#once again it's me vs expressions and the expressions won

[foolexby]

Silence vow.

Notes: Rivals James Potter x Female Reader. Sassy Hufflepuff reader. Cliché I don't care. Not use of Y/N. English is not my first language. Use of Google translate. I hate people who don't know how to express their feelings (me). Slightly angst.

WC: 11.0k

Navigation | Serie Masterlist | Part I

James usually didn’t think too much after a match.

Winning or losing was just part of the game, and there was always another one ahead—another practice, another chance to shine. But this time, something felt different.

Since your fall, his mind kept returning to the moment he had to swerve away from the Snitch to catch you instead. The way his fingers had closed around your waist, the weight of your body swaying in the air, the fear that—for a fraction of a second—had frozen his blood. He’d never felt anything like it in the middle of a match.

He had won, yes. Gryffindor had celebrated. But he hadn’t, not really.

He spent more time than usual in the tower, sitting by the window, staring out at the pitch as if expecting to see you appear. Sometimes you did, sneaking out at night, thinking no one noticed. But James did. He knew you went out to train alone. He knew something inside you hadn’t healed with the bruises. And although he’d wanted to approach more than once, something held him back.

It wasn’t fear. It was respect. And guilt.

He kept replaying that argument in the air, the words laced with anger. “Fine. You win. Your team wins. Another victory for Gryffindor.” That line stuck with him like a curse. It hadn’t been the voice of someone who’d lost a match. It was the voice of someone who had been robbed of the chance to finish it. And he had been the one to take it from you.

The arrogance he used to wear like a protective cloak no longer served him. Every time he climbed on his broom during practice, something inside him tensed. Not because he doubted his skills, but because he finally understood that flying wasn’t just about winning. That there was more at stake when you shared the sky with someone like you.

And yet, he didn’t know how to reach it.

He didn’t know whether to apologize or simply stay away. But what he did know was that when your next match came—against Slytherin—he would be there. Not as a rival, not as a detached spectator. But as someone who, though he’d never admit it aloud, wanted to see you just fly again.

It had been a few weeks since that fall during the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor match, but the memory still clung to you like a stubborn shadow refusing to fade. Some nights, when the castle slept and the world seemed to pause for a moment, you snuck down to the Quidditch pitch. There was no light, save for the soft glow of the moon filtering through the stands, but you didn’t care. Flying in the dark, training alone, feeling the cold wind against your face… it had all become a refuge. An obsession.

You spent hours sweeping across the pitch, mentally replaying every move of the match, every mistake, every second that could’ve changed the outcome. You repeated maneuvers until exhaustion, forced yourself to dodge imaginary players, to react faster, to anticipate the impossible. The fall hadn’t just been physical. It had struck your pride. The idea that you were ready to lead.

You analyzed every play, every flight, every decision with near-maniacal precision. You became your own harshest critic, and each night in the air turned into a desperate search for control. It couldn’t happen again. Not against Slytherin. You couldn’t afford another mistake.

But it wasn’t just the match that had been left unfinished. It was something else. Something deeper, more intimate, that still weighed in your chest with a force you could no longer ignore. It wasn’t just the fall, nor the lingering pain in your ribs. It was that exact moment when you’d felt his arms around you, holding you mid-air like you were the most fragile thing in the world. That shared look frozen in time, heavy with tension, with unspoken words.

Since then, you’ve avoided thinking about him. You’d repeated in your head, like a protective spell, that it meant nothing. That was just a moment. That he would’ve done the same for anyone else.

And now, standing in the middle of the empty pitch, with the dark sky mirroring the confusion inside you, and the wind whistling through the goal hoops like a distant lament, it was much harder to keep pretending. The echo of that instant—his ragged breath, the warmth of his body next to yours, the slight tremble in his hand as he held on—came back with unbearable clarity.

It wasn’t just the match that had been left unfinished.

It was you. It was him. It was both of you.

That night, the sky was clear, studded with stars like distant embers.

The air was cold, but not enough to stop you from following your usual routine. After hours of solitary training, your muscles were tired and your hands numb, but your mind remained alert, insistent, as if it still wasn’t enough.

You had lost track of time between your secret practices, mental corrections, and the constant anxiety about the upcoming match. The night air felt less biting from the Astronomy Tower, where you usually end up after flying. It was your way of returning to the ground without really touching it. From up there, the pitch looked smaller, more manageable. As if your mistakes could also be seen from a safe distance.

