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thebibutterflyao3 · 6 months

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Day Twenty-Six - Prompt: Clean. @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 724 words

TW: Drunken nonsense

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Evan had to admit, Lily Evans was impressive. So impressive that he was considering stealing her from his sister. If only Pandora wasn’t threatening to garrote him in his sleep, he could finally find happiness.

“Be reasonable! If I marry Lily and take her name,” he insisted, patting Lily’s shoulder, “then I will be Evan Evans! We will have an amicable divorce and she can take your name!”

Pandora glared at him over her fourth martini. “Paws off my girlfriend!”

“Hold on, Lily Rosier has a nice ring to it,” Lily mused, her cheeks flushed.

They were potentially five rounds in actually, if he was counting glasses correctly. Evan couldn’t keep track. His mind was adrift in an ocean of whiskey sours.

“See? Lily is on my side!”

Pandora downed the rest of her drink, then hiccuped loudly as she pointed it at Evan. “Pardon me. You do not need to be involved! I can give her my name and you can go hump a log.”

“Hump a log?” Lily giggled.

“Then how do I become Evan Evans? You’re crushing my dreams, Panda!”

“Wait, you call her ‘Panda’ too? I thought that was Regulus’s thing?”

Evan scoffed, “No, no. He says it all sweet and gentle-like. Endearing? Is that it?”

Pandora nodded as she handed him another whiskey from the server. “Yes, endearing. You say it as a prerogative. No, that’s wrong.”

“Pejorative?” Lily guessed.

“That’s the cunt!” Evan cheered, clinking their glasses together. “It’s naughty!”

Pandora snorted martini out of her nose, then yelped at the burn of alcohol in her sinuses. It was shaping up to be a brilliant evening all around. He needed this more than he realised.

“Well, if I’m marrying Pandora for a last name upgrade,” Lily said, holding up a hand to stall his protest, “I think you should do the same for Barty. Poor bloke is carrying around ‘Crouch’ of all names. Seems a bit unfair.”

Evan’s mouth dropped open, but not a single word escaped it. The last thing he’d expected was for Lily to name drop Barty into this conversation. Perhaps, she wasn’t as impressive as he’d first thought.

Pandora choked on an olive and promptly coughed it up in her hand. “What?! Are you drunk?”

Lily glanced between them, then frowned at her empty glass. “Oh, yes. That’s possible.”

“Evan needs a clean slate. He’s staying away from that pickle,” Pandora insisted.

“Prick?” Evan suggested, brows knit together.

“Hard pass.”

Lily burst out laughing and covered her face with her hands. “I cannot breathe! You two are hilarious together.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Pandora teased, kissing her cheek. “Anywaffles, as I was saying.”

“Anywaffles?” Lily choked. She clung to the table’s edge in an attempt to stay on her stool as she swayed.

Pandora rolled her eyes affectionately and patted Lily’s cheek. “My darling, you are too easily amused. To my point, what was my point?”

“Barty.”

“Right, him. No Barty. Pick someone else, anyone else.”

Evan stared at his whiskey pensively. He wasn’t ready to concede defeat just yet, but it did feel rather inevitable. Perhaps, Barty knew it as well.

“What if I don’t want anyone else?” he said quietly. It was meant to be an internal thought, but it slipped free.

Pandora stared at him incredulously, then slapped the table. Several glasses clinked together. “He cheated! And lied!”

“That doesn’t mean he’s scum! People can change!”

Before his sister sniped back, Lily leaned over and kissed her. Pandora flailed, then flung herself into Lily’s lap. They both tumbled to the floor of the pub in a heap of loose limbs and giggles.

“Tease!” Pandora said, swatting Lily playfully.

“You’re so sweet! How can I resist?”

Evan watched the couple’s banter wistfully. He’d had nights like this with Barty. Nights when they’d laughed until they couldn’t breathe. Other nights, they’d stay up until dawn talking about everything and nothing.

