#singing songbird (aria)

[m3chanical-rhythm]

Closed starter | @bionicparrot

Aria had been working tirelessly on restoring this old world robot graciously gifted to her care; hours every day were devoted to studying old world builds, painstakingly replicating every detail she could recover from the memory bank as close as possible with the recourses available to her. The results were well worth it, with the robot now completed and looking brand new, like the day she was first activated. Changes could be made if she so wished, but Aria would give her time to make that decision on her own.

Each step of the way, Aria was respectful and careful with how she handled her. She had been a living robot just like herself once, after all, and Aria treated her as such. This was the first time she'd worked on an intact model--let alone one that had been so well preserved--and she was equal parts excited and anxious to finally be reactivating her. She had no idea how the robot before her would react to waking up in a new time and place unfamiliar to her, or if she would even want to remain in it. But, whatever her wishes, Aria would honor them. No matter how long it took for her to make them, or how it made herself feel.

But all of that could be faced when the time came. Right now, it was the moment of truth; the first activation since restoration.

Wires hang down from the ports in the back of the bot's neck and connect to monitors, looking like the branches of webs befitting of the model's apparent arachnid inspiration. With one final look over the young(?) lady fast asleep on the med table, Aria entered the command that would begin feeding her new core the energy it would need to come to life.

And now, all there was left to do was wait for her to open her eyes.

[vmp3ater]

𖤐 sing me a song, my songbird

pairing. robin x gn! reader

warnings. dom! reader, sub! robin, teasing, lap sex, fingering, robin being desperate, nipple play, slight biting but nothing too rough. written by a minor.

notes. first oneshot 😍 may b the last thing for a while, i’m out of ideas…

word count. 1.1k

you had always liked it when robin would sing arias for you when she was under your touch, just like hearing her velvety voice in her songs that everyone in the cosmos heard. but you—and only you—get to hear her voice like this alone.

she’s atop your lap, cold hands on either side of your face as she kisses you. her dress has already been stripped off of her, as well as any of her undergarments, only leaving her in nothing as she felt the tips of your fingers slide along her hips and waist ever so slightly, tongues dancing in both of your mouths.

you couldn’t help that purr you let out while you kiss robin, and she arches so eagerly into your touch, hands moving down from your face to your neck. and when you both pull back, a string of saliva connects between both of your tongue, panting heavily for breath after such a long kiss

her plush thighs straddle the sides of your own thighs, hands resting on your shoulders as you tease the inner of her thighs with the backs of your fingers, nails softly grazing the skin ever so slightly as you watched her whimper and squirm above you, a smirk painting across your face.

“s-stop teasing,” robin whimpers, her fingers clawing into your shoulders. “n-need your fingers inside me…”

“aw, poor girl,” your mock, your middle finger drawing a line along her exposed cunt, just to tease her. and when your finger grazes her puffy clit, she can’t help that whine that escapes from her. “i just wanna keep teasing you…”

when your hand moves in between her folds, the pads of your fingers move between her cunt but they didn’t even make it near the places where she needed you to be the most. robin’s desperation takes over her, and she grinds her hips onto your hand, trying to get something, anything, from you or your hand.

her cunt was just so silky smooth, like her voice, her skin—seeing the idol in such a state only blazed a fire through your body you never knew you could feel. robin’s slick coats your hand, cunt throbbing against you when you continue teasing her, moving your hand down to her entrance, but not sliding in yet.

robin was just too distracted on rutting her cunt against your hand and trying to get your fingers inside of her, she didn’t even notice that your fingers slipped inside her cunt, both of your middle and ring fingers at once, and she can’t help that gasp that escapes from her. you let her adjust to the burning feeling of your fingers inside of her, stroking her walls ever so slightly as she winces above you.

“please, please—“ robin whimpers, grinding down on your hand ever so slightly to try and get you to move.

“patience, princess.” you gently scold her, smirking while you brushed one of her soft white wings behind her ears with the backs of your fingers, enticing a soft whine from the idol above you.

once you believed she had gotten used to the feeling of your two fingers deep inside her, you start to thrust those fingers in and out of her, sinful squelching sounds and her pretty moans filling the room, letting your hand run along her thigh, her nails claw into your shoulders ever so slightly, whimpering when she feels you pepper kisses along her neck.

when the pads of your fingers drag along her sweet spot, she breathily moans out loud while you’re still peppering kisses at her neck, occasionally moving down to her collarbone. you cant help those quiet groans you let out when she lets out all her pretty sounds, shifting in pitch ever so slightly when you curiously ghost your thumb over her clit, rubbing it in small circles.