You sat on the edge of the stone ledge, legs dangling into the void, broom resting against the wall. The wind played with loose strands of your hair, and the sky, clear and open, let the constellations shine as if they, too, were silently watching you. The silence felt different this time. It wasn’t the usual kind.

You felt it before you heard it. That unmistakable kind of energy he always carried with him, even when he tried not to make a sound. And though you didn’t turn around, you knew it was him.

“Come to rub your victory in my face?” you asked coldly, still not looking at him, eyes fixed on the horizon.

James didn’t answer right away. He knew you’d noticed him, and still he stayed silent for a few seconds, as if he didn’t know what to say. As if he hadn’t expected to find you there—and yet, at the same time, had somehow planned for it.

“No,” he said finally, his voice lower, calmer than usual—almost like he was afraid of breaking something. “That’s not why I came.”

You stayed silent. It was his turn. Let him speak.

“I’ve seen you training at night,” he went on, approaching slowly. “A few times. I didn’t say anything… I didn’t want to interrupt. But tonight… I don’t know. I guess I got tired of just watch from afar.”

“From afar?” you echoed, sarcasm lacing your voice. “How noble of you, Potter.”

James shook his head, a barely contained smile curving his lips. He let out a soft huff, like even he couldn’t believe what he was about to say. His eyes, always so alive, sparkled with that familiar glint, the one that came right before he said something infuriating. “Nah,” he said with mock nonchalance, shrugging. “Just came to bother you for a bit.”

You rolled your eyes with a sigh, not even bothering to look at him. Even if you didn’t show it, part of you felt that familiar tingle—that mix of irritation and something else. The idiot really knew how to get under your skin.

James chuckled softly, the sound fading into the cold wind sweeping across the tower. He stepped a bit closer, close enough to feel present, but still respectful of your space. “Although, to be fair, you’re always mad at me anyway,” he added with a crooked smile, “so it’s not like this makes much of a difference.”

“Hmm,” you murmured, still not looking at him, as if the stars were safer than his eyes.

He noticed that tiny shift in your tone, that barely perceptible change. And it only made his smile widen, like he’d just scored a point in some invisible duel. “You always seem in a bad mood when I’m around,” he said softly now, almost gently, like someone testing dangerous ground.

You crossed your arms, tense, though your tone was more biting than firm. “Because you’re annoying. And unbearable.”

James let out a real laugh, shaking his head slightly, as if your insult was some kind of backhanded compliment. “And you’re stubborn and reckless,” he shot back, glancing sideways at you, one eyebrow raised.

You turned just enough to throw him a sharp look. “And you’re spoiled and impossible.”

“And you’re uptight and a perfectionist,” he replied without much thought, still playful, but there was something in his eyes—something more.

“And you’re selfish, insufferable, and arrogant,” you fired back without hesitation, your pride giving your words perfect aim.

James paused for a second, like your words had hit deeper than he wanted to admit. But then he huffed, not quite offended, and tilted his head with that infuriatingly arrogant expression of his. “And you’re a pain in my ass,” he said with a lopsided smirk, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“How clever, Potter,” you replied coldly, sarcasm like venom in every syllable—even if, deep down, something inside you clenched without warning.

James rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade. On the contrary, it softened a bit, losing some of its usual smugness. His voice lowered slightly, like he was speaking only to the night—or to the part of you still deciding whether to listen. “I have my moments… surprisingly.”

And in that moment, the silence grew heavier. It wasn’t just the usual game, the sharp-tongued sparring, the sarcastic armor you both wore. It was something else. Something that lingered in the cold air of the tower, in the whisper of the wind, in the subtle heat of a presence that refused to leave.

Your hands were cold, but the warmth radiating from him—even without touching—was unmistakable. And you hated yourself a little for noticing it.

“Surprisingly,” you echoed, one eyebrow raised, tone mocking.

James laughed briefly at your sarcasm, clearly enjoying this far more than he should’ve. “Don’t sound so surprised,” he replied with a playful grin. “Sometimes I can be clever.”

“Oh, really?” you retorted, tilting your head with fake interest, like you weren’t quite convinced.

James chuckled, clearly amused by your sharp replies. There was something about this dynamic that kept him hooked—like he couldn’t help coming back for more. “Very funny.”

“What do you want, anyway?” you asked, more serious now, your tone sharp and unbothered. Your eyes stayed on the sky, but your posture had turned rigid—alert.

