet and moved off the bed. "If you're feeling better, you should go to your own dorm." Her voice wavered, her eyes moved away from him, and her cheeks were a deeper shade of red than they had been before.

There was something incredibly endearing about the way she flustered, and James Potter did not miss an opportunity to make Lily Evans blush a little more.

"I somehow always imagined you being a white cotton knickers sort of girl, but it seems I was wrong," he teased, nodding to the bra she had not quite been able to cover with her coat.

The redhead blinked and fumbled with the latch on her trunk. Quickly shoving the brazier inside. "Grow up, Potter!" She sputtered, burying her face in her hands. “I should kick you out for that.”

Before she could continue, he interjected, his hands shooting up in front of him. “I didn’t mean it like that. Come on, Evans.”

Her eyes spit fire at him, making him duck his head, disappearing partly in the blankets. “Don’t you ‘Evans’ me, you-you-you!” She breathed deeply through her nose and clicked her tongue. “Immature prat,” she muttered just loud enough for him to hear her.

“It was supposed to be cute,” James admitted, his lips pressing together into a thin line. His eyes are not quite meeting hers. Not until he heard the stifled laugh, her hand taking his as she sat down next to him once more.

There was a superior sort of look on her face, making him a little nervous. “If you want to know what I wear under this, you should just ask.” Her voice was still quiet, a little breathless.

James blinked at her, a little dumbfounded by the implication of her words. He swallowed the dryness from his mouth as he frantically searched for words. Something to say to her. He refused to let her be smoother than him.

It was a point of pride. Even in his usual way with words, he had a tendency to hide while he was around the redhead. Her words made him wonder, though. It was a risk, but one that he was willing to take.

Pushing his fingers through the gaps in hers, lacing them together. “I don’t need to see what you’ve got on under there. I just want you to kiss me.”

For a moment, there was silence, eyes locked in a stalemate before Lily’s closed. She leaned in, and James hesitated. “I don’t want you to get sick,” he protested, honestly not having considered what she was actually saying yet.

Her free hand lifted to his cheek, quelling his protests by pulling his lips to hers. Lips slanting together. For just a moment, James was sure he was instantly cured; he was sure he never felt this alive while on solid ground.

#jily #jily fic #james potter #lily evans #jple #jily fanfiction #jily micro oops #sickfic #marauders fanfiction

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catsafarithewriter · 7 months

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Cliche trope but Baron/Haru fake dating that went to full love confession?? 😅. Or Muta and Toto betting on whom among Baron and Haru will admit their feelings first 😅 sorry for the overtly used trope

A/N: With tropes like these, there's a reason they're so popular! One fake dating coming right up!

(And if you want more, I have a fake marriage au, Marry Me Twice on AO3, and a half-finished series of fake dating/marriage snippets on tumblr!)

At this point. Haru decided, she really shouldn't be surprised anymore when Baron got himself into these sorts of situations.

After all, she tried to remind herself, even she hadn't been immune to his charms upon their first meeting, and in the many years since he hadn't toned down his charisma one iota. He simply had a natural pizazz to him, a flair that drew and kept the eye. It was just a nuisance that he was oblivious to his effect until it was too late.

Still, one would think he would learn after the sixth accidental engagement.

"We've got a plan to get him out, right?" Haru deadpanned to the remaining (thankfully unengaged) members of the Bureau. "We're not just gonna sit back and watch him be married off to the faerie queen, right?"

Muta snorted. "I say we leave him there as a distraction while we get on with the case."

"Or Muta and I can do that, while you recover him," Toto said. "The changeling child should be around here somewhere. Just remember - fae can tell if you're lying."

Haru regarded the swirling ballroom before her. It wasn't built of brick and mortar, but of living trees and vines. The canopy knotted so thickly overhead that the only light to be found was in the glow of the mushrooms, bioluminescent fungi clinging to the trunks that served in place of pillars. Its occupants only had the barest resemblance to humanity - all feathers and antlers and fur - that left her the stark outlier. "If they turn me into a frog for my impertinence, you'll save me, right?"

"We'll make yer a pond with only the finest lily pads."

"Fantastic." Taking that as the best reassurance she was going to get, Haru waded into the sea of twirling gowns and gilded waistcoats. She worried that she would have to elbow her way through, but the dancers parted, if only as far as her next step so that she felt like a shark ineffectively swimming through a shoal of fish. Only sharks probably didn't feel like they were next on the menu.

At the far end of the ballroom was a bower. And in the bower was the faerie queen - and Baron.

Haru bowed. "Your Majesty, I thank you for your hospitality in welcoming us here, but I am afraid to say it is time we took our leave." That was probably fine, wasn't it? Not too formal? Not formal enough? Should she have broken out the 'thee's and 'thou's?

"Then I bid you farewell."

Haru waited. When she didn't hear Baron make a move, she cautiously glanced up. She immediately saw the reason for Baron's inaction; the faerie queen's hand is still rested on his. It was gentle, but deliberately possessive.

"I plan to leave with all of my friends, your Majesty."

The faerie queen smiled. "I'm afraid the Baron has decided to stay."

Haru glanced to Baron and raised an eyebrow. "Has he now?" She knew him well enough to read the apology in the quirk of his lips, and the belated realisation that he might have messed up in the flicker of an eye. She raised her other eyebrow in reply.

"Indeed," the faerie queen said. "After all, he has been such a gentleman, so charming and attentive, that his true intentions could scarcely have been mistaken for anything other than an affair of the heart."

"You think he's in love with you?"

"And why wouldn't he be?" the queen asked. "Have you seen any as beautiful as I?"

The fact that the faerie queen was indeed mesmerisingly stunning - despite, or perhaps because of the feline glint of her eyes or the vines that grew in and along her skin - was immaterial. Haru couldn't do anything but agree when the person in question could curse her with less than a thought.

Haru bowed again. "None are your equal, I'm sure, but that was never in doubt. I only ask because Baron is a gentleman at heart, and prone to being charming and attentive to all. Regardless of intent." Or awareness.

"And how, pray tell, are you so sure of his intent?"

"I know because," and a dozen lies paraded through Haru's mind; she grabbed one at random before her hesitation would betray the deception, "he's already in love with someone."

"And whom may that be?"

Without a shadow of a doubt, Haru knew that she would have to supply any mystery suitor she named. She offered what she hoped Baron knew to be an apologetic, I'm-only-doing-this-to-save-your-skin smile. "Me. He's in love with me, your Majesty."

The music never stopped, the ballroom conversations never quietened, but the silence in the bower was deafening. What was it Toto had said earlier? Fae can tell if you're lying? Well, it was too late for that now. Haru waited for the faerie queen to call her out on her deception, but she only tilted her head, like a dog catching an intriguing scent.

"Is this true?" the faerie queen asked Baron.

Baron looked to Haru.

Haru looked back.

Lie, dammit.

"Yes," he said. He started to say something anew, floundered, and tried again. "Although I have attempted to keep such feelings within, my heart belongs wholly to Miss Haru. It has for some time now."

Haru's traitorous heart skipped a few beats, as though this wasn't a ruse she herself had started. She blinked, and managed to refocus on the queen. "So you see, your Majesty, you can hardly marry Baron when he loves another."

"Indeed."

"So with that, we should take our leave-"

Haru's hand caught Baron's and started to lead him from the bower, only for the faerie queen to suddenly stand. Baron and Haru both halted in instinctive self-preservation.

