#he boxed his way to the number 1 spot in my heart <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[tamorii]

The melusines put stickies on him :)

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

bentley is so clueless about like everything and it kind of makes me happy and sad 🫠 fun fact this boy has never seen two people kiss on the lips apart from movies, he has absolutely no idea what a healthy romantic relationship looks like lmao

part three

❝ MAFIA FAMILY (PT 2) ❞

SUNDAY — JULY 15 — 1:48PM

BENTLEY HAD BEEN STARING AT TWO PIECES OF A TORN NAPKIN FOR WAY TOO LONG.

Call me! One said, followed by a phone number and the name: Vera.

Text me, said the other, with a number and the name: Layla <3.

Bentley tapped his fingers on the coffee table. “Why do you think she put a heart on it?”

Asten, Jason, Dick, Tim, Steph, Duke, Damian, and Cass hardly batted an eye away from their intense game of Mario Kart. (Bentley was terrible at Mario Kart. Hence why he was staring at a napkin instead. Plus, only eight players could go at once. He didn’t mind.)

It was the day after the gala, which was commonly considered a lazy dayaround the Manor. Bentley enjoyed it very much, just hanging out with his family. Everyone was rocking sweats, and they had all slept through breakfast in favor of gorging on terribly unhealthy snacks, which was fun. (And probably giving Alfred a bunch of grey hairs.) 

Jason, Damian, Duke, and Cass were sitting on the long sofa, while Steph, Tim, Dick, Bentley, and Asten took up spots on the floor around the coffee table. They also had a string of movies lined up to watch later, one of them being Bentley’s favorite, the Outsiders. (Dick always pulled it out after Bentley had an attack or a rough day, he realized, which was nice.)

“She’s a teenage girl. She probably thinks it’s cute,” Jason shrugged, leaning forward and focusing hard, his fingers moving impossibly fast on the controller. His white streak was hanging down toward his eyes and he kept blowing it away. “Girls love all that stuff.”

“Or she thinks you’re cute,” Asten added. Bentley scrunched his face up, glaring across the coffee table at him. He was too busy winning the race to see it.

Bentley looked over at Steph. “Steph? You’re a girl.”

She snorted, pushing one of her French brains behind her shoulders. “I mean, I used to sign my name with a heart, so I guess that’s a possibility.”

Oh. So it was normal?

“But also, when I dated Tim, I-“ 

A throw pillow nailed Steph right in the face before she could continue, so hard she fell over in the floor. 

“Ow!”

“We are not going there,”

“They probably just want to be friends with you. You should text them,” Dick suggested. He was focusing so hard on the game that his tongue was sticking out the side of his mouth. “If you want to.” He added quickly.

“You should totally text them,” Asten piped up.

Bentley looked back down at the numbers. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Something like, hey, it’s Bentley, I really enjoyed hanging out with you the other night,” Duke said, actually taking a second to flick his eyes over to Bentley momentarily. “So they know you’re not just doing it to check a box.”

Jason scoffed. “Or you can just say hey instead of being a suck-up.”

“Maybe hey, it’s Bentley. So they have a little context,” Dick suggested.

Bentley sighed heavily. Why was this so confusing and difficult?

“Context is for losers,” Jason replied.

“Is that why I never know what you’re texting about?” Tim rebuddled, and Jason retaliated by shooting something at him on the game.

Dick looked over at Bentley, flashing a soft smile, blue eyes shining. “Just say what you want to say, kiddo. There’s no right or wrong way to do it.”

“Except cussing them out,” Steph added. Damian rolled his eyes at her, or maybe at the whole situation in general.

“If it were me, I would not text them at all. They were being rambunctious and interruptive during an important gala,” Damian muttered. His eyes were trained on the screen in a freakishly unmoving way. He was in second place.

“Some people like having friends,” Tim replied.

Damian scoffed, and Tim’s vehicle got shot at again.

“Whoa, no one told me we were playing Mario Kart,” 

A chorus of grumbles and unhappy mutterings came with the appearance of Bruce’s voice.

Bentley glanced up, smiling lightly at him when he walked into the den in a t-shirt and pajama pants, something very out of the norm for Bruce Wayne. He caught Bentley’s eyes and smiled back, gray irises gleaming just like Dick’s did. (Bentley never would’ve thought Dick was adopted if he hadn’t been told, really.)

“That’s because you’re the worst Mario Kart player in history,” Jason mumbled, taking Damian’s second place spot, which caused a barrage of weapon firing to come his way.

Bruce looked appalled as he sauntered over toward the coffee table and couch. “I am not,” He muttered, ruffling Bentley’s hair on the way by. “Hey, chum. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Bentley shrugged, glancing down at the napkin pieces. “Trying to decide whether to text those girls or not.” 

“From the gala? What were their names?”

Bentley tapped his fingers on the coffee table. “Vera and Layla.”

Bruce hummed in acknowledgment, shoving himself between Dick and Jason on the couch. “I think that would be nice.”

Bentley said nothing, but instead, pulled his phone out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table, screen up.

He guessed hey, it’s Bentley sounded best.

“Should I text them in a group?”

He got varying answers of yes, no, and whatever makes you comfortable. Which wasn’t very helpful in the slightest.

So, he settled on it. He opened his messages, added both Vera and Layla’s numbers to a group, and texted: hey, it’s Bentley.

And for some reason, he suddenly wanted to chuck his phone across the room and into a pit of lava, so instead of destroying a perfectly good device, he turned it off and tossed it on one of the chairs sitting behind him.

“He threw the phone. That means he did it!” Steph half-squeaked in excitement, even though Bentley knew she hadn’t even been looking at him. He swore everyone in the family had more than two eyes.

Not much was said besides a muted woohoo from Asten, which, honestly, could’ve been directed toward the game. Bentley was glad for it. Actually texting these girls was awkward enough as it was.

Not thirty seconds later, Bentley’s phone started ringing.

He felt eyes on him as he moved from the coffee table to grab it, peering down at the caller ID. 

Vera.

With a breath in, he grabbed his phone and made his way out of the den.

“Don’t have too much fun, B,” Asten called behind him, and he shook his head, not looking back. He knew everyone was staring.

Why did they make Bentley talking to girls such a big deal? Other than the fact that it was his literal first time taking to girls his age, there was nothing special about it.

When he made it to the top of the stairs, he pressed the green button and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey! Great timing on your text, our plane just landed,” Vera said, her voice much more cheerful than it had been at the gala. “JFK is a disaster, though. I hate airports.”

“Hey, Bentley!” Came a second voice he recognized as Layla’s.

“Hey,” He replied, walking into his bedroom and shutting the door behind him. He walked around for a moment, tapping his fingers on his pants awkwardly. “Where… did you fly to?”

“Us? We live in New York City,” Vera replied.

Bentley furrowed his brow. “Isn’t that, like, right next to New Jersey, though? Why’d you fly?”

“If you had the choice of car or plane, wouldn’t you pick plane?”

Bentley shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Exactly,”

Bentley said nothing, but sat down on his bed with a little poof noise.

“How are you today? Better than yesterday?” 

“Layla, that’s rude,”

“How is that rude?!”

Bentley snickered lightly. “I’m better than yesterday.”

“That’s good,” Layla replied. “That was scary.”

“Layla!”

“What?!”

“What she means is she’s glad you’re feeling better. And, in my opinion, your powers were awesome,” Vera replied. “I mean, I guess you weren’t having an awesome time, but… they were still cool. Do you control liquid?”

Bentley shrugged. “I guess. At first I thought it was just water, but I‘ve done champagne, and tea, and b-… uh, and… uh, stuff like that.”

“Were you about to say blood? You were totally about to say blood!” Vera exclaimed. “Bentley that’s epic!”

“Not really,” He sighed. “Especially when I lose it like I did last night.”

Or, y’know, when he almost murdered the Secret Keeper by bending her blood.

Crap. Vera.

Bentley tapped his fingers on his pants again. “Can you read minds over the phone?”

He heard them both laugh. “Don’t worry, cowboy, you’re safe unless I’m next to you.”

“Oh,” Bentley breathed. “Good.”

“So; big question,” Vera started. “For you, Wayne.”

He picked at his bedsheets. “Okay?”

“Are the Wayne’s a mafia family? I promise I won’t tell anybody,”

Bentley snickered, bringing his legs up and sitting criss-cross. “What? No.”

Vera grumbled. “Darn it. I thought I finally figured out why you’re all so strange.”

“Strange?” He questioned. “What do you mean strange?”

“Y’know. You stay home a lot, and do business stuff. To be such a high profile family, you’re not in public a ton. Which is weird,”

“And you were calling me rude for asking how he was?” He heard Layla mutter.

Bentley shrugged even though they couldn’t see him. “Well, lots of us are homeschooled or in college. We’re basically either at home or gone.”

Vera hummed. “Homeschooled huh? How boring is that?”

“Vera!”

“Don’t scold me, blondie,”

“I guess it can get a little boring, but it’s not so bad. I like being home with my dad,” Bentley explained, scooting so he was against his headboard. “Sometimes I miss Gotham Academy, though.”

“Really? Why?” Layla asked.

Bentley shrugged. He did miss it, sometimes. It seemed like there was something new at Gotham Academy every day (even without the psycho teacher incident), and at the Manor it was just… the same. Every day.

“I don’t know. We go out and do stuff, but sometimes it just feels like I’m living the same day over and over again,” He explained. “Real school wasn’t like that. Plus, having a teacher talk to you is much more entertaining than just reading from a computer.”

“Sounds dreadful,”

Layla snorted. “You really need to re-think this whole what’s nice and what’s rude thing, V.”

“How old are you?”

Bentley furrowed his brow. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Vera spat.

“I’m turning fourteen in October. I’ll be in ninth grade this fall. Why?”

“Bentley, you should come to our school!” Layla exclaimed loudly, so loud it sounded kind of muffled on the phone, like she was really close to the microphone.

Bentley blinked a few times. “Uh… you live in New York City.”

“Yeah, but our school’s awesome. Our friend Summer’s aunt is the headmistress!” Layla explained.

Vera snickered. “Yeah, it’s a year-round boarding school for metahumans. I’ll send you the link to our website.”

Boarding school. Didn’t that mean the students lived there? Bentley wasn’t so sure about that part, but being in a school where he didn’t have to worry about being a metahuman sounded pretty cool. And, Y’know. Not staring at a computer in the Manor for the rest of his life.

“Okay,” Bentley replied. “I’m not sure about the whole living in New York part, though.”

“I mean, I guess you could drive back and forth every day, but that’d be a lot of car time,”

“Yeah… it sounds cool, though,” He stated, picking at the blankets.

Vera sighed. “Anyways, that mafia question was all I had for ya. We’re about to hop in a taxi. Make sure to look at the website, yeah?”

“Okay,” Bentley replied. “Bye.”

“See ya,”

“Bye, Bentley!”

The call was ended, and before Bentley could even put his phone down, he got a text. A website link.

Redwood Academy for the Gifted.

He hummed lightly, tapping on the link.

Going to a real school again, especially for high school, actually didn’t sound half bad.

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld ❤️

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @flyrobinflyy @skylathescholar @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun @xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser

[siremasterlawrence]

Christmas Night Fight

This is a Christmas Boxing Match For A Very Special World Title for once in every twelve years a major box goes toe to toe with major other fighters going through the roof in hell like defeat.

I place my bet at the door on Jack L Monroe before sitting in my seat as the light pops on over the shadows of the boxing ring the spit light is giant. A fist pump into the air as a crowd goes wild in the boxer, steady with punches in the air.

Jack Mickelson the titan is a legend in the field, but he does not know that I am both the one betting against him and my almost ensuring my victory over this floor and his constant need for that overbearing and toxic desires, needs and wants above all else.

I can see that smug look cross his face in a cheesy stretch his fist in the other and starts jumping up like an idiot, howling, screaming, and shouting as crowd goes wild and the odd cheering only motivates me more and I could not tell if he was mocking me or not but I was about to win.

The announcer steps onto the ring with an awful condescending smile, foul stench and crooked teeth. The left hand picks up the mic as he squares off with the crowd who are losing all of the their minds, and great anticipation for their great hero, to win yeah, another victory, and prove his might.

He starts to hop on both feet coming at me with such intensity as I take a hop back my fist forms throwing a punch which he evade to hit me up and I avoid that as well but I go for it one curl punching hard fist hitting him in the chest.

The spot I hit on his chest glows hard as he hold on to it backing up he falls to his knees much to my delight I gleefully jump kicking him on both of his sensitive nipples areas as he cries the technique travels causing a electrical current down his spine.

He falls face forward when the alarms goes off ringing loudly in a resounding style the crowd is in a loss booing me as they throw cans at me I laugh shouting out loud to freeze which they do without being aware

of anything.

Tom struggles to rise to his feet barely able to stand up I punch him in his face the spit goes flying in to a air the man is done for as I watch it take effect he stops on his knees he is a mere puppet now. I unzip my pants exposing my cock as I stroll towards him and force his mouth on to it.

“There he is your number three seed in this World Championship.” He shouts lifting my hand in the air.

“Who wants to see the next match?” He is shouting.

“Let me hear you guys scream for it.”

“Wwwwoooohhhhooooo…let the games roll”

“Everyone! Please welcome Mathew James Howl”

“Gentleman! 1…2…3”

“FREEZE”

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t I move?”

“Because I am the master of the ring “

“I rule the roost”

“Nnnnnoooo”

“I’ll have to educate you then”

“On what?”

“The proper behavior ”

“Unfortunately! I don’t obey anyone least of all.”

“One punch and you will fall into my submission “

“Never gonna happen…you….uuuugggghh…fffuuccckkk…yes Master Lawrence.”

“ I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do understand it’s something wicked because you two are up to something very evil and let me have a bad attitude problem, but I surly will not tolerate anyone getting in my way or causing more undue damage to my title.”

”Oh! is that what you were thinking? You have no idea what I am capable of doing you overgrown ape if you mind your own business. Getting angry, I see you throw a punch and failing because you are no good McGregor just another tough guy with pussy heart.”

“ What did you just say to me? I am to break to break you open, spit your ass open, fuck you raw, make you come and worship my skinny tone black ass.” I state to him as he races at me his speed up with every step I take but I launch my hand in the air throwing a one punch as I send him flying into the rings gate.

Meet all of my bodyguards.

The end

[nunuboo]

bias tag game!

tagged by @wnjunhui almost four whole months ago 😅 i'm sorry this took forever to post, but i still really wanted to do it so here it is ♡

rules: you're going to pick 10 of your biases (or as many biases as you have and then fill in the rest of the spots with idols you like) and number them 1-10. then answer the questions below! try not to look at the questions before you make your list!

tagging: @boobzi @gguksgalaxy @seungmmin @facethesuns @sevencoloredstar @momowife @seunghyubtual @lee-minhoe @minzbins and anyone i may have missed and wants to do this! (as usual, you don't have to do it if you don't want to ♡)

my biases:

seungkwan

wonwoo

heeseung

hobi

seungmin

shownu

younghoon

beomgyu

jongho

eunkwang

answers below the cut! <3

p.s — i love talking about my biases, so feel free to drop similar questions in my ask box!

QUESTIONS:

1. Between 7 and 5, who did you bias first?

seungmin! i only recently started listening to tbz :)

2. Between 2 and 6, who are you more attached to?

i'm deeply attached to both of them though :( in slightly different ways but almost to the same extent? i don't talk about wonwoo a lot bc i bias him quietly if that makes sense, but i'Il always have my eyes on him. shownu is one of my "look! that's my man!!" biases haha he's one of the biases you won't hear enough of from me.

3. If you were to spend the day with either 3 or 1, who would you choose and what would you do?

i'd pick seungkwan! coffee date (obviously), then maybe a drive to the beach. he could teach me beach volleyball and how to swim lol. i'd love to watch the sun go down with him :) we could have a good seafood dinner and drinks after! or honestly i'd be down with whatever he wants to do!

i would love to spend the day with heeseung too, but i think it's going to take a lot of awkward silence before we get to talking hahaha

4. What is your favorite physical feature about 9?

his ʕ>◠▽◠<? smile/laugh!

5. What is your favorite part of 6's personality?

the way he's unapologetic about who he is and whatever he chooses to do. and how kindness is his second nature. i also love how much he loves food! his face just lights up when someone brings it up or when he gets a chance to talk about food he loves :")

6. If you were to tell 8 anything you wanted, what would you tell them?

i hope you never lose your childlike sense of playfulness and wonder <3

7. Between 1 and 2, whose closet would you raid?

but their closets are boring...... lmaooo ok so maybe wonwoo's? i bet those oversized shirts of his are comfy!

if i have to choose from all 10 of them though, i'd pick hobi!!!

8. What is a style that you want to see 3 try?

i think he's tried almost everything? but maybe i wanna see him try something similar to nct taeyong's outfits!

9. Between 5 and 4, who are you closer to in height?

seungmin! he's still almost a foot taller than me though....

10. Between 10 and 9, whose music do you like the best?

btob's music remains unmatched in my heart. they have a song for literally every mood or feeling or vibe i'm into. i'm so in love with the quality of their music, too. you can hear how well-produced every single one of their songs are, and that still blows my mind every time i listen to their discography.

[deathmybride]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ midnight at noonday | dead poets society (part 3) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ship: Surprise! x fem!OC

warnings: still none

summary: Clare gets to know Charlie.

word count: 3124

a/n: Tragically, I forgot to cross-post this chapter when I was doing them all before. Hope you guys enjoy.

taglist: @toobraindeadtofunction

“So,” Charlie broke the silence as we passed a group of younger boys playing knucklebones in the dirt under one of the oak trees. “You got your extracurriculars yet?”

“Yeah.” I unlinked our arms as we came up to the building’s entrance, casting a glance around for any teachers. “Soccer, rowing, and Nolan said he’d have the caterers teach me some home ec too, even though they don’t do that for boys.” I sighed. “I don’t mind it, really. I like cooking and folding laundry fine, but it kind of seems a little, um…”

“Misogynist?” Charlie offered.

“Yeah!” I nodded enthusiastically. “I was scared to say it.”

“Hey, don’t be.” He gave me an emphatic look. “This whole place is backwards. I’m surprised they let you in at all.”

“Me too, but it was the only way they could get my father to teach. We’re kind of a package deal.”

“I see. Still, it must have been a tough sell. You must have enough merit of your own to convince Nolan to change his ways.”

“I suppose I do.” I flushed under his praise. “I mean, my grades are up to standard and, uh… Well, I suppose I’m a good debater when I have my head screwed on. I had to vouch for myself on the phone to him before he let me in. Y’know there’s something about that man that makes me want to stand up for myself.”

“Would that be his face like a smacked ass, or the whole correctional officer bit?”

“Both, probably.” I said with a giggle. “I managed to convince him to let me into the debate club too.”

“Debate club?” Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Impressive. How’d you swing that?”

“Well, I debated him. I told him I imagine a number of the boys in the club would go on to careers in politics, so if any of them wanted to run for president or something, it would be very important to understand the female perspective in order to win women’s votes.”

“No time like the present, right?”

“Exactly.” I nodded. “I said that the earlier you start gathering information, the easier it will be to campaign later. And then I made a joke about helping them to better understand their future wives, and that really tickled him.”

“Did he give you any push back?”

“Of course. He said I’d have an unfair advantage ‘cause my femininity would fluster my opponents; and also that my admittance to the club would ‘undermine the long cultivated identity that has been a constant since the club’s inception.’” I slipped into a half-hearted impression of the stuffy old man. “So I said if I ever argued against the club’s values, surely the members coming together to defend them would only strengthen their resolve; and that I would wear my ugliest, lumpiest jumper when I’m on the soap box.”

“I bet he saw the funny side of that.” He said sardonically.

“He did! He actually laughed, can you believe it? He said I have ‘moxie.’”

“Weird.” He frowned, but there was real admiration in the look he shot me.

“You’re telling me.” I laughed to cover my blush. “The funny thing is, I don’t really care about debating. I really wanted a spot on the school paper, but he said it would be inappropriate for a new transfer student to be involved in something so front-facing; especially one who’s already drummed up some controversy.”

“Damn. Try him again next semester, huh? I’m on the paper, I can vouch for you.”

“That’s so kind! Thank you, Charlie.”

“Any time.” He said as we rounded the corner to the east wing stairwell. “Hey, did you say you’re doing rowing?”