He shrugged, as if he wasn’t sure why he was there. But the truth ran deeper, even if he wasn’t ready to say it aloud.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing. After all… you fell off your broom last match.”

“I don’t need you checking on me,” you shot back, the words out before you could stop them—harsher than intended, though you didn’t take them back.

James rolled his eyes, still wearing that maddening smile. He knew you well enough to hear the armor in your voice. “Someone’s got to. With the way you fly, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet.”

You turned to him, frowning like he’d insulted you, though deep down, you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong. “I wasn’t being reckless. I just lost balance.”

He huffed, crossing his arms with a look that hovered between disbelief and amusement. His eyes narrowed, catching yours with a teasing spark. “You lost balance because you were flying too fast chasing the Snitch. That’s reckless.”

“Trying to win, they call it,” you muttered, a hint of wounded pride slipping through despite your best efforts.

James rolled his eyes again, this time with a mix of frustration and fondness. You always had that effect on him. No matter how impossible you were, some part of him admired your fire—even when it drove him mad. “There’s a difference between trying to win and throwing yourself off a broomstick,” he said, voice low but firm, like he needed the words to hit their mark.

You met his gaze, unflinching, your eyes still on the horizon. “I was trying to win.”

James sighed—a sound closer to a growl—as he watched you. There was something about the way you held yourself, so certain, so immovable, that only made his frustration grow.

“No. You weren’t just trying to win,” he said, his voice deepening as he looked at you, eyes scanning every inch like he was trying to decode you. “You were being reckless. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt, and all you cared about was catching that bloody Snitch.”

You finally glanced at him, a faint smirk tugging at your lips, like his concern was some sort of twisted joke. But under the surface, the tension was undeniable. “So what? Why do you care? You won, didn’t you? End of story.”

He let out a bitter laugh, one that escaped before he could stop it. The frustration was bubbling to the surface now, whether he liked it or not.

“I don’t care about the win. I care that you were so reckless. You could’ve died; do you get that?” His voice cracked—just barely—as a flicker of something raw passed through his eyes.

“That’s not your problem.” You didn’t even look at him, like you could dismiss his concern with a single breath.

James shook his head, more to himself than to you. He knew nothing he said would change your mind, but he had to try anyway. “Of course it’s my problem,” he muttered, voice lower now, edged with something heavier. “Because it seems like you don’t give a damn about your own safety. Someone has to. And it’s gonna be me”

He looked up at you fully then, face tight, jaw clenched, like he was holding back words that might only make things worse. “You were so focused on the game, you didn’t even realize you were risking your life,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re so obsessed with winning, you can’t even see how dangerous you’ve become.”

There was a line between you, invisible but palpable—one neither of you dared cross. And still, he kept talking. But now there was something more behind his words.

“I should’ve let you fall. But I didn’t,” he said, the words rougher than he intended. Still, his voice didn’t shake. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you destroy yourself just because you don’t know when to stop.”

You looked at him, defiant as ever. “And what exactly is the point of this lecture?” Your voice was cool, unreadable.

James clenched his jaw, the ache of trying to reach you sitting heavy in his chest. “The point is for you to see what you’re doing. To stop being so damn reckless and stubborn. To stop acting like your life doesn’t matter.”

You frowned, visibly irritated, but you didn’t turn away. The tension between you was tangible now, a slow-burning fuse. “So, what do you want from me?” you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion.

He let out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair like that might somehow ease the knot in his chest. “I want you to stop throwing yourself into danger like it’s worth nothing,” he said, almost a whisper, soaked in desperation. His eyes locked on yours, hoping—begging—you’d finally hear him.

You held his gaze for a long moment. “You’re exaggerating,” you said flatly, that faint smirk returning with a hint of mockery.

James rolled his eyes hard, his whole face tensing in frustration. “I’m not exaggerating. You were reckless. You could’ve seriously hurt yourself.”

“But I didn’t,” you shot back, indifference curling in your tone like a shield.

He sighed again, slower this time, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s not the point,” he said, more calmly now, though the edge hadn’t left his voice. “The point is that you could have. You were so focused on winning, you didn’t even realize how close you were to—” He cut himself off, closing his eyes for a moment. The thought was too much. “You were this close to ending up dead.”

“I wouldn’t have died,” you said with a shrug. “Just… severely injured.”

James scoffed in disbelief, shaking his head with a bitter laugh. “And you think that’s better? You didn’t stop for one second to think about the consequences?”

