#petunia & patches

[fashioninpaper]

[jamborae]

[wiley-treehouse-gardens]

Treehouse Gardens

[ainawgsd]

Petunia appreciation post

[fairykazu]

sweet to dream with kaeya prompt: red rose - falling head over heels in love & petunia - realizing their feelings content: set in canon, teens, mutual pining, lazy ending :( (kaeya) ( requested by @kukikoooo ) event masterlist 𝜗𝜚 genshin masterlist

kaeya

the strongest memory that lingered in kaeya’s mind was when he caught feelings for you. though, by now everyone knows since it’s his favorite story to retell when he’s drunkenly babbling everyone in angel’s share ears off.

he was dumb and you were dumber. you protest otherwise. it’s okay to be in denial. 

in the outskirts of the city, he was knee-deep in a field of windwheel asters begrudgingly. "why did you pick the hottest day of the year to do this?" kaeya grumbled, sweat beading his forehead as he trudged through the asters’ field. 

the air was humid, carrying the faint scent of earth and the distant sweetness of blooming flowers. his boots crunched through the meadow, each step releasing a subtle scent of earthy grass. the midsummer sun blazed down upon him, turning the once vibrant greenery into a dreary sea of orange and terracotta. 

name was just right ahead of him. they were like a little rabbit, hopping throughout the fields. they were picking the "best" flowers one by one, filling up their weaved basket to the brim. while his was barely to the amount compared to theirs or at least, in his standards, he was also picking the best ones.

maybe he was the winner here because his flowers were picked with the utmost delicacy.

"well, the flowers are at their best today. besides, i heard that eula managed to get wind-caressed asters for amber! …" name replied with a bashful grin, their eyes sparkling with excitement. kaeya quirked a brow while they trailed off. "ahem, besides, I want everything to be perfect for the windblume festival."

kaeya chuckled at name's enthusiasm, a hint of mischief dancing in his own eyes. "You and your flower obsession" he teased, poking at name's arm playfully. the two of them had known each other since they were kids. they were like two peas in a pod, sticking together while their friendship had endured countless adventures in mondstadt. "but i guess, it's a good thing, it keeps you from burning down the city with your cooking."

they gasped, nearly dropping their basket on the ground. one thing about name, other than the terrible cooking skills, is that they have the flair for the dramatics. they draped one hand over their face, “but you said you loved my rendition of mint jelly and that everyone in dawn winery liked it too!” 

kaeya’s breath exhaled a laugh, trying to disguise it as cough, as he picked another aster into his basket. “ahaha… i lied.” 

“it was really hard, kaeya.” they whined in response, picking up the basket and continuing on to a different patch of asters. they rested on a nearby tree, sitting down. name pointed their finger at him, “everyone ate it too!” 

kaeya’s eyes grew wide, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. he leaned against the oak tree, trying to keep his laughter at bay. "no, they didn’t.” he put down their accusing finger down as if it was a weapon pointing at him.

the both of them sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the gentle rustle of the leaves above them. name paused, pointing another finger at kaeya as he let out a laugh. they poked him in the shoulder, “yes, they did. even adelinde praised me!” 

“i ate them all.” 

“what?” 

kaeya went on a tangent about how even diluc didn’t like the mint jelly even though the redhead convinced you then that you were a baking prodigy. name recalled the moment when they caught kaeya stealing elzer’s jelly, insisting it was the best jelly he’d ever had. but in reality, he was just saving people’s taste buds and their pride. 

“was it really that bad?”  

“not the worst, ive tasted. it was kind of toothpasty.” 

“fine, fine. how many flowers did you collect for the festival?” they dismissed the situation, maybe to shield their own pride. kaeya tried to read their face but it’s clear name wanted to move on from this topic. the eyepatched boy handed them his basket of flowers that were supposedly in the best condition. they brought the basket to their lap, digging their face into the flowers, checking if they’re “perfect” enough. 

 “i got a couple… wait, why did you even want to do this again?” 

they repeated the same reason as before, added, “just want the perfect windblume festival with my favorite pers…”  they looked up from the basket, meeting eye contact with kaeya’s periwinkle eye. but then they paused, swallowing the words. it felt like eternity or at least, the representation of seeing a text bubble appear and disappear in person, in real life. “people. y’know, rosaria, jean, lisa and you…!” 

maybe, kaeya is naive but is he picking up what they’re putting down. “i like you…”  he watched their expression carefully.

they furrowed their brows before realizing what he just said. kaeya watched name mariante what he said on their shoulders before they freaked out a little. well, a little is a stretch. they shrieked, threw hte basket up before frantically catching the basket and landed on their side. “wait, really?” 

“yes.” 

“really?” 

“yes.” 

[slaymitchabernathy]

Sweet Justice

Coriolanus POV

Coriolanus hears the front doors close in a rather loud manner. It’s odd.

Odd because his wife, his angel, his Soarynn would never slam a door. Not in his house. Not when she’s so sweet and gentle in everything she does. No, she’s not one to be slamming doors.

She normally would already be tucked into bed with him, her cheek resting on his chest while he runs a loving hand through her soft blonde hair.

But tonight was a special occasion, a dinner with some of her closest friends so Coriolanus was the first to be ready for bed. Well, he should be ready for bed. He should be showered with teeth brushed and pillows fluffed but he decided to wait for her.

Everything is so much more fun when they do it together and that includes getting ready for bed.

Which is why he’s still dressed in the clothes he wore to work. His suit and tie, his shiny black leather shoes, and of course, the hidden gun.

It’s not that Coriolanus doesn’t trust the Peacekeepers of Panem to keep him safe, because he does. For the most part. But they can’t be everywhere, only in high traffic areas and Coriolanus isn’t one to take unnecessary risks. Not in his line of business.

Coriolanus Snow is a powerful business man who runs a large firm and an even larger underground network that provides services for those who prefer to remain anonymous. It’s risky work but it’s paid off.

It’s paid off their penthouse apartment, all the clothes Soarynn could want, and it’s paid for his peace of mind.

Soarynn knows very little of what he actually does. He keeps it hidden away from her, out of her pretty little head so that she doesn’t worry too much when he’s gone for “work trips.” It’s safer that way.

He checks his watch and it’s already past midnight. This must’ve been some dinner.

He waits for a few more minutes before he begins to wonder what on earth is taking Soarynn to long to come to bed. To come to him.

Finally, he pushes himself from the chair he’s sitting on and makes his way out of their bedroom and down the hallway towards the front entrance.

Just as he’s rounding the corner he nearly steps on Petunia, the most spoiled cat in the world. She normally spends her free time terrorizing him and eating his socks. He’s often contemplated bringing Petunia with him to work to frighten men who pose a threat to them.

Forget a guard dog, he has a guard cat.

And she’s very wound up at the moment, meowing the moment she sees him, even standing on her hind legs. Coriolanus scoffs at the behavior but then he notices something on her white fur. Something red.

Something that looks like…blood.

A shiver runs down his spine as he stares down at the cat who stares back up at him with urgency as if she’s trying to tell him something.

“Soarynn?” He calls out, caution in his tone, “Soarynn, where are you darling?”

All he hears in reply is a sniffle and he’s darting around the corner and nearly losing his breath when he sees the horrible sight that lies in front of him.

Soarynn crumpled in front of the front doors, her coat discarded on the floor and her entire body trembling.

A million thoughts race through his head but one thought persists more than most.

Who needs to die tonight?

He’s on the floor in seconds, carefully reaching out to assesses the damage. “My love,” he whispers, gently taking her face into his hands, “what happened? Who did this to you?”

Soarynn allows him to raise her head and he’s taken aback when he sees how bloody her beautiful face is. There’s a large patch of blood in her blonde hair, and several scratches on the right side of her face. Her right eye is slightly swollen and she has cuts on her lips. What angers him the most are the clear fingerprints on her neck, colored in dark bruises.

Her bottom lip trembles when she looks him in the eyes and tears begin forming in her blue-gray eyes. “Coryo,” she whimpers, causing his heart to shatter, “I…I didn’t see him…and then…he…he wanted me to…I tried to get away.”

It’s all too much for Soarynn who breaks down in his arms, her sobs echoing through the halls as he holds her, whispering sweet words of devotion whilst he plots the murder of the worlds stupidest man.

Soarynn clings onto him when he tries to pull away, her body racking with sobs, “Shhh, shhh, it’s alright Soarynn. You’re safe my darling, you’re safe.”

Soarynn chokes down another sob and slowly pulls away, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “He took my purse,” she mumbles, “he said…he said he wanted something else…” Her hands begin to shake and Coriolanus is quick to pull her back into his safe embrace, “Shhh, don’t worry darling. We’ll get to the bottom of this. No need to relive the moment right now. What’s most important is that we get you all cleaned up alright?”

꧁ ꧂

“I honestly can’t believe this happened, to one of us out of all the people,” mother says with the shake of her head.

Coriolanus keeps his focus on his wife who’s being tended to by the family doctor, a man who’s all too familiar with Coriolanus coming home with various scrapes and scratches from work.

He’s a good man who gets paid well to keep his mouth shut. He’s also the only man Coriolanus feels comfortable with when it comes to keeping Soarynn healthy.

Soarynn sits on the edge of their bed, her hands clutching the bedsheets while the doctor carefully dabs some healing ointment onto the side of her head where the majority of the blood was coming from.

It’s three in the morning and the Snow family is on high alert.

Coriolanus immediately phoned his own parents who rushed over to help. Well, he called them over for different reasons. He called his mother because she adores Soarynn and has always been a beacon of support for his wife.

He called his father because he’s taught Coriolanus everything he knows. Including how to kill a man.

Crassus Snow is a stoic man who shows no emotion. But Coriolanus can see clear as day how angry he is about something harming his daughter-in-law.

“We will get to the bottom of this,” his father promises, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. Coriolanus watches Petunia hop onto their bed and swat at the doctor when Soarynn winces slightly from the pressure of his hand and Coriolanus feels small smile tugging on his lips.

He used to think that he was the most overprotective person when it came to Soarynn. Then they got Petunia and he quickly learned that he had been outdone by a cat.

Soarynn stares down at the floor, completely silent. This entire thing has shaken her up and Coriolanus wishes for nothing more than to put her to bed and deal with all of this as quickly as possible. But they need more information from Soarynn.

What did this man look like? What was he wearing? What street was she on when it happened?

He hates to reopen literal fresh wounds, but it has to be done.

The doctor finishes up applying some bandages to her face before he makes his way over to Coriolanus, “Well, she’s going to be just fine.” They all let out a sigh of relief when hearing that news.