"Wait."

The faerie queen descended from the bower, an uncanny grace to her movements. It was like watching a panther, just before it pounced.

"But how can you talk of leaving after such a heartfelt confession?" she asked. "Surely, on a night like tonight when the music compels you, two lovebirds such as yourselves cannot pass up the opportunity to dance. At least," she added with another glimmer of her feline eyes, "any true couple wouldn't."

Haru felt her smile thin. She bowed, hoping it would hide the waning enthusiasm. "Your Majesty is always correct. If you would be so kind, I have a song request for your musicians, should they know it."

"Our musicians are well acquainted with much of your mortal music. Go ahead."

Haru rose from her bow and, after conferring quickly with the musicians in question, swept with Baron down to the heart of the ballroom.

"Katzen Blut?" Baron asked as the first few notes started up. "It has been a long time since I've heard this."

"It's the only song we've ever danced to. I thought it might give us a fighting chance of actually pulling this off." When Baron still seemed a little too nonplussed by the situation to respond, Haru placed his hand against her waist, ensuring they at least looked the part. "Sorry. I panicked, and that was the first excuse that came to mind."

"It was quick thinking on your part. Just... unexpected."

As the music rolled into a swing, the two of them started into a familiar waltz. Doing her best to ignore certain realities, like the fact that Baron was so close, close enough to kiss, Haru focused on easier topics. "So. What is this, the sixth time you've ended up accidentally winning someone's heart? This is getting to become a habit, Baron."

Baron had the decency to look suitably sheepish. "I thought I was merely offering her Majesty the respect befitting one of her station. If I had known it would be misinterpreted as such, I would have..."

Haru waited, and nearly flattened several of his toes when she misjudged a step. "You would have...? Go on. What would you have done differently?"

"I might have gone easier on the purple prose of her beauty."

"Gee, you think?"

"Perhaps pare down on the extravagant bow."

"Another good option."

"But, in my defence, I was left in charge of distracting her while yourself and the others located the missing changeling child."

"We asked you to distract her, not marry her."

"I haven't married her."

"Not yet. If we'd given it another half hour though..."

"Yes, you've made your point quite clear."

Their dancing neighbours glanced sidelong at them, ears perked at Baron's curt voice, and Baron swung Haru out into a twirl to deter any eavesdroppers. It would have been a far more impressive move had Haru been wearing a dress but, as things stood, the best she got was the sweep of her coat hem.

She swung back into Baron's arms, closer than before. "How exactly did you try to tell her Majesty that you weren't interested, anyway?"

"It's... complicated."

"What, you mean there wasn't a nearby rooftop to jump off after telling her you admire a woman who speaks from the heart?"

"Haru..."

"All I'm saying is, that worked great on me." Well, mostly. The fact that Haru had gone on with her life, then fallen back in with the Bureau, and then fallen for Baron again was neither here nor there. The important thing was that it had successfully snapped her out of her schoolgirl crush - just long enough for her to think things through and then develop one-sided pining later in life.

"It is... surprisingly difficult to refute a fae's attentions without causing insult."

"And anything too subtle goes right over their heads," Haru finished.

"As you discovered. If I had known that all I needed to do was confess love for another..."

Haru snorted. "We both know that was one hell of a risk. I don't even know how we managed to sell that lie, given everything we've been warned about the fae."

Baron was studiously not looking at her. "Indeed."

"I mean, I don't know what even possessed me to say that. Realistically, I should have been cursed into a frog, or something, for trying a lie like that, I don't..."

The penny dropped.

"Wait, Baron-"

"Change partners!" Baron cried, and twirled her into the arms of a fae with antlers and canines.

"Oh no you don't." Haru spun away from her current dance partner and, as best she could in time with the music, whirled from one whistle-stop faerie to the next. Baron might have had Creation grace and years of dance practice, but Haru had five years' worth of stubborn pining pushing her on.

Eventually, she landed back in Baron's arms.

"You don't just get to waltz away like that when I'm having a revelation," she scolded. "Faeries can sense lies, right? And you'd think the queen of faeries would have an extra-sensative bullshit-detector, right?"

"Not quite how I'd put it, but-"

"Not the priority right now. So, with that in mind, how the hell did I manage to convince her that you were in love with me?"

"You are a remarkable young woman, Haru, perhaps-"

"Perhaps, unknown to me, I wasn't lying."

"Haru-"

"Are you in love with me?"

"I... admire you-"

"Do not. I'm not a schoolkid anymore, Baron; I can handle a rejection just fine. Are you in love with me?"

Baron opened his mouth. Closed it. Tried several more times to no effect.

Haru groaned. "One of these days, we'll actually get to finish this dance," she muttered and, dropping her hands away from Baron, stormed back towards the bower.

"Enjoying your dance-"

"When Baron said he was in love with me, was he telling the truth?"

The faerie queen faltered. There had been the briefest flicker of rage at Haru's impertinence at interrupting her, but now it was swept away by a knowing smile. Suddenly, Haru knew why her halfway deceit had been allowed to go on; this was all entertainment to the queen and her kind.

"Yes." the queen replied.

"What the hell?" Haru turned, seeing Baron wading free from the dancing crowd, and repeated for good measure, "What the hell, Baron?!"

"I cannot help how I feel, Haru, but I thought that, if I kept it to myself-"

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... didn't want to make things awkward between us," he said. "You are my good friend, Haru, and I never wanted to lose that. If it meant I had to push away such feelings to keep your companionship, then so be it-"

"I've been in love with you for years, you idiot."

Baron's mouth snapped shut. He blinked. "Oh. You are?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

Some kind of nervous, almost hysterical laughter bubbled through Haru, and she pushed it back with some herculean restraint. "Because, Baron. Because you're kind and determined and I love spending time with you. Because the heart wants what the heart wants, and sometimes what it wants is an emotionally constipated cat figurine who has now been accidentally engaged six times."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. I can't believe I've been pining after you, thinking, 'oh there's no way he feels the same way,' all this time, just to..."

Baron stepped up to her and she let him take her hands in his. "Why wouldn't I fall for you?" he asked softly. "How could I not, when you are the bravest, most compassionate, stubbornest woman I have ever met?"

Haru sniffled, and she only realised then that she was dangerously on the verge of tears. "Not many people would woo someone by calling them stubborn, you know."

"It's one of my favourite things about you. You don't give up, Haru, even when the rest of the world wants you to. You'll stand up against a Cat King, against pirates, against monsters." He cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed away the beginning of a tear. "You'll stand up against a faerie queen to save those you love."

Haru grinned, began to offer up a retort, and then remembered the audience they had. One glance confirmed that the faerie queen was sat, quite happily, and looking like all she was missing was a bag of popcorn.

"I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss," she offered helpfully.

Haru looked back to Baron, blushing. Only her familiarity with him betrayed the mirror blush beneath his fur. She leant in. "Well," she said. "If a queen expects it..."

There came a heartstopping crack, like the snap of a bone or a sharp clap of thunder, and a tree crashed across the ballroom. The music juddered to a halt. All conversation ceased. And in the ringing silence...

"Move, move, move!" Muta and Toto came thundering through the gap the felled tree had left. Muta had a swaddled baby cradled in his arms. "Baron, Chicky, we've got what we came for. Time to go!"