“I did think about it,” you replied simply, your tone unchanged.

He stared at you, stunned. “So you knew? You knew it was dangerous and kept going?” He shook his head again, voice rising slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

His voice was thick with disbelief and something else—disappointment. “You could’ve died. And you didn’t care. You just kept flying like nothing else mattered. Like you don’t even matter.”

“James…” Your voice softened at last.

“What?” he snapped, still tense—too tense to notice that, for the first time, you’d called him by his first name.

“I’m fine. I’m alive.” Calmly. Quietly. Your eyes gentler now.

He stared at you for a beat, silence stretching between you. The anger still burned beneath his skin, but now something else flickered behind his eyes—relief. And frustration.

“You’re fine,” he echoed, almost bitter. “That’s all you’ve got to say? You could’ve broken your neck, and all you say is ‘I’m fine’?”

“Yes… because none of that happened. I am fine…” you paused. “Thanks to you.” That last part came out in a whisper, barely audible, like it physically hurt to say it.

James frowned, tilting his head slightly. He caught the murmur, but not clearly enough to understand it. His expression was still serious, but his tone now carried a hint of curiosity he couldn’t quite hide. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”

“I just said I’m fine,” you insisted, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

James was now visibly exasperated. “Yeah, I heard that,” he said impatiently. “I want to know what you said after that. I didn’t catch it.”

“I didn’t say anything after that,” you replied quickly, lowering your gaze just a little.

He rolled his eyes again, clearly not buying it. “Don’t lie to me,” eyeing you intently. “I heard you say something. I just didn’t catch it. So say it.”

“You’re delusional,” you muttered, folding your arms, clearly uncomfortable.

James scoffed and shook his head, his patience running thin, though his tone stayed insistent. “No, I’m not. I heard you. I just didn’t understand. What was it?”

You sighed, eyes dropping for just a second, and mumbled, “That I’m fine… thanks to you.”

For a moment, James looked surprised. His expression softened instantly, the irritation fading, though a trace of skepticism still lingered in his eyes. His voice dropped, calmer now. “Are you… thanking me?”

“Kinda,” you said, not quite meeting his eyes.

A playful smile crept onto James’s lips, and the usual mischievous glint returned to his eyes. He spoke in a teasing tone, but it was warm, not mocking. “‘Kinda’? That’s all I get?”

“Fine. Thanks for catching me. Happy now?”

He let out a light laugh, and his smile turned into that classic, arrogant half-smirk he was known for. He shook his head, clearly amused. “Aww, was that so hard to say?”

“It really was,” you admitted with a resigned little shrug.

James kept smiling, smug but gentle, his voice still playful. “Well then… you’re welcome.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He laughed again, clearly delighted by your reaction. “You love saying that, don’t you?”

“Because it’s exactly what you are.” You sighed, glancing away for a second. You couldn’t believe you’d just thanked him. James Potter. You swallowed and forced yourself to keep it together.

“Well… I’ve to go,” you broke the second of silence, tossing your hair back with a casual gesture, though if your heart was beating faster than you’d like to admit.

He gave you that arrogant grin he always seemed to have ready, like he knew exactly how much he got under your skin. “Running away? What a surprise.”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged, a crooked smile on your lips. “See you later, loser,” while turning around before he could answer.

You heard him scoff behind you and couldn’t help but smile a little more. “See you, reckless little headache,” he called after you, in that teasing tone you knew far too well.

You didn’t answer. You just lifted one hand in a lazy wave, not looking back, as you walked off toward the stairs.

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It had only been a couple of days since your last conversation with James. Not a long time, really. Just a few days, a handful of shared classes, some fleeting encounters in the hallways. But it was enough for everything to feel different. Undeniably different. As if something invisible and heavy had settled between the two of you, altering the air you shared without either of you being able to name it. A subtle presence, almost imperceptible, yet impossible to ignore.

The atmosphere between you had changed. Not explosively, not with grand gestures, but with a quiet kind of transformation—like the air growing heavier before a storm. There were no shouts, no arguments, none of those sharp jabs you used to trade as if they were part of a daily ritual. You simply… didn’t speak.

And that, more than any past argument, made everything seem stranger. It wasn’t a truce, nor a peace hard-won. It was a kind of carefully maintained void, as if both of you had silently concluded that it was better to stay quiet than risk saying something you couldn’t take back.