Coriolanus leans forward, “What of her injuries? Is there any trauma?” The doctor sighs and rubs his hand over his face. The man must be exhausted but when a Snow calls you at three in the morning to help his wife, you answer the call.

“There’s minor trauma to the right temple, where most of the blood came from. I suspect she was shoved into a wall of some sorts, I’m quite surprised she made it back home without fainting. The scrapes will heal and I’ve left some ointment to speed up the process.”

Mother glances over at Soarynn and frowns, “What about her neck?”

That’s probably what angers Coriolanus the most. Someone choked her. Someone put their dirty fucking hands on his angel.

“Based off of the severity of the bruising, I would say the culprit attempted to choke her to death. Or at least to cut off her airflow for the time being. Nothing is swollen though.”

That’s good he supposed. Soarynn could’ve had serious damage to her neck or vocal cords. He can’t imagine a world where Soarynn can’t speak, can’t laugh or sing. Her voice grounds him.

Coriolanus stands up and offers his hand to the doctor, “Thank you for coming. I know it’s unprecedented but our family appreciates your loyalty.” The doctor gives him a tired smile as he takes his hand, giving it a firm shake, “It’s my pleasure Mr. Snow. If you’d like I can come back in about a week to check up on her healing.”

Coriolanus nods, “Excellent idea.”

He has one of the maids see the doctor out and Coriolanus slowly approaches his wife who looks so small sitting on the edge of their bed. So fragile. She’s still staring at the floor, not moving a muscle.

Coriolanus carefully gets down on one knee infront of her, infront of the only person he’d gladly bow down to. “Darling,” he says softly, taking her small hands in his large ones. The physical touch seems to jolt her from her thoughts and she blinks several times, “Hmm?”

He hates to do it, to ask her to speak of it but he needs to find out more so that this never happens again. “I need you to tell me more about what happened. About the man who did this to you. Can you do that for me Soarynn?”

She looks uncomfortable and he cannot blame her one bit. Not when she’s been through something horrible. She glances over at his parents who watch them from the small sitting area they have in their room and she slowly nods, “Yes.”

He gives her hands a gentle squeeze, “Thank you darling. Why don’t we go sit over there hmm? And we can get you some tea?”

Soarynn is hesitant to leave their bed but Coriolanus is able to coax her to stand and make her way across the bedroom. He orders one of the maids to bring her some tea and he covers her with a blanket after they’re seated. Mother offers Soarynn an encouraging smile, “You’ve been so brave throughout all of this darling. And the doctor said everything will heal just fine.”

Soarynn nods but the look in her eyes lets Coriolanus know that she’s so far away from here. He places his hand on her knee, “What happened when you left the restaurant Soarynn?”

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn POV

The air is cold and crisp which makes Soarynn glad that she went with her thicker coat tonight.

She really should’ve had their driver take her and pick her up from dinner with the girls but she doesn’t mind walking. It’s her husband who minds.

Coriolanus Snow captured her heart several years ago and he’s never given it back. He’s everything she could ever hope for. He’s kind, attentive, a good listener, he’s so very handsome and he protects her. Sometimes she thinks he’s a bit paranoid but she supposes that he has his reasons for everything.

And she’s not one to complain or question him. Not when he’s given her a life of comfort and luxury. A penthouse apartment, new clothes and handbags every week, fresh flowers. He even got her a cat which backfired in a way because her beloved Petunia always seems to go neck and neck with Coriolanus when it comes to vying for Soarynn’s attention.

Soarynn wraps her coat tighter around her frame as she walks down the dark Capitol street. She’s not too far from the Corso now, only a block or two. She can’t wait to get home and tell Coriolanus about all the gossip she just heard at dinner. Who’s sleeping with who, who got fired, who’s pregnant.

He claims to be uninterested in these things and yet she always finds him on the edge of his seat, asking question after question about the latest gossip.

Soarynn rounds a corner of the building and stops in her tracks when she nearly runs into a tall man, almost as tall as Coriolanus.

“Oh! Pardon me, I should’ve watched where I was going,” she apologizes, offering the man a kind smile.

He looks down at her and Soarynn feels…uneasy. He’s got dark brown hair and bushy eyebrows. He is not a well kept man. His face is covered in stubble from his beard and he reeks of alcohol. There’s a bruise on his cheek and Soarynn wonders where he got it from. His coat seems to be in disrepair.

He is not from this side of the city.

He flashes her a smile and he’s missing a front tooth, “It’s alright. Good luck for me to run into a pretty lady like you.” Normally Soarynn would blush at that type of compliment but she just nods and goes to move around him.

He grabs her arm.

Soarynn whips her head around and looks back up at him, fear in her eyes. “Where’re you going in such a hurry sweetheart?”

Oh no.

Soarynn tries to pull her arm free but he has an iron grip and a clear motive behind his actions. “Please,” she says, trying to keep her voice from trembling, “please I was just on my way home. I won’t speak of this to anyone if you just let me go.”

The man snickers and pulls her against him, looming over her, “Now why would I do that? And I know for a fact that you’re some upper class bitch who’s always so ready to be fucked. Your type always wants a good fucking but I bet your husband can’t give that to you huh?”

Her husband. Coriolanus will be wondering where she is. Is this how he’ll find her? Dead on the street after being defiled?

Tears mist in Soarynn’s eyes and she shakes her head, “No I…please just let me go. You can have my purse, I have quite a bit of money inside and I can give you whate—“

Within a second her head is being slammed into the brick wall next to her. Soarynn lets out a pained scream and her vision goes black for a moment. The man’s hand comes up to grab her by the throat and he squeezes hard. So hard like he wants to kill her.

Soarynn used to like it when Coriolanus would choke her during sex but if she makes it out alive, she can’t imagine ever being touched by a man again.

“Listen here you little bitch, not all of us can always get what we want so you better shut the fuck up and take whatever I give you. Got it?” He shakes her head like she’s a rag doll and Soarynn is completely limp as she sobs, “Please,” she gasps when her vision grows spotty.

She can feel his other hand slipping underneath her coat, trying to grope her and Soarynn feels a rush of adrenaline coursing through her. Coriolanus would want her to fight, to try and escape. Soarynn brings her hand up and scratches the man, aiming for his eye.

He lets out a shout and releases his grip on her neck and Soarynn crumples to the ground, coughing and wheezing. “You bitch!” He spits out, holding his eye. Soarynn although terrified, glares up at him, “Didn’t peg you for a feisty one but you’re just full of surprises,” he says, grabbing a handful of her hair.

Soarynn cries out again when her face collides with the wall and she reaches up to grab his hand, digging her nails into his skin. He lets out a groan before dropping her hair and Soarynn manages to push herself up from the ground and stumble back.

She takes in the scene, her purse lying on the ground, her coat barely on her body anymore, and the man now bleeding but barely. His eye looks bad but she’s sure that she doesn’t look any better right now.

“You think this is over?” He sneers, wiping his bloodied face with his hand, “I’ll fucking find you, I’ll find you and get what I really wanted.”

Soarynn fights the urge to throw up and she turns on her heel, running down the street, her vision blurred by both tears and blood.

Her head pounds as she pushes through the glass doors of the apartment lobby.

Her body aches when she presses the elevator button to take her to the twelfth floor.

Her hands tremble when she opens the doors, welcomed by a quiet home, no one aware of what just occurred moments ago.

Soarynn crumples to the ground the second she shuts the doors, her body twitching on the floor. She needs help, needs to be cleaned up and taken care of but all she can think of is the way he grabbed her, how he touched her. How he threatened to find her again.

This isn’t over.

She doesn’t know how long she lies there on the floor, maybe minutes, maybe hours. But she feels something soft pressing against her face and she hears…purring?

Soarynn pushes herself up and comes face to face with Petunia whose eyes reflect so much worry when she takes in the current state of Soarynn. Petunia lets out a soft meow and licks a cut on Soarynn’s face and Soarynn nearly breaks into tears again.

“Oh Petunia,” she whispers, reaching out to stroke her soft white fur. Petunia presses her head against Soarynn’s cheek and she leans into the soft touch, gladly welcoming the touch of her loyal pet.

She slowly shrugs off her coat, she’ll burn it once she collects herself. She needs to burn everything he touched. He still has her purse which has her wallet, her identification, the keys to the penthouse.

Are they even safe anymore?

Petunia’s attention is drawn elsewhere and she’s quick to disappear back down the hallway, leaving Soarynn alone once again. That’s the breaking point for her. When not even her cat wants to be near her. Soarynn sniffles and does her best to keep it together but she’s failing miserably at it.

Then she hears it. Hears him. Coriolanus.

“Soarynn? Soarynn, where are you darling?”

She doesn’t know what he’ll say, how he’ll react. But as long as she has him, she knows she’ll be alright.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn wakes with a gasp, clutching the bedsheets. For a moment, it all feels like a dream. His hands, her screams, the cold night. But the throbbing in her head quickly reminds her that what happened to her was real. Very, very real.

Soarynn looks around their bedroom to find it empty. Coriolanus must already be working. She didn’t say much last night and he didn’t either but she could see how angry he was when she finally retold what had happened to her. He was furious. And that scared her.

Not that she was scared of him, no, she could never be scared of her husband. He’d never lay a hand on her, she knew that for certain. But Coriolanus has always had a short temper and hurting her was the quickest way to light his fuse. Whoever did this to her would pay the price. He’d alert the Peacekeepers who would arrest the man and put him behind bars for the rest of his life.

At least, she hopes they’ll find the man responsible for this.

Soarynn slowly finds herself getting out of bed and making her way into the bathroom, Petunia right on her heels. Last night had been a blur but she remembers Coriolanus helping her into the tub, gently washing the horrible events off of her skin before he helped her into some pajamas and got her to bed.

Soarynn can’t withhold her gasp when she sees herself in the mirror for the first time. She looks like she got beat up. Which she did but that doesn’t make her feel any better. Coriolanus is strangely the one who sometimes comes home with cuts and bruises on his face. Always claiming he had a run-in with some drunk at the bar. She’d pay good money to see this bar and its customers.

Her neck is still bruised, terribly so. Her eye is less swollen, she can see clearly out of it which she supposes is a good thing. The bleeding on the side of her head has stopped but the throbbing still remains. Her lip looks fine and any smaller cuts have already healed. She doesn’t remember what the doctor gave her but it seems to be doing the trick.