“And soccer.”

“Bit of a sportswoman, huh? Very nice.”

“You don’t have to butter me up, I’ll still help you with English.” I threw him a smirk.

“Ugh!” He threw his hand up in phoney indignation. “I’d never use flattery to get what I want! But, seriously, I think it’s cool you’re athletic. You can sit by me at rowing, if you want.”

“Sure. I’ve never done it before, so I hope I’m not too much of a hindrance.”

“You’ll pick it up fast. It’s easy once your muscles get used to it. You better pray you’re on my soccer team, though, kid. I’m the best goalie that ever lived.”

“Sure you are.” I rolled my eyes playfully. “I’ve never played that either. I hope I learn quickly.”

“It’s not so bad. What did you do for sports at Chelsea?”

“I did tennis and track. We had soccer and cricket teams too, but that was never my thing. You ever played tennis?”

“No, never.”

“That’s a shame! It’s so much fun.” I sighed dolefully. “I still have my gear, and I’m hoping to find a partner.”

“I could try.” He offered. “I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“That’s sweet of you.” I gave his arm a light squeeze. “If I find somewhere to play, I’ll let you know.”

“Sure. Look, we’re nearly there.”

“Oh, so we are.”

Sure enough, we had arrived at the familiar stairway that led right up to my room. I was astonished that not only had he kept me entertained all the way from the west wing to here, but he had kept me talking through our entire walk. After the horror of this morning, I thought I would be buried deep in my shell forever. I felt a warm rush of gratitude for the boy with the permanent smirk. Though he liked to mask it with a clownish attitude, I could see that he really cared about people.

“I can take it from here, thanks Charlie.”

“No problem. Hey, do you have your own bathroom, or are you slumming it with us?”

“No, I have my own.” I laughed. “Well, it’s Dad’s- I mean Mr Keating’s too.”

“Ugh! Privileged.”

“I know!” I blushed, embarrassed at the faculty’s special treatment. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure.”

“Hey, can…” I hesitated. “Can I sit with you guys?”

“Of course!” He touched my arm reassuringly. “I’ll save you a seat.”

“Thanks. See you then.”

“Bye, Skipper!” He was gone before I could reprimand him.

Feeling a spark of annoyance- more so at my father than Charlie- I scaled the last flight of stairs and came up to my bedroom. It was a surprising relief to be alone, and I realised my ears were ringing from the constant noise of three hundred teenage boys nattering and play-fighting from class to class. I rubbed my temples, feeling around for tension, heaved a sigh, and dragged my feet over to my suitcases. It felt like such an effort to dig around and find my toiletries, and by the time I found them I had to fight against the urge to curl up on the floor and go to sleep. Instead, I hauled myself to my feet and had a quick look around my room. It was much better than the boys’ dorms; there was more space, with a bigger bed and wardrobe, a bigger desk with more drawer space, and a small table with one of those new fangled electric tea kettles. I felt like the Queen of Sheba, though I doubted she would be so ashamed of her luxuries. I let out a sigh, then made my way to the bathroom to scrub off the day with soaps and potions.

I had just finished putting my hair up in Spoolies and was about to put on some dinner clothes when I heard a rapping at my door. I hurriedly pulled a bathrobe over my pajamas and went over to investigate. To my dismay, there was no peephole, so I had no clue as to who I was opening the door to. In a slight panic, and not wanting to sound rude, I opened the door straight up without asking who was there. Thank the lord it was just Dad. He was smiling softly and held a bundle of cattails in a tall crystal vase.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He stepped in and kissed my cheek. “I thought you could do with some colour in here, but for the life of me, I couldn’t find any foxgloves. I nearly had an impromptu scuba session getting these.”

“Thank you.” He strode past me and placed them on the windowsill by my desk. “I love cattails.”

“Yes, you do.” He agreed with a playful smile. “You bit one when you were two and got a mouthful of seeds.”

“So I’ve heard.” It was one of his favourite stories from my early childhood.

“So. Clare. I thought you might like to join me for dinner in my room tonight for a little recconassance. How about it?”

I hesitated. I would be so grateful to have some quiet time before study group tonight, but Charlie had already saved me a spot at his table and I desperately wanted to see Neil again. I supposed I would see him while we studied, but there would be little time for talking. I suppose I left it too long to reply, as Dad shook his head and laughed.

“You don’t have to say yes.”

“No, no I’d like to. I just-” I sighed in agitation. “I don’t like that I have privileges that the boys don’t have.”

“Hm.” He looked thoughtful. “Well… Sure, you have a few luxuries not afforded to the rest of the student body, but you have plenty of extra restrictions too. I think it all evens out in the end.”

“I suppose you’re right.” I let out the tension in my shoulders. “I’ll eat with you, but I need to go a little before eight so I can meet up with my study group.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’m proud to see you taking your school work seriously, but try not to let it rule your world.”

“I think I might have to if I’m going to stay here.” I wiped my eyelids, fatigue weighing heavy on them. “I have to at least stay on top of things, until I get a feel for how much I have to do.”

“Mm, you are right.” Dad sighed, shaking his head. “I only wish you had more time to do what you’re truly passionate about.”

“Who knows? Maybe I have an untapped passion for Latin.”

“Well, you can’t have inherited it from me.” He ambled to the door. “Come on, dinner’s getting cold.”

It seemed Dad had hustled an extra portion of the teacher’s meal for me. Waiting at the small dining table in his room was a tray with a glass cloche over it, covering two steaming bowls of carbonara. With a pang of guilt, I noted that it was much nicer than the prison food I had heard some of the boys describing earlier that day. I sat down while Dad stepped aside to select a record to put on the turntable.

“Looks good, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “I can’t guarantee all your meals will be as nice as this one. Hell-ton hash is a necessary rite of passage.”

“Surely it’s not that bad.” I tried my best to sound optimistic, but the day was so long and I was so tired, and with a stack of work to do for every class, I truly felt like the entire school had been designed to torture me. Why would the food be any different?

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m not.” I let my hand rest on my cheek and gazed longingly at the meal, only just realising how starved I was.

“Go on, dig in.” Dad insisted, picking out a Chopin piano record, probably for my benefit.

I started eating before he sat down, and neither of us said grace. Of the four pillars, tradition was the one that fell most by the wayside in our household. The pasta was the most divine thing I had ever tasted, and it took a lot of effort not to wolf it all down straight away. The piano filled the air with delicate swelling sounds. Chopin would always be my favourite.

“So, how was your day?” I asked before he had a chance to start a round of twenty questions.

“Excellent.” He responded, pouring us both a glass of cloudy apple juice. “Every one of my classes contain students of great merit. I can see poets everywhere! But I see real brilliance brewing in your class. There’s a spark there that I can’t quite place.”

Neil. I thought. From the brief interaction I had had with him, I saw his friends treat him with reverence; even Charlie- the social dynamo that he was- seemed to look at him with respect. Neil’s very presence must have stirred up inspiration in his peers.

“I agree.” I smiled. “I think even the quiet ones will surprise you.”

“Yes, indeed. Though, I quite like that Dalton boy, loud-mouthed as he may be. He reminds me so much of myself at that age. Eager to entertain.”

“Charlie’s lovely.” I swirled some pasta around my fork, reminiscing our earlier conversation. “A boy was giving me a little trouble earlier today, and he saved me.”

“What kind of trouble?” Dad paused, fork raised, his face suddenly grave.

“Nothing serious.” I said quickly. “He wanted me to join his study group, and said something insulting about one of the boys in my group when he found out I already had one.

“Oh. How unpleasant.” He relaxed and took his bite of pasta.

“Mhm. I stood up for him, though.”

“You always were one to do that.” He smiled proudly.

“I suppose I am. I had a disagreement with Overstreet before class when he threw a paper ball at that boy who sneezes a lot.”

“Spencer Poindexter.”

“Poindexter?!”

“Yes, you heard right. You won’t forget that one in a hurry, will you?”

“No. Poor guy.” I shook my head, feeling a rush of empathy for the kid. He must have had a terrible time growing up. “That reminds me, though-” I pinched the bridge of my nose in embarrassment. “I forgot Todd Anderson’s name earlier. Called him ‘Tom.’ It was terrible, he went bright red… looked like he was malfunctioning. He’d only just been introduced too! Oh, gosh, it was so bad!”

“That’s not that bad.” Dad chuckled. “You’ll worry yourself to death if you let yourself get hung up on a little thing like that.”

“I suppose it could have happened to anyone…” I mumbled, face hot with remembered embarrassment.

“Exactly. Anderson seems like a forgiving kind, anyway. You’ll make amends in time.”

“Yes, I hope so.” It would be so awkward to spend time with Neil if his roommate hates me.

We ate in silence for a while. I soaked up the piano melodies like gravy into bread, letting them draw my mind away to ballroom scenes of slow dancing with Neil at a senior prom we’d never have. I was just scraping up the last bits of bacon and was about to dig into my creme brulee when Dad spoke up again.

“So, about this crush we were discussing earlier…”

“Oh, stop!” I exclaimed in hushed tones, as if Neil might have had his ear pressed up to the door. “Forget I said anything.”

“Now, Clare, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He soothed.

“There’s everything to be embarrassed about!” I let my fork clatter into my bowl. “I’ve barely said a word to him! I shouldn’t even be feeling like this, anyway. It’s against school rules. Rules that you are supposed to enforce, by the way.”

“I am aware of that. And, as such, if I catch you fooling around, officially I should report you. So it’s of the utmost importance that you don’t give me or any of the staff any reason to suspect a thing.”

“There’s not going to be any fooling around!” I took out my agitation on the crispy top of the creme brulee and shoved a spoonful into my mouth.

“Well, you say that now.” He ran his spoon along the top of his dessert, taking great pleasure in the scraping sound, then struck it once with the back of the spoon, creating a satisfying crack. “Anyway, a clandestine love affair is a good thing at this age. It’ll build character and fuel your poetry. You’ll write the best poems of your life before you’re twenty-five.”

“Mmph!” I buried my face in my hands.

“Who is it?”

“Who is it?” I looked up in horror.

“Yeah.” He rested his cheek on his hand like a gossiping schoolkid. “Tell me.”

I looked at him long and hard, searching his eyes for a glimpse of just what he planned to do with this information. Turning up nothing, I said the only thing I could think of.

“Absolutely not. You’ll have to guess.”

“Guess?”

“Yes, go on. You got three strikes, then you can’t ask me again for a week.”

“Okay, okay.” He thought for a moment. “The obvious guess would be Dalton.”

I hesitated.

“Well, no… Charlie is really wonderful, but, well… it’s not him. It might be simpler if it was him. I mean, at least I’ve had a proper conversation with him, and he makes me laugh, and he seems… Well, maybe the flirting is compulsive.”

“Hm, not Charlie. There goes my one informed guess. Meeks?”

“No. He’s lovely, but no.”

He looked out the window and thought for a moment.

“Anderson?”

I hesitated again, though this time I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“No, not Anderson.”

“Darn. Y’know, if you told me, I might be able to help.”

“Help how?”

“I could reassign seats, pair you two up for assignments… recommend him love poetry.”

“No! No, thank you.” I said hurriedly, getting to my feet. “I think I’ll handle this just fine on my own. Now, I really should go and meet Neil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Neil!” Oh no. “Neil Perry! The one who sits in front of the Pitts boy, with the big brown eyes. I thought of him straight away, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name!”

“It’s not him.”

“Oh, yes it is.” He grinned, absolutely cheesed. “I can tell by the panic in your eyes. Not to worry, Clare, my lips are sealed and I will take no action without your go-ahead.”

“It’s not!”

“Okay, sweetheart.” He said unconvincingly, got up and kissed me on the cheek, and handed me the rest of my creme brulee. “Take this to your room, you can eat it later. Though, I’m sure you’ll get enough sugar to last you elsewhere. Now, go have fun.”

“It’s. Not. Him.” I said emphatically before giving him a quick hug. “Good night.”

[johnhardinsawyer]

Above, Below, and Behind

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

3 / 10 / 24

Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

Matthew 16:21-26

“Above, Below, and Behind”

(Wandering Heart – Week 4)

A little over a week ago, my family and I were on vacation in Florida.  And, I’m going to be honest with you:  even though we were on vacation during the season of Lent – a season of self-denial and sacrifice – I ate like I was on vacation from Lent.  There were trips to the local bakery, desserts at meals and in between meals, and all kinds of stuffing my face with tasty things.  It sure was fun!  But desserts. . . O, Lord . . . desserts have been my downfall. . . my adversaries for many years.   

I used to have a joke I would tell myself – one of those jokes that people who read the Bible might tell themselves to give themselves a chuckle.  Whenever I would walk through the bakery section of the grocery and I would see those plastic boxes filled with grocery store bakery cookies, I would say, “Get Thee behind me cookies!”  Of course, I did not always heed my own joking advice and the cookies sometimes found their way into my grocery cart, and into my mouth.  I sometimes used to say, “Get Thee behind me cookies, and do not get Thee to my behind (or to my waistline, or whatever).”  But somehow, the cookies would end up there, just the same. 

I could say that temptation is a funny thing.  But really, temptation is so hard.  

In today’s reading, we find Jesus’ friend and disciple, Peter tempted not by cookies or anything from the bakery section. Instead, Peter is “tempted” by human things which distract him from Holy things.  And in the moment, it would appear that this temptation is contagious.  

Those of you who were here last Sunday will remember Blair Moffett’s excellent sermon that touched on today’s text.  Jesus and his disciples are in a place called Caesarea Philippi – a place at the foot of Mount Hermon that is full of flowing waters and was a cool vacation spot for those who could afford to get away during the hot summers in the land of Judah and Galilee.  

There were shrines and temples there – built to any number of Greek and Roman “small-g” gods – and if you go there today, you can still see the ruins of the place and get a sense of what it must have been like.  It is in this place that Jesus asks his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”  (Matthew 16:15)  And a former-fisherman named Simon, says, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” 

You should know that it was a big deal to say such a thing.  As one author writes:  

The context here is paramount.  For some seven hundred years, the Jewish people had been awaiting the king that God had promised them before the fall of Israel.  This ruler would come from the line of David and restore security and prosperity to the chosen people.  Because of the prophetic description in the ancient texts – a “Prince of Peace” who would conquer all of God’s enemies – the Jews were expecting a strong-man, an indomitable potentate whose political power and military might could not be rivaled.[1]

What would you do if you found out that your friend and teacher was really “an indomitable potentate” capable of amassing unlimited earthly power – especially if you were living, at the time, under foreign occupation by a formidable empire. . . in this case, the Roman Empire?  It might cause one’s self-image to swell or, at the very least, cause one to say, “Hmmm. . . I must be following the right person and I feel pretty good about what the future holds for me and my friends.  We are clearly backing the right guy.  He’s going to fix everything.  

When Simon says that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God, Jesus does not deny it.  Instead, he says, 

“Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah!  For flesh and blood have not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.  And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church. . .” (16:16-18) 

Simon is given a new name, here, that is a play on words:  “You are Peter” – Petros – a “rock” in the original language.[2]  But even though Jesus gives Simon this new name – Peter, the Rock – it doesn’t take long for Peter to not live up to the firmness and strength of this new name.  

As we heard, earlier, after Peter’s divinely inspired proclamation that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus begins to tell his friends that he must go to Jerusalem, and be arrested and suffer, and be killed, and on the third day, be raised.[3]

In my mind, Peter doesn’t even hear this last part about “being raised on the third day.”  Instead, Peter’s mind and heart are stuck on the whole Jesus must be arrested and suffer and be killed part.  Peter’s response to this awful news – news that goes against the whole idea of a powerful Messiah – is an emotional gut reaction.  You can sense this in how the text tells us that he pulls Jesus aside and begins to rebuke him.  In the original language, there is this sense that Peter “actively, forcefully lays his hands on Jesus and grasps”[4] him by the lapels and begins to “seriously censure”[5] him – to criticize him – basically telling Jesus to shut up.  Can you imagine?  Peter must not have been in his right mind.  

This is where Jesus switches his tone from just moments earlier:  “Get behind me Satan!” he says to Peter. (16:23)  “You are a stumbling block to me and I’m not going to allow you to trip me up.  Your thoughts, Peter, are not of the things of God.  Your thoughts are of human things.  You’re thinking like a regular person thinks, Peter – acting on the very human desire to avoid suffering and sacrifice, to choose the easiest path – instead of trusting in God’s Way, following God’s path.  You’re choosing the human over the Holy.”[6]

Now, before we get too far, when Jesus calls Peter “Satan,” the word is used not in the “red-suit-with-pointy-tail-and-a-trident” sense.  Instead, in the original language, “Satan” means “adversary” – specifically, “the adversary of God and those who belong to God.”[7]  In choosing a very human response, Peter – for just a moment – becomes Jesus’ adversary.

Have you ever done this?  Granted, I’m not sure how much we might choose to do something that would tempt Jesus away from God’s Holy call and cause.  But, when it comes to setting our minds not on divine things, but on human things, how often do we willingly or unwillingly become adversaries of God’s Holy purpose in the world?  

It can happen in subtle ways. . .  in the moment-by-moment distractions of technology and choices that we make to fulfill our own appetites and desires.  It can happen in major ways. . . in how we might put our faith in candidates, and party platforms, and pundits that pleasure our perspectives, and even our own country and the empire that some would see it become.  None of these things can truly save us, and yet we live as if they can – going through our lives, trusting in the human instead of the Holy.  It’s so easy to fall into this trap – so tempting.

As Blair said, so eloquently last week, “Has faithful discipleship ever been more challenging?”  No. . . and yes.  Peter finds it pretty challenging in the moment – envisioning a powerful political Jesus, seizing control, running the Roman Empire out, establishing some Christian nation, ruling through religion.  But Jesus paints a different picture – one of sacrifice and suffering – and Peter just doesn’t get it.  We don’t get it, either.  

In his recent book, The Kingdom, The Power, and the Glory, an examination of the present-day church in America, author Tim Alberta writes of a sermon that he hears at a church in New York State called Goodwill Church.  The pastor, a man named John Torres, preaches a sermon on the same text as today.  Now, there are some things that Pastors John Torres and John Sawyer might not see eye-to-eye on, but his take on today’s text is rather striking:  

. . . Peter was pursuing victory in the world; Jesus was promising victory over the world. . .  If Peter could be singled out as “Satan” [The Adversary] for putting an earthly kingdom ahead of an eternal kingdom, Torres warned, we’re all fair game. . . this belief system is inside all of us.       Indeed, the “things of man” Peter worried about twenty centuries ago are the same things that preoccupy us today: wealth, prestige, control.  All of this, Torres said, competes with Jesus for our hearts.  Everything to which we attach significance in this life – family, country, politics, bodily health, even the clothes we wear and the food we eat – can become a substitute religion.[8]

Worshiping at these altars here, below, takes our attention away from the things that are above.  This does not mean that we should not be unconcerned with the world or not try to love God and love our neighbors in ways that seek to make things on earth as they are in heaven.  What it does mean is that we seek to make things on earth as God intends – not always as we intend.  

When Jesus tells Peter to “get behind” him, he is not telling Peter to go away.  Instead, he is inviting Peter – his Adversary, in the moment – to follow him.  “Get behind me so that you can follow me, Peter.”  And, what does following Jesus look like?  Well, according to today’s text, it looks like taking up a cross – our cross – and losing our lives for Jesus.  As Bible scholar, Warren Carter writes, 

Jesus’ scandalous call, then, to take up the cross and follow is a call to martyrdom, to die as Jesus does.  Such is the risk of continuing Jesus’ countercultural work of proclaiming and demonstrating God’s empire.  On another level, it is a call to a life of marginalization, to identify with the nobodies like slaves, foreigners, criminals, and those understood to be cursed by God.  It is also to identify with those who resist the [earthly] empire’s control, who contest its version of reality, and who are vulnerable to its reprisals.  It is to identify with a sign of the empire’s violent and humiliating attempt to dispose of all who threaten or challenge its interests.  To so identify is not to endorse the symbol but to counter and reframe its violence. . . it is to identify with a sign that ironically indicates the empire’s limits.  The empire does its worst in crucifying Jesus.  But God raises Jesus from death to thwart the empire’s efforts and to reveal the limits of its power.[9]  

In the Gospels, there will come a time when Jesus is arrested and brought before Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor in charge of Jerusalem.  Jesus is face-to-face with earthly power, but in the Gospel of John, Jesus tells Pilate,  “My kingdom is not from this world. . . My kingdom is not from here.” (John 18:36). And if we would follow Jesus, in humility and hope, neither is ours – even though it can be so tempting for us to try to make God’s kingdom in our image instead of the other way round.  