There were no provocations, no sarcasm disguised as humor. None of those intense looks full of irritation or underlying tension that had once been inevitable whenever you shared a room. What had once been a constant battle of wit and willpower, an all-out war of words and gestures, had completely vanished.

In its place, a carefully measured distance had been born. A kind of silent pact to keep out of each other’s way, as if any wrong move might break the fragile balance that had formed between you. And the worst part was that no one needed to ask what had happened. Everyone noticed. Everyone felt it. But no one dared to mention it.

Because the silence between you and James wasn’t accidental. It wasn’t the kind of silence born of forgetfulness or disinterest. It was something deeper, something heavier. A silence that, on its own, spoke louder than any previous fight.

And his friends noticed immediately. No one had to say anything; there was no need to ask. It was evident in the small gestures, in the subtle absences that suddenly weighed more than any spoken word. They noticed how, when he passed you in the halls, he no longer opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark or furrowed his brow like he was gearing up for another verbal skirmish. He simply looked at you—if he looked at all—and dropped his gaze slightly, his shoulders losing that usual tension, as if he had suddenly decided not to fight.

Your friends noticed the change in you, too. How your eyes no longer searched for him in a crowd to challenge him from afar. How your firm stride and determined expression no longer came with that spark of provocation you used to reserve just for him. No more cutting words, no more sharp remarks delivered with surgical precision, knowing exactly how to strike a nerve.

None of that was there anymore.

Now, when you saw him, you simply walked past. Not a glance, not a reaction. As if he weren’t there. As if he were just another figure in the crowd, as irrelevant as any stranger in Hogwarts robes. And he, who had always been ready to take the blow and strike back with equal force, now seemed to avoid it at all costs.

Silence.

Complete and absolute.

A silence that didn’t scream revenge or hold onto resentment; a silence that, somehow, hurt more than any past fight. Because this silence wasn’t empty. It was full of everything you hadn’t dared to say.

And that was what stood out the most.

Not the silence itself, but its strangeness. Its abnormality. Because it wasn’t what people were used to. It wasn’t what they expected to see when the two of you were in the same space. It wasn’t the usual anymore. It wasn’t what had, over time, become almost a constant within the castle—like the bustle in the corridors or the constant hum in the Common Room.

People had grown used to that near-electric tension that sparked whenever you crossed paths. To the back-and-forth of sharp remarks that always hovered between genuine irritation and poorly disguised amusement. To the sparks that flew when you exchanged words, glances, or simply shared presence. It was a game—dangerous, yes, but also fascinating—that seemed to feed itself, grow by inertia. A constant tug-of-war, a dance of egos that kept everyone watching, expectant, as if witnessing something greater than a simple school rivalry.

They were used to seeing you like that: on the edge of confrontation, as if every conversation were a chess match where neither of you wanted to concede. As if provoking each other were an essential part of your routine. As if neither of you could resist the other’s presence—the temptation to seek them out, just to test them, to get a reaction, to see how far the other’s patience could stretch.

But now… nothing.

Not a word in passing. Not a whispered, mocking comment. Not even a fleeting glance—one of those that lasted barely a second but left a mark. The air between you, once full of tension and fire, now seemed empty. Cold. As if something had been extinguished without warning.

It was as if, without speaking, without needing to make it explicit, you had reached a silent agreement: to disappear from each other’s lives. To erase one another from your orbit. To pretend that the need to clash, to seek each other out with eyes or words, had never existed.

Or maybe… you were just avoiding the inevitable.

Because if one looked closely—and some did, though they would never admit it aloud—they would start to notice certain things. Small details. Tiny gestures that, on their own, might not say much, but together began to form a pattern impossible to ignore.

Like how James, for instance, sometimes lingered a few seconds longer than necessary staring at the entrance of the Great Hall, his expression distant, as if expecting someone to appear amidst the morning crowd of robes and laughter. And when he didn’t see you—when the moment passed and you didn’t arrive—he’d lower his gaze with a swiftness that almost looked like disappointment. Almost.

There was also the fact that he no longer made snide remarks whenever someone mentioned the Hufflepuff team aloud, nor did he try to throw in a veiled jab disguised as a joke. He would just change the subject or go quiet, as if the words were stuck somewhere in his throat.

