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nothingtoseeherebyeexx · 1 year

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Delicate, Chapter One: Mary

next chapter >

ok so. here it is. i’m so fucking terrified hahahaha

i’d like to specify that 1) this is an experiment 2) i’m not 100% sure where i’m going w it and i don’t even know what title to put but i’ll think about it (eventually) 3) i’ll post it here on tumblr first and *maybe* one day i’ll publish it on ao3. for now, however, i want this to stay here where i can change/delete whenever i want :)

and, 4) english isn’t my first language, so bear with me. Enjoy!

CW: drinking, mentions of drug abuse, mommy issues™️

It was very fucking hot.

Too fucking hot, in Narcissa’s opinion.

The windows of her car were rolled down, her sweaty forehead rested against the wheel, hair sticking to the melting plastic. There were many things to be annoyed at, really, but all Narcissa could think about were those suitcases in the back seats behind her, and the realisation she had run away from home.

“He followed in his brother’s footsteps, surely. Poor Walburga, she must be destroyed now that even her spare star has abandoned her.”

Regulus was only 18, and arguably Narcissa’s favourite cousin: he cared about their family’s reputation in the acting and music industry, just like her, and he was willing to do everything to become famous, for his name’s sake.

Oh, he had also been left behind and forgotten by an older sibling, which was another thing they had bonded over.

Narcissa thought that out of everyone in that deranged family, Regulus was the one she could really, fully understand.

Except maybe Narcissa didn’t know him that well after all, because he had left. As soon as he had legally become an adult, he had hopped off that derailing train that was the Black family, and had continued to pursue his acting career independently from his mother.

And Narcissa was still there.

24 years old, still following her parents’ orders like a puppet, her strings attached to her Father’s label. It had probably fucked her up a bit: it would’ve broken her Mother’s heart to know, but she had been running on drugs and alcohol for years now.

And drugs and alcohol were in her system while she was standing in her room, the news about Regulus still floating in her head.

She had been here before.

When Sirius had left.

When Andy-

She had thrown all the clothes she could fit into two suitcases, filled a couple of bags with few personal belongings (papers, essential equipment for singing) and she had gotten into her Mercedes, and started the engine.

But now the high had worn off, and she was slowly boiling to death in the cabin of her car, parked in front of a building she couldn’t even look at.

“If you ever change your mind, Narcissa, this is the address. My brother and I would be delighted to work with you.”

The Bones Records building was towering over her, glorious. Presumptuous, even, like Amelia Bones herself. Daring her to enter with a shine of its windows, a sparkle of her eyes.

In the end, she had stepped out of the car.

And Narcissa Black stepped into a new life.

Mary was pacing back and forth in the cold November air, an impossibly heavy usb drive in her pocket, trying to slow down her own heartbeat.

And, possibly, ring the doorbell of the mansion standing in front of her.

That day, Mary had taken a detour after work, her mind set on a plan. But right at the last step, she had discovered that the possibility of changing her future with a simple touch terrified her, and so she hesitated.

She had done scarier things in her past: babysitting her younger, reckless brothers, eating the suspicious meals her high school had to offer, doing her homework while the teacher was collecting it.

Pushing a button should sound like an incredibly simple task.

With herculean effort, she rang the doorbell.

No answer.

She rang again.

“Coming, coming!” chanted a slightly irritated woman, stomping towards the door.

Mary knew that voice, of course.

She’d listened to it for years.

Leaning against the doorframe, with an inquisitive look, was Narcissa Black.

However, with her long, blonde hair precariously pinned up, sporting old pyjamas and bags under her eyes, the singer was very different from how Mary was used to seeing her in magazines and interviews.

Wait, what time was it? It had gotten dark, how long had Mary been walking up and down the street like an idiot?

“Hello? Anything i can do for you?” asked Narcissa, with a raised brow.

“Uhm, yes, actually,” replied Mary, now intent on getting this whole conversation over with. “I’m Mary Macdonald. I’ve been your fan since your debut under the Black Studios-“

“Sorry, girl, but if you want an autograph, showing up at my door isn’t exactly the best way to get it.” interrupted Narcissa, now clearly annoyed by the whole situation.

But Mary had come prepared.

“It’s not an autograph i’m after, really. I wanted you to listen to these songs-“

“You’re brave, I’ll admit, knocking at my door in the middle of the night. But i’m no talent scout, so I suggest you take your songs, that i bet are very promising, and take them to someone that will know what to do with them. Maybe try contacting them a bit earlier.” sniffed Narcissa, already closing the door. Her movements were a bit slow, careful, like her hand could slip from the handle if she didn’t focus on it.

“Wait!” Mary stopped the door with her foot, fully catching Narcissa’s attention. She smelled of alcohol, but Mary guessed that famous people could afford getting wasted whenever they wanted, even on a random Tuesday night.

“Please. I want to become a singer, and I need you to listen to this. If you don’t like it, or think it’s not good enough, I won’t bother you, but i need someone to give me a chance. Please.” Mary pleaded, trying her best to convey her desperation through her eyes. Never once in her life had she ever begged for something, but God did she hate it. She was willing to make this sacrifice, for once.

Narcissa regarded her carefully, considering how big of a threat (or annoyance) the young woman in front of her could be. She sighed.

“Fine, come inside. And close the door.”

Mary followed the woman (who was muttering about how bravery, audacity and stupidity all go hand in hand) into her home. Honestly, she didn’t think she would’ve gotten this far with the plan, and when realized she was stepping into Narcissa Black’s residence, she tried to memorize every single detail.