#the cat returns #cat writes #so it turns out my other fav cliche (aka 'what the hell do you mean yuo're in love with me why didn't you say so earlier')#made a surprise appearance #look. is it really true love if they don't shout at each other when they discover the truth? (probably yes)

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yomogi-mogi-mochi · 2 years

Text

Ineffable Bloom

Pairings: Azul/Siren MC

Summary: Despite your status as siren, there are not many words that reach those around you anymore, voice now muted and marred from the surgeries you have endured to remove the carnations that once suffocated your throat. But you don't mind it, serving quietly as the gardener of Night Raven College, making do with a notepad and pen when necessary. You are pleased to find your childhood friend, Azul, now attends the school, who spontaneously hires you for the flower arrangements he decides to decorate in his lounge with. There's little hope you bear with the silent poetry you weave with each meticulously placed flower, only an ache which tumbles over you like the ceaseless seas. However, Azul is not deaf to this song you have sealed in your bouquets, having cherished the morsels of sweetness in your childhoods where you shared the silent language of each flower.

Notes: Sorry this took ages lmao. Been in a “creating anything is obsolete” phase my/spring allergies are starting so I am. Dying. Part of the twst myth series, here is the post with some basics. I just reached 1000 likes on tumblr which might not be much to some but wowwww thank you guys for your support!!

GN terms for MC

CW: Emotional abuse and toxic parenting when we get into MC’s backstory

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist

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“Would you like to add a ribbon to this? I’ll add it for free since I have some extra?” You placed the last slender stalk of green hydrangea into the bouquet and move your hands in practiced shapes and swerves, forming each phrase with careful deliberation.

Jack struggles a bit in forming as keen language with his hands, but you appreciate that he has taken the time to respond in your vernacular. Writing does get a little tiring after a bit. “If you wouldn’t mind. I think Trey would appreciate that.” He pauses, looking to Ruggie, who sways around the room with his hands behind his head in boredom, dipping his gaze to the lilies standing tall in a bucket on the ground. “Right, Ruggie?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever is fine.”

The wolf huffs a bit before crossing his arms. “You know, you should be grateful (Name) is doing this so last minute since you forgot to place the order a week ago like we all agreed on.”

“Ugh get of my back‒ Leona had me running around more than usual last week…” His eyebrows raise a bit when he brings his attention to the dandelions drying above him, a slight movement you take notice to when wrapping the bouquet in its final layer. “Besides, who cares about all the details of each flower, it’s not like whoever is receiving them is looking into all the deep meanings of each blade of grass.”

You finish tightening the bow around the bouquet, assuring with your trained hands that it is secured tightly onto the broom, before handing it off to Jack. “Just like you mentioned in the interview‒ green color scheme, with symbols of loyalty, prosperity, and patience. Here is a card that has all of the flower languages on them.” You sign, which the man responds with a smile, and a clumsy thank you with his hands.

Ruggie has drifted over to the dandelion heads soaking in a bowl of water, being prepared for the dandelion honey you sell at Sam’s shop while his junior admires the bouquet in reverence. “You like dandelions?” You write on a notepad, poking Ruggie with it. He looks over lazily, shrugs.

“I guess.”

“They symbolize ‘an oracle of love’, resilience, and even sorrowful goodbyes. The name Dandelion comes from the word dent-de-lion, meaning the ‘jaws of a lion’- fierce, is it not?” Ruggie hums in curiosity in response, glancing at the flowers again to imagine it with a growing smile on his face. “Flowers and plants all have their silent poetry. It’s good to tip your ears to them once in a while, they may have something to say to you.”

“You hear that Jack‒ ‘jaws of a lion’..." The hyena says with his hand on his hips, a bashful finger grazing his nose.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get going, we have a lot of prep to do for Trey's celebration." Jack turns to you before he leaves "Oh, you should stop by if you have time‒ everyone was curious during my birthday who had arranged my broomquet. I'm sure the other students would be thrilled to see the face of our new‒ well, I guess not so new anymore‒ gardener."

You furiously shook your head, scurrying your hands across the air in a flurry. "I wouldn't want to intrude…my work is nothing worth fussing over…"

"Anyone with a pair of working eyes can see otherwise‒ your talent is unmatched, you nearly performed a miracle reviving my half dead cacti." Jack smiles, remembering fondly of the times he had come in, asking you for advice on his growing horticulture collection. "Besides, it's nice for the students and staff to get familiarized."

"And free cake." Ruggie adds.

You raised your eyebrows at that, quelling the swirling anxiety in your stomach. "…okay, I'll try to make it. Just have to finish a few things here and I should be good to head out."

"We'll see you then, (Name)."

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You brush your apron, relieving the weariness of a day's work in the breath that swelled from the bottom of your stomach and escaped as an audible huff that loosened the tension of your shoulders. However when you glance at your phone, anxiety shot through you as you realize time had passed a lot quicker, and it was about half an hour past the time Jack had told you to come. In racing footsteps, you gathered your items, throwing your apron on the hook near the front door before slamming it.

By the time you arrive, everyone is singing happy birthday, gathering in a circle around who you assumed was Trey, who bore a bashful smile on his face with the broomquet in his hands. You catch the eye of Jack across the room, who lights up when you wave nervously at him. The room erupts in applause and bright laughter as Trey blows out the candles of his cake‒ a volume you take a mental note of to judge just how many people were at this celebration. Quite a lot, especially now as the students disperse, preparing plates and cutlery to cut the delicious looking strawberry shortcake.

"Hey~ what are you doing here?"

There’s a surge of anxiety when those words are pointed at you, which you respond with a pressed smile as you swerve your head to the voice. To your surprise, you recognize the face which greets you, though it is a bit unnatural seeing them without a bluish tint to their skin, or scales. You suppose it’s a surprise for them as well, seeing you out of the water for the first time in about eight years.

“I thought I recognized that face. Hello, (Name), it has been a while.”

You hands move automatically to the pen and paper stuffed inside your pocket. “Jade? Floyd? It’s been a while. What are you doing here?”

“Eh? What's with the notepad little siren?”

The anxiety returned with Floyd's words. Even with the Leech family’s connections and the chattiness of your hometown, it was hard for rumors to form with the eight years you had spent apart from your home‒ your friends. You were thankful a bit for the amnesty it brought you on rare occasions like this, but explaining the whole situation was difficult for you‒ making up a believable excuse even more so considering the one memorable thing your species was known for. Sirens‒ their voice famed to plunge sea farers into maddening passion, the talents of which even the great Sea Witch openly admired in historical record. Perhaps you had been an example of this once, training your throat to squeeze and burn itself to strike impossible notes, whirling an unmatched vibrancy when you perfected each lyric, each score, each tendon to stand straight, expand your lungs, smile, and sing. Even if you had such talents in the past, it was negated with every pinch and pull of your mother’s craft‒ that memory now clandestine, numbed from the surgery.

Or that’s what you told yourself, as your calloused fingers graze the satin ribbon around your neck, the scars marring it aching slightly as you adjusted the fabric in a slight nervous tick. They’re been healed from quite some time‒ or you believe they are from the years you had observed every winding crack slowly dull against time‒ but the mountainous fossils carved onto your flesh would grow tender like this, pushed then retraced piercingly like the jagged shores far from your homelands, leaving snowy, bursting seafoam prickling against your skin. You suppose all you could do is tighten a smile against your mute lips, maneuvering past it as best you could.