He propped his chin in his hand and swirled the gold liquid in his glass. Barty made every night they were together feel special. Like he said, he tried with Evan. That was more than anyone else had.

What if he has changed? What if I was right?

Wales. That was the exception that proved the rule.

Or, it was proof that Barty was a better person when they were together. Perhaps, I am too.

Next Part>>>

#barty crouch jr x evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty jr #evan rosier #marauders era #slytherin skittles #rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #pandora rosier #lily evans

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xxcathartistxx · 10 months

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First half (3/6) of my Our Life Beginning and Always Sprite Commissions!! 🥳🥳🥳

Lucy🌻 for anywaffle (discord)

Alora📚 for @meesherbeans

And Alice💜 for Alice Zee (discord)

ALSO:

I’m planning to open these commissions again in 2 or 3 months ☺️

#olba #our life beginnings & always #gb patch games #our life now and forever #cove holden #our life #commission #gb patch #other people’s characters #olnf #others ocs

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godsamael · 1 year

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Here's a Love for Sundown fic, commissioned by @anywaffle using her OC Louise. It follows Harlem's love confession ending to a fluffier (if slightly dramatic) conclusion. SFW but mildly suggestive. I had so much fun writing this! Thanks again for commissioning me :)

2k words under the cut

"…You should probably head home."

"…Come back sometime… okay?"

You didn't hear from Harlem for a while after that. Not that he's often inclined to contact anyone. It was usually up to you to seek him out at the very few spots he's guaranteed to be, creature of habit that he is.

But you hadn't done that either.

Those words keep echoing in your head. They sent you back to drifting through your life for a bit, unsure what to do in the face of such a cold, vague rejection.

You felt numb that night, the night you told him you loved him and he didn't even react. You went home that night and you didn't even cry, no matter how lonely your apartment felt. But you didn't let yourself think about what he did after you left either, what he might have felt, what shape his loneliness might have taken, standing in his own empty apartment after he broke your heart.

Broke your heart, didn't he? That's how you should feel, right? Heartbroken?

But you just… don't.

Your heart didn't break that day, your love didn't die because you… you simply…

You don't believe him.

Harlem can pretend you don't know him and you'll play along with that, but just because he's been elusive in telling you things doesn't mean you haven't come to know him in all these months steeped in intimacy.

Harlem is a man who struggles to connect with people. He acts like he isn't, but he's proud of the scars he gets from fight nights and he preens when you act impressed about them. He grumbles when you choose a Disney movie for your movie nights, but still holds you a little tighter when you get emotional during them. And he definitely picks mostly weird black-and-white films when it's his turn to annoy you in return. He plays up how old he is so he can smirk at you while you tease him. When he's blood-drunk in the night, holding you in his arms, he whispers against your neck his favoritism for your blood. "No one else comes close," he'll murmur, hazy and aroused. He's a man who's known such violence all his life, but when he touches you, it's like his hands were made just to cradle you with care, to do nothing but pleasure you and treat you gently. And when you're dozing on his bed after making incredible love and he's letting you use his arm as a pillow and he's propped himself up to hold his soft lips to your face, gently, sweetly, fluttering kisses as to convey his affection without waking you, he whispers 18th century French well into the night, things you can't understand but sound deeply poetic.

You try to see the good in things but you're not boundlessly optimistic either. It's not naivety that draws you to this conclusion, it's the writing on the wall. You don't believe he's rejecting your love because you don't believe he doesn't love you back. A man who refuses to respond to your confession but asks you to come back to him is a man who is desperately trying not to lose you.

It's this conclusion that drives you to make the wild decision to show up at Harlem's apartment in the middle of the night. And God help you, it turns out he's home.

You stiffen as the door opens and Harlem freezes to once he sees your face. Of course he's beautifully shirtless tonight.

"…Lou." Your name is a ghost on his breath and you almost shiver at the familiar sound, but you can't get lost in that now. Not when the man before you looks like Hell and you can smell the scent of cigarettes from his apartment without even stepping inside.

You open your mouth and… nothing comes out.