And you weren’t completely absent from it either. Because sometimes, when you were flying over the Quidditch pitch during team practice, your eyes would wander toward the empty stands. Not really looking for anyone in particular—or so it seemed—but there was always a pause, a slight slowing of your flight, as if you were hoping to find a familiar figure, a face in the crowd... and when you didn’t, you simply sped up again, pretending nothing had happened.

And there was more.

In the few classes you shared, you would always sit on the opposite side of the room if he was already there. Not as a conscious decision to avoid him, but more like an automatic reflex, one you’d learned the hard way.

Sometimes James would slightly turn in the corridors when he heard your voice. A subtle movement, barely noticeable—but it was there.

There was also that moment in the library when you both happened to be there, and neither of you would lift your eyes, but both knew the other was present. That the other had arrived. That the other was sitting just a few tables away—or walking past. And then your whole body would suddenly become hyper-aware: of how loud you were turning the pages, of every movement, every breath.

Sirius was the first to break the heavy silence in the Gryffindor common room. The sound of his History of Magic book slamming onto the table echoed through the space. “When was the last time he threw daggers at the Hufflepuff girl?” he asked, amusement in his voice, though a flicker of unease showed in his eyes.

Remus, buried in a scroll full of Potions notes, looked up and let out a soft sigh. Peter, sitting next to him, tried to hide a grin, but a small chuckle escaped him. “Exactly six days ago,” Remus replied calmly, as if he had the date stored in memory, showing no discomfort at the question.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You’re counting the days?” he teased, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity. He leaned forward, resting his head on his arm atop the table.

“No. But James has been unbearably quiet every time she enters the Great Hall—or whenever she’s nearby. And that, believe me, is more unsettling than when they fight,” Remus added, his voice calm but his eyes thoughtful. His tone was so serious that Sirius didn’t know what to say for a moment.

James, who was a few feet away, pretending to read an article on Quidditch strategies, said nothing. But the subtle shift in his posture, the way he turned the page without even looking at it, made it clear he wasn’t paying attention to a single word. The book stayed open, but his mind was far away.

Sirius glanced at James for a second, unable to resist a mischievous smile. “Wow. What happened to the James Potter who used to dive into fights as easily as he throws a Bludger?” he remarked, throwing a smirk at Remus. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. The atmosphere in the room had felt more tense ever since that Hufflepuff girl crossed paths with his best friend.

Peter, who had been chewing on his quill, stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s worse,” he muttered thoughtfully. “At least before it was entertaining. Now... it feels like they genuinely hate each other.”

Remus frowned, as if weighing every word he’d just heard. “They don’t hate each other,” he said, in a quiet, slightly somber tone. “If they did, it would be easier. The fights, the grudges... everything would be clear. But that’s not what’s happening.”

Sirius looked at him intently, his grin fading. The atmosphere had grown far heavier than he’d anticipated. James was still in his own world, reading without reading, detached from the conversation—but something in him had shifted ever since that argument on the Astronomy Tower.

“What makes you so sure they don’t hate each other?” Sirius asked, his tone less playful now. He really didn’t get it. To him, relationships were simple: either there was friendship, or there was conflict. But this... this didn’t fit.

Remus sighed, glancing at James for a second before returning his gaze to Sirius. “Because James wouldn’t be this quiet if he actually hated her. If he did, there’d be some kind of reaction—something tangible. But he’s just... empty. Like he doesn’t know how to deal with what he’s feeling. And to me, that’s a lot more complicated than any screaming match. The lack of answers is what makes it all so confusing.”

The common room, usually buzzing with noise, felt quieter than usual. Even the other students scattered around the tables seemed unusually subdued, as if the conversation among the four Gryffindors was the only one that mattered.

Peter looked at Remus, trying to grasp the weight of what he’d just said. “So... what do we do with that?” he asked, voice a bit shaky, clearly unsure of what that kind of unresolved tension even meant. For Peter, problems were solved with a few jokes and a good distraction. But this felt deeper. Way deeper.

“Nothing,” Remus replied, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “There’s nothing we can do. All we can do is wait and watch how James deals with it.”

Sirius finally found something to say, but his tone was different from usual. “I guess... it’ll be interesting to see how this ends,” he said, the usual spark gone from his eyes. “Though honestly, this is starting to scare me a little.”

Remus nodded slowly; his thoughtful gaze fixed on James. What had started as a small friction now felt like a silent war. And deep down, they all knew someone would have to give in. But no one knew who it would be.

James slowly turned the page of whatever he was pretending to read, but his eyes never really landed on the words. Everyone knew the answers were inside him, but he didn’t seem willing to share them.