“I’ll explain later. What are you guys doing at NRC?”

“We’re students, see~?” Floyd flashes a crooked smile, turning to the side to show off his dorm uniform. “Jade here is even the vice dorm leader. Boring if you ask me.”

“What are you doing here, (Name)? I don’t think I’ve seen you in my classes.”

“My aunt just retired as the gardener here, she's back at her shop in the Shaftlands. So I've come to officially take her place."

"We'll have our quartet back in no time now‒ you should visit the Monstero Lounge sometime so we can catch up~" Floyd wraps an arm around your shoulder, hanging lazily off it while his twin smiles.

"I agree with Floyd. Azul would be more than happy to see you too." At Jade's words, you brighten, and quickly scribble onto your notepad.

"Azul here too? Is he here today?"

Jade nods. "He's our dorm leader, actually. And yes, I think he just went outside to get some fresh air" his smile widens "you know how he is."

You do. Surely he was tired of the noise and pleasantries of birthday celebration. "Azul the dorm leader huh."

"You won't believe how much he’s changed unless you see for yourself." Floyd switches his weight to his other foot, landing on his brother's shoulder while gesturing to the veranda doors. You swerve your head towards it, trying to make out a figure against the bright blue skies and roses reaching towards the mild sun. There's a slight silhouette, but you can barely make out its features with the glare of the glass.

"You should go to him. He talks about you sometimes, you know." Before you could turn around and question the twins, their backs are turned from you, melting back into the bustling crowd. Despite your initial excitement, your feet move in idle footsteps, weighed by the heaviness which emerges from your wrapped throat, plummeting to the soles of your feet sticking densely onto the ground. The notepad in your hand is gripped through your sweaty palm‒ there was only so much space in each sliver of parchment you could fill with your words, the rest of your language lost to the silence which cages your throat. Even if you could rasp through your disfigurement with a language people would lend an ear to, you were sure that your thoughts, refined through your mother's distant voice, would drive you back into forlorn silence‒ your hands clawing and reopening your wounds wide and fresh enough to assure not even a breath could be heard from it. Flowers always came to you with such ease in comparison, eyes turned away from your secret adoration for something far more beautiful in perfectly placed petals, inventing no hope that you could cling to that would turn your throat raw with desire.

Even if these givings were seen, spoken of , or heard‒ you armor yourself by repenting‒ these gifts were never a virtue, but a disguise for the womb of shame you kept awake in your heart. Forgive me, for there is fear that one day that life will ripen within it‒ something as grotesque as myself, a venerable mirror to my slumbering desires to be swaddled and held. You arrive at the handle of the door too fast for your liking, hovering your hand over it with a heavy heart and tongue before grasping it quietly, hoping a little that your soundless footsteps would turn you into a phantom.

But when you are faced with a familiar image‒ his weaving dusty mauve hair, and the arctic clarity of his blue eyes, you can't help but to pause your prayers for a moment, met with the blinding joy his face brings you. Dear, dear friend.

You're so used to his name springing from your throat that you nearly tear the fragile nerves of your lesions with a rasp threatening to boil over by the warmth in your stomach. But you clench that tension in your hand as you scribble his name in hurried, crude strokes across the entire page.

"Azul?" You turned the paper pad over with clumsy, shaking hands. He looks just as surprised as you, but he nods slowly.

"(Name)?"

You nod your head vigorously to your name, decorated sweetly with his voice. His entire body is facing you now, taking you in with the gulp of his gaze. You do the same, noticing that, actually, not quite a lot has changed. Sure, the soft little octopus had grown tall and slender during the eight years you didn’t see him‒ but still, there is that mole dotted prettily on his face you remember quite well, and the softness of his eyes when they meet yours is one of your fondest, most tender memories, unraveled whenever you saw the sea blue glow of freshly fallen snow, or the velvety reflection of the skies in gentle spring creeks. But now they were here, gazing back at you, there were no words that appeared in your mind, or which you could communicate with the likeness of flowers. It's so sweet again when you hear his voice.

"What's happening? Why are you writ‒ never mind that." He shakes the thought away. "How…How have you been? Last I heard from mother you had moved with your aunt somewhere on land."

Azul does not question how, or why you stood in front of him after eight years, but rather simply‒ how are you? The smile that blooms at that realization hurts your cheeks. Azul mirrors your sentiments silently, relieved that there were no comments on his appearance of how he's "changed so much". Dear, dear friend. He missed this. Missed you too.

"I'm well. Been working as a gardener here, I enjoy it. How have you been? I’m guessing busy, I heard you're a dorm leader from the twins."

"Ah, you've already met them I see. I just hope they haven’t said anything…unnecessary." His smile widens, you trace the movement of his mole which stretches against the curve of his lips. "I've been…alright. Land life has been a lot to adjust to, but I think I have the hang of it now."

"Haha. It was a lot for me when I first came on shore too. Pillows are so weird, aren't they?"

The dormhead chuckles as you approach him near the railing, situating yourself beside him to face the white roses dotting the garden. One meant mercy, purity, the breath of love; two‒ "I deserve you"; three‒ adoration; 99 white roses, and this would be an Eden of eternal love. But you're too enraptured by his laughter to count, caught in the waves of his lightness.

"They are. But I think it's nice now, might even be a hit at the reef if we sell them during spring break. You mentioned you're a gardener?"

"Yes. I just maintain the horticulture on campus, and I do bouquets from time to time like Trey's broomquet today." You write fast, wanting to answer Azul quickly, fill the time with as much of him as you could. He leans over, watching you as you scribble, relishing silently in the smell of fresh cut lilies and seaside rosemary tangled in a salty sweet ocean breeze.

"An impressive feat, considering the size of our campus. If you're willing‒ I may actually need your help with the twin's birthdays coming soon."

“I'd be happy to help! We would need to set an interview up like I do with most of my clients‒ just so I know their preferences more. But it'll be easier since I already know Jade and Floyd." Truthfully, you were already putting together the perfect bouquet for the twins, violet roses here, silver ragwort there, and a sprinkle of beauty berry should bring the composition together in a delicate balance. The meeting was just an excuse to assure another conversation with Azul again, a thought which churned a feeling of shame within you, rolling you smooth with its ragged tongue that sanded down the rough joy jutting out from you like an unfinished pearl. When Azul nods on confirmation, this sensation becomes slightly eased, but your muscles churn inside you like the dark, deep seas.

"I agree. Nonetheless, us four should meet at the mostero lounge soon to catch up. I could use a talent like yours to freshen up the look of the lounge a bit‒ perhaps we could work a contract of some sort out."

"I'm not that good, I'm not so sure I can hold up to your expectations, dormleader."

"Please‒ Jade's tastes aren't so bad but Floyd's sense of interior design is abysmal. His idea of interior design is a bunch of half finished snacks decorating the shelf beside his bed. Any help would be wonderful."

A silent laugh shakes your shoulders. "I'll think about it."

The patio door opens again‒ revealing Jack, who waves a hand towards you, and speaks with clumsy hands. "They're cutting the cake (Name)- Azul, you too‒ it's gonna be gone if you stay out here for too long."

"Be right there." You sign, lifting your body from the deck railing.

"Is that sign language? I've never seen it in person." Azul holds the door open for you, allowing you to scurry in with a bow of your head.