The only way for us, beloved people of God, is to get behind Jesus – to take up our cross and follow Jesus:  to love as Jesus loved, to serve as Jesus served, to be vessels of healing and grace just as Jesus is, to be a voice for the voiceless, to sit with the sinners, to offer our very lives so that it may be on earth as it is in heaven.  

As Blair said last week, “My human mind has not been able to grasp the full meaning of Jesus’ sacrifice and kingdom.”  My own human mind has not been able to grasp this, either.  But, if I cast aside the things that I do not need and focus on the one Holy thing that I do need, I pray that God will grant me glimpses of the kingdom – the true heavenly empire that Jesus has brought into the world. . . the kingdom toward which he is leading us, even now.  

Get behind Jesus, friends.  Get behind Jesus and follow.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

-------

[1] Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, The Power, and The Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2023) 45.

[2] Walter Bauer, A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1979) 654.

[3] Matthew 16:21 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[4] Bauer, 464 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[5] Bauer, 303.  

[6] Matthew 16:23 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[7] Bauer, 744.

[8] Alberta, 46.

[9] Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religious Reading (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2000) 344.

[beantothemax]

ok so i saw 1 (one) shitpost and now thia idea will not leave my head so ima gonna scream abt it: freddyfive night punch out

(to be clear im basing most my fnaf game knowledge on ucn and my punchout knowledge on wii, cause like those are the only ones ive played)

so like in total the fight would involve freddy, foxy, marionnete, all the balloon children (including the lil uh oh how un fortunate bitch >:3 ),

the fight itself you would be boxing good ol normal freddy however he would have a bunch of paraphernalia on him, specifically: a thingy on the left side of his hat with a music box, his hat which if punched enough can come off and reveal some small child, and a vent on his right "abdomen" from which many things can pop out of.

fnaf in general is like about "resource" management in the sense that the resources are how pissed the various robots are so that would be translated over to this by way of punching different spots depending on whats necessary at the time.

now in punchout, hitting the head during stun is generally simply better as it does more damage. however, there exists the hat of many small fellows, and like every 5 head taps theres a "chance" (probably a preset order) of either bb, jj, or the uh oh how unfortunate one. bb does a real quick slap that cuts your stamina (the heart meter) in half. like does Current-(Total*.5), so like if the total was 8 it takes 4 no matter how much u have. this in fact could just fuck you over at a bad time, as bb is want to do. jj apparently does precisely nothing in fnaf 2 after some quick research, so she also does nothing but pop out and idk be silly. and little miss unfortunate circumstances could maybe sing her lil song and like randomly lower one of the other "timers" a chunk.

ok so punchout is one of those probably few wii games that avoided mandatory pointer/motion stuff but i cannot think of a better way to implement this one idea so: there would be a decent bit of downtime between attacks where you're not able to hit fred but he aint attacking you and this would be when you're supposed to flick the wiimote into pointing at the background, specifically a wheres waldo ass thing about "staring" at foxy for a brief moment to keep them at bay (relatively simple as its a large fox robot in a sea of faceless grey silhouettes), and if you dont for long enough they do the funny skedaddle into a big ol uppercut or whatever, which would just instatly ko you. altho it would have a big ol tell of fred stepping aside for a second and the loud stomping naturally, so you could just skip this and play as normal, simply dodging or perhaps punching back, which would do damage to fred cause you earned that if so. (im thinking you'd just be knocking foxy back into him)

the music box side is relatively simple, over the course of the match it visibly unwinds and you have to hit it to keep it wound up or suddenly marionette headbutt. probably 3 punches would keep it fully wound. the box's music would be like wound into the fight song but then slowly quiet down as its winding off, and eventually the lil jack in the box "last seconds!!!" thing would play too, and that would "force" him to do some attack if hes in neutral. you better get that stun real quick tho lmao.

power: thats a very core emchanic in fnaf, and i have 2 ideas for how it could be mixed in here, a: it be tied to that heart energy number of mac's that makes you tired when it hits zero and cant punch no more, however this feels kinda bs and like just not balanced, like punch out is not the type of game to have a kick u while ur down mechanic u feel me b, a much better idea in my book: the stage/ring has power. for this to make sense it would be taking place in more of like a garage or smth, crowd could still be there but like its less of an official thing. this would actually incentivise ending the fight quickly more than just for cool points. it would nt like charge back between rounds, and for actual numbers, lets say like 5 minutes 30 "seconds "of total power. thats a bit over half of the total possible roundtime and feels decently accurate to the like "win before this or you Perish" angle. running out of power would, first of all, turn off the lights ofc. at this point its dark and shit, you can only see glowy eyes and the power bar, rest is just a shadowy figure. punches of all sorts are faster, foxy is agitated quicker, music box timer is shorter, and just all around not very good to be here.

idk fully abt this idea but also maybe a star punch could just wind back all timers regardless of where they are including foxy (except the power ofc), and the t3 just fully resets em. if you hit it anyway.

and thats abt all the mechanics i feel could be fitted into this without it being too much to also juggle with punching

JAY I LOVE THIS SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA

having to ‘manage’ a bunch of lil parts on freddy like the music box and the various Foul Helium Children is SUCH a fun idea and in adore it immensely

AND HAVING TO QUICKLY FIND FOXY IN THE CROWD BEFORE HE JUST. FUCKING BOOKS IT TO THE STAGE AND UPPERCUTS MAC IS MAYBE THE FUNNIEST THING IVE READ IN A WHILE. LIKE!!!! OH NO DONT LET THE ROBOT FOX CATCH YOUR ASS LACKING MAC!!!!!!!!!!!!!! CJSNSHHSHSHXXG

and the whole power mechanic playing into the actual stage… augh that’s SO cool I love it

someone call next level games, jay has banger ideas

[sortagaysortahigh]

ive seen some discourse on this and zoot can you do a character analysis of eddie? like the way you used to break down obx characters cos a lot of the headcannons i see of him are kind of mean, classist, and just seem so off character

Hi bby, ofc i can do a lil analysis on eddie however comma im gonna need some time as i’m about to go to the store, but i can give you some of my headcannons i use when i write eddie (and i aim to write him as in character as i can), some are sfw and some are nsfw

Random Eddie Munson Headcanons (ft Fem/Afab reader):

Total teddybear, tries to act tough but we all know he’s a big softie

Always gives you a discount bc you’re pretty, then you find out he’s only been giving you that specific discount-esp when your friend tries to buy from him

Total flirt, always flirting w the person he’s crushing on, and you just know he makes nerdy references when he does it too

bonus points when the person acc understands his references, he just swoons, definitely a heart eyes type mf

He smells like weed, menthol cigarettes, and a sprinkle of drugstore cologne

He definitely uses the 3 in 1 mens shampoos, and its green apple scented. + this mf probably uses irish spring bar soap

I doubt he uses chapstick frequently, then when he starts dating someone he’s constantly using it bc he loves making out

When in doubt he’ll use some of his partners lip gloss and if anyone asks him ab it he just says ‘can a man not kiss his lover?’

Eddie Munson is TOUCH STARVED and his love language is physical touch

He’s always holding his partner somehow, or caressing their skin, or just pulling them close bc hes one of the ‘i wanna be in your skin’ mfs

Also definitely play fights and wrestles w his partner, and i mean he will tackle you onto his bed for funsies

He’s hella goofy, like mans will always try to make people laugh whenever they look upset, definitely the type to shove fries in his nose when you’re not looking then wiggle his brows bc hes a big ass kid sometimes (but we love that ab him)

This man WILL wine and dine you even if it means rushing to make as many sales as possible within 2 days bc he wants your date to be special

He’s smart, like mega smart, you cannot DM a game of DND without being incredibly smart and creative

He’s good at math (once again DND relies heavily on numbers + being a drug dealer means you have to understand numbers) but bad w high school english, not bc he’s dumb but bc he gets bored easily and doesn’t care

He definitely got the silver pig ring from his dad, he probably wears it bc he associates it w the few good memories he has w him

He stole the handcuffs on his wall from Hopper, he and Hopper actually have a decent relationship bc jim knew his dad and we all know Jim has a soft spot for troubled teens

He tells Hopper that he’s “the only cop i wouldnt call a pig”

Anytime he gets arrested he asks for the sheriff specifically and 9/10 times jim lets him go w a shitty warning

Speaking of those handcuffs-he swears he’d never use them on someone and when asked why he definitely gets flustered then mumbles out ‘i dont have a key’

Buys handcuffs specifically for being freak nasty, even puts the key on a necklace that he gives to his partner (which they wear everyday bc its engraved w their initials in a little heart)

He definitely keeps a little cardboard box under his bed full of nasty magazines, some are like typical playboys and the others are heavy metal, then he has some straight up fantasy prnos that he doesn’t remember buying but still cherishes (hint he stole them)

The five finger discount is his best friend, this man isnt a klepto but he grew up poor and his familial influenced were all criminals until he started living w wayne so yk, he be stealin shit from time to time

Definitely steals lip gloss, hair ties, or other small ‘essentials’ for you and says he thought of you when he saw it

He grabs your hips anytime you bend over and humps you, ive seen other ppl say this one and its 110% accurate

Also an ass smacker/grabber-especially in shorts and skirts, but if its a skirt he slides his entire hand under it to grab your ass bc he will always be your lil pervy boyfriend

EDDIE MUNSON IS A BISEXUAL KING

Total perv, probably bc hes touch starved and just rlly into everything ab you. Looks up your skirt and down your shirt any chance he gets

I hate to say it i rlly do but i think he has a foot fetish, ive met my fair share of eddie munsons and they usually have foot fetishes

definitely asks you what color panties you have on while winking + panty thief + jerks off w your used panties

Hes 110% a switch, he likes being in charge but he loves it when you smack him around and pull his hair and deep down he likes begging for more

Ppl always go back and forth on fav sex positions but i just know in my soul he loves cowgirl, whether youre doing all the work or hes fucking into you, he just likes looking up at you bc “you look like a goddess”

He eats ass. I will not elaborate because i know im correct.

King of eating pussy in his van, anytime anywhere it gives “ill pull over rn” and hes deadass, he’ll even make you get on your hands and knees so he can eat it from the back when you two just finished arguing bc “i cant look at you rn” while he’s knuckle deep inside you w his tongue on your pussy

He’s a biter, and i mean sexually and just in general, he’ll leave bite marks on you during sex but even throughout the day he gets cuteness aggression and just be nibbling on you like a fuckin weirdo (we love him for that)

Flirts w your mom/dad to make them like you, usually he leans more towards your mom but will definitely slide a few compliments in to your dad

Puts a hand over your mouth so he can go down on you when he’s at yours and your parents are home or he gags you w your own panties (love our pervy king)

Only lets his partner touch his hair, he also cuts it himself every other saturday

Bonus for my poc readers: he oils your scalp!!!!!!! OR you start oiling his hair and he loves it when you do his hair, even makes an entire day out of it

Tries to get you to play DND, even designs little one shot campaigns for you to join in on and youre most likely playing w Dustin and Erica bc he said “they wont get frustrated with you”

When Dustin does get a lil frustrated when youre first learning Eddie lets Erica talk shit to him bc she has your back

OR If you already know how to play DND he swoons at your feet, definitely wants to beg you to join hellfire, practically makes it his mission and life purpose (esp if you arent dating yet)

He wants kids but he doesn’t know when, probably has doubts ab being a good dad bc “Munson men aren’t exactly angels” but w some reassurance and cuddling he feels better ab it

Definitely hates the idea of working a 9-5 for the rest of his life but would do it if he had a family and they needed him around.

All in all Eddie Munsons such a simp

[nebulablakemurphy]

Total Eclipse Of The Heart (Part Five)

Jacob Black x Fem!Vampire!Swan!Reader

Summary: Jacob Black, alpha of his pack, would never fall in love with a bloodsucker, much less imprint on one. The problem is that Y/N Swan was human…until she wasn’t anymore.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The bike works for a while, Bella can see Edward; until she gets good at operating the vehicle. After that the danger is gone and so is any version of him.

Jacob and Y/N are hunting Victoria. Charlie is hunting the wolves, who he still believes to be bears, responsible for the killings around town.

Bella’s alone again.

She decides to try something new, to get that rush of adrenaline. Cliff jumping is about as stupid as it is recreational. But Edward is there, begging her not to jump. So she does, anything to make him stay.

———————————————————————

“She’s freezing cold. I can’t touch her.”

“Relax. Human hot box, remember? I hope you don’t mind, I’m gonna have to give her mouth to mouth.”

“Jake,” thwack.

Beyond the voices, Bella can feel pressure. Like someone is pounding on her chest, commanding her heart to beat.

“Come on Bella. Breathe.”

With a sputtering inhale she chokes up the water that invaded her lungs.

“Bella!”

The brunette opens her eyes just in time to see her sister reach for her and then remember her temperature, dropping both hands back to her sides.

“I’m ok,” Bella tells her, through chattering teeth.

“What the hell were you doing?” Y/N demands, tossing a blanket around her shoulders.

Jacob lifts Bella from the sand to lean against him, soaking up his warmth.

“I just wanted to see something.” Bella looks away from Y/N. The venom has eaten away her contacts and she can see her now for what she truly is.

“We’ve gotta get her home.” Jacob says, lifting Bella with ease.

“Your eyes,” Bella tries to warn her.

“It’s ok,” Y/N shakes her head. “Dad’s not home. He’s over at the Clearwater’s.”

“Did something happen?” Bella wonders.

“Harry had a heart attack.” Jacob breathes, the words striking like a hot iron. “He didn’t make it.”

“I’m so sorry.” Bella whispers to no one in particular.

“Let’s go,” Y/N jerks her chin in the direction of the road.

“I’ll run her,” the wolf offers.

“My truck,” Bella pushes feebly against his chest.

“I got it,” Y/N sighs, taking the keys. “You go, keep her warm.”

“On it.” Jacob nods, breaking into a sprint.

Y/N heads back to the truck, opening the door and waiting as it rattles to life. Her fingers curl over the steering wheel harshly, distorting it with the force of her grasp.

The phone buzzes to life in her pocket, not a number she recognizes. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Edward.”

“Edward…” The Y/H/C nearly short circuits.

“Is Bella alright?” He asks immediately.

How did he know? “Now you care what happens to Bella?”

“Y/N please-“

“No,” she cuts him off. “Edward, you left. You left and you didn’t care. I mean where the hell have you been? Where were you while I was here picking up the pieces?”

“I’m sorry.” Edward grovels, the way she had on the front lawn of the Cullen’s home after Bella’s birthday party. “It was a mistake.”

“Your sorry means nothing to me.” Y/N ends the call. Tossing the phone to the passenger seat. Her foot pressing the gas pedal to the floor.

Arriving home at record speed, she finds a black car in the driveway. Carlisle’s car. Parking the truck, she jots through the front door.

Alice, Jacob and Bella are deep in conversation.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asks Alice.

“I had a vision of Bella jumping off a cliff. I didn’t see her get pulled out of the water-“ Alice breaks off. Her eyes fluttering, then she gasps.

“What now?” Jacob runs a hand over his face.

“It’s Edward, he thinks Bella’s dead.” Alice chokes out. “He’s going to the Volturi, he wants to die too.”

“What?” Bella’s entire body lurches forward.

“Rosalie told him why I came here. Then Y/N-“

“You spoke to him?” Bella cuts Alice off. “What did you say?”

“I told him to screw himself. Not kill himself.” Y/N says defensively.

“Y/N!” Bella is hysterical.

She never meant for this to happen. “Tell me where he is and how to get there.”

“What are you gonna do?” Jacob leans in, his fingers closing around her wrist.

“I have to go,” Y/N rolls her eyes at the ridiculous nature of the situation, “save Edward.”

Jacob’s face falls into a scowl, “no, no way in hell.”

“Jake-“

“The Volturi, isn’t that some kind of vampire judge and jury situation? The ones you’re so afraid of that you can’t even tell Charlie what happened to you?” Jacob can put up with a lot, and he has. But this…

“Jacob, I know that this sucks.” Y/N pulls him away from Alice and Bella for a shred of privacy. “But it’s my fault. I have to make it right.”

“Stop blaming yourself for his shitty decisions!” Jacob roars, “it’s not your fault that he left, it’s not your fault that he didn’t come back and it’s not your fault that you told him to shove it where the sun don’t shine.”

Y/N takes step back, “please don’t.”

“Please don’t what?” Jake snarls, closing the distance between them. “Tell you the truth?”

“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do.” Y/N pleads, allowing his fingers to sear her skin.

“If you die…” he strokes her jaw reverently, “I’ll kill you.”

“I love you so much,” she turns into his palm and presses gentle kisses there.

Jacob lets his hand fall away as they break apart. “What do you want me to tell Charlie?”

“Last minute girls trip or something,” Y/N shrugs.

“How long will you be gone?” Jacob wants to say it back. That he loves her.

Y/N looks to Alice.

“Three days, round trip.” The pixie tells them.

Bella has already gone up to pack.

“Perfect,” Jacob acknowledges. Keeping the words to himself.

———————————————————————

The plan ride to Italy is tense. Bella hardly sleeps, she is a nervous wreck.

Alice is flooded with vision after vision as she watches Edward and the Volturi’s decisions.

Y/N plucks anxiously at the wolf charm on her wrist.

The car Alice steals is a beautiful canary yellow color. It shifts gears like butter and glides over the road.

“The Volturi refused him.” Alice says, surprise and relief in her voice.

“Should you be driving?” Y/N wonders, there’s no way she can concentrate with the future flashing before her eyes.

“You can channel for me” Alice offers. There is no time to stop.

Y/N closes her eyes, willing the visions to come to her. “He’s waiting until noon, when the sun’s at it’s highest. Then he’s going to reveal himself to the humans.”

“Alice, you gotta hurry up.” Bella pleads, tugging at the roots of her hair.

“Bella,” Alice coos, “breathe.”

Y/N opens her mind, but Edward is decided, so nothing changes. Until something unexpected appears.

Jacob. He’s seated on their living room couch, shooting the breeze with Charlie. Clearly waiting for something as his eyes flicker to the clock repeatedly. Her, Y/N realizes, he’s waiting for her.

“What did you see?”

“It wasn’t Edward, don’t worry.” Y/N drawls. Just her letting down the most important person in her life…again.

The crowd surrounding Volterra is massive, Alice cuts through as much as she can with the stolen Porsche, but eventually Bella has to make a run for it. To the clock tower at the center of the festival before Edward exposes himself in the sunlight. She is the only one Edward can’t see coming.

“So, what now?” Y/N demands.

“What did you see?” Alice asks instead.

“Doesn’t matter.” The Y/H/C shakes her head. “We can’t just sit here-“

“You saw him, didn’t you?” Alice steals a glance at her. “Jacob?”

“Does he always look so miserable in your visions,” she wonders.

“I can’t see him.” The other vampires admits, “the wolves are a blind spot.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.” Alice’s brows furrow, the visions are back in her own head. “We have to go.”

The two of them weave through the festival, skin covered from the sun that shines bright overhead. Finally taking shelter in a door off the alley way.

“Come on guys,” Alice pulls the scarf from her head as they enter. “Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

The ‘guys’ in question have glowing red eyes, their diet is strictly human blood.

Bella is against the wall, with Edward between her and the two men wearing black cloaks.

“No we certainly wouldn’t.” The shorter blonde man purrs. “Aro requests your presence.”

“Bella,” Edward addresses her, “why don’t you go back out and enjoy the festival?”

“All of you,” the larger man clarifies.

A third vampire joins them, a girl with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. “Aro sent me to see what’s taking so long.”

“So no festival?” Y/N cocks her head to the side.

“I’m afraid not.” The girl gives her a tight lipped grin. “Right this way.”

The four of them are led down a long corridor to a stair case, then to an elevator.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here.

Edward’s eyes, dark with thirst, cut to Y/N. Bella tucked securely beneath his arm.

‘Sorry,’ she mentally shoots back.

He turns his gaze ahead as the elevator doors open onto a checkered marble floor. The ceilings are high, adorned with paintings that put the Sistine chapel to shame.