You don't know how to start. And it looks like Harlem isn't about to, either.

Unconsciously, you take a step forward. He doesn't back away; a good sign. He just stares down at you and if your nerves weren't so frayed you would almost smile at the sight, knowing that, on a usual day, you'd be gesturing for him to lean down so you could press a kiss to his forehead and he'd roll his eyes about it but allow you all the same. It's not a usual day.

Open your mouth again, you don't even think about your words, you just force your voice out.

"If I asked you to kiss me now… would you?"

Harlem's eyes darken and his breath hitches. Those full lips part. "Are you asking?"

You swallow hard. Then, nod.

He doesn't hesitate, not even a little. Instantly, you're swept into his arms and apartment, the door kicked shut behind you.

You almost lose yourself in it, kissing those lips you missed so dearly in such a short time, the heady taste of him imprinting itself on your tongue, the usual hint of nicotine stronger than ever—you can't imagine why.

However, as soon as you find yourselves in his bedroom, his warm hands on your stomach as he begins to push your sweater up, you have to stop him. You can't let this get swept away in sex, not this time.

"Wait," you gasp the word as you break the sensual kiss. "I can't do this unless you say it."

He stops completely, gazing into your eyes with an unreadable emotion in his. He seems to hesitate, eyes flicking away from you before finally saying, "I don't know… what you mean."

You grit your teeth, then release your tension with a sigh. Gripping his wrists a little tighter, you lean in to catch his gaze again, willing him to feel the sincerity and urgency tightening into anxiety within you. "You need to say it. If we are to continue anything from now on, I need to know you love me."

Harlem's jaw tightens, his resolve to not look you in the eye growing as he jerks his head away.

"I…" He chokes out the words like it hurts him. "I can't. I can't feel that way about you."

He's not denying it. He's saying he can't but he's not saying he doesn't. You'll cling to that until your fingers bleed.

Finally, tentatively, he looks at you again. Then raises his left hand. "Do you see this?"

He wiggles his fingers. Three of them, and one stump right where a wedding ring would go. He never told you what happened to it. He's never told anyone.

He swallows and gazes down at his own hand as if seeing the past play out before his eyes.

"Hunters. A long, long time ago. I was just living my damn life. I wasn't hurting anybody. I wasn't even drinking blood. But just my existence was a crime to them and they would deal with it in the cruelest way they could think of." He clenches his hand into a fist and looks at you, so tired and worn down. "They tied me up and forced a ring on my finger. An enchanted ring. It took control of me—it wanted the sun and every day it got a little bit harder to resist the draw. It was driving me mad. Every day, I felt like I was going to die. I…"

The words halt in his throat a moment and he grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut to gather himself before admitting what he never had before. "I had to make a choice. A choice they wanted me to make. Either I die or I sever my only chance to be connected with another person forever. Monsters don't get to love." His words shake and he pretends he doesn't notice it. "I felt like I cut off my heart. I can't… I can't love you because what if-"

You cut him off. You don't even give him a chance to finish that thought before you've already pulled him tightly against you, folding your arms around his broad back.

"There's no what if." Your words shake and you pretend you don't notice. "There's nothing about a missing finger or even a missing ring that will prevent us."

"Lou…" His hands on your waist try to push you away but you don't let him and he doesn't try that hard. "Louise, I… I've loved before and because they loved me back, I lost them. I'll lose you..."

Those last three words are spoken so softly you're almost not sure that's what he said. He doesn't want to lose you. He doesn't want to admit he loves you because he fears losing you and that's the one thing he never wants to experience. But…

You swallow around the lump in your throat. "If you don't say it… you might lose me anyway."

Those simple words break him. He collapses against you, burying his face in your shoulder as he trembles in your arms.

"I'm not a good man." His voice is muffled and his protests weaker than ever.

"You're not a bad man, either," you say, rubbing his back to sooth him. He's just an awkward man. A flawed man. A hurt man.