You nod. "Writing gets tiring at times. But I'm happy either way people speak to me." There’s a twitch in Azul’s eyes that you catch at your statement, regret tingling at your fingertips making your skin feel raw against your flesh. You squeeze the meat of your palm to ignore it.

"We saved you two some cake~" Floyd summons the two of you with a wave, gesturing to two neighboring seats across from them.

Jade smiles, scooping a part of his cake with a fork. "It's nice that we're back together like this. It seems forever ago that you left the reef (Name)."

"But eight years fly by, don't they? You're going to have to catch me up on all the embarrassing stories of each other."

"Only if you let us in on some blackmail about you (Name)." Floyd reveals his sharp teeth with a wide grin, licking the icing off his fork.

"I will." You write, hoping you can fill their heads enough with the happier moments at your aunt's flower shop and time so far as the NRC gardener, rather than deliberate the disease which flowered in your lungs, the sickness that came with it‒ the surgery, the scarring, the healing‒ your departure from your mother, from your home, from them. The ribbon feels tight on your throat, your smile grows tense on your lips. You try your best to quell the swelling waves of anxiety, eased a bit with the laughter of your friends that rang in your presence once more.

——————————————————

You meet them again at the VIP section of their lounge just a few days later, having planned a date to meet before you went home after the birthday celebration. Though conversation was a bit stiff at first, energy begins to swell in the room as you reminisce the events of your childhood, and the years of adolescence you missed in the 8 years of absence from your hometown. The conversation slowly progresses towards how the three would be able to see you more, shifting back to Azul's proposal to have you come to set up flower arrangements in the lounge.

"How about roses?" Floyd suggests. "Classic. Everyone likes them."

A shrug. "Hm. They're a nice touch‒ but a bit basic. I can add them in, but I wouldn't make them the focal point since there's just better flowers out there."

"What do you suggest?" Azul asks.

You think, flipping through the catalog of flowers in your mind. "Especially for the color scheme of your dorm, I think hydrangeas would be nice. Blue poppies, perhaps some rosemary in there as well. Maybe purple carnation‒” you scribble that last thought away as quickly and vigorously as it came, your throat tightening in remembrance at that thought.

“Those sound great‒ but I want something more elegant looking, the carnations you mentioned would be fitting‒ ah‒ remember those flowers from that story you always talked about? The one about the poetry being written on the petals?”

You were glad he moved from carnations. Besides, purple carnations signified grief and death in some cultures, far removed from the emblem of prayer they were in your culture. “Hyacinths?”

“Precisely. What do the white ones mean?” What about this one? What does this say? How about this, this, and this? You remember the way he pointed to each flower in your encyclopedia lent by your aunt, his small fingers fluttering across the page like a busy little cuttlefish at your riveting explanations. This is this, this and this. There was always a hurry to your words when you spoke to others‒ particularly your mother‒ rushing to seize the brief opportunity allowed for you to speak, but no matter how much you had stumbled over your words in clumsy delight, Azul listened with a smile on his face, making notes on paper for his experiments, words rushing to his hands like a school of fish.

“White ones mean a ‘quiet love’, or ‘love that is quelled’. If you want something with a happier meaning though, I would go with white wisteria, it means sweet nostalgic memories or drunken love; cornflowers‒ delicacy and elegance; or salvia‒ veneration and wisdom. Purple chrysanthemum would be splendid too‒ meaning your wish will come true."

You remember when your mother was kinder, tucking your small, innocent body into her soft arms‒ hushing your cries with a tender whisper. It was without that rattle in your throat she pointed towards you like a knife when you grew from that chaste form, sullied and filled with her disappointment. Your body was tall and flushed with it, but not quite tall enough, not quite curved and plump the way she liked‒ needed you to be to carve her desired image into you. A mirror within a mirror within a mirror‒ mother and child, mother and child. Her words lashing as the waves cracking against the jagged rocks, shaping you into a memorial of her pains, her aching hunger.

But you returned to that far-flung memory of her maternal care, remembering the legend she told you about purple chrysanthemums‒ placing one dearly to your hair, chirping her bright song with a story that was passed from the throat of her mother, to the her ears as a child, blood through blood. This was one of the only memories you remember of her singing not to an audience or a stage‒ but to you, flesh of her womb, skin and bones lovingly mirrored in babbling purity. You trace her unusually soft words with your hand, gliding across the page with the exact pitch of her voice swimming in your mind.

"There's a legend among our kind, of the purple chrysanthemum. We decorate our most treasured people with it, and wear it as a sign of someone watching over you to make a dream come true‒ whether it is a benevolent god, or another person." You pause your writing, the three looking over you to watch you write. "It symbolizes the victory of love‒ its power which pulls the best from you to achieve something as distant as a dream."

Your pen stills. "But‒ I should retract my suggestion. People of other cultures use it to commemorate death, I wouldn't want to offend someone."

Azul is brightened by the way you talk about flowers again, the fragrant morsels on his mind blooming, coloring him vividly in your dazzling artistry. This is this, this, and this. The way you forge lustrous, silent poetry with each careful placement of a blossom amazes him each time, finding your words lingering and echoing in the cove of his mind. "No." His mouth races somewhat brash, he tries again, clearing his throat. "No‒ I trust your initial judgment." He smiles. You trace that mole on his face. "I like it."

"Then it's decided."

Floyd yawns, draping his arms dramatically against the couch, and lulling his head upwards with a sigh. “Ugh. Enough with the flower talk‒ let’s talk about something more interesting.” He flashes a toothy smirk. “(Name), you wanna hear about the time Azul cried so hard he threw up?”

His twin clasps his hands with a similar expression. “Oh, that’s definitely a good one.”

Azul’s eyes blow wide open. “That is absolutely a violation of our contract‒”

“I don’t believe that includes (Name) actually.” Jade muses with a sly grin.

"Why was he crying so hard he threw up??"

The dormleader groans, dropping his hands into hands.

The twins exchange a look before Jade answers. "You, of course."

"Me?" You point to yourself in disbelief.

Floyd chuckles. "He sipped a little wine at the restaurant on accident. Then he starts blubbering about how 'oh I miss them', 'oh remember when they did this', and 'oh‒"

"I think they get the point, brother."

While Floyd ignores his twin in favor of continuing the story, Azul continues to hide his slowly darkening face behind his hands, while you sit, pen hovering over the paper.

“Why?”

The twins blink with a confused expression on their face, while Floyd speaks with a baffled tone. “Ha? Why? What do you mean why?” From the corner of your eye, you see Azul lift his head from his hands to look you, with what expression, you can’t tell‒ training your eyes on the paper with hardened brows, blood tinging on you tongue from the flesh drawn between your teeth.

The pen in your hand hovers above the paper with a soft tremble. Why? Why me? When you left that reef years ago, you left any notion that your presence would be something that would be worth lingering over‒ much more grieving about‒ a thought that was confirmed by the way your mother hurriedly dumped you at your aunt’s flower shop near the somber shores, her frosty gaze and distanced followed by years of inveterated silence as incurable and everlong as the one wrapped around your throat. Like the winter storms on the beach where your aunt's shop sat upon, that silence from your mother, and everyone else for that matter, was as thrashing and unforgiving to your empty ears and throat. There was nothing left for you down there, just memories that would make that scraped dryly against your throat and make you long for something your body was not mended properly for. So the proposition that Azul had felt something towards you‒ so much so that he had shed actual tears for you‒ threatened to bring the nausea deep in your darkened stomach frothing at the surface. You pushed through it, hand gliding clumsily across the paper.