Petunia hops onto the counter and meows, batting a paw in the air. Soarynn sighs and scratches her head right behind the ears where she likes it, “I know,” she murmurs, “I look horrible.” Soarynn isn’t one for vanity, but she knows how attractive she is. And she knows how much Coriolanus values being presentable at all times.

How many times has he praised her beauty? Her youthfulness? Her perfect skin and soft hair? Her soft and toned body? Will he still think she’s beautiful?

Soarynn carefully touches her neck, feeling the tender skin and being cautious not to worsen the bruising. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve killed her. Or raped her. Or both.

Soarynn shudders and looks away from the mirror, walking into the closet to find one of her husband’s pullovers to cover up. She normally loves her nightgowns but she needs the comforting smell that his clothes provide. Soarynn grabs one of his favorites, a navy blue pullover, and brings it to her nose, inhaling the comforting and familiar scent of Coriolanus. Roses. It’s always been roses with him.

Once she slips it on, she already feels better. She should go find him though, talk about what happened when he found her.

Soarynn goes straight to his study where he almost always is if he’s working from home but she stops in her tracks when she hears voices. Several male voices. Coriolanus isn’t one to shy from having company over but she can’t help but listen in to their conversation.

“…as quietly as possible, don’t get the Peacekeepers involved,” Coriolanus says. She can hear several grunts in the room and begins to wonder how many people are here right now.

“What if we can’t find the right guy? A lot of people could match the description Soarynn gave you.” Soarynn recognizes Festus Creed’s voice and she takes another step towards the study door that’s slightly cracked open.

“She said he was missing a tooth, so if you have to open the mouth of every fucking man in the Capitol then do it. This isn’t a fucking game and I will see him brought to his knees for what he did to my wife.”

Soarynn swallows and takes several steps back, she’s never heard her eloquent, high-society husband talk like this before. It leads her to wonder a few things about him and his father. But now isn't the time to go poking around, not when her health and safety are still compromised. So she takes a few steps back and loudly makes her presence known this time, "Coriolanus? Are you in here?"

She hears the men shushing each other and the sound of her husband's chair scraping against the hardwood floor before he opens the door and looks down at her with nothing but love and tenderness in his eyes. "I'm right here darling," he says, his hands gently cupping her face.

Soarynn leans into the touch and closes her eyes, reminding herself that she's safe now. "How did you sleep?" He asks and Soarynn opens her eyes, staring into his piercing blue gaze, "I slept fine. My head is throbbing though." Coriolanus frowns and carefully touches her temple where she really hit the wall, "It hurts here? Or somewhere else?" Soarynn shrugs, "It hurts everywhere. Have they found the man yet?"

Soarynn watches his face very carefully while he answers, searching for any signs of a lie, "They haven't found any leads yet," he tells her, "but we will find the man responsible for this darling. I can promise you that."

She can tell he’s not lying, but she can’t tell how he’s going to handle this, handle the man who’s responsible for her bruised face. Soarynn goes to peer into his study and finds at least ten men inside, all staring back at her with somewhat curious eyes. She’s only ever met Festus and Felix whose eyes both dart to Coriolanus.

“Who are those men?” She asks, trying to dodge Coriolanus and his attempts to steer her away from his study. “No one darling, just some colleagues.” Soarynn furrows her brows because that doesn’t add up. “Colleagues? Shouldn’t they be at work then? Working for you, not with you?”

She’s not really one to push her husband's buttons and certainly not one to question his line of work, not when it pays for everything luxury she has but there’s just something about seeing all those men huddled in his study that have her questioning things.

Coriolanus gently pushes her towards the kitchen, “Believe it or not sometimes bosses work with their employees darling. We’re just going over some shipments. Now why don’t you ask the cook to make you some breakfast and I'll join you as soon as I can, how does that sound?”

Like you’re trying to distract me, Soarynn thinks to herself but she just nods and makes her way into the kitchen. The cook it seems, has been informed about what happened last night because she insists that Soarynn take her breakfast in bed. And with her head still throbbing, Soarynn doesn’t put up much of a fight.

Once she's settled back into bed, she tries to replay the events of last night's attack. It’s no secret that the Snows are a prominent Capitol family, and people can do horrible things to take down those who sit on the top but Soarynn knows that last night's attack wasn’t premeditated. It was rotten luck.

“Here you are, Mrs. Snow.”

Soarynn gives the cook a small smile and takes the silver tray she’s carrying, filled to the brim with all of Soarynn’s favorite things to eat at breakfast. “Thank you, Dorthy. Did my husband say anything about the men in his study?” Soarynn really shouldn’t bring the help into this but she’s curious to see if Coriolanus has put more trust into their cook than into her.

Dorthy shakes her head, “No Mrs. Snow. I didn’t even hear them come in. But I know he’s quite worried about you. So please let me know if you need anything else to be more comfortable.”

Soarynn’s not going to get anything out of anyone but the direct source, her husband. So she simply nods and begins eating her food, she hasn’t eaten since last night and Dorthy makes a mean scrambled egg. Petunia hops onto the bed, purring up a storm while she makes herself comfortable next to Soarynn.

“How are you this morning little lady? Did you sleep well?” Soarynn asks Petunia who merely blinks in reply. Soarynn would never admit this to anyone, not even Coriolanus, but she often talks to Petunia like she’s a little human. And isn’t she?

Soarynn reaches up to gently touch her head where it hurts the most and feels somewhat relieved that there’s no more blood. She’s pretty sure that the doctor came to visit last night, but she couldn’t be sure. So much happened last night.

Anxiety begins to build in her mind as she thinks about all the steps they’ll have to take to find the culprit. They’ll have to alert the Peacekeepers, she’ll have to give a statement. She might even have to see the man again to identify him. Will word get out about what’s befallen her?

She can see it now in the newspaper headlines: ‘Soarynn Snow attacked in the streets!’

Will people blame her? Her husband? Pin it on her family name and claim that she was always an easy target, that it was only a matter of time?

The Snows have been at the top since Soarynn met Coriolanus all those years ago. That’s simply how things are. But once you’re at the top, down is the only direction to go.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus POV

"She's a curious thing, your wife."

Coriolanus shoots Festus Creed a lethal glare, he acts as if his own wife, Persephone isn't constantly pestering him with questions as well. It's strange to think that just last night their two wives had dinner with each other and now one of them is covered in scratches and bruises.

What if it had happened to Persephone instead? If Soarynn hadn't gone down that street and instead had the car come to pick her up?

No, he can't think like that, can't wish this pain upon someone else's wife. Soarynn would chide him for thinking of such a thing. She's too good for this world, his sweet darling girl.

And she's strong, she's strong even if he treats her like glass. He should go check on her but instead, he's holed up in his study plotting the murder of a stupid, arrogant, vile man. He sent every man he could to search for the culprit with specific instructions to not harm him, to simply bring him to their shop.

"She's simply confused," Coriolanus tells him, flipping through several files of men who have already been arrested for similar crimes to the one that Soarynn was subjected to. It would be way too easy if the man had already been behind bars before, then all Coriolanus would have to do is knock on the bastard's door and kill him.

But that would be too easy. And Coriolanus Snow loves a challenge.

That's one of the reasons he fell in love with Soarynn. She constantly challenges him, not in a disrespectful way but in a feisty way, and he likes that side of her. The side that isn't afraid to stand up for herself, to advocate for herself and others. She's always had a bit of spitfire in her but now he worries that her fire has been dampened by this attack. Will she be too scared to go outside now? He certainly will be.

Soarynn won't be going anywhere without protection anymore. Even if she hates him for it.

"What're you going to tell her when you find him?" Coriolanus has gotten far too good at lying to his wife but over small things that don't concern her. This definitely concerns her. It's all about her.

"I don't know," he admits, pinching the bridge of his nose, "but this can't go unpunished. He touched her Festus, he tried to...he tried to touch her," his voice goes dark just thinking about what that man truly wanted from Soarynn. He's thankful that she was able to fight back and didn't freeze under pressure. He can't imagine the type of person he'd become if he had found her lying on the street instead of in their home.

He'd burn this fucking city to the ground.

꧁ ꧂

"Try to hold still," he murmurs while slowly peeling back the bandage. It pains Coriolanus to see Soarynn slightly wince as he uncovers the nasty blow she took to her temple. But he's pleased to see that it's already begun to heal, and according to the doctor, it won't even scar.

Soarynn looks at him with uncertainty in her eyes, "Is it bad?" Coriolanus shakes his head and grabs the healing ointment, liberally applying it to the area, "It looks better than I thought it would," he admits. Petunia hisses at Coriolanus when Soarynn gasps sharply, "It's alright darling," she says to the cat, stroking her back to comfort her. Coriolanus only rolls his eyes in return at the feline's behavior.

"The doctor will be back at the end of the week to check on you again," Coriolanus says, carefully applying a new bandaid to the cut. Soarynn only hums in reply, she has that far-away look in her eyes again.

“Darling.”

"Hmm?"

"Are you alright? Do you want to go outside?"

It's only been a day since the attack but Soarynn has yet to venture outside of the penthouse walls, and that worries Coriolanus. Soarynn normally spends her days running around the Capitol with friends. She shops and dines as she pleases and Coriolanus is more than happy to fund her trips so long as it makes her happy.

Soarynn shrugs and reaches up to touch her bruised neck, "I don't think I want anyone to see me like this," she whispers. Coriolanus can't blame her for her hesitation, especially with her condition but she needs some fresh air, need some sun on her face. "Why don't we go to the garden?” Coriolanus suggests, knowing that it'll always be a safe space for the both of them.

Soarynn perks up at the suggestion and she nods, a faint smile on her lips, "Alright."

꧁ ꧂

"Do you remember the first time you brought me up here?"

Coriolanus smiles at her question and he nods, running his hand through her soft, blonde hair, "I do. You were a giggling mess if I recall." Soarynn blushes which only makes him smile wider, when he first met her she was always so bubbly around him, not at all scared of the big and bad Coriolanus Snow. Not that he was bad, oh no, not with his reputation on the line. He had to appear as a good man, an honest man, not some blood-sucking murderer.

And he's not necessarily a murderer, not by a long shot. But he can be a brute when needed and this specific situation calls for all sorts of violent solutions. He wants this man to pay for what he did to his wife. "Coriolanus?" Her sweet voice draws him from his murderous thoughts and he looks back down at Soarynn who's head is in his lap, "Yes my love?"

Soarynn bites her lip as if debating what she's going to ask him before finally speaking, "Are you...are you going to do something about it? Are you going to find that man?"