“more, please—“ robin gasps, but her words are only cut off when she feels you stop kissing her neck and start kissing around the areola of her nipple, not even putting your mouth on her nipple yet. your fingers don’t slow nor stop; rather they only pick up in pace when you tease her nipple.

robin winces when your warm tongue makes contact with her nipple, licking a stripe along the bud swiftly, before you wrap your lips around it, suckling at it, her nipple sky high with sensitivity as her moans and whines become more high pitched.

the way you’d suck at her nipple would only add on to her pleasure—every time you’d suck her nipple would only send sharp white hot jolts of pleasure through her body, holding your head closer and wings covering her face as she grinds down onto your hand, feeling the pleasure she was feeling grow more intense, and you both knew that she was getting close.

“oh!— m’ so close,” robin managed to whimper out, such desperation filling her voice as she feels your teeth graze her nipple slightly, only making her wince and grind more into you, too high in pleasure to properly establish a rhythm.

your movements alone told her that she was allowed to cum, and she didn’t even know she was chanting out your name repeatedly when her orgasm was building up, voice shifting in pitch and getting raspier while you tried to bring her to an orgasm to the best of your ability. her cunt flutters around your fingers, holding your head further toward her as your cheeks heat up under her.

this whole scene felt so intimate to you, the way she was holding your head closer to her bare tit while you suckled on her nipple, the way her wings brushed against your head while your fingers worked their magic inside of her, her orgasm building up sooner than you have ever imagined.

she knows how much you love her music, her sweet singing voice, and she loves it when you take control of her, trying to be as loud as she can so that you can hear her sing for you under your touch. you were more than happy to have her as your partner, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when she cums, she cums so hard that she swore she saw stars. her thighs shake like a leaf when her orgasm takes over her, trying to work her through her orgasm to the best of your ability, aggressively sucking on her nipple while she uses her other hand to fondle herself, fingers pinching her nipple as she releases herself all over your fingers.

robin thought that her orgasm would go on for years, if not forever, but it eventually came to a halt, riding her high off your fingers and wriggling away from the overstimulation. when she finishes, you move your mouth off of her tit, a string of saliva connecting to your tongue and her nipple while you drag your fingers out of her, enticing a final moan from the idol.

this was a concert to remember, and you know her voice will be stuck in your head for many weeks to come.

[pupsmailbox]

MUSIC ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. adagio. adam. adria. adrian. adriane. aero. alex. alice. angus. ann. anthony. ari. aria. ariane. ariette. avril. axl. bill. billie. billy. bohemia. bon. brad. brian. bruce. cade. cadence. cadentia. cantrelle. charlie. cher. chester. chordelle. chordette. chordiene. chrissie. christine. cliff. crescenette. crescenne. cresciene. danny. dave. david. dolce. dolcette. dolciene. dolciette. don. doremi. duff. dusty. eddie. ensemblette. enslette. eric. fleetwood. florance. floyd. forte. frank. freddie. geddy. geezer. gene. george. ginger. glenn. grace. gregg. halen. harmonette. harmonie. harmony. harp. hayley. helena. iggy. izzy. jack. jimi. jimmy. joe. john. keith. krist. kurt. larry. liam. lindsey. lyric. lyrical. mac. malcolm. maynard. medley. meliene. melodie. melodiette. melody. micheal. mick. mitch. muse. musette. musine. nancy. neal. neil. nick. nicko. nicky. noel. note. notesie. notesy. octavia. orchestrae. orchestraette. orchestraine. ozzy. paul. pear. pete. peter. phil. randy. rick. ringo. robert. roger. ronnie. rosa. rose. sabbath. serj. sonata. sonette. songbird. songesse. songette. songstress. sonia. sonnet. steve. steven. stevie. symphonia. symponiette. thom. tim. tom. tony. treble. viola. violette. violiene. zack. zeppelin.

PRONOUNS ⌇　aero/aero. band/band. base/base. beat/beat. black/black. blink/blink. chili/chili. crash/crash. cream/cream. cure/cure. door/door. dor/doremi. dru/drum. drum/drum. eagle/eagle. electric/electric. flu/flute. flute/flute. for/forte. forte/forte. guitar/guitar. gun/gun. har/harp. heart/heart. hot/hot. iron/iron. jam/jam. journey/journey. jump/jump. ke/key. kiss/kiss. la/lala. loud/loud. ly/lyric. machine/machine. maiden/maiden. mel/melody. metal/metal. mu/muse. mu/music. muse/muse. music/music. nirvana/nirvana. no/note. noe/note. note/note. oasis/oasis. oct/octave. pearl/pearl. pepper/pepper. perform/perform. pi/piano. pia/piano. piano/piano. pink/pink. queen/queen. radio/radio. rage/rage. red/red. reverb/reverb. rhy/rhythm. riff/riff. rock/rock. rose/rose. rush/rush. scorpion/scorpion. scream/scream. shred/shred. sing/sing. soe/song. soe/sonnet. sol/sola. song/song. spike/spike. stone/stone. string/string. stud/stud. tempo/tempo. tre/treble. treble/treble. trumpet/trumpet. tu/tune. tuba/tuba. tune/tune. vio/violin. vocal/vocal. yell/yell. 🎤. 🎧. 🎵. 🎶. 🎷. 🎸. 🎹. 🎻. 🎼. 💥. 📹. 🔊. 🔋. 🔌. 🗯️. 🤘. 🥁. 🧑🏻‍🎤.