“Don’t be afraid,” Edward whispers to Bella.

“Are you?” Bella stares up at him.

“No,” he lies.

They land at double doors, pushed open to reveal three more men, seated in high back chairs that resemble thrones.

The one in the center moves to stand, the other brunette and blonde vampires can’t be bothered.

“What a happy surprise!” The man rejoices, “Bella is alive after all. And you’ve brought a friend.”

“I’m just here for moral support.” Y/N explains, jerking her thumb at Bella, “she’s my sister.”

Aro looks her over, “welcome…”

“Y/N,” she introduces herself.

Aro steps forward then, taking Edward’s hand from Bella’s into his own.

“Aro can read every thought I’ve ever had with a single touch.” Edward tells them.

“You are quite a soul reader yourself Edward. Although you can’t hear Bella’s thoughts.” Aro remarks, “would you do me the honor?” He extends a hand to Bella.

Warily she steps forward, allowing him to encase her hand with both of his.

“How strange,” Aro pulls away after a moment. “I see nothing. I wonder if…let us see if she is immune to all our powers, Jane.”

“No,” Edward protests, jumping in front of Bella.

“Pain,” the blonde girl murmurs, a satisfied smirk spreading across her features as Edward falls to the ground. He writhes silently at Bella’s feet.

“Stop! Please.” Bella yells, “stop hurting him.”

Aro watches her in fascination, allowing the torture to continue for a moment. “Jane.”

“Master?” The girl says.

Edward relaxes with a grunt.

“Go ahead my darling,” Aro motions to Bella.

“This might hurt just a little,” Jane warns.

But Bella feels nothing.

“Remarkable.” Aro marvels, “she confounds us all. So, what do we do with you now?”

“She knows too much, she’s a liability.” The blonde man on the right croons, from his chair.

“That’s true.” Aro replies, “Felix.”

“No,” Edward flips Bella behind him, having read his thoughts.

Alice seen Aro’s decision to have Bella killed.

And Y/N catches on quickly enough. Stepping in front of her sister.

Alice is restrained by the short blonde haired guard and Edward is wrestling with the larger vampire, which eventually leaves Edward on the ground.

Y/N’s never engaged in combat, but fight or flight is still a thing. She’s stronger and faster than anyone in the room, perks of being a newborn. She uses it to her advantage.

Fending off every attack the guard throws at her. But she is wreckless, untrained in her youth. Eventually she is restrained, with a hand at her throat.

The exchange gives Edward enough time to recover, he comes back swinging. For Bella. Anything for her.

Felix is strong. Edward is going to lose and her sister is going to die.

Y/N does the only thing she can do, “pain.”

The large man twists inhumanly at the crippling pain coursing through him.

Aro’s mouth sits slightly agape, watching in wonder as Edward returns to his feet.

“Call him off and I’ll stop,” Y/N jerks her chin toward Felix.

“Let us discuss this in a civilized manner.” Aro tries to defuse the situation.

“Tell your men to stop trying to kill my sister,” Y/N tosses the guard’s hand from her neck. “Then we discuss.”

“Felix, stand down.” Aro orders.

Y/N releases the man from her clutches, hearing him struggle to regain composure.

“You have the most peculiar scent.” Aro comments, “come.” He holds a hand out, “let me see.”

Y/N steps toward him, allowing his palm to rest under hers.

His eyes fall closed as he weaves through the facets of her memories. From birth to death and after life. “Ahh,” Aro coos.

Y/N resists the urge to pull away.

“Your gift is…untouched.” The things she could do, if only- “I can teach you.”

“Let my sister go,” Y/N repeats.

“So young, so much control.” Aro remarks. “To have resisted her blood twice within the first year. You are magnificent.” He smiles, drunk on the idea of harnessing the power she possesses. “You could join us.”

“I have someone waiting for me.” Y/N declines the offer.

“The child of the moon.” Aro recalls the boy from her mind. Dark hair, bright smile, “you love him impossibly so, against everything in your nature. It makes my heart ache.”

“Consorting with a werewolf?” Caius rushes to his feet. “Our sworn enemy?”

“This is different brother,” Aro stops him. If only he earns the young vampire’s trust, all that power will be his. “They have no qualms with us, nor each other. Misfortune has befallen them, much like our young friends Bella and Edward. This is a sadness.”

“You already know what you’re going to do, Aro. Let us be done with this.” Marcus motions dismissively.

“If only it were your intention to change her.” Aro addresses Edward now.

“Bella will be one of us.” Alice interrupts, “I’ve seen it. I’ll change her myself.”

Aro steps away from Y/N, to where Alice stands. Whatever she shows him must be proof enough. They’re free to go. For now.

———————————————————————-

The plane ride home is awkward. Both better and worse that the flight there.

“Thank you, for what you did.” Edward breaks the silence, as Bella sleeps peacefully against his shoulder. “Only it wasn’t smart. Aro has taken interest now, he’ll try to win you over.”

“Better men have tried.” Y/N turns her nose up at the idea, and him.

“I’m not going to push for your forgiveness. Or hers.” He looks over at Bella, “I’m going to earn it.”

“Sure.” The Y/H/C crosses her arms, “holding my breath.”

“Good thing you don’t need air.” Edward cracks a smile.

“Can you not pick my brain right now? I need to think.” Y/N tries to refocus. “Alone.”

“Jacob will forgive you.” Edward ignores her comment.

“Jacob always forgives me.” She whispers, “I want to deserve it this time.”

Edward nods in understanding. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

If he hears anything else he doesn’t comment on it. Falling into a comfortable silence.

Y/N is largely on autopilot until they make it home.

Charlie rushes out onto the porch at the sound of a car engine. “There you are.”

“Hi, Dad.” Y/N steps up to hug him.

Charlie kisses the top of her head, returning the embrace. “Jacob said it was a girls trip.” He’s not thrilled to see Edward.

“It was supposed to be,” Y/N pulls away. “He surprised us.”

“She does look better though, doesn’t she?” Charlie notes, seeing Bella.

“Yeah,” as much as Y/N hates to admit it, she agrees.

“Go on. He’s been waiting for ya.” Charlie nods toward the house. “I’m gonna have a word with Edward.”

“Ok,” Y/N takes the stairs two at a time. “Don’t be too hard on him though.” She calls after her father. “He’s been through hell too.”

Charlie squints at her, hoping she will elaborate but knowing she won’t.

“Honey, I’m home.” Y/N sings into the living room.

Jacob doesn’t say a word. Just makes his way to her and wraps her up in his arms. Inhaling the scent at the crook of her neck, deeply. “Never thought I’d miss your stink.”

Y/N takes a whiff of her own. “The wet dog and earthy tones are starting to smell like home.”

“Yeah.” He feels it too.

“Can I ask you something?” She murmurs against his shoulder.

“Sounds like a loaded question already.” Jacob can hear it in her voice.

“How much of you staying here is because of the imprint? How much of it is your soul needing mine? And how much of it is just Jake?”

“I guess I-“ he breaks off. “I’ll never really know for sure. But I think the Jacob I’ve been my whole life would stay. Imprint Jacob would have no choice but to please you. And my soul just wants to be close to yours, anyway it can.”

“Do you ever wish you could un-imprint?” If that’s even a word. “I hate the thought of you chipping away parts of yourself…to please me.”

Jacob nuzzles her forehead with his own. “I’m lucky that I got to imprint on someone who loves me. Someone I didn’t have to change for. Being with you is easy, like breathing.”

“I want to give you more than I take.” Y/N tells him.

“I can feel you,” heart and soul, “how much you love me.”

“You can,” the vampire tenses, “feel me?”

“I know how guilty you feel for leaving, how scared you are that you’ll have to do it again.” Jacob places her hand over his heart. “I’ll wait.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” she argues. “You’re already giving away too much.”

“Stop beating yourself up. I can handle you. Have little faith.”

“I have faith in you.” That was never the problem.

“Give yourself some credit too.” He taps her chin, “quit brooding.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Jacob holds Y/N at arms length, “now tell me everything. What’d I miss on the trip of a lifetime?”

“Well Alice stole a car.” She starts with the fun part. “Porsche I think, crazy fast. You would’ve loved it.”

———————————————————————-

The night they return from Italy, Bella insists that her mortality be put up for a vote. The Cullens gather around the staircase in their home, calling for Y/N and Jacob as well.

“You are part of this family, Y/N.” Carlisle rests a hand on her shoulder. “Jacob is your mate. Bella is your sister. You have a say in this.”

Jacob votes no.

Y/N votes not to vote. Only expressing her opinion based on her own experience. “I know what it feels like to have your choices taken away. I won’t do it to you.”

Life goes on. Y/N visits the reservation often. Like Jacob promised, everyone is coming around.

Graduation is right around the corner. Bella is waiting until after to become a vampire. Hoping it’ll be easier on Charlie.

He’s definitely not going to let it go a second time. He’ll demand answers that they won’t be able to give. They’ll have to leave. All of them.

Billy can see how much Y/N is wrestling with the decision. “In your heart you know that this is the best thing for everyone. Why are you hellbent on torturing yourself?”

“I’m not,” she shakes her head.

“You and Jake will get each other through.” Billy isn’t worried about that.

“What about my Dad?” He’ll be devastated.

Billy sighs, resting a hand on her shoulder. “What’d you want me to say kid?”

“Give me another choice.” She covers his fingers with her own.

“You having a pity party without me?” Jacob catches them, leaning heavily against the doorframe of his childhood kitchen.

“You were sleeping.” Y/N sniffs, breaking away from Billy. “I made you breakfast. Pancakes, French toast, eggs, bacon, sausage and-“

“And?” Jacob perks up.

“Chocolate chips muffins for dessert.”

“You’re trying to butter me up, huh?” Jacob grins, making his way to the breakfast table. “It’s working. Just give it to me straight.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Billy excuses himself.

“The Cullens are having a graduation party for Bella.” Y/N watches the wolf take a bit of food from each dish.

“Just Bella?” Jacob arches a brow.

She huffs, reaching into her bag for the formal invite.

‘Congrats Grad!’

‘Please join us to celebrate, Alice, Jasper, Bella, Edward, Y/N and Jacob.’

‘R.S.V.P. To Alice or Esme Cullen.’

“Wow,” Jacob takes it all in. “They shouldn’t have.”

“They gave them to half of Forks high school.” Y/N explains, “most of my senior class remembers you as my hot boyfriend from a different school.”

“I am your hot boyfriend from a different school.” There is no denying it.

Y/N bites her lip. “They gave me a handful of invites for you too. If you want…”

“Really trying to push the whole ‘happy family’ agenda.” Jacob takes the stack of envelopes.

“It’ll only get worse if we indulge them.”

“In a few months they’ll be the only people we know.” Jacob reminds her. “Should probably get used to it.”

Y/N nods, turning her gaze out the window. “The younger we start out in a new place the longer we get to stay.”

“So high school again.” Jacob laughs humorlessly. “Can’t wait.”

“I want to stay in Forks.” Y/N forces out the words. “I want to stay with my Dad.”

“Baby,” Jacob breathes. That’s one thing he can’t give her.

“But it doesn’t matter what I want. Bella has to turn. We have to move on.” Y/N squares her shoulders. “Just let me sulk a little.”

“Sulk away, beautiful.” Jacob takes a bite of scrambled eggs. “Just pass the salt first.”

Series Taglist: @remembered-license @itscheybaby

Part 6

[mortedeveles]

a whisker away― 1 | HQ Movie Collab!

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

SUMMARY: After a strange series of events, turning into a cat becomes part of your daily routine, in which you visit your crush- Kenma, every day after school. But he doesn’t know you’re the cat that visits him. And to make things worse, you’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep this up before your world spirals out of your control.

PAIRING: Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

GENRE & THEME:  A Whisker Away! AU (movie), fluff to angst to fluff, pining. [(two part) ONE-SHOT] [Haikyu Movie Collab!]

TAG’S & TW: Cursing, a bit of unhealthy family dynamics. Mentions of social anxiety, rejection. Some angst, mentions of insecurities and small graphic violence. Reader might come off a bit as yandere-ish/obsessive but she’s just head over heels over Kenma, who’s barely discovering his feelings as well. 

WORD COUNT: 5.7K! 

A/N: Hey y’all! I’m here with my first Kenma fic :) Which is part of @/hitokas-angel Haikyuu Movie Collab! I’ll link the masterlist in my taglist reblog. This fic is based on the movie A Whisker Away but doesn’t follow the entire plot, and I haven’t written in a while and this is my first time writing for Kenma, so I hope it’s okay! <3 Please REBLOG, like and COMMENT if you enjoy! 

Second (and final) part will be out this upcoming week! If you want to be added to the taglist, check my pinned post. 

People are a fickle thing, Kenma thinks. And he snorts at the thought, knowing he isn't any better than any of the passing strangers he's walking by as he heads to Nekoma High. But still, there's something about people, about crowds and socializing that makes him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

People are hard to deal with. If he can barely deal with himself, why bother with others? It's not that he's a sociopath, he does have friends and family he cares about. And he cares about what others think of him. But still, socializing is so intimidatingly hard that he'd rather just avoid it altogether if possible. 

Even with his headphones, he can hear the loud blaring of cars, the chattering of people that brush against his arms, and he tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the nervous fluttering that's sprouted in his stomach from all the alternating and overwhelming noises. Whatever, it's just a car honking. It's just a little kid screaming. So he braces his arms as he buries his hands in the pockets of his sweater, feeling a bit more relieved as he spots Nekoma High School in the near distance. He usually walks to school with Kuroo, but his friend decided to be productive today and wake up at four in the morning. The mere thought of waking up so early made Kenma yawn and feel drowsy. His eyes feel a bit heavy, though he knows it's his fault for staying up playing video games, again. 

But Kenma doesn't mind the slight drowsiness that courses through his body. In a sense, it feels comforting. Like if the world's been sedated to a more managing level. A world that he can handle without his anxiety bursting through the roof. 

A soft mew snaps him out of his thoughts, and Kenma spots a white kitten rubbing across his legs, and he smiles. It has a unique pattern across its fur, with brown and black spots. He kneels down and gently scratches the cat under its chin, and the furry animal purrs and preens with his touch.

As a small sigh escapes his lips, the boy raises his head and stares at the high school building ahead of him. Several classmates are walking past him and he watches the girls with swishing skirts and boys with their boisterous laugh and messily done ties. 

Despite a large number of students pouring into the building, the morning at Nekoma High is quiet and serene. Giving the black kitten one last scratch, Kenma stands up and heads inside the building, working his way through crowds. His gym bag is heavy in his hand and his backpack slightly thumps against his back, but he pays it no mind as he exits the building and finds his way into the gymnasium. Kuroo, Kai, and Yaku are already in the gymnasium, the three third years chattering amongst themselves. The gym's doors creaked from being pushed open, and Kuroo's gaze snapped towards Kenma, a wry smile crawling onto his lips. 

"Look who got here early. I'm impressed," the black-haired boy crossed his arms, and Kenma rolled his eyes. "You're the first second-year to get here today."

Kenma merely lets out a small grunt of acknowledgment, before trudging towards the locker rooms. He stashes his bag in his locker and then heads out back to the gym, already decked out in his volleyball uniform, but furrows his eyebrows at the sight ahead of him.

Not again. He swallows down an annoyed groan as he spots the all too familiar girl standing with Kuroo, a bright smile painted on her lips as she laughs and talks along with the boy. Why are you here?

"Kenma!" Kuroo calls out for him with a shit-eating grin on his face, "Your super fan is here with a gift." Great. Now he has to talk to you and thank you for whatever you brought. Why couldn't you just take a hint and leave him alone? He thought he made it clear last week when he ignored you as you called out his name and Kenma proceeded to ignore your every word as he raced home. 

"Hi, Kenma!" And there you go again, making his stomach twist with your wide smile. Why did you make him feel this way? He didn't like this feeling. "I had some free time today, so I decided to make you a bento box. I hope you like it," you explain before handing over the box, and Kenma ignores the way his skin heats up as your fingers brush against his. 

"Thank you," he murmurs but refuses to meet your gaze, hoping you'll go away without another second to spare.

"Aww, aren't you two adorable!" Kuroo coos at his left, and Kenma feels his pride shrivel and glares at the black-haired boy, but he pays him no mind.

Kenma drops his gaze to your shiny school shoes, hearing you stammer and step back nervously, and Kuroo's boisterous laugh echoes in the gym. Kenma lifts his gaze as he watches his best friend approach you and watches as your eyes widen as Kuroo grips your chin.

"If Kenma doesn't appreciate your gifts, I sure will. If you ever get tired of him, give me a call, eh?" Yaku and Kai laugh loudly as you squeak and nod, before rushing out of the gym.

"Poor girl, did you see the look on her face? You've tormented her too much, Kuroo," Yaku says with a disapproving tone to his words, but there's a wide grin on his face that says otherwise.

"Relax, it's all just a bit of fun. You don't mind, do you Kenma?" And the boy turns to look at the blonde, dropping his mischievous expression as he faces Kenma with genuine concern. 

"No, of course not." Kuroo relaxes at the boy's response and beams. Kenma turns around towards the benches, ignoring the loud pounding of his heart and the ugly feeling that begins to boil in his stomach. 

                    ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Despite the searing heat that spread across your face after fleeing from the gym, you'd like to think your mission went pretty well. One, you made it to the gym without chickening out and two, you talked to Kenma without looking like an idiot! And three, you handed over the bento box and it was successfully received. 

So you spend the rest of your day at school with a bright smile, the small interaction with Kenma being enough to lift your mood. Soon enough, the school bell chimes softly, and you walk to lunch with your friends, Azumi and Emiko.

While Emiko goes off to the vending machine, her brown hair bouncing with her each step, Azumi and you walk towards a lunch table. But you freeze in your steps at the sight ahead of you. With only a tree and a few bushes separating you two, Kenma and Kuroo walk languidly ahead of you and you quickly duck behind the bushes, pulling Azumi down with you. Before she can protest, you slap your hand over her mouth, signaling her to be quiet. 

"Shh!" You peek your head over the bushes, watching with rapt attention. Kenma walks side by side with Kuroo, the taller one gossiping as they approach a lunch table. They sit down at one of the tables blanketed under the shade of the trees, and your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull out your bento box. He kept it! A small part of you was fearing he would drop kick it at a trash can, but you feel much more relieved now that you see him with your gift. The branches begin to scratch against your forearms and thighs, and your friend grumbles at your side about how the bushes are annoying, but you pay her no mind as you watch almost in slow motion as Kenma opens your bento box and begins to eat. He digs into the food with his chopsticks and you strain your ears to listen as Kuroo speaks. 

"Oh? You're eating the bento box Y/N prepared for you?"

Kenma's brows furrow as he rolls his eyes, before continuing to dig into the food, cheeks puffed out with food. He ignores Kuroo's teasing words, and you don't think the smile on your lips can grow any wider. Wow....have you ever felt this happy before? You can't describe the happiness, the joy, and the satisfaction that blooms from your chest and floods your mind at the sight of your crush eating your food. 

"Okay," you let out a deep breath as you dramatically fall back on the grass, closing your eyes in bliss. "I can peacefully die now..."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Azumi chides you but falls back onto the grass at your side, and you can't stop the giggle that leaves your lips. 

"But it's true," you mumble as you drape your arm over your eyes, blocking off the blinding sunlight. "Kenma took my bento box. Kenma Kozume, the boy I've crushed on for years, took my food! And he's eating it!"

"Nothing else can make you happier, huh?" Your friend says with amusement, and you hum. You push your arm away from your face, and stare at the bright sky, raising your hand upward and partially block the sun's rays. 

"There is something else," you murmur, and Kenma's face flashes across your mind. "But beggars can't be choosers. I'll take what I can."

"What do you want?" Azumi rolls to the side and propels herself with her arm, looking at you expectantly. "Tell me."

You glance at her briefly before looking away with a small smile. You gaze at the sky, and you notice a small, burning light that travels across the blue horizons. A shooting star? That can't be it. It's the middle of the day. But you furrow your brows, a small prayer whispered in your head as you respond to your friend.

"I wish Kenma's heart belongs to me as much as mine belongs to him."

Azumi snorts. She rolls her eyes and lays back down on the grass, and you stifle a giggle.