She knows. Or she's at least getting closer to finding out the truth and then Coriolanus truly doesn't know what he'll do. Soarynn has never known this lifestyle, she's never known what it's like to come home with cuts and burises until now and he's going to make sure that it never happens again.

He gazes down at her so lovingly, she truly doesn't know the power she holds over him, how he'd gladly burn all of Panem down to ground should she ask it of him. "Of course I'm going to find that man darling, we wouldn't want him to hurt someone else, someone who isn't from a powerful family like ours without connections." It's a twisted way of putting it but there's some truth to his words.

It seems to reflect on Soarynn's conciense because she nods, pressing her lips into a thin line, "I suppose you're right. I wouldn't want some other girl to get hurt as well." A light breeze blows against them and Soarynn shivers, "Let's go back inside now."

Coriolanus doesn't argue with her, not after what she's been through. He wishes it weren't winter, at least then their rooftop garden would be in full bloom. Soarynn spends hours up here during the summer, pruning and gardening with Petunia chasing bugs around. It's a safe haven he's created, if only it could reach the Capitol streets.

| Part 1. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

[tea-blankets-andstars]

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS IS THE MOST MARAUDERS ERA CODED SOMG EVER

allow me to elaborate

You booked the night train for a reason So you could sit there in this hurt, Bustling crowds or silent sleepers You're not sure which is worse - remus coming back to hogwarts in PoA

Because I dropped your hand while dancing, Left you out there standing, Crestfallen on the landing. Champagne problems. Your mom's ring in your pocket, My picture in your wallet, Your heart was glass, I dropped it. Champagne problems. - Sirius when remus thinks hes the traitor

You told your family for a reason, You couldn't keep it in- Regulus talking abt him & james

Your sister splashed out on the bottle- petunia 

Now no one's celebrating- the events of oct 31, 1981

Dom Pérignon, you brought it- griffindore party

No crowd of friends applauded- the prank

Your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems- sirius family abt him

You had a speech, you're speechless, Love slipped beyond your reaches- jily

And I couldn't give a reason. Champagne problems- peter when hes asked why he betrayed james & lily

Your Midas touch on the Chevy door, November flush and your flannel cure- wolfstar

"This dorm was once a madhouse" I made a joke, "Well, it's made for me"- the marauders

How evergreen, our group of friends Don't think we'll say that word again, And soon they'll have the nerve to deck the halls That we once walked through- the skittles

One for the money, two for the show. I never was ready, so I watch you go- reg about siri

Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you- reg right before he dies

"She would've made such a lovely bride What a shame she's fucked in the head, " they said- lilys family about pandora

But you'll find the real thing instead, She'll patch up your tapestry that I shred- reg after james breaks ip with him after he gets the dark mark and starts dating lily

And hold your hand while dancing, Never leave you standing, Crestfallen on the landing With champagne problems- remus after he learns sirius was innocent

Your mom's ring in your pocket, Her picture in your wallet, You won't remember all my Champagne problems- sirius watching over remus after he dies

You won't remember all my Champagne problems- the legacy they all left behind 

[gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley]

i finally found you. [g.w. x reader]

Summary: When two young souls meet.

wc: 3.1k

a/n: this is actually my first time writing a soulmate au :O don't you guys just love the idea of the big mean-looking father being an absolute softie for his darling princess?

--

Y/ N was young, helpless, and unsuspecting the day she was found that autumn afternoon. At six years of age and all alone in a muggle park in the middle of Merlin-Knows-Where, she was all but crying; crying for her parents who had unknowingly left the little girl all alone sniffing petunias and lilies. She wailed to her little heart’s content, unsure of their return.

She was so distressed, so alone and afraid, her magic started to seep out defensively. She felt it flow through her core to the very edge of her fingertips. The sudden overwhelming surge of magic was so strong, it scared off the wildlife around her. Rabbits and birds and foxes scurried off, all whimpering in fear in the process.

Now, she was truly alone, except maybe for the abundance of flora that started to overgrow around her. Yet again, the thought of the creepy crawlies lurking neath the ground didn’t reassure her.

Just then, a freckled boy peeked his head out from behind a tree. “Um, why are you crying?”, he asked with innocent curiosity.

The girl’s head perked up, looking at him with big, glassy, red-rimmed eyes that housed all the emotional turmoil she’d been through for the past half or so hour, “I lost m’ parents. I can’t,” the girl sniffled and used her sleeve to wipe off the tears that stained her cheek, “I can’t find them.”

A brief expression of duty had flickered on the boy’s face before he turned his heel and strode off. The girl, taken aback, reached her hand out from the tall patch of grass she’d been reposed in, “Wait! Where are you going?!”

Then, loneliness befell her once again.

She accepted her fate; becoming one with the grass that shrouded her figure. She no longer paid any mind to the ants that crawled up her arms, around her shoulders, and down her still-magical fingertips. Even the company of mere ants would do. All she needed was some sort of presence, just a small sliver of hope that she wasn’t alone.

Barely ten minutes passed while she wallowed in her self-pity when a horde of redheads came trudging towards her. Behind them scurried the boy, and… another copy of the boy? 

“Oh, darling! What are you doing out here all alone?!” The only lady amongst them cried out, hurriedly running towards her as fast as her stubby legs could. She had her arms wrapped around her, dusting all the ants and dirt off her. Then, she paused. She felt the little girl’s magic surge through her. A twinkle in her eyes, the girl noted.

“I lost my parents, and I don’t know my way home.” The girl said, her voice all nasally from the mucus that had been collecting in her sinuses.

Without wasting another second, the lady slipped her wand out of her holster, muttering a spell that sent– to the girl’s bewilderment– a brilliant dog flying out from the tip, and into the air, barking dutifully.

The lady smiled warmly at her, “Now, don’t you worry, dear. I just sent a patronus to your parents. They should be here any second now.”

And as the young Y/N thanked the lady profusely, she felt a pair of watchful eyes over her. Her head craned over in the direction of the boy who was standing behind who she presumed to be his older brother. She flashed him an award-winning toothy smile, and the boy swore he felt his dirt-covered cheeks flush at the gesture, nuzzling deeper into his brother’s side, flushed.

A loud crack was then heard from behind the little girl. A slim, alluring woman who barely looked beyond thirty, and a surprisingly surly-looking man with a beard almost thicker than Albus Dumbledore’s.

Before the lady could even process that she finally found her daughter, the brutish man quickly rushed over to her, picking up and lifting her up into the air. “My sweet little baby! Daddy’s so sorry he left you!” The man cried out in a crooning voice that broke at one point.

The girl’s mother quickly thanked the family for finding her, and before they knew it, Y/N’s family was ready to leave the park. But before they could, the girl stopped them.

“Wait! One last thing, please?” She shot her father puppy eyes that left him defenseless.

Her parents then nodded in agreement, curious as to what she was up to. Y/ N then quickly let go of their hands and headed straight for the boy, locking him in a rather strong embrace, definitely from her father and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” She said with that silly toothy grin again.

Amused, the people around them cooed at the adorable spectacle. Just two children being children, at first glance.

Nobody, not a single soul, around them had anticipated this gesture to alter the course of their lives for the years to come. Neither of the two children had flinched at the sudden itchy sensation or the newly-embedded “moles” that decorated their skin. 

* * *

Y/N wasn’t sure why the heavenly beings had persecuted her for simply staying back after class to finish up her notes.

She keened over in pain, a sharp agonising sting had wedged itself into her thigh, then spread throughout her body like a wild flame. Her skin felt like it was ripping off, but it remained intact. All she could do was cry, howl, wail. She tried everything to distract her mind from the searing pain and the fever that was slowly gathering, she tried so hard– her voice turned hoarse; throat raspy and sore. Her flesh felt as though molten pins and needles were terrorising every crevice of it. Oh, the agony– and it was all because of this wretched once-harmless “mole” on her inner thigh.

Throughout the years that led up to this, she paid no mind to the peculiar mole that had etched itself onto her leg. It was strange– it curled at the end, and was almost hollow in the centre, almost as if it spelled the letter ‘G’. What was even stranger, was the fact that it itched, and occasionally stung. Still, she paid no mind to it. She swore she could feel magic spark out of it sometimes, but blamed the delusions on her lack of sleep. Until then, of course. It was causing her a great deal of pain. 

“Dear! Come quick!” The girl’s mother chided, excitement lacing her mellow voice.

A tall, surly-looking, man came rushing into the room with a pink frilly apron around his big waist. A spatula was in his left hand, while his other hand held a spaghetti sauce-smeared pot lid tightly. “What’s wrong, love–?”The lady cut him off, still as excited as she would be on Christmas the following day, “Our darling Y/N has a connection with her soulmate! Isn’t this wonderful? Oh, I do hope he’s a wonderful man. Don’t you think so, too?”

The man was stunned. His beard-laden face housed an unreadable expression before it melted into one of relief and joy. His brutish voice echoed throughout the house, shaking the walls, and surely enough the neighbours could hear him too, “My little baby’s all grown up!”

He dropped the lid with a loud metallic ‘clang’, running up to her and seamlessly picking her up. The gesture was so abrupt, so sudden, she could merely let out a yelp as her father’s warm embrace tightened gently around her. The girl’s little giggles danced around the room as her parents celebrated her, spinning her around the room.

And that was the last time the unknowing Y/N had ever once felt good about the dreaded “mole” on her leg. The happiness on her parent's faces wasn’t enough as the pain continued to shoot through her, rudely snapping her back to the present. 

As she tried her best to support herself, to bid herself to at least stand up, she felt her knees buckle underneath her weight, quivering with each attempted step she took. Sweat trickled down her flushed complexion, collecting between her knitted-together brows and in the wrinkles of her forehead as her face scrunched into a pained expression.

She sucked her breath in between her teeth, biting back the crude expression about to escape her lips, “Oh for fucks sake!”

It was never this bad, she thought in between the myriad of other thoughts that were screaming and hissing. She was only about to reach her tenth year of no contact. And for the love of Merlin and Morgana, who the hell was her soulmate and why was he making her life so fiendishly difficult? Couldn’t she bear the consequences later on? Why now? Why in the midst of preparing for OWLs? Why couldn’t it happen afterwards? 

Unbeknownst to the girl as she battled with her internal monologue, a head had peeked into the room from behind the wall of the entrance.

A crooning voice, “‘S everything alright?”