[heartshapedbubble]

omg i was answering this req and when i saved it to my drafts I COULDN'T EDIT IT??? so i deleted it in hopes to remake it BUT THE ASK WAS GONE fuck you tumblr :(( im so sorry anon you know who you are

aesop carl, qi shiyi and frederick kreiburg w/ a singer s/o hcs⚰️🪈🎼

aesop carl⚰️

...you'd have to do most of the initiation with him. aesop carl is not impolite, not at all, but the crippling anxiety overcoming him makes it hard to go beyond a "hello" or any other introduction. he has a lot of nice things to say to you, romantic even, but during the first couple of months you'll have to basically yank them out of him

aesop is horrible with words, and would rather just hide away and hope you notice how he feels about you. in his eyes, the simple things he does with you - small talk, exchanges of handkerchiefs and drinks by the table, midnight walks when everyone's asleep - are acts of confessing his love. to him, trust equals love, and love equals assistance and communication.

something that he's even more afraid, though, is singing. talking can be quiet, unnoticeable, blending in with everyday noises, but singing is always noticeable. the change of pitch can be caught even by an untrained ear, and the ensuing confrontation, to him, is terrifying.

you fascinate him, a lot. unlike him, you're not afraid to set your voice free, letting it echo through the room and spin around you like a ribbon. kind of like an aura, it attracts passerbys and always leaves them standing in awe, even if it's just for a minute. that kind of confidence is impressive, and he himself finds it rather enchanting.

as you train your voice on the podium, enjoying yourself and twirling around in your flowy robes as if there's nobody around, the last thing that's on your mind right now is a potential secret admirer somewhere nearby. the secret admirer being aesop, of course. he's crouching in one of the loges, partly sick to the stomach because someone might walk in on - or even worse, you may notice - him, partly enjoying your outstanding performance.

qi shiyi🪈

she thinks you two make for a pretty nice duet ;)

you two clash at moments, as she enjoys and is used to the more "formal" arts such as opera and your field of interest is musicals, but overall she's enarmored by your talent and your charisma. jazz, rock, ballad or aria, a strong voice does not go unnoticed.

once she softens up to you, you'll notice just how much she enjoys your voice. as you comb her hair, she asks you to sing something for her. when you two are fast asleep, her head is on your chest, listening to your soft hums as she's lulled to sleep. calls you her songbird as she wraps her arm around your waist and spins you around in your brand new costume.

here and there she'll dust off her old flute and play a nostalgic melody or two. it's even better when enrichened with your singing, and it motivates her to jump back on her feet and do a little three-step as she plays

frederick kreiburg🎼

he's not a wunderkind, but being surrounded by music from a young age he has quite the trained ear. he can quickly differentiate between a powerful mezzosoprano and a rich, dark alto. a lot of insinuations and jokes have been made behind your back about how you two are perfect for each other, but he just rolls his eyes, not bothering with empty gossip.

thanks to the unisolated manor walls, at one point he'll hear some vocal exercises coming from your room

am i losing my mind again? he thinks to himself, looking around in wonder. he stays in the hallway for a little longer, trying to find the source of this haunting voice - and it will take time, oh, indeed, but eventually he'll knock on your door and unintentionally kick off your relationship

as expected, he enjoys playing alongside you. motivating him to crack his knuckles and sit in front of the piano again is hard, but the both of you know your irresistible smile will not leave him any other choice....

mostly picks out german lieder from his collection of sheet music, but of course, adapts to your wishes - something more energetic works great as a warm up

he's the happiest when he performs alongside you on the podium. nothing makes his face light up like when he watches you sing from behind the piano, gesturing towards the audience and slowly dancing to the composition unraveled by his fingers, basking under the golden spotlight.

[prosciuttulipa]

I saw that your requests for JJK are open. Can I get an opera singer girlfriend headcanon for Geto?💃💋

Geto Suguru with an Opera Singer Girlfriend

tw: slight angst at the end (because it's Geto Suguru), but otherwise none.

a/n: This is my first time writing for JJK, so do let me know if you have any feedback or comments!

Geto Suguru likes to think that if he hadn't become a jujutsu sorcerer, he would've pursued something in the arts. Perhaps he would've become an author, or a sculptor. But he's made up his mind to be a jujutsu sorcerer, and so art remains a hobby to him.

Nevertheless, he holds creatives in high regard. He's under no illusion that an art career is difficult, and he admires the consistency and courage it requires. Geto finds it freeing to watch an artist create or perform—it feels like watching birds fly overhead.