“Never mind, sorry. I should get going soon‒ I’m behind on some duties in at the Botanical Gardens.”

Azul sighs in slight relief, and stands as you gather your things. "I'll see you off." You bid goodbye to the twins, who flash a pointed smile at you while Azul holds open the lounge doors to leave.

“Come back again so we can embarrass Azul more with our stories.” You smile at Jade's words.

Before you pass through the portal, Azul taps your shoulder. He lays his hand flat against his lips, sweeping it towards you. You're taken a bit by surprise, but soon your cheeks ache from the warmth squeezed into them by your curved lips, turning the nausea reaching from your stomach to your chest into something, you think, extraordinary.

You held that feeling in your chest as much as the rupturing threaded into yourself would‒ drinking in the ease of passing clouds and the clemency of rippling seawater tickling the bottom of you feet‒ much too quick, too light, too wonderful to be bound by the chthonic gods. Your heart races with the swiftness of sprightly, sun drunken waves. There was a rising ache‒ knowing your fractured body would splinter before you could swallow this feeling in its entirety, filling you body brilliantly like a blooming chrysanthemum‒ unfurling its divine petals towards all cardinal directions in a form which flared itself every which way. Victory of love. You knew it would not triumph against your fragmentation‒ but despite it all, you smiled stupidly, weaving your florid fingers against his to show him the correct placement of the word.

"Like this." You instruct‒ on his chin, near that dotted mark, then towards you in one motion. The word is practiced twice so you can linger your hands on his own. "Thank you, thank you." You mouth.

The heat of your fingers burns this motion into him, even as you let go. He practices it again, hoping to retrieve your sensation onto his skin with the repeated motion. “Thank you.”

You take your pointed and middle finger to your eye, then glide it towards the tip of your chin with a circle made with your pointer and thumb.

“See you soon.”

——————————————————

Carnations are always a favorite among your customers. The flower of love, of adoration‒ of the gods. They have been woven into hair to commemorate new beginnings, have been rumored to sprout from a devoted mother’s tears faced with her child’s death. Their name comes from carnis, or flesh, from the myth of innocent bloodshed, a shepherd who had his eyes gouged out from a goddess of the hunt, who was displeased by his flute playing which caused the animals of her hunting grounds to be spooked. From his empty flesh, carnations grew, white petals emerging, stained with blood. White carnations typically signify the mourning of lost lives, pure love, unrequited love, loyalty, faithfulness, a mother’s love.

But most of all, it whispers, my love for you is alive. It felt that way when they flourished in your lungs, choking the song in your throat in just a few months after they sowed into your meat. Alive and red and beating so vibrantly against your flesh‒ filthy with the darkened red of your aching insides. They came as impossible heaps from your mouth, emptying quietly as you could in the corner of your room so as not to bother your sleeping mother in the room over. You remember furling your body inward, praying it to become smaller, smaller, smaller‒ quieting your agony, erasing your swaying footsteps to the medicine cabinet, slicing your body up and down into manageable pieces. It was a dance in your eyes you carried everywhere with you that classified every variation of footsteps, the slightest inflection in tone, a twitch of the lungs before it even came‒ so you could shape yourself flat against the sharpened teeth of any who bothered to bite down on your brittle, bitter form, flaying and cleaving your meat carefully to its shape. Your eyes remembered these wounds, reopened and festering against your clumsy stitches to take into account next test‒ next time, next interaction, next opportunity to prove‒ I’ll be better, I’ll prove I am worthy enough to live.

‘You’re so sensitive‒ you would be good with flowers’, your aunt says. Thank you, you gulp in the ache of your disfigurement with pride‒ a medallion passed from your mother, passed from her mother, passed from her own‒ blood through blood it was gifted, and split from your strangled throat. It felt like your body rejected it, but oh, that was the best part of it all‒ more pain, more, more, more‒ something to wear on your skin as a testament to how you’ve been such a good child, to mutilate yourself against anyone’s maws. Something to show, mother, love me for all of these marks prove it, prove that I can cut open myself deep enough to mirror the perfected version of yourself.

Carnations are a symbol of that. People give them as a trophy of love that is agony, love that is alive, love which slaughters. It is a mother's love. They're popular in those early months during the spring, where the flowers devour the corpses mulled over by autumn and winter, chewing and spitting it out with a drunken splendor. As such you had many on hand during these colder months, surrounded by consecrations of this love, thrashing, bursting inside you like sea-brine churned into frothing bubbles, the waves breaking against it swelling them over the edge of the shore. You could feel the eyes of the flowers leering towards you, tightening the ribbon around your neck.

The hand in your pocket reaches towards the heads, your fingers brush against their cold petals. They are worn, withered from the days they have slept stagnant and untouched in their watery casket. You are quick to take them from their bucket, shoving in a bag to be thrown away in the compost, back into the earth to nourish the next generation.

“(Name)?”

Was it already that time already? You had promised him you would meet with him to plan the twins' broomquet after you closed, but the day had waded through you so quickly.

His name, as always, almost makes it out of your throat. But you held the silence in your mouth like your muffled heartbeat, quietly turning to him with weary eyes. He immediately drinks their lorn gaze, before he takes out a small leather bound pocketbook from his inner pocket, flipping through a few pages, returning it to his coat when he finishes reading the contents of the page. With clumsy hands, he signs. “Do you need help?”

You look him up and down, pausing your hands shoved deep inside the bag of wilted carnations. “You know sign language?”

“I learned.” He says sheepishly. “Apologies‒ clearly I haven't gotten too far with it. I don't know some words yet.”

Your eyes widen. “Why?”

He points to his head, then towards you. For. You. I learned for you.

A smile curves on his lips, but you avert your eyes from it. You’re afraid to measure that tinted color on his cheeks, the shape of his softened eyes, the length of his smile the wrong way‒ to take something without anything worthy from yourself to give in compensation, so you take his words instead, knowing you could at least repay them with something much more beautiful, whole. Flowers. You don't look at him. “I could use some help.”

He rolls his sleeves up, takes the carnations in his hands and brings them inside the bag. “What is the meaning of carnations?”

“Love, adoration, ‘my love for you is alive’.”

“Easy to capitalize on. I see why it is so popular.” He takes one between his fingers, twirls it with a sly smile. "I like it."

You return it best you could. “They’re a bit grotesque, don’t you think? The petals are quite unfinished, like they’ve been cut jagged.”

“You don’t like them?”

You remember the day after the surgery, your lungs emptied not only from the lack of carnations taking seed inside of it, but sapped from anything you had felt for your mother. You realized, that day, oh.

It was her all along.

You had searched far and wide for what the cause of your sickness was‒ you had given too much yourself to too many people to pinpoint who you had such feelings for. Your nerves felt exposed to all, to everything all the time, pricked and pinched at any abstruse movement, washing over you like a bloody crusade everytime.

There was nothing written about in the dozens of books, articles, and lyrics you dug up that had said anything about familial love specifically, so it never struck you that it was even a possibility‒ besides‒ your mother loved you, didn't she?

But of course, the carnations‒ of course. Your love for her may have been alive, but so were these flowers, once. Before they were picked from your tendons and emptied from you as rubbish.