The white walls were decorated with various paintings in different styles, and there were magazines everywhere, left open on the articles about members of the Black family: Bellatrix’s imminent marriage, Regulus’ Oscar nomination, Sirius’ new dog…

Mary wondered if, one day, her mother would be reading news about her from magazines, too. If she was ever going to swallow her pride, accepting that she had been wrong all along.

But first, she needed someone to get her into the Bones Studios.

She had heard Amelia and Edgar Bones weren’t afraid of working with new, young artists. They took risks in their investments, and Narcissa was a clear example of that: working with a fleeting, already successful singer and changing her whole image was a dangerous move, but it had made the label famous: the twins undoubtedly owed part of their success to Narcissa, and Mary hoped she could sneakily make her way under the singer’s wing and work her way up from there.

So. she had to get Narcissa’s approval.

“Ignore the mess, you chose a bad night to come knocking at my door.” said the woman, plopping herself onto a red velvet sofa and picking a half-full glass of wine from the round coffee table in front of her. She took a sip, opened her expensive laptop (one day Mary, one day), but then she gulped and started clicking the keys agitatedly, like she had seen something disturbing on the screen and desperately wanted to delete it.

Mary stood awkwardly in front of her, the usb drive in her hand and a mess in her head.

“So? Are you going to stand there and do nothing? Take seat, give me that drive, and have a glass of wine, honey, you look horrified.” prompted Narcissa, pointing to the couch and the bottle in front of her with her chin.

“Oh I…I don’t drink,” replied Mary, giving the other woman her drive and sitting down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, the material soft. The whole house, although a bit messy and smelling of alcohol, felt expensive. One day, one day.

“Mh, I should’ve guessed,” smiled Narcissa, looking up from the screen for an instant.

“You should’ve seen your face when you came in! Nose scrunched like a child. Are you doing it for religious reasons?”

“Not really,” Mary watched Narcissa getting up and searching for something around her, inside a bag, under the table. It was a long story, and surely not one enjoyable enough to be a conversation starter, so she just kept quiet.

“Well, it’s not like you have to get blacked-out drunk every time you drink. I hope one day you’ll find it in yourself to enjoy some tasteful liquor again.” Narcissa replied, pulling out a set of headphones from the sofa’s pillows.

“Now, I’ll listen to your…15 songs?!” Narcissa gave her an incredulous look. “That’s a whole-ass album! Did you write it yourself?”

“I wrote the music, the lyrics, arranged everything together, and sang. But it’s just…something i’ve been working on as practice, since i couldn’t get into a conservatory. I ended up liking it, though”

For Mary, her lack of professional musical knowledge was a sore subject: she had tried to make up for it on her own, but most talent scouts lost interest in her after guessing her family’s financial situation, so she’d had to compensate her lack of money with an abundance of nerve.

And there she was. Sitting on Narcissa Black’s couch, waiting for her opinion on her work like a sinner’s soul on Judgement Day.

Mary, upon telling Narcissa (born rich and famous) about her self-studying, had expected disdain, but surprisingly, Narcissa was looking at her with something uncannily resembling respect.

Mary watched her wine-stained lips curl with fondness. “‘No one cares about artists unless they’re not penniless’, right?”

“You can say that, yeah”

“Then I’ll be the one to start. I’ll be back in…63 minutes. Don’t wander around the house. The bathroom is the first room on the right, next to the painting of the girl with her tits out.”

Mary nodded, but stayed on the couch. Her leg kept bouncing, her palms were sweaty, and Narcissa was looking right at her, which was really not helping. She couldn’t even let her mind drift somewhere more calming, since that pair of blue, wide-opened eyes were fixed on hers.

Just as Mary had started to worry the eye contact would last all 63 minutes, Narcissa inhaled sharply and conjoined her hands in front of her face, like a prayer, closing her eyes.

Were all artists this…strange?

Narcissa stayed like that for about 37 minutes, and now Mary suspected she had fallen asleep.

Mary went to the bathroom, appreciated the painting’s tits, came back. The scene hadn’t changed.

After a while, Narcissa lowered her headset, deep in thought, eyes still closed.

Then she got up swiftly, removed the drive from the computer, and led Mary to the door. “I’ll talk to Amelia. Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know in a few days. Can you send me a copy of the tracks? I want her to listen to your work.”

“…Just like this? You don’t have any…criticism, comments, questions, anything? I made you listen to my songs and-“

“Mary,” Narcissa interrupted, taking the girl’s face in her hands in an unexpected display of affection. “I like your style. You have an amazing voice, the songs are surprisingly good for a beginner. You lack a bit of technique and some aspects need to be refined, but it’s nothing a bit of practice can’t solve.” She patted her cheek. “Plus, you have the guts, and they’re always useful in the music industry. Let me talk to Amelia. I’ll get back to you.”

“I-Woah. Thank you. Woah. Okay, uhm, this is my number…” After Narcissa had typed and double-checked the digits (double-checked! Was she really going to call her back?), she gave her her email address, wished her goodnight, and Mary was left standing in the porch, still shocked.

It was happening. It was really, actually happening. Oh, Mary wanted to scream, to walk up and down the street like she had done just two hours before: she caught Narcissa Black’s attention! Her dreams had a chance of finally coming true, the life she had always wanted was getting closer and-

“Wait,” Narcissa’s head reappeared, temporarily knocking Mary out of her hysterical state. “Before you go…how did you find my address?”

“Y-You’re a famous singer. It wasn’t that hard.”

“Ugh. What a bother. Whatever, goodnight.”

Mary was lightly strumming her guitar, humming lyrics quietly on her bed, window open despite the cold. She loved those early-winter afternoons, when the sun sunk earlier and the air was crisp, the smell of rain a constant reminder of the clouds in the sky.