It was a voice so soothing, so pleasant, it seemed to tame her pain receptors for a good moment, washing over her like rain after months of drought. Wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, she finally gathered the strength to sit up straight. Her face was still flushed, yet ashen, as it glistened with sweat. A tall boy had found his way over to her, towering over her with an extended hand, and for a moment, she saw the blurry face of that boy all those years ago.

She looked up at him with glassy eyes as wide as Saturn’s rings, red-rimmed as they brimmed with tears. He was just as taken aback. Who is this girl, and why does she feel so… familiar? The boy thought. And just then, before the girl could graciously accept his hand,  a sharp stinging sensation had struck him in his lower spine. Rudely shocked, he let out a little yelp before quickly composing himself again.

Y/N watched as the mystery boy jolted, grabbing his lower back in the process. Then, she took note of his red and gold tie. Such Gryffindor heroism, she mused. The upper corners of her lips twitched upwards. She couldn’t help it; it was amusing.

And, without thinking, “Everything alright, Gramps?”

Her mirth-laced voice and amused expression had caught him off-guard once again. Why, isn’t she lovely?

“Aren’t you a lovely one?” The boy let out a hearty guffaw.

The girl smirked, “Why, of course.”

This time, a sort of coolness overcame his body as he felt a hand take his. He’d been so off-guard this time, his breath had hitched in his throat. Then, he felt his lower spine tingle, though it wasn’t the same as it always did. The anticipated scritches that felt like the claws of a lion digging into his skin instead felt like a feather tickling him. It was light, but not enough to elicit a little chuckle out of him, but it felt right.

He noticed as the girl seemed to shudder too.

* * *

Everything about her felt so familiar. 

However, the poor familiarity fell victim to illness– bedridden and frail; surviving on a myriad of potions.

Although her hands seemed to be on the verge of withering away, her touch felt so right against his skin. Her glassy eyes felt like home; as if they were meant to stare at him and take in and drink every inch of his being. Despite it being nearly two months since they met in that empty classroom, her very presence still felt enigmatic to him. She was like a missing jigsaw piece; the final one before everything was complete and whole. Merlin, he thought, who exactly is she?

He sat down beside her sleeping form in the hospital wing, combing slender fingers through her hair. She looked as ghastly as she had been last month– a ghoulishly-white complexion, skin as thin as damp parchment, and lips as dry and rough as sandpaper. Madam Pomfrey worked tirelessly to try and stabilise Y/N’s condition but only managed to temporarily subdue her symptoms before she was bedridden again. The whole ordeal felt unreal to George.

“Unfortunately, Mr Weasley, Ms L/N is suffering from Unus-modo Amor. It seems that she has an established soulmate connection, but has been out of contact with them for a very, very long time.” Madam Pomfrey explained.

He saw the pity on her face, and he couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for her, too. 

George asked, “What happens if… she doesn’t find her soulmate?”

A sullen expression had painted itself on the Mediwitch’s face, “She will enter a vegetative state, I’m afraid. It’s much like receiving a Dementor’s kiss,” she paused to rub her temples, “If she does not initiate contact with her soulmate by her birthday… The consequences are irreversible.”

George felt his heart shatter, the pieces scattering into the wind. He couldn’t lose her (he had just met her two months ago, but her presence in his life was like a turning page), he just couldn't. He hated that she was wrongly subjected to such torment and suffering– he wanted to scream at the universe at the top of his lungs for doing this to her; for stripping her of the joys of life and confining her to the cruelties of soulmate connections. He used to think that the concept of soulmates was “a whole load of bollocks”, but she proved him wrong.

However, deep inside his heart, he felt this nagging feeling that he couldn’t seem to shake off.

‘Lucky man,’ he thought bitterly, a scornful look threatening to show on his face, ‘very lucky man.’

‘Shame he isn’t here, by your side taking care of you.’ Ten points for George Weasley, he mentally rewarded himself.

Stupid Unus-modo Amor.

* * *

The susurrus of the wind-blown leaves outside rattled against the windowsill. The room was pin-drop silent, and only her ragged breathing could be heard. Then, amidst the susurration of leaves and breathing interspersed with the shivering of her chest, it dawned on him.

He’d lose her on the day she grew a year older, a year wonderful-er. He’d lose her, though not lose lose. She was going to be bedridden, void of life. She was going to lose the spark that he’d rekindled the day they met– she was going to lose that beautiful fire in her eyes that he, and he only, managed to fan. 

George couldn’t believe it. He had thought out wonderful plans for her birthday. A tall, 5-layered cake, bacchanalia in the common room, leading a choir of drunken Gryffindors in singing her Happy Birthday. It was all too wonderful– a day to celebrate her. Why did it have to all go south?

Loss. George couldn’t bear the idea of loss– to lose someone you love– love?

I love her? He thought, shocked to the core.

His eyes darted over to the hand he’d been raking through her hair and suddenly started to count the days he’d spent with her in the hospital wing when none of her friends had once even thought to drop by and say hello. Then, he looked over at the tray of potions he’d been feeding her.  Green potion for Monday, Purple one for Tuesday in small doses, he recalled. Merlin, he had all her prescriptions memorised at this point.

It all came crashing down on him– he loved her with every fibre of his being. He couldn’t help the bubbling bitterness that accompanied the sweetness of his revelation. He wasn’t her soulmate, or so he thought. He wasn’t her saving grace, the one who’d pull her out of her state of anguish with a kiss. But– something inside him was shouting at him beckoning him to do the unthinkable. Kiss her.

If she was going to go soon, he might as well profess his love. She wouldn’t feel it, she was asleep, after all. 

George thought sorrowfully that he wasn’t ever going to fall in love again; not after she took his world by storm. Maybe in their next lives, they'd finally be tethered by faith- a bond so strong and beautiful it would bring kingdoms to their knees.

So, after retracting his hand from her hair, he leaned in. Tears welled up in his eyes as his lips quivered. His heart ached, raced, and thumped. 

Then, their lips finally met.

For a moment, nothing happened. It merely felt like skin-on-skin; warm and slightly uncomfortable from her chapped lips. His eyes were closed, and the moment he opened them, her cavernous, dull eyes were staring straight into his.

Then, sparks.

It was so wonderful, she thought, having lips that melded beautifully and rightfully with hers. The everlasting numbness that had plagued her for months seemed to have dissipated and melted away. Her nerves felt hot, but it wasn’t scorching. It felt like a warm bath– it was… comfortable.

She felt life slowly seep back into her. She felt her magic bubble, as if her gears, after months of not working and rusting away, were finally turning. She felt whole.

It didn’t take long for it to hit her.

George’s lips were on hers, and it seemed to have this effect on her she hadn’t felt in almost a decade. Putting one and one together, she realised what all of it meant. Her arms shot out from underneath the cotton blankets and engulfed the nape of his neck. George’s eyes briefly widened but deepened into the kiss nevertheless.

A tingling sensation overcame her inner thigh. It felt as though the tip of a quill were engraving into her skin, slowly, but it still wasn’t painful.

“Wait!” She said, exasperated.

Surely enough, George pulled away, flushed and sweaty from the passion moments prior. He bemusedly watched as she swept the blanket off and pulled up her pyjama pants. 

There it was, in golden scripture.

“George Fabian Weasley.”

A gasp left both of their lips. It couldn’t possibly be. How could it be? 

“It can’t be…” said George, trailing off as he eyed the writing on her leg, but then quickly remembered the tingles on his vertebra, the way his skin felt like it stretched minutely with a little burn, “Wait, Y/N. I need you to check this.”

With her hum of agreement, the boy turned around and lifted his jumper, and lo and behold, on his pale skin inscribed her name elegantly in rose-golden ink.

Overwhelming relief crashed over her as she clasped him tightly. She was brought back to the past; to that little muggle park where little Y/N had been crying pitifully. She remembered then– that freckled boy who’d peeked behind the tree; the boy she had kissed on the cheek so innocently.

That very boy was in her arms, crooning, though she wasn’t sure if he was comforting her after her whole ordeal, or himself for being so daft. Still, she found it in herself to pull away and look him dead in the eyes– staring at him with those glassy red-rimmed eyes that he remembered dearly from when they were kids.

“I finally found you, you prat.”

--

a/n 2: OHH i really hope you guys caught on to the parallels between young and current-george peeking out from behind something:')))) this took me like almost a week and im terribly sorry it did

[runin-reads]

Jily is such an obvious example of a wartime marriage: they get married at 19-20 years old at the cusp of war, freshly graduated from school, probably consumed by the fear of missing out. They’re a classic case of “hey we could die any moment so let’s just get married before it’s too late. I wouldn’t be surprised if Harry was an accidental pregnancy and Jily got married to save face since that was the norm back then. They started dating in seventh year when they were about 17-18 years old and when you factor in the literal war going on, I doubt they had much time to know each other as intimately as James and Sirius for example. They were together for so little time that they likely didn’t go through the rough patches that married couples are expected to and probably will go through!

They’re upheld as this ideal couple, JKR even wrote them as a stag and doe, but their love isn’t textually shown but rather it’s stated and quite blandly so. This is mainly due to Lily not having many character traits beyond her relationship to other characters; she’s Harry’s mother, James’ wife and Petunia’s sister. Unlike James and the other marauders, her personality isn’t fleshed out.

With that said, I’m convinced that James and Lily would’ve eventually divorced had they survived. I think the honeymoon phase would wear off and the shaky foundation of their marriage would be way more apparent when there isn’t the imminent threat of death or war hanging over their heads.

I don’t even dislike Lily as a character, I just wish JKR would’ve spent more time writing about her so I could feel compelled by the ship that formed the basis of hp as a series.

[qqtxt]

[🌸] i know i love you w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / exes-to-lovers(ish) ✿ disclaimer: possibly toxic behaviours / the boys are depicted to be in a one-sided love but the reader still reciprocates their love in secret / curse words (none with ill intention!) ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 2,314 words ✿ in which they show you they still love you, even when they know they shouldn’t… ✿: 🎧 0X1=LOVESONG by txt [masterlist 🌸] / other members are below the cut! / @kflixnet​​ ✨

things ended... messy, to say the least. emotions were running high, stress was constantly on and pressure was never a good friend that made everything combust; leaving both ends burning and crumbling to meet at the centre. a break. not a clean one, but it’s a break nonetheless. 

it was the grey area of uncertainty, of not knowing if you two would ever be together again or if this was the end. a part of you knows you’ll always love him–whether it’s in secret or out in the open–and you can’t ever deny that. him, on the other hand, is more adamant to showing you that your love still burned brightly, strongly, unwavering in the time you two were apart.