Opera is an art he doesn't have a lot of experience with, so he queries about it often at the start of your relationship. How did you get into opera? What do you love about it? Do you have a favourite singer, or aria? Do you have a dream role? He enjoys learning about the art form, but even more so the bright expression on your face as you talk about it.

He asks Satoru for help. Going to the opera was part of Satoru's fancy Gojo clan upbringing, and Suguru pesters Satoru for any knowledge he has on the art. Satoru is unfortunately useless (he always fell asleep during it), but he helps by using the Gojo name to procure free opera tickets.

He makes it a habit to carry extra lozenges for you. Suguru has them for when his cursed technique takes a toll on his throat and tongue. But he's started associating them more with you, when you steal his candies to soothe your throat after practice. He sneaks a few into your bag, just to be safe.

He also brings you warm drinks whenever you meet up. When his throat hurts he tends to chew on ice, but he's heard that's bad for singers. If you have a favourite hot beverage, he makes it a point to always get it for you.

Suguru calls you "my songbird", as a pet name. He uses it when you're feeling a bit insecure about your talent, wanting to cheer you up. "Won't you sing me a tune, my songbird? You have such a pretty voice." If you need an extra laugh, he'll reference the Phantom of the Opera, putting on a dramatic voice: "Sing for me, my Angel of Music! Sing for me!"

As a date idea, you decide to teach him how to sing an opera duet. Suguru isn't very confident in his singing, but he lets you try to coach him. He's somewhere between a tenor and a baritone, according to your observations. His cursed technique actually means he's great at controlling his throat, so he's less inclined to strain his voice.

Unless he's away on a mission and can't physically be there, he'll attend all of your performances. You get a bouquet of flowers after every performance, and a kiss to your cheek as he murmurs praise into your ear. If he's unable to make it, you get a good luck text beforehand, his bouquet of flowers sent directly to your changing room instead.

He asks you to sing him to sleep after particularly stressful missions. Suguru doesn't enjoy opening up about being a jujutsu sorcerer—he'd much rather keep that part of his life away from you—but he still wishes to seek comfort, in his own way. The way he usually does this is by lying his head in your lap, or asking you about the songs you practiced that day. When you answer, he'll express an interest in hearing an excerpt, quickly falling asleep to your voice when you oblige.

My pretty girl with a pretty voice. What else could a man ask for, songbird? Don't be shy. I love hearing you sing.

[onedappercat]

Why Does the Ortolan Sing?

Chapters 26 - 27

Uncensored art available at the end of chapter 27

Excerpt from chapter twenty-seven:

Crowley was grinning down at him with a long, thin, sensual smirk. Azira’s chest rose and fell so rapidly he would have thought he’d been running. He couldn’t draw enough air through his nose, dropping his lips apart and gasping in air as his eyes grew wide. He was locked in Crowley’s Medusa’s stare once more — his entire body as hard as a rock. Crowley slid his hands down Azira’s sides, stopping at his knees to pull his legs open, shoving Azira’s thighs back so far they reached his chest. Crowley's gravelly growl of a song continued its aria through Azira’s mind, permeating his brain as Crowley’s body had already done. 

I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight. Lie still, close your eyes boy. So lovely, it feels so right...

He didn’t see Crowley move, but felt him penetrate him once more. Crowley leaned forward, laying against Azira as he began his thrusts at an even faster tempo than before. Azira gasped, the friction of the rope, the feel of Crowley’s weight on his chest and the pressure of his penetration, the erotic drone of his singing voice, and his desperation to be consumed becoming more than he could bear. 

I want to hold you close, soft breath, beating heart. As I whisper in your ear…

Crowley leaned close, Azira trembling under him, his body near to bursting in desire and hellfire. Crowley’s voice sounded softly in his ear, a sexual hiss sending his already burning desire into an inferno. “I wanna fucking tear you apart.”

Continue reading from chapter twenty-six here.

Summary:

Following his mother’s death, Azira sets out to prepare his family’s bookshop for reopening. While appreciating the shop’s new sign, he hears the beckon of a siren’s song sounding from the coffee shop over the road. He succumbs to temptation to find the source of the hypnotic voice is an auburn-haired songbird. Intrigued by the singer’s beauty and haunted by his apparent loneliness, Azira is determined to introduce himself. There’s only one problem: the musician’s menacing, jealous, and possessive partner.

CW: Domestic abuse, loss of a loved one, adultery, toxic relationship, murder, blood, organized crime

@goodomensafterdark

[yourdarlingness]

✦　Classical Musical ~ themed　NPT

╰　DAY 2 of @rumblepumm ' s event !