Narcissa hadn’t called her yet, but it had only been a couple of days, so Mary still held hope and spent most of her free time in her room practising and recording.

Then her mother entered her bedroom. She had just come back from work, still had the shoes and jacket on. Mary hadn’t noticed her at first, but she immediately stopped playing when she did, feeling guilty and then hating herself for it.

To be completely honest, Mary wasn’t sure her mum liked her.

She loved Mary, of course, but because she happened to be her mother. Not because she chose to. Affection born from blood, something a mother is expected to give.

“Mum, I didn’t hear you come in, do you need me to lay the table for dinner?” Mary asked, watching her mother sitting down on the bed in front of her.

She was eyeing her guitar, her notebook and her computer like she didn’t know what to do with them. What to do with Mary.

“No, no, it’s okay. Your brother can do it, he’s old enough now,” she answered with a weak smile, still not meeting Mary’s gaze. She knew the two of them looked quite similar: same dark skin, curly hair, the same dimples that appeared when they smiled. However, Mary also noticed her mother’s wrinkles, proof of a life spent worrying and worrying, the way her shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the world, the way she sighed instead of exhaling when she breathed.

“Are you playing something?”

“Yes, actually,” Mary knew this was an attempt. It wouldn’t get them anywhere, but she was thankful for it regardless. “Do you want to listen?”

“…it would be a waste of time, darling, you know I don’t really get these…things,” her mother replied, still smiling sadly with her hands on her lap.

One step forward, two steps back, always retreating. Mary didn’t know what was she expecting, really. Her mother never got it, and had never showed any interest in trying.

“Did you want to talk about something specific?” Mary asked, curtly.

Her mum stayed silent for a moment.

“…Let me read a verse or two, love,” she complied. Mary offered her the notebook, carefully watching her read her songs, her soul.

“Do you like them?”

Mary was met with unreadable dark eyes. And a sad smile. Mary was so tired of sad smiles.

Narcissa said they were good. She just wants you to give up.

She closed her stinging eyes, and felt the warmth of a calloused hand on her face.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Mary,”

“…So?”

“You could get a good job easily-“

“I do have a job” Mary glared at her mother, swatting her hand away.

“A part-time job-“ she replied, slightly frustrated.

“Did you want to talk about anything specific?” Mary could hear her voice break and feel a tear run down her cheek. Fuck.

The two just stared at each other.

Mary wished she didn’t have to choose between her mother’s approval and herself.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll go make dinner.”

Another step back.

And Mary was alone in her room.

narcissa black here, i need you to come to my place asap.

if this isn’t mary macdonald, i was joking. this isn’t narcissa black, it was a prank.

Mary had just come back from her morning shift at the cafe (Madame Puddifoot, serving the best food!), when Narcissa texted her. She had almost tripped on the doorway.

this is mary macdonald

sorry, do you mind sending the address?

Narcissa replied shortly after.

…you funny bitch.

Mary was at Narcissa’s place in thirty minutes, and before she could even lift her hand, Narcissa had opened the door, leaning against it. She was dressed casually, hair down and eyes bright with trouble.

“Hello sweetie, thanks for coming,” Narcissa greeted, but she kept standing there, a bit awkwardly.

“…Hi, has something happened? Did Amelia call you?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened.

“Oh no, love, I would’ve told you if I had heard from her. But something did happen, yes, and I wanted to show you,” she said with a smile, moving towards the middle of the doorway. Mary jumped back in horror, but she managed to not scream: Narcissa had a fucking snake, with black and blue scales, wrapped around her forearm. And it looked terribly real and alive.

“Narcissa what the hell??”

But the woman was still smiling, delighted by Mary’s reaction and the creature slithering up her arm. “I bought a snake!”

“I can fucking see it! But why?”

“If you’re going to be so loud about it, it’s better if we go inside,” and Narcissa led Mary to the living room. Everything looked tidier than last time, even Narcissa herself seemed more put together, although she was playing with a potentially poisonous reptile while walking towards the red sofa.

“…You’d better put it in its tank, Narcissa,” Mary suggested sitting as far from her as possible. The other woman just looked at her in confusion.

“Tank?”

Mary blinked slowly. “Where do you keep it, Narcissa?”

“I don’t have a dedicated place for her yet, but I was thinking of keeping her in my room.” Narcissa answered, offering a finger to the dark snake.

“Didn’t they give you a tank at the pet shop? And why are you putting you fingers near her?” Mary was staring at Narcissa, appalled. How did this woman survive for so long?

“She’s not poisonous, she kills by strangling her preys,” Narcissa said like a proud mother, “And they did give me a tank, but I didn’t like it so I threw it away. I was thinking of letting her sleep next to me.”

“That’s-I’m-“ Mary stuttered, “God. We’re getting a tank, before she kills you in your sleep. Let’s go, I’ll drive.” She got up and took her car keys.

“Can I bring her with me? I don’t want her to feel lonely,” Narcissa explained as the snake made its way around her neck. Mary was progressively getting more and more afraid of Narcissa getting strangled under her very own eyes.

“Just…sit in the backseat and don’t get killed?”

“She would never. I’m her Ma,” Narcissa smiled grabbing a coat, a hat and sunglasses, probably to avoid being recognised in public. The downside of being a celebrity, Mary assumed, although her showy and very much alive necklace probably wasn’t of much help keeping a low profile.

When Mary had mustered up the courage to knock at Narcissa’s door, she hadn’t expected this: walking down the aisle of a pet store pushing a rusty cart, looking for a tank for Narcissa Black’s latest (and murderous) purchase.

She had been enthusiastic to find out she could decorate the tank, so she was looking for the rocks that would fit best with the rest of the furniture in her bedroom.