"Well, good luck with that." She murmurs, and you hum in response. You close your eyes and spread your arms on the grass as the wind gently blows across the open area. 

"Thanks. I'm going to need it." You murmur mostly to yourself, but then you open your eyes and raise yourself from the grass, peeking through the branches and leaves. Kenma is still scarfing down the food you made and Kuroo drinks some canned juice. And you feel newfound determination flooding through your veins as you turn and beam at your friend, eyes set on your goal.

"I can do it. I know I can."

Azumi chuckles, watching you with an amused smile. She then rises from the grass, stretching her limbs before outstretching a hand towards you. 

"Well if it's anyone that can do it, it's you." And you smile. With a small huff, you grab her hand and rise to your feet, feeling much more hopeful than before. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

On the way home, you walk with Azumi and Emiko, but soon enough part ways since you three live on different streets. Humming absentmindedly, you swing your bag in your hands as you walk towards your home with no rush in your steps, feeling as if you have all the time in your hands. Your mind drifts back to Kenma- as it always does, and you smile. You're determined to win him over, but truthfully, you're not sure how. A small sigh leaves your lips, and you begin to pick up your pace when you hear a loud crash from the alley on your left.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn around and look into the rather dark alley, feeling your heart pound loudly. Uh oh. This can't be good. But you're frozen in place, and all you can do is watch in slight horror as a large and tall figure stomps out of the alley, slowly leaving shadows as it steps into the light. And you find yourself looking at... a cat?

That is if you can call this...thing, a cat. 

Towering over you, the overweight white cat stands on its two paws, black and brown spots littering its fur. Strangely enough, the animal sports a dark blue kimono with a mustard yellow cloak draped over the clothing and a red scarf wrapped around its thick neck. And the weirdest of it all? The cat is smoking a pipe. Rather than being afraid, you're stuck in place as confusion swarms your thoughts.

"Uh..." You stare up at the cat, whose eyes are closed. "Hello?"

"Greetings, human." And the cat exhales a puff of smoke right on your face. Coughing, you furrow your brows with annoyance. "I've heard your prayers, so I am here with an offer."

Oh. Wait, what? How could've he heard your mental prayers? Maybe it was the shooting star- assuming it was a shooting star. But whatever the reason is, you don't dwell on it too much as you swallow and take a step back.

"Which is...?" You wait for the cat to continue. Maybe you're hallucinating, which wouldn't be too crazy to consider. Maybe you've been hallucinating this entire day because God knows it's been too good to be true. 

The cat harrumphs, before opening its cloak, revealing a set of colorful masks. Pretty, you murmur to yourself, and the cat chuckles.

"I heard your pleads, and I am here to help. But I'm no love god, so I cannot make that boy fall in love with you. However," he pauses and grins, sharp teeth glinting. "I am the Mask Seller. I give masks to cats who wish to be humans, and I give masks to humans who wish to be cats."

"..." You frown, not liking the strange glint in the cat's eyes. You don't trust him. "And how would that help me win Kenma over?"

The Mask Seller laughs loudly, his belly slightly bouncing. "I have been watching you and the boy for some time now. You, more than anyone, should know why being a cat will change things."

Racking your head for the answer, you go through your memories of Kenma. A cat? Why would being a cat change anything? But then it dawns on you, and a small noise of understanding leaves your lips. 

"He loves cats," you rush the words, eyes wide and the Mask Seller nods. "If I were a cat, I could approach him easily, and learn more about him! And then, I could use that information to become closer to him as a human-,"

"You catch on fast," the cat croons, and you nod eagerly. But then you frown. Why is he offering to help you? What does he get out of this?

"What are the conditions? Price? Rules?" You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.

"No money involved," the cat's low voice has you relaxing, but you still can't let down your guard. This is too good to be true. "But there are some conditions and rules you have to follow. And a small fee." 

"I'm listening," you nod in understanding. The cat tugs one of the masks hanging from his cloak, a white cat mask that only covers the upper half of your face, with red and pink markings. He places it firmly in your hands, and then clears his throat. "The mask has a time limit. You can only wear it for one hour and a half per day. After that time, you will turn back into a human. And once my services are no longer needed, I will come to collect the mask. And my fee, of course." The glint in his feline eyes has you swallowing nervously, brows furrowing.

"What's this 'fee' you're talking about? You said I don’t have to pay you money." But the Mask Seller only chuckles before flipping backward, and you watch with a slackened jaw as he spins into the air, before floating down to a pipe and waves at you before swiftly squeezing down the passage.

"You'll see! Enjoy your new life." 

And then you're left alone, standing in front of the alley with a cat mask in your hands. 

Frowning, you stare down at the mask, turning it around. There's no engraving, inscription, or any indication of where it was made or such. Oh well. With a sigh, you hoist your bag around your shoulder and continue walking home, the cat mask held tightly in your hands.

Once you reach your home's doorstep, you stop. Pinching your arm, you wince at the stinging pain that shoots up your dream. Well, that crosses out one thing. You're not dreaming. 

Swinging the door open, you announce your arrival, take off your shoes and kiss your mother's cheek, before racing up the stairs towards your bedroom. You need to know whether the mask will work before getting your hopes up, or if you've been having major hallucinations the entire day. A part of you hopes for it to work. Dropping your school bag on the ground, you examine the mask once again, tracing your fingers over the marks. It's a bit similar to a kitsune mask. Taking a deep breath, you straighten your posture before raising the mask and clasping it tight against your face. 

And then it happens. A powerful breeze sweeps into your room, even though your windows are closed, and you feel the world spinning. Closing your eyes tightly, you slowly open them after a few seconds. 

Woah. When was your bag this big? Things look a bit different, a bit sharper. And you're definitely way smaller than before. Glancing downwards, you spot your paws. White, soft, furry paws. The paws of a cat.

Oh my God. It worked! You want to squeal and scream with excitement, but all that leaves your mouth is a small, gentle mew. 

Oh, right. You're a cat. You can't talk. So instead, you walk towards your balcony, thankful you didn't close it last night as you nudge it open with your head. Once it slides open, you take a step forward before examining your paws. You can retract your claws at your own will. That's pretty cool, you think, but it's time to test them out. Leaping forward, you sink your claws into the cement wall and climb upwards, surprised at how easy it is. Perhaps everything is easier as a cat. 

Once you've reached the top of the half-wall of your balcony, you begin to leap on roofs, tread on pipes and sidewalks until you've reached Kenma's house. Ever since you went there for a project in middle school, you've never forgotten his address. Is it creepy? Maybe- okay, yeah, it is creepy, but it's not like you stalk him! You simply memorized his address by heart. Blame it on your love haze from seventh grade, the same love haze that continues to influence your current actions. 

You walk around his house until you reach his bedroom window. You wonder what he'll think, seeing a white kitten peeking through his window. Dread boils in your stomach when you realize he might not even be home at all. What if he's still at volleyball practice? You might've come all the way here for nothing.

But much to your surprise, after climbing up to his window, you find yourself staring at him. Kenma sits at his desk, black headphones on his head as he scribbles on a piece of paper. He must be doing homework, you ponder. Deciding to not interrupt him just yet, you look around in his bedroom, observing the decoration. 

It's rather simple, with beige walls and a wooden floor. On the right corner of his room, a bed is pushed against the wall with pastel green blankets, and to the bed's left, there's a wooden desk with a PC, as well as several stacks of books, what seems to look like comics, and some gaming equipment. 

After you've gotten bored of looking around in his bedroom, you scratch at his window, mewing softly. He doesn't look up, and you find your stomach twisting. What if he just thinks you're a strange stray and ignores you? Or worse, kicks you out of his home? Dear God, you did not think this through. Why did you take that mask again? Your mother did tell you to never accept gifts from strangers. 

But before your endless cycle of overthinking can fully commence, your eyes widen as you watch Kenma pull off his headphones and stare at you through the window for a few seconds. You watch his short, dirty blonde hair slightly move with his movements and his slightly parted lips. And you know he sees nothing more but a white kitten, but a part of you hopes that he sees through the magic, and sees you. It's me, Kenma. 

Almost hesitantly, he walks over to his window and pulls it open. You sit down patiently and chirp softly once the window has been lifted. Kenma looks rather confused but doesn't say anything as he reaches a hand towards you and begins to gently scratch your chin. That feels good. You purr and lean into his touch, and you hear a soft chuckle leave his lips. Oh. My. God.

"How did you get up here?" He murmurs, mostly to himself and all you can do is meow in response. 

You watch as he stares at his closed door, before turning back to you. And then, you feel his warm and soft hands go underneath your arms as he picks you up from the edge of the window and brings you to his bed. Kenma runs his fingers through your white fur, and the heat his body emits is almost comforting and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

"You like cuddles, don't you?" He says, with a teasing smile that you've never seen before. If you were in human form right now, you're sure you would've passed out by now. 

You let out a soft mew and reach for his cheek with one of your paws, but Kenma laughs as he grabs your paw and squeezes it gently in his hand.

This is it. You've never seen Kenma smile before, much less laugh, and there are no words to describe how it makes you feel. All you can think about is that you need to see it again.

                   ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Your life has taken a strange twist, to say the least. After enduring school, you race home and pull on the mask, heading straight to Kenma's house. You spend an hour there, cuddled in his arms or his lap as he plays video games, one of his hands resting on the top of your head. Kuroo has even come over a few times and seems to enjoy your presence as well. Kenma even feeds you sometimes, but most times you refuse, not liking how your stomach feels once you turn back human. 

"Mmm." Kenma hums as you lay on his chest, pressing his nose to the crook of your neck, buried between your fur. And you purr, closing your eyes. "You smell like heaven. But I wonder," he leans back for a moment, assessing your frame. "What's your name? Do you have a family?" 

"Give it a break, Kenma," Kuroo says at his side, reaching a hand to pet you. His movements are rather brutish and rough and you grumble as he pets your fur. 

"I'm sure she has a family that feeds her. You can't feel her bones or anything, she's a healthy weight."

The boy sighs in response, before sitting up on his bed, moving you to his lap. "But I still get worried," he gently runs his fingers through your fur. "Where does she go after coming here?"

You meow in response. I'm fine, Kenma. You don't need to worry over me. He chuckles, raising you to his face, his nose gently bopping against yours. You stare into his golden eyes, wondering how someone's eyes could be as beautiful and hypnotizing as his, and you feel yourself fall a little bit more in love.

"Your birthday is coming up, isn't it?" Kuroo says as he flops onto the bed, bouncing a volleyball in his hands. 

"Yeah," Kenma murmurs, and you don't miss the way he averts his eyes and how his voice lowers. Does he not like his birthday? "It's this Friday."

"I'm gonna get you some apple pie. Let's go to the park after school on Friday, and then we can go to that arcade you like going to." You turn to look at Kuroo. If you were in your human form, you would've been smiling softly. Though Kuroo can be loud and boisterous at times, you can tell that he cares for Kenma.

"Apple pie is good," he murmurs as his fingers scratch your head. "I like it."

 Your ears perk up at this as an idea pops into your head. Kuroo's going to give him apple pie, but probably store-bought. Which means you can bake him homemade apple pie and buy him a few more gifts. He'll love it! Seeing that his birthday is only in two days, you spring up from his chest and race towards the window. You don't have any time to waste. 

"Huh- wait!" You stop, hearing the sudden surprise in Kenma's words. Mewing softly, you lick your paw and meow one more time before leaping out of the window. That should suffice as a goodbye, right? It's not like you can go up to him and say, "See you later!" You're in the body of a cat, after all.

Once you've dropped down to the soft grass, you begin to make your way home, making mental calculations of what you need to buy and prepare. And you feel giddiness shoot through your chest, butterflies awakening in your stomach. Who knows, maybe the gift will win him over? You can only hope so. 

          ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

By the time Kenma's birthday, October 16th, rolls by, you feel ready as ever. Speed walking to school, you're decked out in your school uniform, carrying the warm apple pie in one hand, and a gift bag in the other, while your bag is slung over your shoulders. You can't stop the giddy smile that crawls on your lips, which only grows wider at the sight of your two friends, Emiko and Azumi waiting for you at your designated spot. 

"Hey there," Azumi chimes in while Emiko gasps at the sight in your arms.

"Y/N! What's all this?" Her words are chipper and her eyes are wide as you smile and begin to walk towards the school, the two girls at your sides.

"It's Kenma's birthday today, so I decided to bake him apple pie and I bought him some gifts. I hope he'll like them," you feel your insecurities seep in your last words, slightly frowning as you look down at your apple pie. You were a good baker, having done many other desserts in the past, but you can't help but fear that he won't like your baking.

"Wow. You really went all out," Azumi comments and you giggle. The three of you continue to gossip as you walk towards Nekoma High and it isn't long until the school building towers over you. You feel your stomach twist as you take in a deep breath. 

Azumi pats your shoulder, while Emiko beams at you and gives you a thumbs up.

"You should give it to him before classes start. Good luck!" The brunette says with a wide smile and you smile back, before marching into the building. Here goes nothing. 

It takes you a few minutes to find Kenma, knowing he'll probably be in the gymnasium, but you decide to check some other classrooms just in case. When you can't find him in any classroom, you grimace and speedwalk towards the gym, knowing you're running out of time. You only have eight minutes left before the school bell rings and then you'll have to head to class. 

Once you've reached the gym, you slowly push the doors open, silently praying that only Kuroo and Kenma are in the gym. 

But your prayers go unheard as a ball rolls right towards your feet, and the boy's volleyball team freezes when they spot you. A small moment of awkwardness passes through before you clear your throat and walk towards Kenma, giving the other boys a tight-lipped smile. Kenma sits on one of the benches, drinking from his water bottle as a sheen layer of sweat rolls down from his forehead. When you stand in front of him, he sets his water bottle to the side and stares at you, mouth slightly parted open. 

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. He takes them silently, staring at them, and you decide to take this as your chance to escape. Quickly turning on your heel, you half-race out of the gym, feeling your face burn with embarrassment once again. And then you press your back against the gym's wall, catching your breath as your cheeks burn. But then you smile, a small laugh falling from your lips. You did it. 

═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

Kenma isn't a fan of birthdays. He'll endure his friend's birthdays and he'll even help with the surprise parties, but there's something about them that makes his stomach churn. Especially when it's his birthday. He's not the biggest fan of celebrating his birthday and he tries to avoid it when he can, but of course, Kuroo won't let it slip by this year.

He's barely arrived at the gym and Kenma frowns as he notices that no one's here yet. The gymnasium is dark and empty, and he wonders if he missed a memo or something. Did they not have practice today? 

He sighs, dropping his gym bag on the ground. He'll wait a few minutes, maybe he's early today? But then he hears something shuffle, and he freezes. What was that....?

Then a grumble. Kenma raises a brow, both confused and wary. Is there a ghost or are his teammates pranking him? Neither outcomes sound pleasant.

"...Who's there?"

A sigh. And then, before Kenma can brace himself, the entire volleyball team jumps from the bleachers, shouting eagerly. 

"SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Jesus Christ! Kenma jumps in his spot, heart thundering as he processes the situation. Okay, so not a ghost. Just his teammates being annoying as usual. Kuroo and Lev are grinning like doofuses, holding a banner that says, 'Happy Birthday Kenma!' Kai holds an apple pie in his hands, a serene smile on his face, Yaku holds the other end of the banner, and the rest of the first and second years hold balloons and throw streamers into the air.

All of this, just for him? 

"What's this?" Kenma murmurs, still wracking his brain as he tries to process his emotions. Lev's about to open his mouth, but Yaku reaches over and slaps his hand over the Russian's mouth, a forced smile on his lips.

Kuroo clears his throat, beaming. "Just a surprise celebration! We wanted to do something special. You don't turn seventeen every day."

And Kenma feels his chest warm, and there's a smile that's threatening to break onto his face, but he holds it back and gives them a small smile, not sure if he can handle so many emotions.

"...Thank you." And he is, he feels thankful and only feels even more thankful as his friends cheer and suddenly rush towards him, embracing him tightly in his arms. He can't help the laugh that leaves his lips and feels serene. Kenma's never been a fan of his birthday, but his friends make it a little bit better. 

     ═ ═ ═ ╰☆╮ ═ ═ ═

The team quickly calms down and begins practice, a few laps, then practicing their spikes and receives. Kenma walks over to the benches and takes a seat as he drinks from his water bottle when the gym doors creak open.

Everyone turns to look at the intruder, and Kenma's stomach squirms. It's you again. And he hates the way his heart skips a beat at the sight of you, and he hates the way it makes him feel.

It's dead silent, and you stand at the door for a second before quickly walking towards him, and Kenma's heart pounds even louder. He doesn't understand you. Why do you pursue him so much? You're cute, he can't deny it. So why, out of all the people in Nekoma High, did you chase after him? And why is it making his heart go wild?

"Happy birthday, Kenma. I hope you'll like it." You slightly bow before him, handing him over the gifts. A freshly baked apple pie that smells absolutely delicious, and a large red gift bag. 

Oh wow... He's speechless. He doesn't know what to say. It feels like with the surprise celebration, and it feels like too much. What is he supposed to say? But before he can even regain his composure, you're rushing out of the gym, and Kenma's stomach churns. Oh... 

Once the gym doors close with a loud slam, the entire team turns to look at him. They blink, and then they leap. Kenma yelps as the entire team rush towards him, yapping and all of them speaking at the same time.

"Lemme see what she got you!"

"Y/N L/N is so adorable!"

"Kenma, have you secretly been dating Y/N this entire time?!" Fukunaga pipes in, and Kenma finds his face heating up as his eyes widen.

"What?! Of course not!" And then Kuroo's snickering as he sits next to Kenma, slinging an arm around his shoulder.

"She's a sweet girl. Why don't you give her a chance?"

He lets out a shaky breath, his poor heart barely handling all the commotion. Kenma definitely needs at least one hour of cuddling with his white kitten after school to recover from all this. He blocks out what his friends say as his thoughts drift off, and he furrows his brows. 

Wait a minute. How did you know he likes apple pie?

A/N: Hey!! I hope you enjoyed the first half of this one-shot :)) I totally did not speedrun it 1-2 days before the collab event was live 😭😭I’ve been busy with school and just life in general so I haven’t had much time to write tbh. And plus I’m lazy :,) but anyway! I hoped you enjoyed it as much I enjoyed writing it :DD The 2nd and final part of this one-shot will be out this week!

Please REBLOG, like + comment if you enjoyed! <3 

COPYRIGHT © 2021 BY VELES. DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, OR READ MY CONTENT AS ASMR OR AUDIOFICS.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

“Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12​

[istorkyou]

Hearts Of Glass (Modern!Ivar AU)

Warnings- language, Ivar being a dick, possessive Ivar, smut, mentions of grief, unprotected sex, alcohol use.

Synopsis - Can a healed heart stay healed forever?

Shout out to @punkrocknpearls for being a fucking gem.

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Chapter 5

The weekend after the family dinner, you had made plans together for him to show you around where he grew up and you were excited to see a glimpse into his past. But in the morning Ivar gets the news that he didn’t get a job he was sure his style of photography would be perfect for. It ruins the whole morning; afterwards, it’s clear that Ivar is in no mood to go. 

“Listen Y/N I’m just not up for it today! Just leave me the fuck alone!” he explodes at you when you ask what time you were leaving. 

You are so astonished at the way he has spoken to you that you take a step back physically. You are a very level headed person and deal with confrontation in your professional life often, but this was a very different situation. 

Immediately your defences are up and your first instinct is to rip him a new asshole for the way he has spoken to you. Instead, you take a mental step back and assess. He is having feelings of rejection from not getting the job, you know this is one of the worst feelings for him. It takes him straight back to the Freydis situation. You have to approach it differently than your first instinct tells you to, but you sure as shit will not be spoken to like that either and he needs to know that. 

“Ivar” you reply, “I am gutted for you that you didn’t get the job, I’ve seen that magazine and your photographic style would have been perfect for it. I know it’s hard for you to do, and easy for me to say, but don't take it personally, it’s just business.” 

His face is set in a deep scowl, his mouth is tight and his jaw muscle is twitching under his skin. 

“There could be any number of reasons they’ve gone with someone else,”you continue, “they may have given a cheaper quote, your availability might not have matched with theirs, the other person might have slightly more experience in the terrain they are shooting in, they are bunch of asshats who have made an error in judgement…..” You trail off as you see his face soften a little. 