NAMES ︙　adagio . adriane . adria . adrian . aria . ariane . ariette . ari . sonata . sonia . sonnet / sonette . crescenne . crescenette . cresciene . dolce . dolciene . dolc(i)ette . ensemblette / enslette . chordelle . chordiene . chordette . cadence . cade . melody . melodie . meliene . melodiette . harmony . harmonie . harmonette . symphonia . symponiette . orchestraine . orchestrae(tte) . cadentia . lyric . note . notesy . notesie . doremi . viola . violette . violiene . harp . songbird

PRNS ︙　mu / music . la / lala . mu / muse . soe / song . pia / piano . tu / tune . noe / note . soe / sonnet . doe / dor / doremi . sol / sola . ke / key . vi / vio / violin . har / harp . 🎹 . 🎧 . 🎵 . 🎶 . 🎼 . 🎻

TITLES ︙　the conductor of music . the orchestrator . the lover of music . prn who appreciates the classics . the classical beauty . the mastermind behind the lyrics . prn who orchestrated masterpieces . the greatest musician . prns timeless pieces/music . the maestro of the orchestra . the songbird . the song of the [x] . the [x]'s melody . prns beautiful symphony . the maiden of melody/harmony/symphony . the composer of masterpieces . prn who sings lullabies . the [x]'s sweet songs

dolce — Italian musical term ; to play softly or with a light touch

[x] can be replaced with any nouns or terms you prefer

The angel's melody

The song of the zombie

The vampire's sweet songs

[goodomensafterdark]

Writers Guild Presents - Why Does the Ortolan Sing? Chapters 2 - 6

Written by OneDapperCat on our subreddit!

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Following his mother’s death, Azira sets out to prepare his family’s bookshop for reopening. While appreciating the shop’s new sign, he hears the beckon of a siren’s song sounding from the coffee shop over the road. He succumbs to temptation to find the source of the hypnotic voice is an auburn-haired songbird. Intrigued by the singer’s beauty and haunted by his apparent loneliness, Azira is determined to introduce himself. There’s only one problem: the musician’s menacing, jealous, and possessive partner.

CW: Domestic abuse, loss of a loved one, adultery, toxic relationship, murder, blood, organized crime

Content warning for these chapters: implied domestic abuse, loss of a loved one

Excerpt from chapter two:

Heaven help us… Be my compass…

Those nearly yellow eyes glanced up once more, and Azira couldn’t help feeling like they were locked specifically on his own. He dropped his hands into his lap, his lips slightly parting, drawn into Crowley’s eyes, like a snake being charmed, as the corner of the crooner’s mouth slightly twitched.

Out of darkness… cause I’m a fallen angel… finding my way back home…

Once again, meeting the songbird’s golden gaze made Azira feel as though the world around them faded out of existence, leaving only the singer on his stool and Azira in his chair. The words of his song were passing between them, like whispers between lovers. He could imagine those perfect lips brushing against his ear, his hushed aria meant only for Azira. There was something else beyond the suffocating sensuality of his voice — something extremely familiar.

I’m just an angel that’s fatally lost… I tried to be something I know that I’m not…

Sadness. Azira felt overwhelming sadness bearing down on him, as though the burden the songbird carried on his own shoulders was being passed over to him. It felt like a desperate cry for help that the bookseller desired nothing more than to answer. He wasn’t just looking upon a singing songbird, but a caged one. Yet why would a caged bird sing so beautifully? Another thing about the mysterious man that he needed to know.

I danced with the devil and I’m so ashamed… Too far down the road to go back where I came…

Continue from chapter two on ao3…

Or start with chapter one.

[opera-ghosts]

Edith Helena - Verdi: Il TROVATORE, Tacea la notte placida, 1913 High E-flat

THE SONGBIRD: Edith Helena (1876–1956) was born in Brooklyn as Edith Helen Seymour, however her stage name became the Italian-sounding Edith Helena. Her mother had been a singer for the Mapleson company and her grandfather was an actor. Helena's rise to fame came through vaudeville from 1902 to 1909, where she specialized in high florid singing and violin imitations (performing melodies in a high, smooth vocalise style -- you can find a few of these novelty recordings posted on YouTube.). In 1910 she joined the Aborn Grand Opera Company and toured until 1917 singing roles such as Gilda, Violetta, Lucia, and Martha, as well as Aida, Butterfly, and Elsa of Brabant. Helena sang leading roles with the Century Opera Company from 1918 to 1921 and then returned to vaudeville until she retired in 1929.

THE MUSIC: Verdi's "Il Trovatore" premiered in Rome in 1853 and became his most popular opera for decades. There were 229 productions worldwide in the three years following its premiere. It still considered a staple of the standard repertoire and ranks 22nd on the list of most performed operas worldwide according to Operabase.com. Leonora, the prima donna, is a noble woman who falls in love with the troubadour Manrico, which inflames the jealous Count di Luna. Her first aria is the dreamy "Tacea la notte placida," which is followed by a perky and somewhat pecky florid cabaletta "Di tale amor." The score tops out at High C, but Helena throws in a High E-flat, just for good measure!