[🐰] soobin once a week, flowers would show up unannounced. be it at your home, at your work, at the places you least expect them... the blossoms of hidden messages would be there depending on the week and it happens so frequent that you don’t question who it’s from anymore. orchids of i miss you, tulips of deep and unconventional love... lily of the valley in hopes of patching up the relationship that has gone sour, that once tasted so sweet.

it’s a new day to a new week. you hear the doorbell ringing and a soft mutter of a delivery under your name. while you’re hoping it’s that kitchen appliance you’ve ordered, you’re surprised with the blossoms of petunia. upon thanking the delivery guy, you’re standing at the doorway with the bouquet in your hands, the letter poking out for you to recognise the handwriting that makes your heart twist but soon after, the warmth that spreads for the first time in a long time is what makes you crack a smile.

‘here’s to our healing. to you. to me. to us. still thinking about you everyday. yours, c.s.b.’

soobin watches, a distance away in silence. it pains him that he knows he doesn’t deserve to be here, to see you at a vulnerable state but it’s all he’s willing to give himself as he watches you hold the flowers he’s picked for you. how desperate he wants to be the flowers you hold so tenderly in your hands but he knows he deserves this... dull, throbbing ache that probes at his chest. yet today, for the first time in a long time, he smiles with the tears in his eyes and quietly leaves to think about the next bouquet of flowers he’d send next week.

tl;dr: soobin respects your space and doesn’t exactly show up in person (also because his heart can’t take it) but uses other means to show you he still loves you. flowers. he finds that being able to speak with you through written word and the blossoms and... quietly watching your reaction to the flowers is enough to reassure him that you still love him; just that you two needed time, for now.

[🦊] yeonjun “i know,” he murmurs, softly, broken. he swallows thickly, peering up to you in a way that you can’t close the door on him even if you wanted to. “i just–i really, really needed to see you...”

he knows this is wrong. he knows that you deserve your space, your privacy, the time apart of what grants this to be a break in the first place but... he can’t. he wants to honour his words of being able to allow you to reflect in peace but he can’t. yeonjun misses you too much to pull through despite doing well the past few weeks and at the times when he’s the weakest, he finds himself red eyed from crying, puffy eyes steering him away from his path back to his dorm and straight to–”j-jun...”

yeonjun hates that look on your face. pity. pain. the way you still silently love him but can’t openly show it because you’re hurting, too. then he hates how you hug yourself when he wants to be the one you wrap your arms around. on top of the many things he hates about you, he can’t ever hate you.

“that’s what you said two weeks ago.”

his eyes snap shut, a couple of pathetic tears falls from his eyes to his tear-stained cheeks as he nods, “i know.”

he tries his hardest not to crush you when you step out to pull him into your embrace. it’s the same thing you did the last time he was here and he’ll take all he can get. his arms feebly wrap around you before he steers you to his chest, keeping you there, feeling your heartbeat thump just as loud as his but never louder than the silent cries that echo in the quiet corridors. the embrace was much longer than last time but never ever long enough to satiate him.

he reluctantly lets you go when you bid him goodnight and tell him to take care of himself. he knows you know the love you two have is still there; gently wavering in the sea of unknown and that one day, it’ll resurface. not today, not now, but one day. yeonjun watches as you close the door on him and succumbs to walking back alone that night; yet, his heart feeling a bit lighter than the last time he was here.

tl;dr: yeonjun does well in the beginning to give you your space but after a week, two weeks, three... he’ll start to crumble and show up at your place even if he knows he shouldn’t. it might sound like he has an ulterior motive but he just wants to see you. even if you don’t say anything or hold him, all he wants is to be able to see you face to face, to get his dose of your presence before leaving again. he won’t push you to reconcile with him if you weren’t ready and he’ll respect your wishes if you truly didn’t want to see him but when you don’t, he’ll take it as a hint to keep showing up until you two were ready to fall back in love again.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu knows he’s not being fair to you but... he... honestly... he couldn’t stop himself. it’s on impulse for him to buy the tickets before he can stop himself and he only realises what he’s done when he sees the e-ticket on his phone. it’s a movie you’ve been fawning over since the trailer came out and he has a feeling you wouldn’t want to go so he just...

that’s how you two end up meeting for the first time in weeks since you two said you’d go on a break. a bunch of rules were made up; keeping each other’s distances, respecting spaces, trying to keep it civil but there’s only so so much that beomgyu can take.

in the thick of the movie being displayed on the large projecting screen, beomgyu’s instincts get the best of him. you jolt a little but you remain unmoving when you feel a head on your shoulder. then, the light brushing of his hand that lingers over the back of yours. it pains you but it... soothes you, at the same time. the only reason why this break existed in the first place was to give you two clarity, to give a moment apart before you’d come back to talk things out and work on it together.

that would come inevitably. you two know it. feel it. in your veins and in your hearts that you two loved–still–love each other. it’ll come soon. maybe in a week. next two weeks... it’ll come. but for now, beomgyu enjoys being able to have your presence; whatever little bit it is, he’ll take it. he doesn’t pay attention to the movie anymore. all his mind fixates on is the way you lean your cheek to the top of his head and allow for him to hold onto your hand. 

tl;dr: this sweetheart can’t stay away even if he wanted to, even if he tried really hard, he’ll crack once or twice before you to end up agreeing to meet up again. it’s only because he remembers something that you like, something you’d be interested in doing and he forgets for a split moment that you two were one a break. when he realises it, though, it’ll feel like it’s a sign from higher up, as if you two were meant to meet whether it’s “allowed” or not.

today, however, his favourite memory is in front of him ordering a drink he knows by heart. the way you say it is still the same, the contents of your order never changing. before you can pay, he manages to reach forward to the card reader. it grants him the look you give over your shoulder, gaping in surprise. he ignores the way you call his name, knowing very well he wouldn’t be able to hold his end of the bargain of this so-called “break” if he dwells in it.

[🐿] taehyun third time’s a charm... and it surprises taehyun even if he consciously decided to come down to a coffee shop you two frequented during your time together. although neither of you were currently in talking terms, deciding to go on a short break to allow each other to have this moment apart to clear your minds, taehyun still misses you. to satiate that feeling, he goes to the places that he’ll be able to somehow relive those memories.

he responds with a small nod and watches as you move to the side to wait for your drink. when it comes to his turn to pay for his drink, his body flinches when you manage to sneak in a payment. he has this look on his face as he watches you grin to a smile of success. with your drink in your hand that he’s paid for you, the way your eyes still shined bright, the way your lips curled up sets everything straight and in-place in his life.

like he can breathe again; for the first time in weeks.

it’s short-lived when he manages a soft thank you, watching as you nod before leaving the coffee shop... and it wasn’t the coffee taehyun was thanking you for.

tl;dr: probably one of the few who actually stays true to his promise of staying away during the break, knowing the break would benefit the two of you, anyway. when he realises how it’s helping the two of you, though, he’ll notice how much he terribly misses you. that resorts to him going to places you two went the most and in someway, somehow, he hopes to bump into you there to get his little dose of being able to see you.

[🐧] kai it’s been barely two weeks but kai... he couldn’t help himself. it was taunting him that he can memorise your number by heart and it’s on his screen along with your contact each time he dials it out but never presses. some unknown force today gets him to press the green button and it’s like he wants you to pick up before he has to tell you he called by “accident”.

it happens. he’s never quite prepared to hear your voice. the soft hello? that comes through shakes his bones as he holds his phone by his ear. his breath is trembling, more so when he hears you call his name–oh god, how long he��s missed that–he wants to hear it again, one more time, then maybe he’ll hang up but then you ask in a voice of worry that gets him to speak up. “k-kai, are you okay?”

“y-yeah,” he musters up frantically, clearing his throat, “i... i called by accident.” i was never a good liar.

“oh, i see. um... shall i stay on until we fall asleep?” i know, but i appreciate what you’re trying to do.

“if that’s okay?” it’s like you know without me saying anything.

“yeah, okay.” of course i do.

kai slept in peace for the first time in a while. a smile to his face, clutching onto the phone with the sounds of your breathing. no words being exchanged; just the comfort of knowing despite the distance, the time apart, not seeing each other... the love you two had still ran deep. special.

tl;dr: a similar approach to taehyun except he’s a bit more obvious about it. a mix between taehyun and beomgyu, really. he’ll try his best to stay away because that’s the point of the break but... it’ll break him and he forgets that he’s supposed to stay away, reaching out whenever it’s too difficult. he’s respectful, too, but in the moments he shows you how needy he can get is a reflection of how much he truly loves you.

[mintywolf]

She can’t blame them for wanting to tear down the ivy from the barn. After all, it had tried to eat several of her friends the first time they had visited it, in the other here. But at Laudna’s insistence, they have left it climbing on the walls of the cottage. She likes the wild, overgrown look of it, and the reminder of the passage of time in its reach.

Chetney has repaired the roof, loudly decrying the state of the timbers all the while, and there’s now a fresh cover of fragrant heather thatching. Thanks to Orym the new window boxes are full of violets and petunias, and the flowerbeds beside the door lined with columbine and the long stems of purple and blue larkspur and hollyhocks. Fearne, in the shape of a mossy-hoofed water buffalo, has turned over one of the dormant fields to make a vegetable patch, and there’s an herb garden in progress by the kitchen door. Ashton has contributed a scarecrow in the gangly shape of the Nightmare King and evened out the cobblestone path. Imogen’s magic has determinedly cleaned the dust and grime of forgotten decades from the interior, and Laudna’s has mended what she could find to mend.

It’s surprising how much there was still there to find. A kettle left hanging on its hook over the hearth. Dishes still stacked in warped and lopsided kitchen cupboards. A blue and white quilt, mostly preserved from the harrowing of time, folded up in a blanket chest at the foot of her parents’ bed. A faded needlepoint Sun Tree in a frame on the kitchen wall. A rusted tea tin in the haymow containing a crow feather, two empty spools, a handful of mismatched buttons, a pewter unicorn, and other child’s treasures. A dented copper washtub and a washboard in the scullery, now home to a family of voles. A glass jar of marbles in a trunk underneath the rickety structure that used to be her bed up in the loft. Fifteen numbered markings on the kitchen doorframe, ending at her own height. Pegs on the entryway wall still waiting to receive the coats and hoods of the family who went out one winter night and never returned. It’s eerie, stepping into a place that has, like the rest of the world, gone on aging without her, but not entirely unwelcoming.