Because she wanted to keep the snake in her room, the freak.

“Just a question, Narcissa…How long have you had her?”

She turned around and checked her shiny watch. “About six hours. Why?”

“Was just wondering if you had actually slept with the thing. It sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Oh no, but we did take a nap together. I couldn’t find her when I woke up,” she turned back to the rocks. The black ones seemed to have piqued her interest.

“I still don’t know what to call her. Any suggestions?”

“Narcissa junior?” suggested Mary.

“That’s lazy. I want something…meaningful. Think about snakes. What do they do?”

Oh, so she was serious about it.

“I don’t know, they crawl around, lay eggs, eat rabbits…”

“Rabbits! I can work with that…White Rabbit?” Narcissa offered.

“It’s a bit long. Is it an Alice in Wonderland reference?” Mary answered.

“…Yeah, never-mind. What about Bunny?” Narcissa looked at Mary from above her heart-shaped sunglasses.

“You want to call your snake Bunny, because she eats rabbits.”

“Yes. It’s ironic, it’s cute, it’s perfect. Bunny.”

“Bunny it is, then.” Mary sighed with a soft smile, as Narcissa put the black rocks in the cart. “Why did you even buy a pet snake?”

“I have many reasons. But I won’t explain myself, and you’ll have to deal with it.”

“Fair. Why did you text me, though?” Mary asked. She was just a random fan, after all, and although she wasn’t complaining, she was a bit disoriented.

Narcissa simply shrugged. “Because Amelia would’ve ripped me to pieces, Edgar would’ve acted like a disappointed father, and I’ve listened to your songs, so we’re basically best friends now.”

“You see, it’s the last passage that I don’t get,” Mary replied while Narcissa put the rocks in the shopping cart. “Do you consider friends all the singers you listen to?”

Narcissa walked next to her as they were approaching the register. “Only the ones that make me feel like I know them. Mary, I don’t think you understand the power music holds.”

The cashier, a poor teenage girl, was too worried about the snake wrapped around Narcissa’s neck to question her suspicious outfit.

“Is-is that a real snake?”

“Yes, darling. Why are you surprised, we’re in a pet shop, after all,” Narcissa answered, lowering her sunglasses. The cashier’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Are-are you Narcissa Black?”

“Yes, sweetie. I’d like to pay for my little girl’s needs, please.”

“S-sure.”

Mary watched the girl, and wondered if her hands were trembling because of the reptile or Narcissa.

As I was saying, Mary,” the woman continued once they were out of the shop, marching towards the car.

“Music is powerful. One of the best things about being a songwriter is that you can reveal the world all the thoughts you keep in your mind, the memories you hold close, your regrets or hopes. I liked your songs, Mary, because when I listened to them I got to know you. Music is clearly very important to you, you’re a voice screaming to be heard, love.”

“Narcissa,” Mary called, voice a bit hoarse. She had to shut her up in some way or she’d start crying in the car park and then die of embarrassment.

“Mary,” She replied.

“Should Amelia refuse to sign a contract with me, I want you to know that I’m glad you gave me a chance. It’s more than anyone has ever done, so thank you.” Mary smiled, grateful.

Narcissa looked at her, layers and layers of emotions Mary couldn’t quite decipher in her eyes.

“It’s nothing, really,” she nodded towards the car, not too far from them. “Now get in, before you start crying in the middle of a car park.”

“No offense, but fuck you.” Mary replied pulling out the keys, while Narcissa laughed, Bunny resting around her shoulders.

come to my place

there’s a surprise for you

For the third time that week, Mary knocked at Narcissa’s door. She was getting used to the singer’s cryptic texts, and had learnt to expect the unexpected: she was now wondering if Narcissa had bought a snake for her, too, or if she had found some top-quality tree branches for Bunny’s tank and needed an opinion.

However, when Amelia Bones opened the front door, Mary was admittedly caught by surprise.

“Amelia Bones,” she offered her hand, straight to the point. Mary held it, but she was interrupted before she could even introduce herself.

“So here’s the Mary Macdonald I’ve heard so much about. Come inside, you have a contract to sign,” she lead her to Narcissa’s kitchen, like it was her own house. Narcissa was sitting on a tall seat and leaning on the marble counter, placid like a cat.

Amelia and Narcissa looked quite similar, next to each other. The blonde, straight hair, the attentive eyes, the relaxed demeanor of someone who doesn’t get fucked with.

Overall, really intimidating.

“A few days ago, I happened to receive an email by our dearest Narcissa, with 15 songs and just two words, ‘Mary Macdonald’” began Amelia, in a calm tone. “Of course, I’m used to Narcissa’s enigmatic shit, so I wasn’t at all surprised by her temporary loss of words,” the other woman smiled at that.

“What did surprise me, though, were the tracks. I really liked them, Mary. So, I called Narcissa to explain the situation to me.”

Mary just nodded: most of her attention was focused on trying to read Amelia, the way she talked, her movements, her expressions. The rest was consumed by stopping herself from fidgeting.

“You are a brave one, girl. I appreciate that in an artist,” Amelia’s smile dropped. “But I need more. I’m not asking for a musical genius, of course. I need the promise of a star, something we can work with to create a legend. The substance is there, but we need to shape it to make you survive the industry, and it will take some time. You following me?”

“Yes,” replied Mary, because it seemed like an obvious question that still required an explicit, confident answer. Amelia seemed to appreciate it.

“Then this is where Narcissa comes in. She’s offered to become your guide, and help you in this process.”