The absence of your piteous devotion to her plummeted your heart deep into the ocean abyss, your flesh weighted as a museum of that dance, the butchering of your body, marked up and down with lines which traced the shapes of jaws with surgical precision. If you could not be loved by the flesh which founded your own, surely, it would be a ludicrous dream to wish for any other being to love you at all, to take the weeping, patchwork meat of your body and consume it.

You want to get rid of all these carnations, give them all away at once. Take them, take them all. Yes, your mother would love these‒ yes or course they're a sign of eternal love, pure love‒ anything and everything that is alive, they would be a wonderful gift. You offer them as extras to people, suggest them instead of those beautiful roses or lilacs or lilies. These gifts were never a virtue, but a disguise for the womb of shame you kept awake in your heart. Take them, take it all. Take everything from me.

You smile, squeeze your eyes to mimic candor.

"No, I hate them."

His expression is like sand, shifting in a thousand ways. You try to inspect each grain of lustrous sand to feel how they shape around your words, but always, the waves. Wait here, you tell him, to go toss the flowers back into the decomposing earth to become the blood and body their children will sprout from.

You set some lavender tea and dandelion honey cakes on the table‒ the bareness of the table is odious to you, sways you with abhorrence. Even with it filled, you sign. "I'm sorry, I wish I had more to offer you."

"This is plenty." He signs. You avert your eyes from that soft smile, but the warmth that bubbles in your chest knows the angle of its curve, the way his mole stretches across his chin, the world in his eyes.

"So, what exactly are you looking for in the twins’ bouquet?”

He thinks, you know he folds his arms to do this. “I trust your tastes. You were always better at reading people than I was.”

“I…” You pause. Yes, the dance‒ breathing in the world raw. But part of it is remaining silent to that ripening wound. “I guess.”

“What do you suggest, then?”

“I think blue star would be great. Perhaps some ragwort, and I believe I have some dried sea lavender left from my aunt’s shop. Salvia would be great too, and some Zion, beauty berry as well.”

“What do they all mean?”

“Blue star and salvia mean trust‒ something they are bound by. Zion flowers signify that someone is thinking of you, even if they are far. And sea lavender lets someone know they are thinking of you. Beautyberry means a deep understanding. I can of course fill up the space with roses, some chrysanthemums, of course.”

Azul writes in his small pocketbook, scribbling your words across a page, then another, then another. He was always like this when you talked‒ recording the medicinal properties of plants, committing your sensitives to flowers with a fervor. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he was excited by your words, but you didn’t.

“Is it alright if I came and watched?”

“Watched?”

“Yes, if I came and watched you work on the twins’ bouquet.”

“It’s boring work, you would fall‒“

You feel your hands in his, your words quickly swallowed by the warmth of his palms. He speaks with softness which reaches deep within your ears, tingles the back of your neck.

“I think it’s quite brilliant, the way you work.”

You want to clasp your ears shut, squeeze your eyes until you see stars‒ knees tucked into your body, forming an embryo to protect yourself from those words. Your tongue shakes in your mouth. You want to scream at him. However to realize this rejection through your trembling fingers would be to deny him something, even if it was the mangled scraps which make your bundle of flesh. You'd keep this revolution plunged deep inside the heart of your whirling sea, a war raging at your marrow to keep the shores lush with anything he'd wish to take. Take it, take it all.

You're still for a moment. "Have it your way, then."

He smiles, but this time, you can't look away.

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When he comes a few days later, he brings tupperwares full of food.

"What's all this? A feast?" You see various dishes from the nights your mother brought you to perform at the Ashengrotto’s restaurant‒ fragrant steamed fish that falls off the bone, crunchy seaweed salad, steaming bowls of fish-broth soup, bursting with flavor.

“My mother’s recipes. Your favorite, at least from back then.” He remembers fondly of the times you would finish performing, joining him at the seat right beside him. You’d point to the aquatic plants, bring him to the magic and wonders of their chemistry, their mythos, your sensitivities to them, the world. He's shaped his shores against the curve of your gentle waves, your words always returning to his sandy beaches to leave a million gifts from the sea. This is this, this, and this. He'd hold each sparkling grain of sand, each seashell nymph like an exquisite pearl, cupping his ears to every single one to catch the whispers of eternity bundled in each of them. No matter how you would run yourself raw against jagged beaches and the maws of dark coves‒ he would remain a mirror to your sun faced sanctuaries, hoping that in this lifetime, you would realize that it was you‒ you all along‒ that he'd chased, parodying your brilliance to finally become himself.

His words almost bring you to tears. You gulp it down with the nausea that rises on your tongue, cindering the muscle with its heat.

"Why are you‒" your hands spit out these words in a fervor. "Why are you so fucking nice to me? What is all this?"

You hate the way his expression softens, the infinite arctic blue which melts against your image, the elation in your chest upon devouring such delectable things. It’s revolting.

"Because…" He begins out loud. There’s breath that swells his shoulders, before he gathers his fingers to a shaking fist, locking it under his chin.

Precious.

You swing your head left and right mutely, wrapping a hand around your neck as if to choke any sound that could be ripped from it. Still, it comes out like dried leaves, a strangled rasp, a whimper which rattles in your tightened throat. You hate how he pulls your trembling fingers from your skin, you hate it. But you let him.

His warmth comes as a cosmic storm stirring the oceans into inescapable waves. You were a fool to even try to shelter yourself from it‒ his tenderness beat against your form so loudly it hurt. You can’t pull away, your body does not let you.

Azul sees the fear that bruises your eyes, the way your chest lurches, in heaving, shuddering, controlled breaths to mathematically contain that terror inside of you. There’s a moment where he suspects himself to be the culprit, the distaste of his form, the vile nature of his weaknesses. But you had always consumed all of him, everything‒ his unsightly body, his awful shortcomings, all of the best and worst parts of himself with what surely was heavenly grace. Everything but his adoration for you, a mirror to your givings to the world, and most of all‒ him. This was something within.

He brings you to a seat, a cup of water to your hands. He lets you take time, sipping the moment in small gulps like the drink he sets in your hands. Silence, even with the lack of words exchanged between you two, was never something which was present when you were beside him. His mind always rushed with thoughts about you‒ all the more louder in the eight years you had been absent from his side. Even then, your likeness was always carved in the back of his mind, coming and going like a haunting oceanfront.

“Do you remember the first day we met?”

You remember. “Tell me.” You sign.

“You saved me from those awful kids, remember? I still got so scared of them I got ink everywhere. You were in such wonderful garments I didn’t want you to get dirty, so I told you to back off.”

His smile makes your own. He continues. “I was such a brat back then‒ even after you fended those kids off I told you to get away from me‒ ‘don’t come crying if I spoil your garments!’” A stiff chuckle escapes your nose as you remember the expression on his face. It was much like your own‒ frightened. “But you told me‒“

“Stain them, I don’t care.” Of course you remember. The surprise on his face, the stutter of his hands as you held them.

“Yes. We spent the whole day together. You took me to the shores for the first time, facing the field of‒ what was it?”

“Memorial roses.”

“Memorial roses. You told me they meant love for the honest form." He drags his gaze from his hands, and into your eyes. "I didn't even see the sun set when you talked about flowers the way you do. All my current knowledge of horticulture comes from you, you know.”

"Surely not all of it."