They clear out what she doesn’t want to save, or is beyond saving, and move around what she does, just so it’s a little different. With the kitchen table at a new angle she’s less likely to expect to see her mother there cutting apples, and instead able to think of Imogen kneading bread dough with her capable hands. Imogen framed by firelight as she reads on the couch by the living room hearth instead of her father in his armchair whittling. Imogen holding the other end of a blanket as they spread it out over the bed in the room that is no longer the place she would come running from a scary dream, but their own.

When the sun begins to set on a day of hard work they wave goodbye to the other Hells as they set off to return to Whitestone for an evening with the crew of the Silver Sun, docked at the skyport. Laudna wipes her work-grimy hands on her apron and takes Pâté out of the pocket, tossing him up into the air so he can stretch his wings. She slips her hand into Imogen’s as they amble around their farmstead, the late spring grass cool and dewy between her bare toes. Pâté bobs after them like a large and particularly ungainly bumblebee. In the soft-footed gloaming, beneath a sky the same color as her wife’s hair, everything looks both new and familiar at once.

(Read more on AO3)

And so I guess Remember Us is now complete! Thank you so much to everyone who has been following it for the past year.

💜🖤

[darklordofthesimp]

THIS WAS A SUBMISSION BY THE AMAZING AND TALENTED @komorebiiiiiiii and it leFT ME SOBBING SO THANKS GREMLIN CHILD FOR THE TEARS.

_____

this deleted the first time so let’s go

i’m doing it in my notes like u said ma

GRRRRRATATAATATAAAA

—

The bloodied handprints on white birch trees was the only nuance of Sunshines dying body, residing in the deeps of foliage, surrounded by the blues of Petunias and crimson of her spilt veins.

The mission had gone to utter shit, Graves betrayal stung. Chasing her out of safety and into the deeps of the forest.

A shadow had followed her without her realising, the fog of her tears impairing her vision.

She had stopped to breathe, resting for just a second before trekking forward, when the shadow had struck. Aiming their dagger for her neck, but she had felt it, sixth sense kicking in and stepping out of the way last second, twisting her body and putting a bullet in the fuckers skull before her could do more damage.

Las Almas was crawling with the things, Graves ordering a kill on sight for any member of 141.

The shadows body stopped limply, pushing both her and the corpse into a cluster of Petunias.

Hence where she was now. Kicking the body away from herself, attempting to push back up, to no avail. Arms giving out on her and falling to her wound. The gash in her side spewing a deep burgundy nto the delicate blue petals.

It almost felt poetic, the pretty flora glistening with blood and the dew of an old rain.

She sat against a fallen tree trunk behind her, panicked fingers scouring her pockets for her small first aid kit. Finding it tucked into one of her self sown patches, she places it to her side.

Pulling the emergency tabs on her vest, she sheds it like a second skin. Pulling of her shirt, it sticking sickeningly to her open wound.

Sunshine knew she should have called for help. Told anyone how the wound was getting no better. Her hands kept slipping and the tears kept coming. She stuffed her shirt into her mouth. Gathering her suture kit, the needle shook in her grasp. Blood coating a thick glove over her fingers.

She cried out into the fabric, tears streaming fast when she pulled the first stitch taught.

Gagging and sobbing, her heart working overtime to make up for the lost blood. She was getting weaker, she wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer.

The blood not flowing steady pools at her feet, was rushing past her ears. The ringing of tinnitus grew louder.

The winds screamed around her. Flora crying through the shake of leaves. Stars blinking in worrisome. The moon stared at her, ever watching. Waiting to see if anybody would come for her, if anyone was watching Sunshine like she was.

“Sunshine, how copy?”

Sunshine’s ministrations paused, she couldn’t take the fabric out of her mouth, or she would bite through her tongue.

His voice felt like a dying light. A promise of her survival that was really only leading her to a faster death.

“Sunshine, How copy.” She kept at it, stitch after messy stitch. Crying and coughing into her make-shift gag.

“Sunshine, answer god damn it!” He sounded frantic now. Gunshots heard on the receiving end of her comms.

Sunshine tightened the last stitch, breathing heavy through her nose, sniffling and almost suffocating herself.

Tying the last stitch in place, she pulled the ball of shirt out of her mouth, taking in gasping breathes and sobbing openly into the night sky.

The Moon flickered in and out of her vision, pitying the sight of her.

“Fuck, answer me!”

“I’m alive! I’m fucking,” She sobbed again, fuck she was going to die here. “‘I’m alive.”

Sunshine sounded weak. The sounds around her muffled as her adrenaline seeped out of her.

“Where are you.” Ghost sounded livid, livid but scared.

“I’m.. somewhere pretty?” She gave.

“He needs a location to get ta’ ya, lass.” Soap butted in.

“The.. woods?” Her speech slowed, delayed and hesitant. Almost confused with what she was saying.

She looked to the sky, her blood mixed with the body next to her, swimming around the pretty flowers.

She looked gorgeous here, moonlight hitting perfectly onto her face, the clearing she resided in surrounded her, isolating from the world outside.

There was a whistle of noise further down the hill, a tune she recognised faintly.

She whistled back, talking to the trees around her.

The whistles grew louder, and more frequent. She was losing breath. Her response getting shorter with each second.

The distinct sound of rustling gained her attention, a tall figure appearing through the thick bush of the forest. “Sunshine.”

“Ghost?”

“Sunshine.” He rushed towards her, taking in the gruesome sight of her near bear abdomen. The cut was deep, likely that of a dagger. The stitches were messy and terribly done. Barely doing what they’re supposed to by keeping the wound closed. But doing nothing for her comfort.

The flowers around her covered in her blood, shining in the pale moonlight.

He quickly grabbed the t-shirt discarded next to her, applying apt pressure to her wound. She groaned in pain.

“You really know how to treat a woman.”

He huffed, glad her humour hasn’t died. He clicked his comms.

“Found ‘er Soap.”

“How is she?”

She looked up at him expectantly. He averted his eyes.

“Not good.” He said lowly.

“I’ll try and get in contact with Price, call for evac to send out yer way.”

“Get ‘ere quick.”

“So you do like me?”

“I like you alive.”

Sunshine coughed a laugh, soft smile on her features.

A click was heard through the comms, signalling the disconnection from Soap, to call Price.

She feels like she’s dying. The stars showering him in a soft light.

He looks like he would be the man you meet in death. Greeting him in a friendly hello.

Her conscience was slipping from her. Ghost speaking sharp words. “Stay awake, soldier. That’s a fucking order.”

“I’m so tired L.T.”

“I know, sunshine. Stay awake for me.”

Her eyes fluttered, keeping them open was proving to be more and more difficult.

“Eyes on me, that’s it. Good.”

Sunshine’s eyes trained on him. The skull of his mask speckled with blood. Eyes a stunning depth to them. He looked pretty like this.

“You’re a real stunner, yknow that L.T?”

“Ah, all the more reason to keep your eyes open then, huh?”

“Mm, I like looking at you.”

“Jesus christ,” He breathed the phrase, dipping his head a little lower towards her. “,Don’t go saying stuff like this on me now. Wait until you’re all fixed up, aye?”

She smiled up at him dopey.

Her smile suddenly faded. She can’t be flirtin’ like this, he’s a taken man.

“You’re fucking stupid for hidin’ this from me, Sunny.” He scolded her softly, he was angry but she was so so weak in front of him.

“Didn’t wan’ seem weak.”

She glanced down at her wound, still covered by his scarred hands and rough fabric. “Fixed myself up dandy. Knew I din’ need help.”

“You did need help.”

He sighed, brows furrowing.

“You need to let me help you.”

A sudden pang of pain shoots up her side and she coughs, body tensing. The tears slowly starting again. She felt pathetic.

“I don’t wann’ die, Simon.”

“I want someone to go home to.”

“I wanna go home.” She whines the word, sobs it even. She hiccuping again and with every movement it causes pain. Spilling more tears. It’s an endless, ugly cycle. He was watching her spiral until her body would eventually give out.

“Sunshine.” His voice was firm, a stability in her shaking mind.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

She counted her breaths, lining them up with his. He waited patiently for her to calm down.

A silence settles over them. The soft assurances she’s alive, and her responses equally as soft.

“What do you think about Birdy?”

He stuttered, cringing at the question.

“What about her?”

“Do you think she’s someone worth coming home to?,”

She paused, soft eyes lifting up to him.

“You think she’s someone you’d come home to?”

She’s not jealous, understanding more so. The heart wants what it wants. Not his fault if he wants Birdy. And who was she to deny him? He hated her. Worse then anyone ever had. She would do nothing to stop it if he ever perused Birdy. Because she wanted someone who understands him. Who knows him like Birdy does to love him. She’s not that.

It was a harmless question, but it struck him nauseous. It was a sore spot for him, but anything to keep your slipping conscious put.

“No. She’s not mine to come home too.”

“Oh.”

“And even if she was, I don’t think I would want that. I don’t think she’s my endgame.”

He’s looking at her like she’s something to pray to. The light to everything bad about himself. Like being even near you betters him as a man.

“Why?” Soft, doe like.

Evac arrives, Fussing over your injury and whisking you away before he can respond. Two medics wheeling you off, while two more check your vitals.

He sighs, shuddering while he drags a hand across his mask.

“Because she’s not you.”

[chooseyourpaws]

Otterclan

Leader

Runnelstar - A yellow tabby molly with green eyes. Constantly stressed. (Dapple’s mate, petunia’s mama)

Deputy

Roachdive - A sienna brown tabby tom with yellow eyes. Serious and worried.

Seer

Corvidcall - A dark, smoke-colored tom with distant blue eyes. Aloof and cynical.

Gardener

Snailberry - A small curly-fluffy light gold classic tabby molly with a white muzzle, paws, chest, belly, and tail-tip, and light green eyes. (Weaselheart's sibling)

Mediator

Greenbee - A sienna and black tortie molly with light green eyes. Eccentric and almost sinister.

Head Guard

Shrewcry - A mousey brown tabby tom with a white underbelly and amber eyes.

Head Hunter

Wormcurl - A lilac tabby charlie with yellow eyes and a white underside.

Head Caretaker

Weaselheart - A sandy-yellow tabby charlie with a white muzzle blaze and deep green eyes. (Snailberry's sibling)

Warriors

Biscuitbelly - A broad-muzzled ex-kittypet tom with tan fur and silver eyes. (Loach & Heron’s dad, Apple’s mate)

Petuniagrass - A red molly with green eyes. (Runnel & Dapple’s adopted daughter)

Shellspeck - A silver tom with amber-and-blue eyes.