“I won’t try to change you, Mary,” Narcissa chimed in, “I would help you on the technical preparation and with getting used to this type of life, and once we’re sure you can stand on your feet, we’ll let you go. In this way, I’ll lift some weight off of Amelia’s shoulders,” she smiled, patting her friend’s back, “who will only have to work on the production of the album. After all, the Bones Studios are still relatively small, all in the hands of the Bones twins alone. Are you in? You’re still in time to chicken out.”

Narcissa’s smile was challenging.

Amelia’s was unreadable.

Maybe they weren’t that similar, after all.

“I don’t see why I would refuse,” Mary replied. “Where do I sign?”

Amelia took out the contract, Mary read every single word carefully (and missed the impressed glance that passed between the other two women), and then signed it.

“Welcome to the family, Macdonald. Got any questions?”

“Please, Amelia, you’re itching to get out of here. I can play the evil manager for tonight.” Narcissa intervened, with raised eyebrows.

“It’s work, private matters come second. Mary, do you have any doubts about the contract? Or questions?”

“Not really, everything was pretty clear, and now Narcissa is legally obliged to answer all of my questions, so…”

“You heard her!” laughed Narcissa, “Now go or you’ll be late to your date.”

Amelia grabbed her coat from a chair, heading towards the door but still talking business. “Narcissa will tell me when she considers you ready to work on your debut album.”

“Yeah we know! Hurry, your Hestia is waiting!” Narcissa mocked as Amelia, who was flipping her off, closed the door behind herself.

“Hello,” Narcissa greeted, once it was just the two of them. “We’re coworkers now.”

“It seems so, yeah. That was…fast.” Mary answered, still a bit shaken.

She had just signed a contract with a label.

A real label.

And Narcissa Black was going to teach her to become a proper singer.

The Narcissa Black.

Mary was euphoric.

“Listen, I know you don’t drink, but I think we deserve to celebrate. Do you want a sip?” Narcissa said, pulling out an expensive-looking wine bottle and two fancy glasses.

“No pressure. If you don’t drink, I won’t either.”

Mary considered the offer. She was ecstatic, and she had grown to trust Narcissa, so maybe a glass wouldn’t be so harmful.

“Okay.” she answered, aware she didn’t sound too sure.

“Okay?” Narcissa repeated.

“I’ll take a glass. It’s the beginning of a new era, Narcissa.” Mary assured, sounding more certain. She felt like she could fight God, she wasn’t letting a glass of wine scare her anymore.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetie,” Narcissa smiled, filling the two glasses. “Oh, and you can call me Cissa. You’re my student now!”

“Having you as a teacher will truly be an experience.” Mary grinned, lifting the glass to her lips.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

When Mary left Narcissa’s house, she did so with a newfound hope, and the taste of wine strong but harmless on her lips.

shoutout to @prongsxsluv for being the first to hear abt this <3

@imintothemaraudersera @jpg-of-dorian-slay (i’ve always loved your user no joke)

#let me know if you want more parts!!#the povs will switch and the chapters will be shorter #but since it’s the first it’s almost all #mary #still anxious af #i’ll tag some ppl later #marauders #marauders era #nobleflower #marylily #mary macdonald #narcissa black #amelia bones #marauders era girls #there will be the boys too #at some point lmao #fic: delicate

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paperdoll201 · 2 months

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꧁•⊹٭𝙾𝚑 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚘𝚛!٭⊹•꧂

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐁𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐔 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐰 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲. 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐲, 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐈𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐨𝟑. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐈𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐩!

𝐜𝐰: 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫/𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩. 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧�� 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

𝟥.𝟤𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈

Marie Moreau sat alone in the almost empty lecture hall, fidgeting with her notebook, waiting for the second class of her last year to begin. The late afternoon sun slanted through the high windows, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. She tapped her pen rhythmically against the worn cover of her notebook, a nervous habit usually reserved for finals or midterms. Today was the first day of her senior year at Goldokin University, and a mix of excitement and apprehension bubbled in her stomach.

The cause of her nervousness stemmed from the empty chair behind the professor’s oak desk. Unlike most of her classes at Goldokin where her professors were familiar faces, in this particular class her professor was unknown. She could find no hints of who they were from their syllabus, not even a school email yet. At the top, it simply stated: “Poetry of Desire – Professor Jordan Li.” Marie couldn’t help but find the anonymity interesting (despite the fact that she spent more time than needed, trying to find at least a Facebook), however, this mystery professor was a complete enigma.

Still, this wasn't how Marie had envisioned her senior year at Goldokin University. Usually, her schedule mirrored that of her best friend, Emma, but this semester they unfortunately had conflicting schedules. This class was the only one that would fulfill her missing English requirements and she was not going to mess with her curated schedule her senior year, so she would just have to deal with being alone for 90 minutes.

A sigh left her lips, as she shivered a bit, regret gnawing at her as she looked down at her outfit. ‘I shouldn’t have worn this damn skirt. It’s freezing in this fucking classroom’ She tried to rub some warmth into her bare legs, the friction offering a temporary relief. Another sigh left her lips as she watched the classroom slowly begin to pile in with students. She groaned, pulling her phone out from her bag, scrolling through the weather app mindlessly, desperately trying to feel less awkward than she felt at that current moment.

The classroom was bustling around her as students settled in seats around her. She put on a smile for some classmates who stopped by, their conversations more about last night's party than anything else but her mind couldn’t focus on those conversations. “Where is this professor?” she thought once she noticed the filled lecture hall. Just then, the heavy door near the front creaked open, shattering the silence. A hush fell over the room as a man walked in, carrying a large stack of folders with an air of quiet confidence.