“I know, I’m just so disappointed,” his voice low. You walk to where he is sitting and pull his head to your chest and cuddle him, trying to soothe him. He allows the action but stays rigid for a few moments. You kiss the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair. His body eventually melts into you. 

“Ivar.” Your voice has a stern edge to it now, you hold his chin in your fingers and tip his face up to you then move your hand to cup his cheek. “Please don’t shout at me like that in the future, it was an unnecessary delivery and I don’t expect that from my boyfriend. It was harsh and hurt my feelings.” You give him a quick peck on the lips. 

He looks embarrassed by his outburst and being called out on it. “I’m sorry, it was out of my mouth before I could stop it,” he says, looking away, his body tensing back up. You don't have anything else to say on the matter, so you change the subject to save the situation from escalating again. 

“I would really love to see where you grew up,” you tell him quietly. “If you feel a bit better, getting out of the house might cheer you up a bit?” 

“Ok, let’s go. Put on your big coat and hat though, it’s cold today and I won’t be able to carry you home if you turn into a literal block of ice,” he jokes. You smile at him, noting that his eyes aren’t happy despite the smile on his lips. 

----------------------------------------------

The day ends up being lovely, he shows you his old family home, the harbour, his old school, a knot in a tree from where he threw a brick at Sigurd's head once. You love to see him so animated talking about his history and seeing him happy makes a wonderful pool of contentment fill your chest. That morning's problems are forgotten. 

He takes you into his favourite cafe when the cold gets into your bones and his legs need to rest. He orders you soup and hot chocolate to thaw you out. You sit on the same side of the booth, his arm draped over your shoulders, his nose in your hair breathing you in. 

“Let’s take a picture and send it to Lily, I bet she’s working and it will piss her off,” you laugh. 

You take a few pictures, you both look so happy in them, and send them off to her. Her reply comes quickly. 

Piss off the pair of you. I’m sitting at my bloody work desk, eating a dry sandwich and here you are with The Handsome Bastard just chilling in a cafe totally loved up. 🖕

Another message pops up.

Also, can you remind The Handsome Bastard that actually you are my best love in life (don’t tell Mark or the kids!) and I would like you to return one day, so he has to stop being so adorable and good at fucking. 

You burst out laughing and show Ivar the messages. “Is that what she calls me?!” His face creases in laughter. “Tell her I said you’re mine now and you are going to stay here with me forever.” his tone shifts into a jovial seriousness peppering your cheek with kisses.

A trickle of dread drops into your stomach. You’ve been pushing thoughts of your return home to the back of your mind since you and Ivar got together. You know you have to face it at some point. You are needed at home: the business, your family and friends, His family. They are all expecting this to be a temporary break from your real life, you are pretty sure most of them thought you would be back by now and if you hadn’t met Ivar maybe you would have been. Trust Lily to drag you back to reality from your bubble of happiness. 

“Ivar, I will have to go back at some point,” you murmur, broaching the subject quietly. 

“Yeah, for a visit, to sort stuff out but then you will come back to me won’t you?” he says, as if that’s the reality of the situation, as if it’s that black and white. 

“Ivar… I have responsibilities at home. A house, a business, people. I’ve started to wear out my grace period with my employees already. They are picking up a lot of slack. I’m missing my friends and family as well…” 

“You want to leave me?” The look on his face is one of terror, his grip on your shoulders tighter, as if you are about to float away from him at any second. 

“Gods no, Ivar. I don’t want to ever be apart from you, but there are practicalities, life shit, I can’t just stay here forever.” 

“So, what are you saying?” His voice full of sadness tinged with annoyance.

“I don’t know. I don’t have the solution, every time I think about having to go home I just squish the thoughts into a box and lock it. I genuinely haven’t allowed myself to think about leaving here, leaving you,” you admit. 

Ivar face and body language shifts, he is rejecting the conversation with his whole being. “Not today. I can’t do this today. I had shit news this morning and now this? Let’s just rewind a few minutes please. I can’t begin to think about you leaving me. I can’t come with you, my medical stuff, I have the best doctors here, my family, my career is established here…..” He waved his hands in front of his face signalling an end to the discussion. “We will work it out……” 

You are relieved that the conversation is done, full denial mode activated. You know that there will be hard decisions to make soon, but neither of you are prepared to deal with them today. 

The rest of the day passes pleasantly, although an underlying fizzle of dread has settled inside both of you. 

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Something changes in Ivar after the talk about you leaving. It’s not immediately obvious, but the thought of you leaving him has allowed a tiny crack in your relationship to form; mostly imperceptible, but a crack nonetheless. Through it negative thoughts and feelings are able to slip their way in and lurk in the dark corners. Slowly growing. 

At home things are normal, never ending affection, and the sex is still as mind blowing as it has ever been. There is barely a moment when you aren’t all over each other, hands, mouths, tongues everywhere, fucking each other to euphoria. 

The problems that are lurking in the dark corners peek out into the light one night at a bar. 

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The night starts well. Double date dinner with Hvits and Thora, then to a pub you go. You are chatting to Thora and a group of her friends as Hvitserk and Ivar chat separately. A man by the bar catches your eye: he looks so familiar but you can’t quite see. You crane your neck to get a better look, you are sure you know him from somewhere, he looks like someone you used to work with years back. The guy turns around and you can see it isn’t your old colleague, similar though. 

You grab your beer and take a mouthful and turn to see Ivar is looking at you. His eyes are predatory, you know what that means and you clench your thighs together at the sight of him. He flicks his head, beckoning you over, you respond as you always do, you are drawn to him like a magnet. As you reach him he hooks his fingers into your belt loops and pulls you between his legs roughly. His face is cold, but you don’t see that yet. 

“You like what you see?” He whispers in your ear.

“Always.” You give him a playful bite on the neck, thinking he’s referring to himself. “Shall we get out of here?” you ask hopefully. His attention had made you wet with anticipation. 

“Not me. That guy.” Ivar’s head jerks towards the guy you thought looked familiar. “Your eyes were on him for a long time, you couldn’t tear them away.” His tone is falsely upbeat.

“Oh him?! He looked familiar to me but I couldn’t place him, I thought he was someone I used to work with.” You brush off his comment, not realising the gravity behind it.

“Why would someone you used to work with be in Kattegat?” His voice is so cold you pull back to study his face, his eyes are staring into yours and he raises an eyebrow quizzically. 

“I don’t know, why is anyone anywhere? I’m here aren’t I?” You laugh. The look on his face has you worried. It’s stone cold; his eyes start stalking the other man. 

“Yeah, for how long?” He says as if it’s a statement not a question. Your brows pull together into a sad scowl.

Ivar stands up from his stool and you wrap your arms around his waist and try to kiss him. He moves his face out of the way so you can’t, reaches behind his back and removes your arms. 

“What’s wrong, Ivar?” 

“Nothing.” Voice cold, refusing to look at you. He heads off in the direction of the toilets. 

He wouldn’t let you kiss him, usually you are begging him to let you up for air. When he moved his face away from you, it felt like a punch in the gut. The blood in your veins runs cold. This is the first time he has been off with you and you hate it. 

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask Hvitserk. 

“Jealousy,” Hvitserk replies, his expression tells you he is feeling sorry for you. 

“Jealous of what?! I just thought the guy looked familiar!” You don’t want Ivar thinking you were checking someone else out, you would never. At the same time you are pissed at him for thinking you ever would. 

Ivar returns from the toilet and seems marginally less cold. You wait for him to come to you. His face is a mix of anger and hurt. You find yourself wanting to reassure him that you will never give him any reason to doubt you, never even look at another man in that way. You decide to not mention that you are pissed at him for thinking badly of you, you just want to make him feel better. 

He gets closer to you, face like thunder, and you step to him and whisper in his ear. “I was not checking that guy out, Ivar. It was innocent. Why would I look at other men when I have you? You are all I want.” You pull your face back, close to his. He smiles reluctantly. “Come on, let’s go home, I want to make you cum at least twice before we sleep,” you purr in his ear. 

As you walk through the bar with his arm protectively over your shoulder you turn to wave at Thora. You feel a bump and turn to see that Ivar has shouldered the guy you thought you knew. 

“Sorry pal,” Ivar says disingenuously as he walks past him. 

You should say something to him, what he did was uncalled for, childish and aggressive and you usually would call people out on that behaviour. It's unacceptable for him to have gotten physical in any way with someone, especially when the poor guy has no idea what has gone on inside Ivar’s head. You don’t want to kick the hornet's nest tonight though, his mood hasn’t been great, and you just want to get him into the comfort of the home you share, where you have a happy bubble without anything from the outside world souring him. You want him to be happy and secure. 

So you stay silent, say nothing. The crack gets a little wider, although you are oblivious.

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You are sitting in front of your mirror getting ready. You have curled your hair and are busy blending your eyeshadow. Your eyes flit to the other reflection in the mirror, you can see Ivar laying on your bed with a face like a smacked arse. 

“Ivar, snap out of it. It’s one evening, I haven’t had a girls night out the whole time I’ve been here. I’m excited for this! Please don’t spoil it,” you plead with him. 

Ever since Thora texted you the night before asking if you wanted to go out with her, Torvi and a few of their friends you have been super excited. That was until you told Ivar you were going out without him. 

“Why do you need to have a girls night, I don’t get it. Just stay with me, I will make it worth your while I promise,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively. 

“You can make it worth my while when I get home,” you reply, “I won’t be out too late, you will probably still be awake when I get in.” 

His face is sour.

You finish your makeup, silence hanging heavy between you. You open your wardrobe and move the clothing along the rack trying to pick out something to wear. You settle on a strappy, jade colour, ruched dress that clings to your curves nicely. It’s a bit dressier than you would usually wear to a bar but Thora said the girls are going all out glam, so you pick this one. You slide it over your head, stick on some heels and stand in front of the mirror again. 

“Ivar, how does this look?” you ask, you know you look good, you just want to hear it from him. 

“You can’t wear that out!” His voice is high and shocked, his eyes are popping out of his head. 

“Why?? Is it ripped at the back or something?” You try to see the back of the dress in the reflection. 

“No but it’s skin tight, it leaves nothing to the imagination, and it’s so short!” 

You stare at him with a questioning scowl on your face.

“I mean, you look sexy as shit in it.” He is behind you running his hands all over you. “But it’s a bit much isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” You are puzzled by his response. 

“All the guys will be staring at you in it.” Oh, right, it’s an insecurity thing. 

Over the past few weeks there have been little examples of Ivar being insecure. The familiar looking guy at the bar, the protective arms around your shoulder out in public which are verging on possessive, the unfriendly responses to men innocently talking to you. He even got pissy when you mentioned how fit you think Captain America is.

None of which have gone unnoticed by you. It’s a characteristic in a partner you haven’t had to deal with before and you haven’t quite got a handle on it yet. You have found yourself trying to placate Ivar in these situations instead of going with your instincts which push back and challenge him about his behaviour. You don't want to cause him any pain, it kills you to see him hurting. You love him, although you haven’t told him yet. 

In the recent weeks every time Ivar's insecurities show themselves your mind compares how he handles it to how He would have handled it. That has been happening a lot recently. Comparisons. You have settled into your new relationship with Ivar and now your brain is letting many of the thoughts and feelings you have about Him out of the neat little box you have locked them in. 

You turn to him and give him a kiss, leaving lipstick on his lips. “They won’t, and even if people look at me it’s not the end of the world is it? I’m with you and I have zero interest in any other men. Tonight is about having fun with my friends.”

“I know, but I won’t be there if anyone tries anything with you, I won’t be there to protect you,” he mutters, kissing you again. 

“I don’t need protection, I’m a big girl, Ivar,” you inform him. 

“I know, I would just feel happier if you wore something a little less clingy.” His voice is smooth and his hand holds your cheek. 

You know what he’s doing, you aren’t an idiot. You want to stand your ground and wear the dress, but you weigh up the options. Stand your ground and get into a row, ruining the night before it’s even started or just change into something else fabulous and keep him happy. You choose the latter. 

You think of Him. You know He would have told you how amazing you looked and sent you out the door with a quick kiss, no issue at all. 

With a heavy sigh you walk away towards your wardrobe and pull out a black dress, still tight and short but it’s high necked and long sleeved, sexy but much more understated. You slip the Jade dress off and the black one on. You go back to the mirror. You still look great, but it's not what you wanted to wear.

“That’s beautiful, you look amazing in this, not that you didn’t in the other one, you did, just less boobs, you know those are mine.” He gives them a quick squeeze and you smile tightly, you are a bit pissed off at yourself for bending to him, but decide to let it go. 

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You meet with Thora and Torvi at the same bar you and Ivar went to on the night you first slept together. It’s heaving, again. Great music is playing and you are having a great time catching up with the girls. You look across the bar and someone catches your eye who you actually recognise.

“Thora, I’m just nipping over there to say hi to my friend, I’ll be back in a minute.” Thora gives you a smiley nod and goes back to her conversation.

You weave your way through the bar and find him sat at the bar surveying the room.

“Alfred!” You greet him warmly.

“Y/N it’s so good to see you! How have you been?” He stands and gives you a quick hug. 

“Really good thanks, working, getting to know the city more, getting myself a boyfriend,” you say in a happy, smug tone. “How are you?” You return the question.

“I’m great, work is good, my brother is coming to visit next week so I’m looking forward to that. Good for you for getting a boyfriend. Is it that guy you left with the night we met? You looked pretty hot and heavy as I recall...” eyebrows lifting as he smiles. 

“Yep, that’s him! Ivar, he’s a great guy, I’m really happy,” you say, even though the memory of the dress incident is at the forefront of your mind. 

“I’m still trying to find my lady,” he says chivalrously. “ I was actually checking out your brunette friend,” he says pointing towards your table, you look over and see he means Amma. You know she’s single, maybe you could play Cupid. 

“Come with me, Alfie,” you say with a mischievous grin on your face. You take his hand and lead him back to your table. “Amma?” you shout over the music. “This is Alfred. He was telling me how pretty he thinks you are.” Amma gives him a shy smile and he returns it.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks her and she nods and gets up from your table and disappears to the bar with him. She gives you a quick wide eyed expression and you can see she's happy.

“That was smooth,” Thora claps, “she’s had her eye on him for weeks!”

You take a small bow. “Then my work as Cupid is complete, let’s get pissed and shake our asses on the dance floor!” Everyone cheers at the idea and you are all soon on your feet dancing away together. 

The music turns to RnB music and you love it. Your favourite music to dance to. You swing your hips around and sing at the top of your lungs with the girls. Some guys approach the group and try to dance with you all; a man grabs your hips from behind but you are quick to brush him off, not sparing a thought to it, just enjoying your night out. Your throat is dry from singing so you motion to Thora you are going to get a drink and head back to your table. 

As you walk through the throngs of people a hand catches the top of your arm and you are spun round roughly, the grip is hurting you. You eyes take a second to realise who you are faced with. Ivar is standing in front of you with rage painted on his face. 

“Ivar, what are you doing here?” You are so shocked by his presence at the bar. 

“Watching you dance with other men. Come on we are going home,” he spits venomously at you.

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Ivar doesn’t want her to go out without him, he is so pissed off at Thora for stealing her for the night. He had plans to watch a film in bed with her, order a pizza and watch her tits jiggle as she bounced on his dick. He texts Hvitserk about his annoyance but Hvitserk's reply is typically laid back of him: they just want to have a night out Ivar, what’s the big deal?

He just wants to spend all his time with her, he doesn’t know how long it will be until she goes home. The thought of her leaving has been plaguing him. Ever since their conversation at the cafe he has been worried. He hasn’t felt the same, like he is just waiting for something bad to happen. 

The night in the bar when he caught her staring at another man planted a terrible seed within him that has been growing ever since. She was so genuine when she told him it was innocent, he truly wanted to believe her, and he really tried, but deep down he didn’t. Deep down the feelings of betrayal and rejection that he suffered at the hands of Freydis, feelings he thought were buried, had started to surface. 

He’s terrified Y/N will meet someone else, someone better than him. She is so perfect, perfectly flawed and he is totally in love with her. 

Watching her do her hair and make up was torturous. Why did she need to get so dolled up, who is she trying to attract? He managed to keep himself in check until she slipped on that green dress. He just couldn’t control himself, he couldn't let her go out like that, every man will want her and she was going to realise that being with him is a mistake. 

It broke his heart making her change her dress, his rational brain wants to trust her, but the devil on his shoulder won’t allow it. He can see the disappointment on her face, and it kills him. She has changed into a dress which covers her up more. He can see she has done it to mollify him, she's done it for the easy life. 

Ivar doesn’t know what to do with himself after she has gone. He paces around, tries to watch the TV to distract himself, scrolls on his phone and even tries doing some work. Nothing is working. His brain keeps flashing visions of her at the bar talking to men, it's haunting him. He knows what that bar is like, men go there to try and hook up with women, it's got a reputation, that’s why he took her there that night they first slept together! He also knows that it's one of the best cocktail bars in Kattegat with the best DJs, but he chooses to ignore that fact.

In his head he sees her laughing with other men, he can see one leaning in to kiss her neck, her eyes roll back the way they do when he kisses her there, he sees her being led to the bathroom and her being pinned to the wall letting someone else kiss her, touch her, making the blush appear on her chest. 

He can't stop the pictures flooding his brain. He is torturing himself. A shout tears from his throat.

Ivar starts searching socials for any sign of her, he checks all her friends' pages, knowing she won’t bother posting anything, social media isn't her thing. There is a group photo from fifteen minutes ago on Amma’s Instagram. Y/N is downing a shot, the next picture her face is screwed up from the aftermath. She is so adorable, he smiles to himself. She really is just out with her friends he thinks.

Torvi has posted a picture of her and Thora on the dance floor, they are singing at each other, it’s a great picture. Then the background catches his eye. There are two men behind her, both are looking directly at her ass.

Ivar sees red. 

His mind has gone into a tailspin, the pictures in his head return, all he can see in his head is her dancing with them, turning around and flinging her arms around one of their necks, kissing him and allowing his hands to run down her back to grab a handful of her ass. Ivar launches his phone onto the sofa and roars in frustration. 

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Ivar carefully stalks into the bar. He knows he is being ridiculous, but his feet have carried him there of their own accord. He knows he must be careful that she, or any of the girls don’t see him, it would shatter her to know he is spying on her. 

He stays in the dark corners of the bar and watches her having a great time. She is laughing and chatting with the group of friends she went out with, so animatedly. She is so beautiful. 

Ivar's rational brain takes over, what the hell are you doing here? What is wrong with you? She isn’t Freydis, she would never do anything to hurt you. He has come to his senses and is about to leave when he sees her get up from the table and walk over to a young guy sitting at the bar. Ivar recognises him from the night he first brought her here, she chatted to him for over an hour that night. She had since told him that he was far too young for her and a little boring, but she liked him in a friendly way. 

When she reaches him she gives him a massive grin and he stands to hug her. Ivar's stomach drops to his shoes. Why is he hugging her? Why are they talking for so long? She eventually stands up and holds his hand taking him back to the table. The rage in Ivar is almost exploding out of him! He is about to head over when he sees that Amma and the guy are heading to the bar and you have sat back down with Thora. 

The relief that washes over him makes him dizzy for a moment, like he’s been underwater for too long, swimming frantically toward the surface and finally reaching oxygen. 

Ivar starts to feel ashamed of himself for thinking the worst of her. Tears sting the back of his eyes when he realises how fucked up this situation is, how fucked up he is. 

She is headed to the dance floor now, he knows this is her favourite music to dance to. He decides to allow himself a few minutes of watching her, so he can watch her body move to the music. Fuck she is sexy when she dances. His eyes on her ass as it bounces in the dress, he is getting hard watching her. In slow motion he sees a man's hand snake onto her hips, his eyes travel up to see a man behind her trying to dance on her. He sees no more, he is pushing through the crowd as quickly as possible to get to her. She crosses his path on her way back to her table and his hand grabs her to stop her. 

“Ivar, what are you doing here?!” she spits at him, face like thunder.

“Watching you dance with other men. Come on, we are going home.” he says protectively.

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The ride home is silent, you are both looking out opposite windows. A stark contrast from the last time you left that bar together. 

You had been so embarrassed that Ivar had turned up on your night out demanding you go home with him that you didn’t even say bye to Thora. You texted her on the way home saying you had drank too much and didn’t feel well. 