Downpurr - A grey molly with white paws and heather blue eyes. (Umberpaw’s mother)

Daylight warriors

Pollysprout - A brown-and-white tabby molly with paws dyed by freshly-cut grass and yellow eyes.

Breambell - A blue tom with bronze eyes that wears a bell collar outside of hunting.

Caretakers

Applejumble - A fuzzy and lean light brown charlie with a warm darker brown point and white flecks. (Heron & Loach’s parent, Biscuit’s mate)

Apprentices

Loachpaw (reed) - A brown tabby tom with yellow eyes. (Apple’s kid, Heron’s brother, Biscuit’s kid)

Heronpaw (trickle) - A tan molly with green eyes. (Apple’s kid, Loach’s sister, Biscuit’s kid)

Umberpaw (log) - A dark grey molly with bold green eyes. (Downpurr’s daughter)

Elders

Dapplesong - A brown smoke molly with blue eyes. A little too confident. (Runnel’s mate, Petunia’s mom)

Kits

Lilykit - A black tabby molly with a few white patches on her face and neck. (Ferretchase’s daughter). Sweet and unassuming 

Dazzlekit - A light brown charlie kit with a few white spots on their forehead. (Ferretchase’s kid)  Bold and defensive 

Upkeeps

Larkplume (Badgerclan) - A lithe, dark gray tom with white patches and yellow eyes.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Author's note: This lemon-drenched snippet is not for minors nor the good of taste. It's cursed. This is your first warning. The second is the "Read more" cut. After that, you are on your own and any bad decisions are your own <3 Check the tags for more info. Enjoy~

It’s just his luck.

He’d been separated from Ron, Hermione, and Dobby just as the house elf’s magic transported them away from Malfoy Manor, leaving Harry there. Alone. Surrounded by Death Eaters. Well, Bellatrix and three less-than-enthusiastic Malfoys, but the odds still weren’t in Harry’s favour.

So he’d used Malfoy’s wand to blow up a wall with a well-placed bombarda and ran the fuck away in the ensuing chaos. His ears are still ringing from Bellatrix’s demented screeching. 

And he has yet to be found – his scar feels like hot oil is being poured into it with how irate Voldemort is with the incompetence of his followers because of this fact. The issue is that Harry couldn’t give anyone directions to find him, either. Malfoy Manor may as well be a labyrinth with all the twisting, circuitous paths and hallways and nooks (and even some crannies). He is thoroughly lost.

He’s made his way to a three-storey attached greenhouse, filled with plants large and small. Most are magical, but some he recognises from his many, many hours weeding and tending to Aunt Petunia’s garden. He’s not sure who would be more disgusted to have shared tastes – his aunt or Narcissa Malfoy. 

With the far wall being entirely glass, Harry is almost certain he can get outside from here. There has to be a door. And… well, if there isn’t, he’s not going to be shy about breaking some windows, if that’s what needs to be done.

He finds a patch of glass panels that have no plants nearby and thinks he’s on to something. Carefully checking for hinges or handles or any other sign that he could open them, Harry’s attention is fully on the glass.

This proves to be a mistake.

He has the barest hint of what’s to come when he feels a curiously fleshy press against his ankle, and then he’s being dragged on his stomach away from the greenhouse wall and into a dark, leafy mass that blots out the scant moonlight.

And he recognises the shape of these leaves. After their adventure at the end of first year, he’d made sure to remember this plant in case he ever ran into it again. This Devil’s Snare is a bit more proactive than the others he’s seen, though. They’re typically opportunistic and wait for victims to come to them – he doesn’t remember them pursuing prey.

He very slowly and gently extracts his stolen wand from his sleeve and casts lumos. But instead of shrinking away from the light – like the bloody thing should – the plant somehow produces an ear-splitting shriek and seizes his wrist with a vine, squeezing until he drops his wand and using another vine to bat it away, spinning into an unseen corner.

And now he’s pissed the plant off. Unarmed and still in the grip of a vine, Harry feels the adrenaline kick in. He slows his breathing and tries to stay calm, as struggling will only make things worse, but it is difficult. He wants to get as far away from this weird Devil’s Snare as quickly as he can – he feels the hair on the back of his neck standing up – but he’s not sure how to manage that.

He feels a rough, vegetal limb slip under his shirt, making him panic and twitch, and that seems to be the sign the plant was waiting for. The vine around his wrist pulls taut, drawing his arm out and pinning it in place as more vines wind around his legs and drag them straight, while others twist around his torso, trapping his left arm to his side. He feels very much like a favoured toy being fought over, tugged in all directions and unable to escape or even move.

The vine under his shirt begins prodding at his belly, making him squirm and causing the vines to squeeze tighter until he shouts in pain, at which they loosen slightly. Then, he feels more and more tentative touches along his legs, his chest, his hair, and his face – everywhere they can reach. 

They poke around his mouth, and he keeps it firmly shut until the vines around his ankles clench tightly enough to force another pained cry out of him. An inquisitive tendril sneaks inside his open mouth. He bites through it immediately, spitting the end out with savage glee. With another high-pitched noise, the plant wraps a vine around his throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until he’s certain he will pass out, black edging his vision and lungs on fire with lack of air.

When it lets up, he coughs and hacks until his body remembers how to breathe, and he pants in as much air as he can. Several thin vines take advantage of this, slipping into his mouth to trace his teeth and tongue, press against his cheeks and palate. He switches to breathing through his nose and threatens to bite the vines again, but there are enough that he can’t close his mouth tightly enough to shear through them.

He’s lost track of what’s happening to the rest of him, but the other vines have been busy in his inattention. And damn the Dursleys and their hand-me-downs from Dudley, and damn Harry for not buying better-fitting clothes, because there’s plenty of room for those vines to wriggle under his jumper and trousers. He squawks through a mouthful of vines when a couple caress a little too closely to his delicate bits for comfort. Thankfully they continue past that part of him, though the sensation of them rubbing against his bare thighs isn’t much better.

“Well, well, Harry Potter,” a familiar voice says from somewhere. “We’re finally together again and you’d rather entertain the flora.” 

Harry has never been happier to see– er, hear Voldemort. He’d rather take his chances with the bigoted megalomaniac than the amorous plant weaving tighter around him.

Except Voldemort doesn’t do anything – doesn’t even say anything else. When a vine sneaks down the back of Harry’s trousers and starts prodding at a place it really shouldn’t be prodding, Harry’s had enough.

He fights his way up far enough to glare at Voldemort, silently demanding why he’s not killing him or cutting him out of this lusty Devil’s Snare to monologue at him before killing him. The bastard plant takes exception to this, attempting to pull him back down and pressing more insistently against his arse. Harry grunts in alarm, squirming away as much as he can when the vine simply follows him to push harder into him. He squeaks, and if his face looks more pleading than he’d like, he’s willing to cut himself some slack.

Maintaining eye contact, Voldemort conjures a wingback chair and sits down in it a few feet away, facing Harry.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” he drawls, leaning back and getting comfortable. “I’m in no hurry.”

Harry groans in distress as the plant's many limbs continue to move against and in him.

(Part two, where the Harrymort happens)

[psystirene]

some iterator doodles bc I like. never post drawings of them??? and i think that's just criminal of me. I didn't realize how long this was so uhh

little bit of context under the read more ig!

millionth attempt at an nsh but i'm happy with this one. i had the idea of them having the cone-ish antennae(?) and idk it wouldn't leave my head. as you can kind of see i sketched out the entire body, i've been more consistent w my iterator depictions- that being said it's kind of hard to see and i can't find the file so. whimpers

second is so old to me, it's five pebbles but the rot is more floral. specifically it's meant to be stylized petunias, and was vaguely related to my AMterator AU. Petunia flower symbolism (sorry if the website was lying to me)

3. a pass at designing FP and LttM

4. look at me boy. i'm normal. this is more recent, vaguely low effort lilypad art for my idea of a mobile puppets au. I think that Moon would have an attachment to the raggedy cloak she's been given and has done what she can to style and fix it in a way that's more convenient for mobility. NSH's clothing was probably fine but they sewed matching patches onto their clothes for homo reasons <3 the other two bozos are FP and UI. I will eventually post my UI design when Iget to it

5. more UI and FP bc I vaguely ship them (more specifically my version of UI which is probably not all that canon compliant- I can't even remember stuff I say 5 seconds after I say it so I probably have forgotten a lot of lore). I think UI and FP would bicker constantly but like each other. At this point UI would have apologized to him but that doesn't change that they're both Like That

6. just Moon

7. abhorrent malevolence and unparalleled innocence staring. they probably wouldn't get along tbh

8. the iterators if.. if they had hair (according to UNPARALLELED INNOCENCE) not necessarily accurate to haircuts i think they'd actually like to have I just. idk. i like NSH's though. also i don't currently have a gw/cw yet so that's why they're not there

9. abhorrent meowlevolence

also bc this is a nsh-having post. i am yet again pushing my any pronouns ??? gender nsh agenda. he can be girlwife AND dudehusband

[circus-clownn]

im so tired but errr htf smell chart

toothy : smells like uhh toothpaste or something, iron because he gets a little deep with his dental hygiene 😒

cuddles : SWEATY TEEN MUSK... covered with whatever he has on him

giggles : she smells so so nice, she thrives on smelling like the fruitiest patch

petunia : OMGG 😍😍😍 SHE SMELLS AMAZING AND LIKE ALL MY WORRIES WILL GO AWAY JUST BY BEING BY HER!!! I LOVE HER!!!!

flaky : teen musk but with more of a dirty smell because they are so so sporty and cuddles is too but less

Pop : smoke, kinda the obvious choice

cub : also probably smoke, but mostly that baby bubble bath stuff

shifty : god awful but i love him (he smells like dirt, smoke, alcohol +more) like sticking my head in the dumpster <333

lifty : god awful but i don't love him

mole : bad but good but like I'm gonna die from it but like I'm gonna fly

Flippy : like an old man who takes bubble baths as a treat and that treat is often because his back isn't well enough to shower

Russell : pirate, fishy fishy, iron (haha scurvy)

Lumpy : bad

disco bear : good lord, I'm not gonna get into it

Nutty : same with disco bear, different smells

Handy : oiled up handyman who's smelly at work, but also petunia doesn't let that so also bath time

Splendid : he smells like a man who just showered, then worked out, then showered again, then took a bath with rose petals in them

Sniffles : he smells like an abandoned hospital or something idk

mime : straight up chemicals, sharpy smelling ass, fair at night looking

don't take this seriously like at all