Marie’s breath hitched. She wasn’t expecting him. Most of her professors being much older or… rough looking but this man was the epitome of fucking hot. He had dark hair that fell into his eyes as he scanned the room, a small smile played on his face that sent a jolt straight in between Marie’s legs. His crisp white shirt strained ever so slightly across broad shoulders, hinting at an athletic build beneath.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he said, his voice a deep tenor that sent a shiver down Marie’s spine. “Welcome to Poetry of Desire. I’m Professor Li.”

A low murmur rippled through the class, a collective appreciation for this fucking feast to the eyes. “Who is he? Didn’t know we were going to be taught by a fucking model in this class.” she heard some girl next to her say.

Marie could have sworn the temperature of the room spiked ten degrees. God even his voice is hot as hell Marie groaned. His gaze swept the room, eyes landing on Marie for a beat too long. She felt a blush creep up her neck as she crossed her legs tightly. Around her, everyone was whispering.

A hint of amusement colored Professor Li's smile as he cleared his throat. "This is my first semester here at Goldokin, well," he chuckled, "technically my first semester back."

He’s an alumni? Marie thought, leaning forward in her seat.

“Now I admit,” Jordan continued, his dark eyes twinkling. “I graduated with a degree in Crimefighting,”

The whispers intensified, a wave of curiosity washing over the room. “But," he held up a hand, silencing the growing buzz, “Crimefighting and poetry have more in common than you think,” Jordan continued, his dark eyes twinkling, “both delve into the darkest corners of the human psyche, explore the complexities of desire.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Believe it or not, there’s a surprising amount of literary analysis involved in Crimefighting.” “Nah, I’m just messing. I minored in English, everything I just said was complete bullshit,” he added with a wink. A wave of laughter washed over the classroom, the tension easily dissolving from Jordan’s charm. The way Jordan spoke, with such passion and a hint of mischief, made even the most mundane words sound alluring.

“So,” he said, pushing himself away from the podium. “If you have questions about me, the syllabus or the course content, ask them now. This is your only chance to ask me questions.”

“Wait, Professor Li, what about your powers?” a student spoke up from Marie’s left. “We wanna know!” A chorus of agreement echoed through the room, a mixture of curiosity and excitement.

Jordan chuckled, a deep, captivating sound that made Marie shiver. Crossing his arms, he strode towards the center of the floor, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "Well," he began, his voice dropping to a low tone. “I can do this.”

In a blink, Jordan’s appearance shifted. He shrunk by a few inches, short hair growing into a neat bob just above their shoulders. His features softened, and his voice, when he spoke again, was a lot lighter. “Super strength and invulnerability with my male form. Agility and energy blasts with this form and all that jazz,” Jordan added with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Holy shit!” a student exclaimed. “You’re that Jordan Li?” Marie blinked, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid. How could she not have recognized them? She'd seen their picture plastered fucking everywhere during her online searches for them, it just didn’t click for her that her professor would not only be hot but fucking famous as well.

"The one and fucking only," Jordan laughed, his voice now unmistakably feminine.

"Weren't you supposed to join The Seven?" Marie blurted out before she could stop herself. The surprise on Jordan's face was quickly replaced by a knowing smile. "I mean," she stammered, trying to salvage her dignity, "everyone was hoping you'd join the team, but then…" Her voice trailed off, mortified by her own social awkwardness.

"Does 'everyone' include you?" Jordan teased, a playful lilt to their voice. Marie felt her cheeks burn, a jumbled mess of words swirling in her head. "No – I-I meant – well…"

Jordan's laughter cut through her flustered state. “Relax, I'm just teasing," they said, their gaze leaving hers to address the entire class. "The Seven just wasn't for me," they smirked with a wink. "Turns out, I work best in a classroom, surrounded by passionate minds like yours."

“If there are no more questions about me…” Jordan's voice trailed off, a playful challenge in his eyes as she scanned the classroom. The silence stretched, punctuated only by the nervous coughs of a few students. “Let’s do introductions. Tell me your name, your year, and why you decided to take this class.”

Jordan scanned the room, her gaze landing on Marie for the third time. This time, a single eyebrow quirked upwards, a silent invitation for her to be first. Marie felt a blush creep up her cheeks once more. With a deep breath, she forced herself to meet her gaze, a spark of something… alluring igniting between them. Clearing her throat, she decided to take the bait.

“I’m Marie Moreau,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, “a senior. And as for why I’m here… this class satisfies a credit I needed and this sounded less… boring than the other options.”

A slow smile spread across Professor Li’s face. “Marie Moreau,” she repeated, letting the name roll off her tongue. “A beautiful name to match a beautiful girl. An honest answer too. Well hopefully this class becomes more than just a ‘check’ on your transcript and that you truly learn something from this.”

His gaze held hers for a beat too long, sending a shiver down Marie's spine. ‘Oh my god, what are they doing to me!’ Marie squirmed in her seat, involuntarily squeezing her thighs together trying to stop the wetness pooling in between them.

“Who’s next,” they clapped once, and the entire room’s hands shot up.

I’m so glad I don’t have any more classes after this Marie mused to herself.

Marie’s mind has strayed, gaze focused on the ticking clock above the classroom door. Professor Li’s passionate voice that was once so enthralling to her, has faded into the back of her mind. She can’t help it. No professor has ever been able to capture her attention for the entire time, no matter how hot they were. She was lost in a daydream, a replay of their earlier exchange – the way his gaze had lingered on hers, the unexpected warmth in his smile.

“...touching you I catch midnight, as moon fires set in my throat, I love you flesh into blossom, I made you, and take you made into me.” Jordan finished the poem, leaning against their desk.

“Alright, class,” Jordan’s voice boomed, snapping Marie back to reality. “After reading the poem…”

Poem? What fucking poem? Marie panicked, looking around the room to see everyone focused on a poem on their screens. Don’t freak out Marie, she won’t call on you Marie reassured herself.