"What if I hurt you again?" His hands are sliding up your torso again, pushing your sweater up all the way and this time, you let him take it off, separating from him just enough to allow it. It's not sexual, that's not what he's seeking right now. He needs to feel your skin against his. He needs to feel your life, your humanity, against his too-warm, night-riddled body.

"You won't let yourself." You place your hands on his biceps as you speak, meeting those deep, dark eyes with swirls of inhuman red in them, but only as long as he'll let you before he hangs his head.

"I don't know how to be with someone anymore. I don't think I ever knew, and I… I don't know what you want from me, damnit."

"All I want"—without thinking, you rest your hand over his left breast—"is to give you my heart."

He gasps a shaky breath, his chest swelling beneath your touch, and slowly lifts his head. There's a sheen to his eyes and the first glimmer of vulnerability you've ever seen on his face.

He doesn't speak at first, and neither do you.

The seconds tick by as the tears gather on his lower lash line.

You reiterate, so softly as to not spook him, "All I want is for you to accept it."

With one blink, the tears spill. Slowly, carefully, one hand comes up to rest over yours while the other finds your chest, over your heart too. Finally, the warmth you've been looking for blooms in his eyes. He takes another, deep but still shaky, breath and speaks from his damaged, painfully protected heart. "I'll take care of it. I'll protect it with my life. I won't—I won't let myself hurt you, no matter what."

You nearly melt. You did it. He accepted your confession, he accepted your love, he accepted you. But there's one more thing you're looking for. You maneuver your hand to hold his instead, coaxing him closer.

"I'll believe you… if you say it."

It feels like it's been so long since you saw a smile break out on that handsome face and you could cry at the sight now, if you weren't already.

"I-" He stops and swallows, before raising a hand to gently cradle your cheek as he smiles a slightly broken, but still just as beautiful smile. "I love you, Louise. I really do. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

You kiss him. Before you can even think of saying anything back or doing anything else, you've already thrown your arms around his neck and captured his lips in a kiss he readily returns.

You keep kissing him until you've run out of breath and then you kiss him some more. And in between those passionate, joyous, tearful, bittersweet kisses you say it back, again and again, all of which he returns as your kisses turn to lovemaking. You cry this time and you don't feel numb, but you're not heartbroken either.

He says he'll never let your heart be broken and you believe him, well into the night and the next night, on and on, for as long as he'll have you. And he has no intentions of letting you go this time.

#love for sundown #lfs #LfS Harlem #Harlem #i don't remember how i tag these lmao #my writing #LfS fic #com #good enough

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locria-writes · 4 years

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Hello there! Just wanted to drop in and say I really love aab~ stumbled across the dashingdon demo during a lull at work today and it was a great read. Some of those scenes made me cry in a way that was weirdly satisfying? I don't quite know how to explain it but it's fantastic either way! Wishing you the best :3

oh thank you! sorry for making you cry, but that’s also extremely validating lol.

glad you’re enjoying it, and hope you’re doing well!

#an absinthian ballad #it feels weird to be happy about making someone cry lol #anywaffle

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stormheartgames · 4 years

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Hi! I just wanted to drop in and let you know how much I'm loving your game! I only just finished the first chapter and I'm already so attached to all these characters! I legit spent that whole last bit of the chapter crying I was so worried for these precious children. I'm also!!! AMAZED!!! At the length and the world building and I can't wait to finish up the demo! I hope that things with your health improve and the rest of the year is kind to you! Thanks for sharing your work with us :3

Aww thank you so much! I’m glad that you’re enjoying the game!! Thank you for the well wishes! This year is sure is,, existing, haha! But I think it’s rough for everyone. :> I hope it goes well for you, too!

#asks #anywaffle

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unohanadaydreams · 4 years

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Thoughts on the soul king? Cause I'm still trying to figure his shit out tbh

So, I think the idea of him is really cool.

The premise of the shinigami building their society atop the bones of the previous Quincy rule is so interesting.