[writeyouin]

Preview of the next fic - Music of the Night - Part 2

“As a reward,” Megatron said loftily once the cheering had died down, “I had Laserbeak bring you a gift.”

Megatron turned pointedly to you, tapping your cage just enough to make it wobble.

“Enjoy your new pet, I assure you it’s quite the songbird. Provided it gives up plenty of entertainment, it will be allowed to live. However, should it refuse to sing, it shall be put down,” Megatron grinned pointedly at you.

So, that was why they wanted you. You were just a ploy at entertainment to them.

“YOU HEARD OUR MASTER, SING!” Starscream cajoled you.

You slowly pulled your guitar into your lap, cuddling it for a moment for comfort. This wasn’t real – it couldn’t be; it was all too insane.

Starscream approached the cage menacingly, revealing a large electric prod he had been hiding behind his back. “Didn’t you hear my order, you pathetic little wretch? I said sing.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you thought that you might cry, or faint, neither of which would save your life. Throughout your life, you had gang for many reasons. You had chirped cheerful tunes, sung sad serenades, poured your heart into romantic arias, and belted out soulful symphonies. You had been paid to sing for weddings and funerals, birthdays, and festivals. You had played on the street for all to hear, and in the dead of night when it was just you and the moonlight; you had never had to sing to save your life before.

[heroinejinx]

‘One Fine Day’ - Songbird, part 1 of 6 (Seraphine x Jinx AU)

So, um... I have a new rarepair hyperfixation. Definitely didn’t write this when I should’ve been focusing on uni work due in less than 2 weeks, what’re you talking about? 

Anyway, Seraphine is an aspiring popstar working full time in her father’s music store, Songbird. Life is good but kinda lonely, and then Jinx comes along...

Chapter title, ‘One Fine Day,’ is based on the song by The Carpenters.

Also, big shout out, love and kisses to my handsome wife Babs (@lesbian-batman)who beta’d for me <3 love youuuuu

TW: extreme cuteness and fluff. That is all. 

(1,181 words)

AO3 link

Enjoy!

Dreamy vintage pop drifted through the music store’s speakers, bringing life to the rainy Zaun afternoon outside. The takings from the morning were low, especially for a Friday, and the bout of bad weather had driven away any hope of more sales. Might as well have closed up for the day, there and then.

Seraphine idled behind the counter, passing the time by singing along to each song, adding her own trills and high notes where she felt like it. While she belted out tune after tune, she doodled flowers and love hearts on the notepad allocated for ‘work purposes only.’

Her father would’ve flipped his lid if he found out how Seraphine spent her downtime at the store. Songbird was his pride and joy, in part because he’d named it in honour of his daughter, his only child. He’d called her Songbird ever since she was born; said even her crying sounded like an aria.

She took great care of the store for him, of course, but he wouldn’t have approved of her methods. There’s always something to do around here, he’d say. Make yourself useful instead of daydreaming. As a former rockstar and current sound technician for one of Runeterra’s most famous bands, he was hardly one to talk; he dreamed of success back then, just like she did now. Whilst he had the freedom to make his dreams come true, he’d also seen how the music industry corrupted people. He didn’t want the same for her, no matter how much she protested. Since he’d left to join K/DA on tour, she found herself shackled to the store with almost no time to pursue what she loved most.

Music...

Seraphine strived for the spotlight. Over the past couple of years, she had played dozens of open mic nights and gigs at small venues and clubs. Her reach and popularity grew every day. In the last month alone, she’d gained over five thousand new followers on social media and music streaming platforms. It was only a matter of time before a scout from a record company realised her potential and scooped her up.

Until then, life ticked by. Eight ‘til late at Songbird six days a week; studio recordings in the evenings, or at the weekend if she could find someone to mind the store; writing sessions crammed in wherever and whenever she found the time and inspiration. It was hard work, but anything regarding music barely felt like work at all. Music occupied all of her time, mind, and heart. It informed every aspect of her life, even her relationships.

To Seraphine, people were like songs. She’d never tried to explain it to anyone else – had met no one who would’ve understood – but everyone had a melody to them. Strangers gave off waves, impressions. At first, most people sounded like white noise or a continuous low-fi beat. She had to know someone on a deeper level to really hear them; for them to feel open enough to let her listen. It was a long time since she’d gotten close like that.

Between running the store and cultivating her fledgling pop career, she had no social life. Most of the people she’d met through music were acquaintances, transactional connections. In a crowd of fair-weather friends, voices blurred and distorted in the din. Everyone sounded the same.

Seraphine gazed out upon the shop floor filled with CDs, vinyls, and cassette tapes, with no one around to take them home and play them loud like they deserved. A cold loneliness seeped into her soul. She hated days like those, nothing to do but entertain herself and ignore the boredom itching beneath her skin. Music was a lovely companion, but sometimes she needed more than it could give.