"Excellent points, Emily," Jordan said, a smile gracing his lips. They scanned the room, their gaze inevitably landing on Marie. Her breath hitched. She knew, with certainty, that it was they were looking at her to speak. But her mind was a blank, the poem's words never having the chance to register in her brain.

Panic clawed at her throat. She tried to formulate a response, anything to salvage the situation. But all that came out was a strangled, pathetic stutter. "I, uh…" Her voice died in her throat. “What was the question?” she tried, stalling.

Jordan's smile faltered, a flicker of annoyance replacing it. A beat of awkward silence stretched between them, the weight of everyone's attention heavy on Marie's shoulders. “The speaker, assuming it to be the author Audre Lorde,” they finally spoke, crossing their arms over their torso, “describes herself as "charged and waiting" after the encounter. How does this particular language connect to the idea of self-discovery and empowerment through love?”

Marie gapped, opening and closing her mouth rapidly trying to come up with some bullshit of an answer. Finally, she mumbled, the words barely audible, “I… I wasn’t really paying attention.”

A couple of laughs scattered through the class. Shame burned hot on Marie’s cheeks. She needed to floor to fucking swallow her whole.

"It’s disappointing that I bored you already, Ms. Moreau," Jordan said, her voice clipped with a hint of disappointment, "I expect active participation in this class. Especially when the poem is as rich in meaning as this one." They paused, the silence thick with tension. “Stay after class.” they said with finality.

Marie’s stomach lurched. Making a bad impression on the new teacher is not what she wanted. Her classmates snickered around her. Marie flushed even deeper, wishing she’d disappear into her seat.

The rest of the class seemed to drag on forever. Each analysis, each discussion, flew over Marie’s mind. She could only focus on calming the nerves building in her as she watched the clock count down to the end of class. The bell finally rang, and she hastily slugged her backpack over her shoulder hoping to blend in with the mass of students filing out.

“Ms. Moreau,” Marie sighed, stopping dead in her tracks. “I hope you weren’t trying to leave?” they quirked an eyebrow at her. “Sit down.”

Marie nodded mutely, sitting at a seat right in front of their desk. The classroom quickly emptied out, leaving her and Professor Li alone. Stealing a glance at Jordan, she saw her pack their things, her expression unreadable. She watched as they sighed quietly, putting on their reading glasses and perched themself at the edge of their desk.

“Look, Ms. Moreau,” Jordan began, their voice gentle. “I understand minds wandering,” she paused, a hint of amusement creeping in her tone, “but you gotta work with me here. It’s embarrassing that I can’t keep the top ranked student in this school's attention.”

Marie’s cheeks burned again. She mumbled an apology, her voice barely a whisper.

“No need,” Jordan smiled, waving her hand. “All I want is your engagement. Help keep the rest of the class engaged.”

They fixed her with a gaze that was both assessing and strangely intense. “Tell me, Marie, did you get the chance to read the poem?”

Marie nodded quickly, trying to salvage some semblance of her fucking dignity. “Yeah. I read it as soon as you… called me out.” She chuckled nervously.

Jordan raised a brow. “Good, good. So enlighten me: tell me what it’s about.”

"It's… about taking control," she whispered, surprised by the boldness of her own voice. "About owning your sexuality, your body, your…" she faltered, searching for the right word.

“Passion?” Jordan offered, a slight smile curving her lips. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a low murmur that sent shivers down Marie’s spine. “And do you think there’s a connection between the poem and, well, the real world?”

Marie met her gaze, a spark of something unexpected igniting between them. "Maybe," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe the poem is just reminding us that desire can be powerful, beautiful, and sometimes a little bit dangerous."

Jordan's smile widened, a flicker of something akin to approval dancing in her eyes. "Indeed, Ms. Moreau," she said, her voice soft. “Indeed.” A beat of silence hung in the air, charged with an undeniable tension. They slowly made their way across the room, switching between their male and female forms with ease. “And maybe the poem is reminding us to indulge in our desires,” they settled into their female form, unbuttoning a few buttons from their button down top, standing directly in front of Marie, “to give into our wants…” they trailed off, eyes staring deep into her soul. “What do you want, Marie?” they titled their head to the side, face now extremely close to Marie’s.

“What do I want?” Marie gulped shifting in her seat, pulling the hem of her skirt down.

Jordan chuckled, observing the action before asking again. “Yes, Marie. What do you want? I know what I want,” they smiled, eyes fleeting from her eyes to her lips. “What about you?”

Marie’s breath hitched, heart racing from the lack of distance from between them. They had stopped just before her lips, looking into her eyes, waiting for her to react.

“I want…” she trailed off, breathing heavily. She stared back into the eyes that bore so deeply into hers. She tried to focus her mind, snap herself out of it but she couldn’t. Trapped in the deep brown eyes of the Professor that stood over her.

“Fuck it,” she wrapped a hand behind their neck, pulling their lips down to meet hers.

Jordan's lips were warm and soft against Marie's, their kiss deepening with a hunger that surprised them both. The tension that had crackled between them blossomed into a fierce passion, igniting a fire within Marie that she had never experienced before. Her hands tangled in their hair, pulling them closer as if trying to erase any space between them.

As they finally broke the kiss, their breaths coming fast and erratic, Jordan's eyes bore into Marie's with an intensity that made her heart race even faster. There was a mix of desire and something more profound in their gaze, a silent question lingering in the air.

"Is this what you want, Marie?" Jordan whispered, their voice husky with emotion.

Marie searched their eyes for one singular moment.