The sternritter living in the shadow of the Seireitei is fitting and if they’d focused more on the previous war between the Quincy and Shinigami and less on the 1 v 1s I think the soul king could have paid off.

This is an almost dead husk of a god with his body parts strewn around the Soul Society and beyond, lording over a society of beings that fucking hate him and the kind he produced. To the point that Quincy are killed on sight with the singular exception of Uryu (but like....barely). But they can’t get rid of him.

The shinigami NEED him and are unwilling to sacrifice any of their own to replace him. Not just that, but until Ichigo, they don’t think it’s possible to.

I think the soul king has very interesting potential. History revisionism and genocide are the large implications his existance holds.

And it’s disappointing we didn’t find out more of the past war. Mostly because the shinigami coming out on top feels so hollow (hehe) when we don’t even know why it’s such a victory.

Like the fate of the worlds stake is eh. Tell me what kind of world Yamamoto and Unohana razed and buried. Tell me why the stakes are so high that he not be reassembled.

I just think it’s so funny they claim Quincy are a scourge that destroy the balance of the worlds but like.....their forefather is what’s keeping the SS from eating shit.

#anywaffle #mars speaks

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shannaraisles · 4 years

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Oh, THAT’S Amore

A commission fic for the lovely @anywaffle, who requested a little fluff for Iron Bull and Inquisitor Lavellan.

Oh, That’s Amore

“Horns up!”

The roar of the Chargers’ celebration after a good fight echoed across the Herald’s Rest, heads tipping back to down the contents of whatever they were drinking that moment under the benevolent eye of their glorious leader. Iron Bull chuckled as his men, his band, his friends, fell to bantering over the fight they had just come from, the victory they had won in the name of the Inquisition and Inquisitor Lavellan herself. It was impossible not to feel proud of them, even after everything he had given up to keep them living.

A part of him knew he should have resented them for his own attachment that had made that decision on the Storm Coast impossible for him to make, but Olive had been right - in all but name, he had been Tal Vashoth for a long time now. But he was not a Grey One, not an outcast incapable of controlling his baser urges. He was the Iron Bull, and never did he feel more proud of the name he had chosen for himself than when a certain diminutive elf called him by it.

Speaking of that elf ... His head turned with unerring focus at a familiar dip in volume across the tavern, knowing even before his eye found her that Olive had entered. The residents of Skyhold were so in love with their little Inquisitor that she was always preceded by a brief moment of hush, a sign of the respect and awe they held her in given for just a heartbeat before they resumed their business, knowing her well enough now not to linger in those moments. But no one knew her like he did.

No one else had seemed to notice her tension and discomfort in those early days in Haven, but the Iron Bull had. No one else had noticed the nightly tears and banked terror in her eyes, but the Iron Bull had. He could still remember the look on Krem’s face when he had requested one of his second’s hand-made nugs, refusing to offer up why he had asked. He was still pretty sure Olive only suspected that the soft little thing had found its way into her cabin by his hand, though she had never called him on it. He knew exactly where it was now - on her pillow, high in her tower, one wing rubbed smooth from all those tears shed in silent anxiety over the position she had found herself in entirely by accident. She loved that nug, he was sure of it. Just thinking of it, set in a place of such honor, was enough to make him smile.

And that smile was met by hers, even across a crowded taproom, the dewy sweetness of her eyes softening above a grin that belonged entirely to him, displayed openly for all to see. There was no hiding her affections; there never had been. No one was in any doubt that Inquisitor Lavellan was definitely saving her kisses for the Iron Bull.

As he watched, she broke away from Varric and Sera, all but skipping across the taproom to plant herself in his lap with a wide grin. He couldn’t help himself - he chuckled fondly at her exuberant display of unconscious affection, inwardly delighted that she always chose to sit here, with him, no matter who she had entered with.

“Well, hello, boss,” he greeted her, grunting a little as she squirmed on his lap, pulling something from her pocket as she did so. “What’s got you so sparkly tonight, hmm?”

Olive’s grin never wavered as she met his gaze.