He shakes his head. "No, all of it. I've inscribed every word you've said to me in my mind and I've carried you with me all those years I spent toiling away in my octopot." The hand he rests on your own warms your fingers. "I have you written all over me."

You grip the heat of your throat, hands heavy as you raise them to retaliate, again. "No. Why would you want‒ ."

"I'm not. Why do you think so?" That softness, again, his eyes. Revolting.

You threw the words from your hands in frustration. Didn't he understand? "Why would you want someone like me to‒ to poison you?"

"I could say the same for myself. Why did you defend me that day?"

You remember the look in his eyes, the way he crouched low to the ocean floor in shame. "I saw myself in you. I couldn't‒"

"You couldn't bare it." He finishes.

"Yes, but you're different. With me, I'm not‒ I wasn't‒ "

"But you aren't different." There's a growing lump in his throat, frustration, heat‒ it rises with the volume of his voice, erupting raw at the back of his tongue. "Why won't you let me show you that you're worthy of the same treatment you give to the world?"

“How could I let you?" Your legs ascend from beneath you, your hands feel hot in the air as you flare them out from yourself, hurling them for Azul to see. "Look."

"Look at me." He would see, finally.

The nail of your thumb digs on your chin as your splayed hand sharply juts from your skin. It says, "My own mother".

You slip the ribbon from your throat, unraveling yourself in front of him. Azul sucks a tense breath in‒ you revel in it, your venerable mirror‒ it breaks against your old stitches, bringing you an ineffable bloom inside your chest. You don’t know if it's pleasure or pain which tightens it, but you feel as living, as chemical, as whole as a flourishing chrysanthemum‒ blazing your florid petals every which way, splitting the bud in a thousand directions. Here is proof. You lay yourself out, to him, flay your fragmentation against his eyes. The wounds burn fresh the air. This was your wish, wasn’t it? Still, the seafoam bursting against your skin, the ache, in waves. You hold the emptiness in your hand triumphantly, or, you try to.

He looks when you tell him to, of course, but the softness in his eyes tightens your chest. He's silent for a moment, thinking. "Aright." Finally, he speaks.

"Will you make a contract with me?"

"...what?"

"A contract. Will you make one with me?"

Your knees fall from you when you lean towards the table in support, seating you in the chair across from him. You open your arms, facing your palms towards him, empty, silent.

"I don't have anything I could trade you."

He reaches towards your emptiness, filling it with his warmth. "Then give me this. If you have nothing, grant me you."

You bring his heat near your face, hoping to harbor‒ at least‒ next to it. You won't take it, you couldn't. The fear laps upon you like stormy waves, it's force tearing your fingers from his. "I don't have enough of myself to give you."

"This." He replenishes the absence in your hands again. "This is more than enough‒ it will always be enough." It's a firm grip, it quells the tremble in your body slightly.

"So, will you make a contract with me?"

Hesitantly, you nod.

He guides you towards the shop window where the flowers swill in the moonlight, violet chrysanthemums shining pearly, plump with their honeyed sap. He slips one between his fingers, holds it between the two of you. "I lied when I said I only liked these. When you tell me of promises of success, of love‒ I feel like I can crack open this world with my bare hands. I don’t just like it‒ everything that comes from from you soars my soul."

He continues, bashfully. You feel filled with his words. "You're my ocean, the waters that shape my shores. You've always been where I belong, and what comes back to me to mold me to what I am even after your physical absence." The heat of his hands feel like fire on your skin as he pulls it towards his own. "This is a contract, a promise. Will you let love victor over you?"

You trace that spot on his face as he smiles, you find the small way that it curves mirrored on your own lips. You drink in his smile, returning it with your own; you breathe his scent in, exhale with the breath in your lungs that stirs his and yours‒ you mold yourself against him like you've done so many times against gnashing teeth and jagged seaside cliffs, but this time, your rolling waves kiss warmly against his sun faced sanctuaries, melding together to refract the light in your joint tenderness. The feeling begins as a seed he implants in your chest, pressed firmly against your heart, and you feel it slowly burst open when it is showered in his gaze, his touch, all of him against all that you can muster‒ an ineffable thing, a bloom which you could never put into words, even with the language of whispering flowers and the spectacular earth. It comes in heaping waves like the tears that draw flushed lines on your face. He takes all which falls from you in his hands, staining his hands with the salty fragrance.

"Stop that. I'll get your hands all dirty."

"Stain them, I don't care."

You sob, you smile harder. The tears make it impossible to neurotically measure the twinge of his muscles, the shape of his expression. But you don't think of this, filled with the knowledge of his tenderness, the precise shape of his smile, the softness of his seaborne eyes that fossilize deep within you. "You know I'll be difficult. I always am."

"And you know this about me to, don't you? But this feeling for you comes as easy as water to me."

It's true what he says, you feel like you're floating‒ weightless in the mild seas, drinking in the sunlight which trickles from the skies. Waves upon waves of this brilliance that tilts the light a thousand ways for you to admire. The chrysanthamum petals seem to widen with his warmth, the same unraveling comes bursting, flowering forward in your chest. Victory of love. It comes not as a whisper this time, but loudly as the beat of your blood. You feel it within you, that victory. At last you hold it in your hands, and it shines and lusters like a brilliant peal seeped into each of its petals, blooming forward with all of its love. You allow yourself place the flower in his hair, decorating his face with your love, your victory.

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Notes:

All sign language is based off of American Sign Language

Part of the reason why I wanted to use hanakotoba (Japanese flower language) rather than western meanings for flowers was not only because I was more familiar with it, but because the twins I believe are Asian coded. The Octavinelle dorm is seen as the "yakuza" one (Japanese controlled crime syndicate), since they demand those Azul signs contracts with to pay the price, whether through general intimidation, or just straight up physical violence. Tweels also unfortunately sort of fit into the 'Asian twins' stereotype seen in Disney media (Siamese cats in Artisocats), but their overall design (ie eye shape and bristle-y, straight hair) fit into a pseudo Asian look. You know, as much as the fictional land of twisted wonderland will allow. But either way, I think it would be cool to see different species of seafolk have different cultures, and I think sirens in particular would have their own beliefs, systems, and traditions connected to verbal storytelling.

Not entirely sure if this is the case in the western world, but the east is very sensitive about numerology‒ so “bad” numbers are usually avoided when picking out the number of flowers to give to someone.

Chthonic gods are gods connected to the underworld

Carnations were used in coronation garlands for the Romans

Christians believed that it was the flower that sprouted from Mary's tears after the crucifixion of Jesus

Also associated with Artemis, who gouged a shepherd's eyes out because she blamed his flute playing for the lack of game that day. Therefore, they are a symbol of innocent bloodshed

Carnis, the word which is speculated the word carnation comes from, also means flesh. The genus name Dianthus comes from Zeus, connecting it to his daughter Artemis' story

Memorial Rose (ノイバラ) : In the western world, it is often a symbol of wisdom or talent, used often on literary and musical symbolism by writers such as Goethe. But in Japan, it symbolizes "love for the raw/honest form", as it is usually a wild flower that grows in the plains. Modest, but lovely. In Japan it is also called the ノイバラ or "thorn of the plains", so this modest but definitely still packs a punch. Just like Azul lol

Also often grows in the coasts

Omg I just noticed all of the fics I have written has had a toxic maternal parental figure don’t worry I’ll even it out soon lol

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