With a wistful sigh, she tore off the decorated page of the notepad. Tacked it onto her father’s cork board of concert leaflets, old photographs, music lesson advertisements, and Janna knew what else. The cheerful rumblings of a new song played overhead, as she picked up her favourite bubble-gum pink gel pen, the same colour as her hair, and started on a new page. She drew a dainty love heart so cute she couldn’t help but beam with joy.

Admiring her creation, she didn’t look up when the bell chimed for a new customer. No one had come in for at least two hours; she was out of work mode, in her own little world. Chances were, they wouldn’t need her help, anyway. They were probably stepping out of the downpour, grabbing shelter where they could. It happened a lot around that time of year, heading into fall. So, she ignored the customer’s presence. Even kept singing, albeit under her breath.

‘Hey, do you have any other Bikini Kill records in store?’

Wow, that voice...

Seraphine met the customer’s eye immediately, desperate to find the owner of such an instrument. A petite young woman glared back at her with quizzical impatience, waving a copy of the band’s 1993 album, Pussy Whipped. A navy boiler suit dwarfed her frame, while ocean blue braids swung around her booted feet, frayed and scruffy like they’d been under a hat all day. She had the most distinctive eye colour Seraphine had ever seen. They weren’t quite purple or pink, but some inscrutable shade between the two. Under the store’s artificial light, the colours seemed to switch and swirl.

The music of Bikini Kill seemed to suit her aesthetic, raw and full of rage at the world in that feminist punk rock way, but there was more to her than that. Something unreadable lurked behind those ever-changing irises. Rather than the white noise of a typical stranger, she was a mess of pitch and frequency; a cluster of songs overlapping and battling each other.

What an enchanting cacophony of a person...

Seraphine yearned to hear more, to know everything about this captivating woman. What was her name, her story, her purpose? What were her fears and dreams and fondest memories? Did she have family in Zaun, or was she from out of town? What did she do for work and in her spare time? Did she have a lover? What was her type? Did she like girls...?

‘Well? Do you?’ She spoke again, raspy and sweet. A smoker’s rasp, no doubt.

The image of her posed with a cigarette between her plump, open lips, danced across Seraphine’s mind before she could stop it.

Blushing and hot all over, Seraphine shyly shook her head in reply and returned to the comfort of the notepad.

Janna, it was all so surreal. She had never felt so compelled by a person, and from such a tiny interaction, no less. She couldn’t follow this woman’s song at all, and she... well, she loved it.

‘Okay... I’ll be back.’

With that, the new object of Seraphine’s fascination turned heel and left.

She thumped her head onto the counter and groaned. All she could do was hope that she wouldn’t miss the next visit. And, if the woman bought something, maybe Seraphine might catch her name?

[m3chanical-rhythm]

Closed starter | @machinesandman

Aria had gotten the message from Shadow that he was coming over in a little while, and quickly wrapped up her work. Closing up her notes and putting her monitor to sleep, she dashed out of the lab to get changed. She always appreciated when he gave her a heads up, even if they were engaged now. His politeness always softened her core a little, even after all this time.

Her quick change was a simple one; leaving her lab coat hanging just inside the lab doors, putting her armor into subspace and slipping a sweater and leggings on for some comfort and decency. Aria entered her living room just as the sensation of his presence made itself known in her core. She paused for a moment, with a hand over her core panel and a soft smile on her face. Would she ever get used to that? Part of her hoped she didn't.

'Come on in. Please excuse the mess.'

The "mess" she spoke of was hardly as such, just a few datapads and books on the coffee table and some dishes not put away yet. When he appeared, Aria faced him with a bright smile.

"Good evening, love." She strolled closer, leaning up on her toes to give him a kiss. "How are you?"

[shrewish-by-nature]

Before one tries to reproach—

think of sweet summer air

think of gummy smiles

think of the softness of those

before you

think about the sweet music

that makes your lively

arias.

Sing to me songbird

coo against the wind

spread your wings and feel my

air

let me lift you.

All at once we can fly

over the mountains of my mind.

Think of me songbird

[pupsmailbox]