“I made you something,” she informed him, setting a little pot into his large palm.

Curious, he raised a brow, uncurling his palm from her waist to reach around her and open the container. What he found there was something he had not come across in these lands anywhere but in the hands of some extortionate merchants.

“Horn balm?”

Olive nodded happily.

“You said you had trouble finding it, and all the merchants who have it charge ridiculous prices for it, so I wrote to my cousin in Wycombe - he knows a couple of Qunari - and he asked them for the recipe, and he sent it to me!” she said, the words coming out in an unaccustomed rush, displaying the barest of lisps that she usually worked so hard to conceal.

That she was excited enough to forego her usual careful speech spoke more than volumes to him; it wrote an entire series of compendiums on warmth and affection and caring that might otherwise have passed him by, were it not for her. Touched, he raised the pot to his nose, sniffing delicately, and there were the old familiar scents - of beeswax and coconut, the soft green scent that clung to his lover’s hair, the barest tang of the leather mortar used to mix it all together. It was something she would not normally turn her hand to, preferring to knit and crochet, to make soft things that could be used or treasured by those she gifted them to. That she had gone so far out of her way to make this for him was ...

“Bull?”

“Mmm?” He lifted his head, his eyes finding her slightly worried gaze barely inches from his own.

“Does it smell bad?” she asked, and though likely no other would notice it, he saw the tension ripple through her frame at the thought that her gift might not be as good as she had hoped it would be.

He smiled, curling his palm to her waist once again, hugging her into his chest to breathe in the scent of her wild silver hair.

“Best gift anyone’s given me, kadan,” he assured her, feeling that tension ease out of her frame as she cuddled into him affectionately.

It wasn’t until later, when she was cajoled from his lap to dance with Krem in an ill-fated attempt to get the bard’s attention, that he suddenly realized what he had said. Kadan. A word filled with so much meaning, yet a word he had never before given to another. A strange tightness gripped his heart as he followed her movements, admiring her lithe form, her bright smile, the warmth that radiated from her whenever she was surrounded by those she called friend and family.

“Ah ...”

He chuckled to himself, his fingers curling around the little pot of horn balm still held in his palm, wondering how it had taken him so long to put a name to what he felt when his little Lavellan was anywhere near his thoughts.

So that’s love.

#anywaffle #commission fic #dragon age inquisition #iron bull #olive lavellan - oc #iron bull x lavellan #realization #comfortable affection #definite fluff

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thesecondcircleofkel · 4 years

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I'm a day late but I'm swinging through to say how much I appreciate you and your fantastic writing! I legit reread your fics and headcanons all the time and they make me so happy! I hope you've been doing well and staying safe 💕💕💕 you're a treasure :3

Thank you, luv! Hope you've been doing well, too!

#admin answers #anywaffle

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zarcake-writes · 4 years

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🌻

I have to spray for fleas and bathe my dogs next week. Usually, I would do it alone but I'm gonna try to get my dad to help me. And by try, I mean wake him up early and make him get up to help me.

#ask #anywaffle

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chrysanthemumgames · 1 year

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Hiya Jess! Thanks so much for the update, it's been so fun through the game again with a couple new MCs and choices~ Ive found myself with an inquiry on the course of my gaming, and I'm not sure if it's been asked it answered before so sorry if it does end up being a repeat. When Makaria visits the garden and MC very excitedly explains plant things to her she says something along the lines of "you remind me of my dad when he gets excited talking about something he likes". Will we get to experience this side of him? If it's not a spoiler might we know what kind of things Hades gets excited to talk about? Super cool if not, but thought I'd ask~ thanks so much for sharing this wonderful story with us. It's in my top 5 favorite cozy games :3

Hi there Waffles!