The ride isn’t long enough to calm you down even a little. Before you know it, you are home and you slam the front door behind you. 

“Ivar, you better have a bloody good reason you were at that bar tonight, were you out with your brothers? I really hope that’s the reason and not because you were watching me.” You cannot contain the anger within you. 

“That guy had his hands all over you!” Ivar screams, his face is red with fury and he takes a step towards you, towering over you.

His presence in your space startles you. You’re used to it, but not when he was in this state. The stubborn, fierce part of you refuses to show him he has rattled you. 

“What guy?! Jesus Ivar, the guy on the dance floor? He grabbed my hips for about three seconds before I told him I wasn’t interested and he left me alone.” You are standing like a statue, arms folded. 

“I could see him rubbing his dick on your ass,” Ivar spits back at you. 

“Again, for about three seconds before I told him I wasn’t interested and he left me alone,” you reiterate. “You used to fuck around a lot, surely you’ve done something similar? He was trying his luck and left me alone as soon as I told him to piss off.” You are so aggravated by the situation. 

“…. And I saw you talking to that sickly looking young guy from the first night we went out there. You hugged him and held his hand.” You can see that Ivar’s expression is changing, the rage is slipping away, but you aren’t sure what it’s being replaced with yet. 

“Yes Ivar, I spoke to a friend. I had a normal human interaction. My Gods he wanted me to introduce him to Amma!” Your voice cracks but no tears fall, you are too angry for tears right now. “You have completely broken my trust, Ivar. How could you spy on me like that? I feel violated. On top of that, you actually thought I was going to do something behind your back. You expected me too. Do you not know me at all?!” Your hands fly into the air in exasperation and fall back at your side.

He walks to the couch and sits down, face in his hands. You watch him as his rage turns to devastation. You can see his shoulder start to shake. He’s crying. You don't know what to do. A part of you wants to stand your ground and let him suffer; you can’t believe he spied on you tonight, you feel torn apart by his actions. 

But a bigger part of you can’t watch him in this much pain. Even through all the hurt you are feeling you understand why he acted the way he did, and it has nothing to do with you. You walk to him, kneel in front of him and try to remove his hands from his face. He won’t let you. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Y/N!” he manages to get out through the tears. “I saw a picture on Instagram and I had horrible mental images of you kissing another man, letting him touch you...” His voice breaks again and a sob escapes. “I just had to come and see for myself that you weren’t doing anything.” He wipes his hand down his face trying to remove the tears. 

“And what you found was me doing absolutely nothing, but even though you saw that with your own eyes, your brain still managed to twist it into me trying to get with other men.” Your voice is harsh. 

Your eyes are staring a hole into his soul and you know he feels it. You can read his face like a book, you see the severity of what he has done register on his face.

“Oh gods I am so sorry. I really feel like I’ve lost it tonight, I couldn't switch off the thoughts. I am so sorry, Y/N” His voice breaks and tears are streaming down his handsome face. His voice is raised in panic. “Please don't break up with me, Y/N. Oh fuck, please don't leave me!”

He reaches for you and pulls you to him for a hug, clinging to you. You are trying to remain strong, but he needs you. He needs your reassurance.  

“Ivar, I would never let another man near me like that. I love you.” 

His head whips up so quickly you think his neck will snap. “What did you say?” His face is searching yours.

“I love you, Ivar,” you repeat; there is a sliver of sadness in your tone. 

He grabs your face and starts kissing you passionately, his tongue is invading your mouth and his hands move to your hair, he pulls you back, his face inches away from yours. “I love you, Y/N. I fucking love you so much.” He kisses you again. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me? I will never do anything like that again. Please forgive me.” He pulls you up into his lap, legs straddling him. 

Your mouths stay on each other as both sets of hands start ripping at clothes, your hands at the front of his jeans, frantically undoing the belt and buttons. Ivar pushes your dress up over your ass and rips the side of your underwear open, getting access to you, fingers in you suddenly, pumping in and out, making you gasp then moan. He wriggles his jeans and boxers down to his thighs with his free hands. You push his fingers out of you and with no warning you grab his hard dick and sink down onto it.

 A shocked huff leaves his mouth and you start rocking your hips slowly. Grabbing your ass, Ivar starts guiding your movements. Your hands find the back of the couch and grip it as you pick up the pace and start to fuck him hard and fast. Finding a delicious friction as you grind onto him, you moan into his ear as you work yourself toward your climax.

He is sucking at your neck so hard you know he is leaving bruises on you, but you don’t care. You can feel yourself about to reach your orgasm, your pussy starting to clench. He feels it too, grabbing your face pulling it down to his and growls into your mouth. “Cum for me, now,” he demands. His voice causes your orgasm to hit you hard and your screams echo around the empty house. 

“Good girl, you look so perfect coming all over my dick like that.” His voice is low and guttural. “My turn now.” Hands gripping your hips hard and tight he lifts you up slightly and starts pounding into you from beneath. He scoots down on the couch so he gets a better view of his dick pounding into you. It’s not long before his rising moans turn into a loud roar telling you he has finished. 

You stay together, foreheads touching, until you both catch your breath. When you break apart you stand up, pushing your dress down over your ass; you can feel his cum dripping out of you. You put a hand out to him. “Let's go to bed,” you tell him. He catches your hand and nods.

The atmosphere between you is crackling with unsaid words. You have a pit in your stomach the size of a crater and a hollow feeling in your chest. In the back of your mind you know that what happened between you tonight is a much bigger problem than was addressed.

 A problem which won’t be fixed by three words and a frantic quickie on the couch. 

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It’s 4am and Ivar is snoring softly beside you. You haven’t been to sleep yet. The whole night is replaying in your mind. You feel deeply unsettled by what Ivar did tonight, and to your devastation it has changed the way you see him. You didn’t think he would think so badly of you, get you so wrong and the realisation has shaken you to your foundations. 

You need some comfort. 

You unlock the box of memories. They flood you like a giant wave, crashing all around you and pulling you under. You stay under for a while, enjoying them, revelling in the feeling they give you. You enjoy looking at His face. You miss him. Your first love. You emerge from the undertow and lock the box back up.

You do love Ivar, you have fallen in love with him hard, but tonight wasn’t really how you should have told him for the first time. You did it to soothe him. You did to appease him. That was not the situation you had in mind. 

Ivar completely shattered your trust tonight by following you to the bar. He doesn’t trust you at all, and now you don’t trust him. You are paying for the sins of those who came before you and even though you understand it, accepting it is a very different thing. 

A healthy relationship is built on trust. You and Him had it in abundance. He never doubted you, not even for a second. You could have gone out every night of the week, danced with all the men in the world, spoken to them all night and He would have shrugged it off because he knew you were His girl. His and only His. 

Tears start to fall down your face silently. 

Ivar isn’t Him. 

You love Ivar, but are you still His girl.

Oh gods, you feel awful even thinking such a thing. Tonight has shown you a side to Ivar that you don’t think you can handle. You can’t spend your life walking on eggshells around him, that’s not a life you want. It’s not fair on you. It’s not fair on Ivar to be having these thoughts either. You can’t spend your life bending to his insecurity, not being true to yourself in the way you handle him because you want him to be happy. What about your happiness? 

You look at the man in your bed. The beautiful man who has helped to heal you. 

He is now starting to dismantle you. 

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[dysfunctionalcrab]

roses

pairing: karl jacobs x reader

pronouns: gender neutral.

description: you think karl has forgotten about your theatre performance.

you currently stood backstage in your costume. biting your lip in anticipation and constantly checking your phone. there’s no way he forgot, right?

this was the biggest performance of yours yet, it was the first time you had ever been cast the leading role, and better yet, one of the biggest directors in the city was coming to watch the play, so everything had to go perfectly.

when you told karl about the play, he was so happy for you. he got all preciously giddy with excitement about how this was going to open so many opportunities for you, and that one day you were going to be a star.

however, it was 5 minutes til curtains rose, and you couldn’t see karl. your mother and father were sitting in the second row, giving you a thumbs up and blowing you a kiss when they spotted your head peeping from behind the red velvet curtain. beside them was an empty seat. karl’s empty seat.

karl works incredibly hard, everybody knows that. from streaming, to editing his youtube videos, to participating in videos with mr beast. he barely had any time to himself, but you still couldn’t help but feel extremely disappointed that he couldn’t make it. you glanced over at all your co-stars getting their finishing touches, and then heard your phone buzz from the table. you rushed to it immediately, but it was just a notification from instagram. your heart dropped again.

“1 minute!” you heard somebody yell.

right. you thought. it was time you pushed all your thoughts aside and decided you had to focus on one thing only: absolutely owning the play.

finally, the curtains started to rise, and you stopped yourself from fiddling with your fingers, a habit of yours that happened whenever you were feeling nervous. you spotted the director in the audience, you switched on your serious face. you were going to act your ass off.

-

act 1 scene 1, went smoothly. you were very happy with your performance, your mother had her video camera out the entire time despite complaints from the other people. you didn’t forget any of your lines or stutter over any of your words. you felt a sense of pride as you noticed the directors face, he looked like he was enjoying it so far.

you were backstage again, and you weren’t back on until act 1, scene 3, so you had some time to go over and revise some of your lines to make sure they were properly secured in your mind. you couldn’t check your phone again in case karl had messaged you because everyone had to switch off their phones and hand them in.

it was a fairly short scene, and soon enough, it was time you were needed back on.

you had given up all hope that karl was going to be arriving any time soon. your mind started to drift from karl as your character was halfway through an emotional scene in act 1, scene 4. you were speaking behind your fake tears, letting out occasional sobs. and then some mumbling and muttering was heard from the audience.

without breaking character. you shifted your eyes to the left to catch a glimpse of what was making all the noise.

it was karl.

and he was slowly pushing his way past the other audience members to make his way to his seat. he was wearing a black suit and a white collared shirt. his hair was slightly untamed but did that even matter? he made it. he took his seat next to your parents who gave him a quick greeting.

it took everything in you not to break character to run up to him and tackle him.

-

it was about an hour and a half later, the play finally finished, all the cast held hands and took one giant bow together. your mum was crying tears of joy and your dad and karl had the same look of delight on their faces.

the curtains came down. everybody was elated with their performances. andrew, who was the producer of the play, gave a giant speech about how proud he was of everyone.

as you were listening to him ramble on about how thrilled he was with the performance. you felt a tap on your shoulder. in one swift motion you turned around. karl was standing there with a giant grin spread across his face

“baby!” you half whispered, not wanting to disturb the speech that was still going on. you jumped into his arms and he gladly wrapped his own arms around your back. he showered your face in kisses.

“that was incredible. i am so proud of you,” he whispered in your ear. you smiled at him lovingly.

“thank you, baby, i just really hope that director liked me, i was so nervous,” you revealed.

karl pulled away from the hug and grabbed both your hands, his thumbs gently running over the top of your knuckles.

“he would be stupid not to like you, you were the best one on stage,” he reassured you. slowly, he brought your right hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

“i’m so sorry for arriving late,” he said guiltily. “i couldn’t find my white shirt and i was stuck in traffic for so long, i promise you i didn’t forget,” he apologised

“i don’t even care,” you stated. “you made it, that’s all that matters,”. his face beamed with happiness as he became aware you weren’t in any way angry at him.

“oh- and before i forget,” karl remembered. he hurriedly ran out the room and entered it again 10 seconds later, but holding a box of chocolates and a big bouquet of roses.

“i got these for you,” he passed you the box of chocolates. “and i didn’t know if you liked the red roses or the white ones so i just counted the number of flowers in each bouquet in the shop and just got you the one with the most, it took me some time but this one had 23 flowers while the rest had about 15 or 16, and the usual chocolates that you like were sold out so i-“

you interrupted his rambling by (almost literally) smashing your lips to his. so taken aback he nearly dropped the bouquet. you kissed him with so much love and passion that you didn’t even know was contained within you. he melted into your touch and his arms tied behind your waist. your heart leapt in your chest as you thought about how how much effort he put in just to get you a simple gift. you began to pull away slowly as you started running out of breath. though your foreheads were still connecting. you loved this cute boy so goddamn much. he was way too good for you

“i. love. you. so. much,” you said. kissing his lips behind each pause. “what the honk did i do to deserve you?” you asked, locking your eyes with his beautiful blue ones. his face flushed red

“oh please, i’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, [y/n]” he murmered. he rose a hand to your cheek and gently caressed it, before pulling you back into another long loving kiss.

———

masterlist

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (2/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! This is the second half of the request, featuring Rosé and Lisa. If you want to see the first part, with Jisoo and Jennie, click the link below. I hope you enjoy!

Click for Jisoo and Jennie

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Rosé

Park Chaeyoung: The girl who hung with the wrong crowd.

Your problem lied more so with the people she associated with than her herself. You couldn't wrap your head around why such a kind person like her would spend time with the class clowns and bullies, and to make matters worse, she would stick up for them as well.

She spent most of her days in either the art or music room, creating the masterpieces that her brain came up with.

But as soon as school was over, she'd be hanging out with them again and getting into trouble. For instance, because of her talents, they would invite her to go with them and graffiti various hot spots around town. She never vandalized any monuments or landmarks of importance -- she typically stuck to bridges or abandoned buildings -- but after getting caught with them multiple times, it was inevitable for her to be held accountable.

She was given a week's detention to make up for her actions

You, coincidentally, had a teacher that absolutely loathed you for no reason at all. No matter how good of a student you were for him, he didn't care; he had a vendetta against you for some reason, and he patiently waited for the opportunity to ruin your day.

You came in literally 10 seconds after the bell rang, putting the breakfast sandwich you stopped to get on the way into your mouth so you could open the door. He was standing at the front with a smug grin on his face, and you already knew what was coming.

You were also given an ungodly sentence of a week's detention.

Turning Point

"If I see you on your phones, I'm taking them." The monitor informs before sitting at the desk, reclining in the chair and putting his feet up soon after. You sigh and lean back in your seat, attempting to find a way to pass the next two hours without getting in trouble. Your eyes scan across the room, eventually landing on Rosé, where she sits a couple rows away from you. Sunlight is streaming in through the window next to her, its golden rays peeking through the breaks in the clouds above to shine on her. She looks gorgeous as she doodles away in her notebook, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear when it falls in front of her face.

After waiting on the monitor to fall asleep and sending one last glance to double check, you quietly stand from your seat and go sit next to her.

You barely know each other, but she's your only hope of remaining sane and occupied.

"Hi," you greet, looking into her eyes.

"Hi," she copies, a tiny smile forming on her lips when she notices your impressed expression upon gazing down at her paper. You have to hand it to her -- she's really talented.

"You're really good," you compliment, still admiring the artistry. Seeing as how you're looking down, you fail to notice the blush that works its way to her cheeks. Coming from you, the simple remark meant a lot to her.

You spend the rest of the day making small talk and getting used to one another, leaving detention later with the hopes of sitting together again.

----

The Next Day

"Hi again," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to ensure that the coast is clear. The monitor is out like a light, with his mouth hanging open and an obnoxiously loud snore coming out.

"Hi," she giggles, watching as you dive into the floor for cover when the man shifts in his sleep. You thought he was waking up, and if he finds out you moved seats, he'll definitely have something to say about it.

"The coast is clear, cadet," she nods like a soldier, assuring you that it's okay to move back after a minute.

"That was close," you breathe out in relief, glad to live to see another day.

You share a laugh, though it has to be hidden behind your hands and kept a minimum. It's cute though -- like a little secret between the two of you, only for you to know.

"What're you drawing today?" You ask later, laying your chin in your palm as you gaze down at her work. Her reply comes out stuttered at first when she feels your leg innocently brush against hers under the table.

"D-dalgom. My friend's dog." She manages out, mentally smacking herself for looking like a fool.

You smile, thinking she's adorable. "I bet it'll be great," you encourage. She grins back as her eyes scan over your face, committing the memory of you to heart. She's always had a thing for you, ever since the time you were paired up in Biology last semester, so she's been enjoying detention more than she thought she would. Seeing you makes the time go by faster, though ironically, she wishes it would slow down a bit.

You make her feel appreciated for more than just what she's capable of producing, and the divide between you and her friend group is blaringly obvious. They like her because of the rush she can help them achieve; you like her because of her.

That thought persists in her mind for the rest of detention, and before she knows it, the monitor is releasing you again. She bends down to put her notebook in her bag when a thought pops into her mind: she wants to ask if you want to go to the park with her. When she's done zipping her bag up, she looks back up at you, only to find you on your phone, talking to someone.

"Yeah, mom. I'll stop by on the way home. So milk, cereal, ramen, and paper towels, right?"

She watches as you wait for a reply, tucking the phone into the crook of your neck as you move to write the list down on a spare piece of paper.

"Alright, love you, too. See you later." You hang up before looking back at Rosie. She looks a little down, and you have no idea why.

You pause for a moment, silently psyching yourself up for what you're about to ask. "This is gonna sound really strange, but do you want to come with me to the store?"

Her heart's pace increases at that, happy to know that you want to spend more time with her, just as she does with you.

"Actually, yeah. That sounds like fun."

You grin at her before spinning around and doing a little celebratory dance, which wins you a strange look from the monitor. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing her hand and rushing out of the room, hearing his disapproval shouted after you.

--

"Milk?"

"Check."

"Ramen?"

"Check."

"Cereal?"

"Nope."

You nod at her words, now reminded of what you were forgetting. You push the buggy towards the aisle of cereals, gazing around in wonder at the huge selection. Rosé is just the same, eyeing all of the options like a kid in a candy store. After grabbing your mom's favorite kind, you decide on one for yourself and bring it back to the cart. Rosie scoots her leg over, making room for them beside where she sits, reclined in the cart.

You grin when you see her eyeing a box of fruit loops. Huh; fruity. Go figure.

You wordlessly grab the box and hand it to her, feeling your heart melt when she looks up at you like you hold the key to the universe.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"No problem, Rosie." You say, putting your hands on the bar as you begin pushing the buggy again. "Now, I say we see how long it takes to get to the paper towel aisle. My last record was 30 seconds."

She looks at you, clearly impressed, with her eyebrows raised. Without question, she pulls her phone out and gets the stop watch feature ready to go.

"3...2...1... GO!" She shouts, commanding your legs to start pumping as you race down the long strip of store before you. A couple kids dart out of the way just before getting smacked into, quickly turning around and cheering you on as you charge forward.

Her giggles fill the air as you drift around a corner, shouting apologies to the lady you almost bumped into.

"Sorry ma'am!"

A few seconds later, chest heaving and legs sore, you come to a stop in the aisle, dramatically collapsing in a heap next to the buggy. Rosé checks her phone as she reaches down to poke you.

"22.18 seconds, champ," she declares victoriously, smiling when you magically regain enough energy to stand up and celebrate.

"Woohoo! Team Y/S/N (Your Ship Name) for the win!"

She laughs along at that, joining in on your celebration, but she's blushing like crazy on the inside.

-----

The Last Day Of Detention

Ever since your trip to the store, you and Rosé have grown closer and closer. You traded numbers and text occasionally, though nothing beats having her all to yourself for 2 hours straight with no distractions. She feels the same; when she's in class, she can't wait for the bell to ring and signal your reunion. Part of her wants to get in trouble again, just to see you more often.

So, as you'd expect, it's really no surprise that you're sat right in front of her again, telling jokes and asking about her day. You've grown a bit more bold with every step closer you've taken towards her heart, and now you reach down to intertwine your fingers with hers.

She happily accepts, even bringing your hand up to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it. She smiles against your skin after it, making butterflies take flight in your stomach. She's got you wrapped around her finger, and you don't even try to fight it anymore.

The sound of the classroom door opening alerts you, making her lower your hand. She doesn't let go of you, though, and that fact warms your heart for some reason. The squeaky hinges groan out again as the door opens wider, revealing about 4 or 5 people from the friend group that she hangs out with. They motion for her to sneak out with them, but she just shakes her head.

"Come on, Rosé!" They whisper-scream, offering her a way to freedom. Little do they know that she'd take this imprisonment over freedom any day, so long as you're by her side.

"No! Get out before he wakes up!" She whisper-shouts back, eventually convincing them to leave.

"Why didn't you go?" You ask once they're gone, toying with her fingers as your hands rest on the desk.

"Because I like spending time with you." She admits, letting her defenses down.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you smile, letting her know that you feel the same.