“I fucking want this. I want you,” she continued, the words barely audible, her voice trembling with desire.

A slow smile spread across Jordan’s lips as they leaned down to capture Marie’s lips again. “Stand up,” they mumbled against her lips. They shifted into their male form, lips not leaving the other as Marie stood up from her desk. He lifted her from the ground, wrapping her legs around their waist as he walked them over to his desk at the front of the classroom. He quickly placed Marie on the oak desk before hands were desperately touching the other’s body.

Their kiss grew more heated, Marie’s hands quickly finding its way to the waist of his pants. Jordan quickly pulled away, panting heavily.

"No need to rush," he said with a chuckle, his breaths still catching slightly. He turned away from her, walking around her to the side of the desk, clearing off his textbooks and the rest of his belongings before coming to stand in front of Marie again.

“Lay down,” he ordered as he unbuttoned the rest of his top.

She followed his command without hesitation, her heart pounding in her chest as she lay down on the cool wooden surface. Jordan watched her for a moment, his eyes roaming her body, taking in every curve and contour. He then knelt beside her, reaching out to trace a finger along her jawline, gently cupping her cheek in his palm.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing the side of her lips. “And I want you so much it fucking hurts,” he groaned, palming his throbbing bulge through his pants.

Marie's breath caught in her throat as he leaned down, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. Their tongues danced together, tangling in a passionate embrace. She moaned into his mouth, her hands gripping his face, pulling him closer.

Jordan broke the kiss, his eyes shining with lust as he stood next to her, crotch directly in front of her face. He unzipped his pants, slowly reaching down for his dick. His fingers wrapped around the shaft, stroking it gently as he watched Marie's eyes widen in anticipation.

“Wanna put my dick in your pretty little mouth,” he whispered again, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Shove it down your needy throat,” he sighed as he guided his dick close to her mouth. “Be a good girl and open wide f’ me.”

Marie’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she nodded.

“Good girl,” they smiled as they watched Marie widen her lips. “So good and obedient. Take it all, baby,” he groaned, closing his eyes as Marie’s lips wrapped around his tip. “Fucking swallow it whole.”

Her lips enclosed his dick, the sensation causing her to shudder with pleasure. She savored the taste, the texture, the power she held in her hands as she controlled him with every movement.

Jordan leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk next to Marie’s head as he watched her skillful movements. He couldn’t remember ever receiving head as good as this, feeling so fucking consumed with need. His eyes devoured her, the sight of her lips wrapped around his dick, her head bobbing up and down, driving him wild. He thrust into her mouth, his hips moving in a consistent rhythm.

“That’s it, Marie,” he groaned his voice thick with lust. “Slobber your spit on my fucking dick. Show me how much you– fuck,” his eyes rolled back to his skull, “how much you fucking want it.”

Marie hummed around his dick, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure down his spine. She pulled back, her lips sliding off with a wet pop.

“I want it all, Professor,” she whispered, looking up at him through hooded eyelids. “Give me everything–” she was cut off by a hand behind her head, shoving her mouth back on Jordan’s dick.

Jordan let out a low moan, his hands tightening in her locs. “Shush, stop talking and take it.” He thrust into her mouth, his hips bucking against the desk, driving his dick deeper into her throat.

Marie gagged, but she didn’t pull away. She swallowed her saliva and the taste of her Professor’s dick, choking slightly as she stayed obedient. She felt his hands grip her hair tighter, the pleasure and pain blending together as she took him deeper and deeper.

“You’re so fucking good at that, baby,” he choked out, his hips moving faster, his orgasm building. “I’m gonna fill your mouth full of my cum. You like that, don’t you?”

Marie nodded her head vigorously, eyes tearing up from the strain of her throat. Marie's throat seemed to expand, accommodating his dick as it slid down, tickling her throat. Her nails dug into his thighs, and she could feel her own desire building, the throbbing between her legs making her clit tingle.

“Oh fuck, Marie,” he growled, his hands releasing her hair as he held her head still, leaning in closer till their faces were inches apart. “I’m about to cum to fucking hard. Need to see your eyes when it happens.”

She met his gaze, her own eyes filled with desire and hunger, and gave a low hum of agreement. Jordan groaned, his hips picking up their pace, fucking her face with long, hard strokes. Her throat stretched around him, his dick head glistening with her saliva as she worked. Jordan groaned, his body tensing as he exploded into Marie’s mouth, his cum spurting out in thick ropes down her throat.

She swallowed hard, her throat muscles constricting around his dick as it pulsed, filling her with his hot, sticky seed. Her own legs squeezing tight together.

She moaned around his dick, the vibrations causing Jordan's whole body to shudder. He held her head still, his eyes locked on hers as he thrust into her mouth, milking every last drop of his orgasm into her eager throat.

Finally, his thrusts slowed, and he pulled out of her mouth with a wet pop. He staggered backwards away from the desk, his ragged breaths barely under control as he gazed at the young woman on the desk in front him, her eyes glazed with pleasure, her lips swollen from his cock.

“Marie, Marie, Marie,” he whispered, shifting into his female form, “there’s so much more I wanna do to you.”

so yeah, part two dropping today. it would've been all in here had I realized I never fucking completed this fic lmaoo. literally read it at one am and figured it just stops mid-sex. wasn't gonna stay up to finish it though (like I've done too many times)

it will come today unless something prevents me from uploading.

also, being so serious. if you are a minor, do NOT interact with my blog, period. I will hunt you and find you.

#gen v #limoreau #marie moreau #jordan li #jordan li x marie moreau #mariejordan #marie moreau x jordan li #god my name under the limoreau tag again #limoreau fic #limoreau oneshot

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