I think you will get to see this side of Hades eventually. I'll keep what he gets excited and infodumps about to myself for now, as I think some of those things will come out in the games eventually. The man is, in fact, a huge nerd with a lot of interests, and I think especially in the second game, when he's less cautious of whether the PC even wants to be around or around him, he'll loosen up a bit and pieces of that will come through. :)

#ask #kind non anons #anywaffle

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nacaratgames · 2 years

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Gotta ask, does A'Li watch anime? I'm listening to his Spotify playlist and there's a fair number of openings in here, but they're also just absolute bangers on their own so I could see him finding them via anime or TikTok or Spotify discover weekly

Ohoho~ I was hoping someone would catch the reference~

On A'Li's playlist, ブルーバード (Blue Bird) is an opening from Naruto Shippuden, whose main character happens to be the host of a nine-tailed fox beast. I could see A'Li watching anime—he's very in touch with human culture. The song might also resonate with him for its lyrics about yearning for freedom and strength despite adversity. And, as you say, it is a bop.

#anywaffle #TeahouseGame #ask #A'Li #Teahouse Game

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thebibutterflyao3 · 8 months

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Day 3 - Prompt: Smile @pandalilymicrofics

February Daily Series - 508 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Pandora whipped out her mobile to text Regulus that she was on her way, then switched to her last conversation with Sirius. He’d given her his number for Regulus-adjacent emergencies ages ago, but Pandora was too curious about him to leave it at that. Besides, he’d drunk texted her twice in the first month to inform her that she was a twat for keeping Reg in London.

🐼: Tell me about Lily.

🐾: How do you even know about her?

🐼: 3 guesses, the first 2 don’t count.

🐾: You stalked my Instagram again?

🐼: Obviously.

🐾: Apparently everyone does. 🙄

🐾: You’re really coming for winter hols?

🐼: I had enough big brother bonding for a lifetime in the first 3 days.

🐾: Can’t relate. I’m a wonderful big brother.

🐼: I’ll bet he’s sick of you.

🐾: Never!

Pandora’s smile widened. She liked Sirius, for the most part. He was clever, blunt, and completely random, just like her. It surprised her how much they had in common when she first met him, but it shouldn’t have. Regulus was a creature of habit, so it tracked that he would seek out someone like her.

Beyond those similarities, they were polar opposites. As a result, their arbitrary text conversations spiralled into heated debates over extremely niche topics, but she needed to keep this one on track.

🐼: Anywaffles, Lily? I need info.

🐾: Hold on, “anywaffles?”

🐼: You read that correctly. Well done.👍

🐾: Cunt

🐼: Prick

🐾: Great, now that greetings are out of the way, what do you want to know?

🐼: Queer?

🐾: Very

🐼: Single?

🐾: As of yesterday? Yes.

🐼: Anything else I should know?

🐾: Remus says she likes: Taylor Swift, French poetry, fat orange tabbies, and dancing.

🐼: Remus is your beau?

🐾: Don’t start.

🐼: What happened to “single until I die?”

🐾: He quoted Chandler, Pandora. I had no choice.

🐼: Fair.

When Pandora met Sirius for the first time in Heathrow Airport, he blurted, “You’re Phoebe Buffay!” before squeezing the stuffing out of her. Phoebe then became her hyperfixation for the next two weeks as she binge-watched every episode. Apparently, Friends was one of Sirius’s hyperfixations as a child.

She continued to quiz Sirius, and Remus by extension, about Lily. By the time Pandora’s train reached Cardiff, she’d learned that her full name was Lily Jane Evans, she was twenty-five, had a Botany degree, worked in a bookshop owned by Remus’s father, intended to move to London (which had to be a sign), and her favourite food was soup in any form. None of which explained why James specifically mentioned her when Regulus referred to a “group of girls.”

What am I missing? There has to be something else.

It had occurred to her that “Lily” was simply the first name to enter his mind, but she didn’t believe in coincidences. There had to be a reason that this woman was taking up a majority of her thoughts before they’d even met.

She was special, obviously, but why?

Next Part>>>

#lily x pandora #pandalily #pandolily #pandora lovegood x lily evans #lily evans #pandora rosier #pandora lovegood #the marauders #marauders #sirius black

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