The Fallout

After detention, the two of you walked out of the school, hand in hand

"Would you maybe, I don't know... wanna go to the park with me?" She asks nervously, glancing up at you.

"You read my mind, Rosie." You smile at each other and head towards the parking lot.

You started hanging out more, and she distanced herself from her old crowd

You encouraged her to enroll in your school's art program and show her work that way

"You're really talented; it deserves to be seen."

Your support meant the world to her, and she never failed to let you know

"Thank you, Y/N. Having you behind me means the world to me."

At one of her art shows, where she was tasked with unveiling a new piece that she'd been working on for months, you got the biggest surprise of your life.

She created a mural of you, all decked out with every color of the rainbow, utterly gorgeous

She lit up when she saw your reaction

"This piece is titled 'Mine', which I hope the girl in it will soon be." She says into the microphone, looking at you with hope shining in her eyes.

You nod your head with a smile and walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was long-overdue. She wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you in closer with her sweater-padded hands and kissing you again and again.

The crowd claps for you, happy to see such an ending.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Lisa

I couldn't choose between these two gifs so enjoy both for the price of one ^^^

Lisa Manoban: Cocky, smug, and self-assured. The dancer knew she was hot shit, and she wasn't afraid to show off.

You're all for people being confident and happy with themselves, especially when they're talented, but something about Lisa always seemed to rub you the wrong way.

Whether it be her lack of a filter or the arrogant swagger that she naturally exuded, you weren't sure. People wanted to either be her or be with her, but you fell into neither of those categories.

She always left you frustrated in one way or another, whether it be from her teasing or her witty comebacks

The teachers loved her, as did the students. She was the class clown, so her position was pretty sacred in the grand scheme of things

You, on the other hand, irritated her for other reasons. You were the only person she couldn't get to crack; you never gave into her charms, and it infuriated her to no end. She wasn't used to not getting what she wanted (as childish as that may seem) and having you, one of the most attractive girls at school, turn her down? Well that was a massive blow to her ego.

You weren't afraid to say your piece, and that both pleasantly surprised and upset her.

She constantly tried to flirt with you in class, but you knew it was all for the attention. She just wanted to make her friends laugh, which they always did.

"Y/N, come here babe. There's an empty seat next to me," she coos, batting her eyelashes as you walk in the door. It's a free day, so everyone is sitting with their friends, wherever they like.

"I'm good," you decline, deciding to sit against the wall beneath the large window of the classroom.

"Oooo, denied," Lisa's friends laugh at her this time, chuckling harder when she sticks her middle finger up at them.

"Yah, shut up," she says, nursing her bruised ego as she turns around and opens her phone.

You smile as you continue working on the homework you cracked open, scribbling an answer down onto the notebook paper in front of you. Your fingers glide over your textbook in search of the definition of the term you're on, and Lisa secretly watches from afar. Without realizing it, she grins when you light up upon spotting the answer.

Sometimes her flirting does work, though, and you turn into a blushing mess

*whistle* "Damn, Y/N. You're looking fine today," she exclaims, fanning herself. You worry that she doesn't really mean it, but when her eyes remain on you a second too long to just be friendly, you blush. She's taking in all of you, looking impressed all the while.

"Right back at you, Manoban." You wink, sitting down in your seat across the room. She lightly blushes back, though she does a good job of concealing it.

Considering you share a couple classes and the class sizes are relatively small, it was pretty likely that you'd end up paired together eventually

You weren't happy about it, especially not after the way she had acted that week. Her cockiness had been at an all time high as of late, leaving you frustrated and upset. She was so full of herself; all you wanted to do was wipe that stupid smirk off her face.

"Y/N, you'll be paired with Lisa," your photography teacher informs, pushing her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.

"But Mrs. Ta--"

"Pairings are final," she cocks her head at you, persuading you to give in. With a sigh, you respond, "Yes ma'am," and attempt to ignore the sound of Lisa's friends high fiving each other in celebration.

The Turning Point

"My parents are gone for the rest of the week..." she says, holding the door open for you as you carry in your equipment. A hint of suggestiveness lies in it; she's alluding to exactly what you think she is, and you push her shoulder upon realizing it.

"Knock it off, Manoban."

"Okay, okay," she chuckles, listening to you for once. The surprise is clear on your face.

She leads you towards the backyard, where you set up one of your highest power cameras and turn it on. You have to create a gallery of different photos, all under the same theme. You both agreed to do a time-lapse of the sunset, and take pictures of the stars after.

Once she makes sure that the timer is set correctly and that the auto shut-off feature is enabled, she motions for you to follow her back into the house. You do, and she leads you into the kitchen.

"Do you want a snack?"

"Sure, do you have any ramen?"

She nods, quickly busying herself by bending down and searching through the cabinets. After she finds it, exclaiming a pleased, "Aha!", she tells you to go get comfortable in the living room.

Three minutes later, from your place on the couch, you begin to smell something burning. You scramble up and rush to the kitchen, only to find Lisa running around like a headless chicken, attempting to put out the small fire she started.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO BURN RAMEN?" You shout, though your tone isn't angry. You're just very shocked, and loud about it. You push her away from the pot, albeit gently, and get the flames to go down relatively quickly. You turn the burners off and put the pot in the sink, leaning against the counter to recover from the adrenaline rush.

"Oops?" She asks more so that says, with a growing smile evident in her voice.

You shake your head and chuckle despite yourself, turning around to face her. "You can order a pizza now to make up for that." You point a finger at her, grinning stupidly when she presses the tip of hers to it.

"Your wish is my command, princess."

Thankfully you're already walking away as she says that, so she doesn't get the satisfaction of seeing you blush.

---

"Lisa, I can't keep going." You groan out, sweat dripping down your face. The pizza you ate earlier is giving you a stomache ache, paired with the physical activity you're doing.

"Y/N, just a little longer, we're almost there," she huffs out, keeping her movements steady somehow. You're a mess by now, so you don't understand how she's still going.

A couple minutes later, the TV in front of you lights up, saying, "Awesome moves! You win!" as you collapse to the ground in a heap.

Why you agreed to play Just Dance with her after eating is beyond you.

"Good job," she compliments, grabbing your hand to high five herself with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you roll over, catching your breath.

She lays down beside you as you recover, telling jokes to hear that laugh that she loves so much. She prefers yours over anyone elses, so it's always such a reward when she gets you to crack up.

"We should probably head up now," she notes, realizing that the stars will be coming out soon. You agree, and she carefully helps you up.

"Here, I'll carry you," she turns, bending down so you can get on her back.

"Lisa, you can't carry me," you brush off, feeling insecurity bubble up again like it always does when you're offered a piggyback ride.

"Y/N, I promise that I can. Trust me," she reassures, looking into your eyes sincerely.

"Alright," you sigh, standing onto the couch to get on easier.

"See?" She asks, sliding her warm hands up your thighs to keep you secured against her. "I've got you, babe."

You tuck your head into the space between her shoulder and neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.

"I'm gonna punch you if you drop me," you whisper, feeling her laugh against you.

"Fair enough."

-----

Later, On The Rooftop

"Careful," she instructs, outstretching a hand to help you climb out the window. Her camera hangs around her neck, and she takes the cap off of the lense once you're both safely sitting on the roof.

"Wow," you sigh, gazing up at the sky in wonder. Her house is far enough away from the city that you're rewarded with a gorgeous view of the stars, unburdened by the industrial fog that hangs over the cosmopolis.

"It's beautiful out here," you say, looking back at her. You tense up a bit, not expecting her to already be looking at you.

"Sorry," she laughs at herself, looking away once she gets caught admiring you.

"It's okay," you reach down and gently squeeze her hand, making her blush lightly.

"Let's get started," you conclude, pointing at the camera. She nods, knowing that she'd never get the assignment done if you didn't step in to tell her to (considering she'd rather admire you), and she points the device to the sky.

After snapping a few pictures, she lays back in order to get a better vantage point of one of the star systems. She hands it to you after she's satisfied with her work, and you take your turn with it.

She notices that you keep brushing your hair out of the way when it falls in your face, so she decides to help you.

"Here," she says, saddling up behind you. She gathers your hair up, running her fingers through it to neatly pull it up for you. Thankfully she always keeps a spare tie on her wrist.

"Thanks," you smile, snapping another picture. The simple act warms your heart; she's being selfless for once, and helping you without even being asked. It's a refreshing change of pace.

"You're welcome." She chirps, sitting back down beside you.

-----

Later, In Her Bedroom

"Oh, I really like that one!" She says excitedly, pointing at the TV. Her phone, which is connected via Bluetooth and automatically receives pictures of her choosing from the camera, is displaying some of your best shots.

"Yeah, you did really well with that. I think we might beat everyone else if we use that as our cover piece."

Your compliment makes her momentarily shy, and she quickly realizes how much she loves your praise.

The two of you continue like that, reviewing the different pictures and choosing your favorites. She always finds ways to compliment yours, noting your technique or the filter you used, and it always makes you smile. She's different than you're used to, and it's throwing you for a loop, pleasantly surprising.

---

Lisa steps out of the room to go to the bathroom a few minutes later, leaving her phone connected to the TV. A ding sounds out across the space, pulling your attention away from the stack of notes laid out before you. Your eyes dart up to the screen, reading the text message that appeared at the top of it.

Austin ⛓: "Dude, did you get into her pants yet? We're literally betting over here 😂"

You blink a few times as their words sink in, making your chest hurt. You were really beginning to believe that you had been wrong about Lisa; clearly, though, your instincts were right.

Feeling betrayed, you shove your folders back into your bag and stand from the chair, willing yourself not to cry. The sound of the sink turning on lets you know that she's almost done, so you hurry your movements and make your way towards the door. She steps out into the hall just as you exit her room, looking at you with wide eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah, what's going on?" She asks with furrowed brows, approaching you. One of her hands lands on your arm, and you shrug it off as you brush past her without another word.

"Y/N, did I do something wrong?" She asks from the top of her staircase, watching as you walk towards her foyer.

"Why don't you ask Austin?" You bitterly call over your shoulder as you turn the knob, slipping out the front door. She hangs her head upon registering your words, realizing what must've happened. She makes a mental note to give him hell when she sees him again.

Tears sting your eyes as you exit the house, wrapping your jacket tighter around yourself. You should've known something like this would happen. The chilly night air bites at your skin, stealing more of its warmth away with every step you take. The temperature doesn't change your mind, though; you're upset, and you'd rather freeze out here than be face to face with her right now.

"Y/N, wait!" She calls after you, blasting out the front foor. Her footfalls sound off behind you, announcing her rapid approach, but you don't turn around. Realizing this, she darts in front of you, keeping you from walking any further.

"Please, don't go. He's an idiot, Y/N."

"He might he an idiot, but that doesn't take away what he said," you scowl, clenching your jaw. "Betting? Really, Lisa?" You ask quietly, hurt evident in your voice.

"It was a stupid thing they tried to convince me to do. I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop them from talking once you and I were paired up. That's not what I want, though. I'm not just in it for that."

"How am I supposed to believe that? This is your M.O., Lisa."

"It's different with you, I don't know why." That's a lie; she knows exactly why you're different than anyone else she's flirted with in the past.

You stand there before her, silently weighing your options. After seeing the pleading look in her eye, her dark orbs full of sincerity, you relent. "Just take me home. We'll work on it another day," you compromise, allowing her in just enough to take you home, but not enough to stay at her place any longer. You're still weary after a text like that, and you will be for a while.

"Thank you," she breaths a sigh of relief, clasping her hands behind herself as you begin walking back to her house. She notices you shiver on the way, and she slips her jacket off without hesitation to cover you. Neither of you have to say anything; one glance from you is enough for her, and she's content knowing you're warm.

The Fallout

From there on out she was always honest with you and actually spoke out when her friends tried to do something stupid

She still remained the charming class clown that she naturally is, just getting rid of the not-so-nice parts of herself

You slowly let her regain your trust, little by little

She did nice things for you on the daily, whether it be holding the door, carrying your books, or offering to buy you some lunch

"Morning, Y/N. Wanna grab some breakfast?" She asks, moving her head to the side towards the café at the center of campus.

"Sure," you smile, laughing when she celebrates.

She invites you to her dance perfomances

When she goes to championships, you're always first on her list of invites

"I want you there." She declares, handing you the flyer.

"You've got it," you decide, knowing there's no where you'd rather be. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

At said championship, she won the highest title and claimed victory for your school

You joined the rest of the team on the stage to celebrate, congratulating the solo dancer on her achievement.

"I'm so proud of you, Lis--"

She suddenly kisses you, clearly high off her win. She pulls back when she realizes what she just did, a worried look on her face.

"Shit, I'm sorry." She looks between your eyes, attempting to gauge your reaction.

"Get your ass back here," you order, feeling butterflies take flight when she eagerly presses her lips to yours again, wrapping her arms around you to spin you.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?" She mumbles against your lips.

You squint, pretending to think about it. "Maybe... or maybe not."

Her subsequent gasp is quickly muffled by your kiss, which she can't seem to get enough of.

[lokislittlesigyn]

Luck of the Dice - Loki x Reader [Oneshot]

Part 1 of Sigyn’s Angst-to-Fluff Drabbles

Inspired by Cozy’s Fluff-to-Angst Fun and Games!

Pairing: Platonic!Loki / gender neutral reader

Warnings: None. Except maybe some pillow fighting? Nobody gets hurt.

Author’s Note: This is probably very silly and underwhelming, but I hope it’s still enjoyable. Wanted to try writing something not-specifically-romantic. Romance is great! But you know what? Friendship is great too. <3

@lucywrites02:

A prompt for you 💔

"I lost everything and you're laughing!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It really shouldn’t have gone this far. 

Then again, when you and the god of mischief were left alone in the Avengers Compound for a weekend, what could anyone expect? After all, you and Loki were close friends. Or, as close as anyone could be with the god of mischief. He had a calm and collected demeanor, usually keeping to himself. Far from the alien god-king hellbent on destruction you’d been led to expect.

No, Loki was different. And, with most people, distant. He rarely (if ever) showed his more sensitive side to anyone - except, perhaps, for you.

So, on this weekend when most of the team was out on small missions, and Tony had gone with Pepper for a press conference on the other side of the country, you and Loki were left to your own devices. You’d spent the day alone for the most part, but eventually your friend found you, and though he didn’t say it, you could tell he was lonely. 

You decided a proper hangout session was in order. 

Eventually the ordered-in pizza was long since eaten, and a ridiculous romantic comedy you’d turned on just to hear Loki’s groans of frustration with the plot, long since watched. The two of you chatted for hours, until you suggested playing a game. Loki seemed intrigued, and agreed to play along - but not before declaring he would absolutely win. You responded with a playful scoff and “I’d like to see you try.”

Now you both sat on the floor in the main common area of the compound. Distant drones of the television, the volume of which was reduced to a whisper, sounded in the background. You sat cross-legged in your favorite pajamas, a blanket around your shoulders. Loki, clad in long, soft sweatpants and a dark green shirt you gifted him at last year’s holiday party, was settled across from you. He sipped tea from a mug - which Thor had given him at that same party. He never seemed to use it when Thor was around, but you knew it was his favorite. He was sentimental. You liked that about him.

You’d already explained the game’s rules, going through the ins and outs and technicalities, and giving him the chance to ask any questions. Although he hadn’t attended many Avengers “teamwork building” game nights, he must’ve been listening, because he caught on to the game exceptionally fast.

It all went downhill from there, however.

Okay, maybe introducing the god of mischief to Monopoly wasn’t your best idea -

But it wasn’t your worst idea either, and you’d stand by that.

Besides, most of the games at the compound were strictly for groups, and the others, far too risky. You were not about to open the Pandora’s box that was playing Uno with the god of mischief. 

The two of you played had already racked up properties and utilities. But the moment Loki’s top hat playing piece hit St. James’ Place, your heart sank. He’d completed another set.

“I believe that’s mine.” Loki motioned to the property card and smiled, handing over the appropriate play-money. 

You traded it for the card, grumbling slightly under your breath.

“What was that, my friend?” Loki snapped the card next to his three and a half complete property sets, along with his railroads… This just wasn’t fair.

“Nothing…” You huffed. But you still had a chance. You had Boardwalk and Park Place.

He had no idea what was coming.

“...Just thinking of how you’re going down.” You smiled.

Loki scoffed. “Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.”

The game continued. You built a few hotels, and felt much better about your prospects… Until Loki got hotels too. 

It’s fine! If he lands on those, you glanced at your completed red and pink property sets, along with your prized deep blues, He’s toast. I just need to make it past the orange…

You looked at the board. Gulped. 

Your poor little dog piece stood at the precipice of certain doom. Currently situated on the Electric Company, your own property, you had to roll just the right number to dodge Loki’s looming hotels. He really was ruthless.

“Any day now.” Loki smirked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“I was just thinking.” You shook the dice in your hands.

“Thinking?”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes.”

“Surprising.”

You glared at him, then rolled the dice, moving your piece to - New York Avenue.

Oh, no.

Loki held out an expectant hand. You grumbled, handing him a stack of money from your hand. You were dreadfully low on cash - maybe investing in all that property wasn’t the best strategy… But how else were you supposed to win? You had to win. If the team found Loki had beat you at any game, they’d never let you live it down. 

Loki rolled next, of course dodging your properties perfectly. Your next turn landed you on another one of Loki’s properties, and you forked over the necessary money with a grimace.

Loki merely chuckled, his fingers shuffling through the stack of paper to make sure everything was in order before filing them onto the plump stacks of fake bills before him. Then he rolled - dodging your properties again. You groaned out loud.

“Something wrong?” He smiled.

“No way you’re rolling so well.”

With a shrug, Loki sat back, watching you roll. “Luck of the dice, I suppose.”

“Some luck!” You rolled.

Pennsylvania Avenue.

Your fate was sealed.

Loki had bought the green properties first - of course he had - setting them up handsomely with full upgrades. You looked at the god across from you, and recognized in an instant how intensely frustrating his smug looks could be. His shoulders shook, his knuckles placed in front of his mouth.

Wait...

“You’re laughing?!” You exclaimed.

Loki chuckled, only half trying to hide it as he raised his hands in mock surprise. “Me? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he scoffed, but it was choppy with laughter.

“You are! You’re laughing!” Your face heated up. “I lost everything and you’re laughing!” You grabbed a nearby pillow, swinging it at him. He blocked it with his arm, shooting you a devilish grin.

“Oh, come on. What did you expect? I never lose!”

“Oh? Really? You never lose?”

“Never.” Loki smirked. You glared daggers at him, never relenting with your squishy weapon, though each blow was deflected by his arm “Woah- Hey. You’re awfully violent,” Loki chuckled, “Need to sit down?”

“Shut up!”

“Perhaps a rematch?”

“Not in this lifetime!” You laughed, chucking the pillow at him and returning to your previous spot. He grabbed it, snorting with indignance.

“Attacking me will get you nowhere, you know.” Loki held the pillow aloft, flashing you a smirk. “But then again, the first stage of grief is denial, eventually leading to acceptance-”

The next pillow you tossed hit Loki square in the face. Even he laughed, though not before tossing it back at you and hitting you in the chest - you chuckled, holding it to yourself.

“Now that I’ve demolished you in that silly game, why don’t we settle down?” Loki stretched, wiping his loose black curls back from his face. “It’s late.”

You checked the time - woah, when did it get that late? “Ah, yeah, you’re right. And you get cranky when you don’t sleep, so.” You stood, stifling a yawn.

“I beg your pardon?” Loki was standing across from you, his brow furrowed.

“What? You’re always grumpy after a bad night’s sleep. You are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he snorted through his nose, though you noticed a twinge of humor in his expression. “You’re the one who’s grouchy in the mornings. Absolutely unbearable.”

“Oh, hush.”

Loki chuckled, settling onto the opposite couch. 

As you snuggled onto the couch underneath your blanket, you swore to yourself you’d never play against the god of mischief again. Then again, seeing him laugh and smile so genuinely almost balanced out the annoyance of losing… Maybe you could be partners in the next team game. You had a good chance of convincing him to join, after all. He seemed to trust you.

You looked over at him. Yes, Loki must’ve trusted you, because he was already asleep on the other couch with a serene expression. He looked so calm, so… Happy. You smiled to yourself.

Maybe losing was worth it after all.