CROW︰BIRD ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ adreinne. aero. alouette. altair. aoife. arden. aria. arno. aster. astor. ava. avian. aviana. azure. baz. beckett. blackwell. blair. blythe. bram. branson. branwen. brielle. briggs. brooklyn. byrd. cale. callum. canary. cardinal. carlton. carrie. carrion. celeste. chaos. chirp. ciel. circe. claw. collectoresse. collectorette. colm. corbett. corbin. corrie. corva. corvid. corvus. crane. crawford. creston. crosby. cross. crow. crown. dade. daya. dove. doverie. dovesse. draco. dracoonia. draven. enda. ezio. falcon. feather. featheresse. featherette. featherine. finch. fletcher. gavin. hawk. heron. hunter. jay. jaybird. jemima. jinx. jonah. jonas. kale. koko. krow. lark. lilith. lonan. lowen. luna. maggi. maggie. magpie. masie. mavis. melody. merle. merope. midnight. minnie. morticia. nevermoresse. nevermorette. noir. noire. noiresse. noirette. nym. nyx. onyx. ophelia. orev. oriole. orpheus. ozul. paloma. phoenix. pigeon. poe. prophess. raven. ravenesse. ravenette. ravin. robin. sephora. sequoia. skye. songbird. sparrow. swan. talon. torres.��trinkesse. trinkette. tweety. valerie. vega. vera. volya. whistle. wing. wingesse. wingette. wren. zephyr. ákos.

PRONOUNS ⌇ adore/adore. ae/aer. av/avi. beak/beak. bill/bill. bird/bird. black/black. ca/caw. cage/cage. caw/caw. chirp/chirp. chrip/chirp. chyr/chyr. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. collector/collector. coo/coo. corv/corv. corvid/corvid. corvus/corvid. cro/crow. crow/crow. dark/dark. dove/dove. fea/feather. feather/feather. finch/finche. flight/flight. float/float. flock/flock. fluff/fluff. fly/fly. fruit/fruit. grain/grain. hawk/hawk. hum/hum. hy/hym. jay/jay. melody/melodie. midni/midnight. murder/murder. myr/myr. nest/nest. nevermore/nevermore. night/night. owl/owl. paw/paw. peck/peck. perch/perch. plume/plume. proph/prophecy. raven/raven. reincarn/reincarnation. river/river. robin/robin. seed/seed. shy/hyr. sing/sing. sky/skie. soa/soar. soar/soar. song/song. spar/sparrow. star/star. swan/swan. talon/talon. thy/thym. trinket/trinket. tweet/tweet. ve/ve. whistle/whistle. wing/wing. 🐔 . 🐣 . 🐤 . 🐦 . 🐦‍⬛ . 🐧 . 🕊 . 🕊️ . 🖤 . 🗑️ . 🦃 . 🦅 . 🦆 . 🦉 . 🦚 . 🦜 . 🦢 .

[modernmusicshow01]

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[masters-menagerie]

Part 3

Part 1 // Part 2

Ghost wasn't exactly expecting her to lower her weapon immediately. But the pink haired reploid didn't even budge. He cleared his throat.

"So...You're gonna lower that, right?"

"Dr. Cain doesn't have any records of a reploid named 'Ghost'."

Ah, so she was checking the database maybe? That would explain the lack of reaction. Ghost shrugged.

"Well I'm not in the system as 'Ghost'. You told me to give you a name, and I did."

Her blue eyes narrowed at him, rather intense for someone with such a soft looking face. "I can't allow you to access someone else's information without documented consent. And if you were really here to collect data, you wouldn't have broken into my home to get it."

"Your home, huh? Didn't realize the old man left a reploid in charge when he kicked the can."

Her face changed then; Her eyebrows furrowed together, her expression now one of hurt. Ah, a sensitive topic then. She must have been attached to the doctor. How...emotional.

The reploid recovered quickly though, eyes getting serious again. "You need to leave. Breaking and entering is bad enough, but then you tried to acquire confidential information. If you don't leave peacefully, I'll be forced to take you to HQ for holding!"

Ghost frowned under his mask. This was becoming more trouble than it was worth. His core was still aching, and he didn't want to be here if it started throbbing again. He needed to make this fast.

"Look." He started, sternly. "That old man took his tools to me without MY consent. The way I see it, I have every right to just come in here and take the data back."

She seemed puzzled by that. As if her creator wasn't capable of doing such a thing. It wouldn't surprise him if this reploid was kept in the dark about it.

"...and how can I trust you're telling the truth? You haven't exactly made a most positive first impression. You won't even tell me your name."

This was getting nowhere. She wasn't going to budge, and he wasn't leaving without that info. He had to admit, she was pretty fiesty...it reminded him of someone.

"...search for DLN serial numbers. I doubt you'll have many results to sift through."

The room went silent. She stared at him, thinking about it, it seemed. The distant look to her eyes returned as she scanned through the database. She blinked, back to the room they were in, and stared him down. He waited impatiently.

"....well? Does that satisfy you? Can you put the bow down now? Please?"

More silence, and stillness. After a few painfully long seconds, the arrow notched in the reploid's bow faded until it was gone. She lowered her weapon, not once taking her eyes off him.

"I can let you look over the records, but I can't let you leave with a copy. And I'll need to observe you the entire time. When you have what you need, I will escort you out the front doors myself. Your only other option is to leave empty handed. Understood?"

Ghost had to hand it to her; this reploid was no pushover. At least she was being agreeable right now. He let his arms fall to his sides.

"Crystal clear, ma'am."