Meanwhile, in the Hufflepuff common room, the conversation between Nora, Owen, and you were taking an unexpected turn. Nora, as always, couldn’t stay quiet when something didn’t make sense to her—and this time was no exception.

“Are you seriously telling me you’re never going to say anything? Ever again?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief as she chewed a piece of Honeydukes chocolate.

You glanced briefly at the parchment you were writing on, pretending you hadn’t heard her, but you knew it was useless. Nora wasn’t going to drop it—especially not when she saw your face so serious, so distant. Of all moments, this one was the most tense.

“Say what?” you replied, not lifting your gaze, like the words were just noise—just another distraction.

Nora let the chocolate drop into her hand and crossed her arms, watching you with a mix of frustration and concern. “I don’t know. ‘Potter, you’re unbearable’? ‘Stop hogging the pitch when it’s not your turn’? ‘I’d mess up your face if it wasn’t already so wrecked’? Something like that. Anything. For Merlin’s sake, this has gone on too long!”

The mention of James made a knot tighten in your throat, and without meaning to, you let out a dry, humorless laugh. It was all you could manage—laughing so you wouldn’t break. It wasn’t that you didn’t care. You’d just learned to deal with it in your own way—in silence, alone.

“It’s not worth it,” you repeated, like a mantra. The words came out mechanically, as if you’d said them so many times they’d lost their meaning. But deep down, you knew they weren’t entirely true. You knew it wasn’t that easy to let go of what had happened between you and James. That tension now filled every space between you two, and ignoring it wasn’t going to make it disappear.

Owen, who had been sitting quietly by the window, staring outside, finally spoke. His tone was gentler, but no less concerned. “Do you really think that’s going to make it go away?” he asked, not judging—just trying to understand. He knew you didn’t like talking about it, but he also knew the words were there, hovering, waiting.

You sighed and looked at your friends, finally letting go of a bit of the pressure that had been weighing you down. You knew Nora wouldn’t let it drop, and Owen was also quietly waiting for a more honest answer. Even though they both tried to show you support, the truth was that no one could fully understand what was going on in your head.

“No. It’s not going to go away,” you said softly, almost in a whisper, while staring at the quill in your hands. The parchment no longer seemed important—just a background to thoughts you couldn’t focus on. All your mind circled back to was James.

Nora frowned; concern etched on her face. “Then what are you going to do? Because you can’t keep going like this. We’re all noticing it—and so is he.” Her voice was blunt, no sugarcoating. That was sometimes the best way she helped you: with honest. She wasn’t afraid to say what others wouldn’t.

You stopped writing, finally. You couldn’t avoid it anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending nothing was wrong. But what you felt now was more complicated than a simple fight or cold indifference.

“I don’t know,” you admitted at last, looking at Nora, then at Owen. The vulnerability in your voice was something you rarely let show, and you knew your friends felt it, even if they didn’t say anything. You were caught between what you wanted to do and what you felt you should do. Silence settled between the three of you like a heavy blanket, only broken by the soft crunch of Nora’s chocolate.

Owen looked at you with understanding but said nothing. He knew sometimes words weren’t enough for something this tangled. Meanwhile, Nora let herself fall back onto the sofa with a sigh.

“Just... don’t leave everything in limbo,” she said at last. The suggestion was simple but carried a lot of weight.

The sound of the conversation faded as the Hufflepuff common room returned to its usual calm, but in your mind, everything still revolved around the same thing.

A Tuesday afternoon. The Quidditch pitch almost empty. The Gryffindor team had just finished their practice, and the Marauders were heading back to the castle, James and Sirius with their brooms slung over their shoulders, boots caked in mud. The sky was starting to darken, stained with violet clouds, and the air carried that unmistakable smell of damp autumn.

James walked in silence, eyes on the ground, spinning his wand between his fingers absently. Not a joke, not a sarcastic remark about how the Ravenclaw’s new Seeker was so bad.

“So what, we’re not having any more fun messing with the Hufflepuff captain?” Sirius blurted, his usual smirk in place, one eyebrow raised.

Remus shot him a warning look, but it was too late.

James paused for a second. Just a second. He didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched—just slightly, just enough for all three of them to notice. Then he kept walking, as if he hadn’t heard.

“It was a joke, mate. Relax,” Sirius added, raising his hands. “Though, I’ll admit, the fights with her were the highlight of every Tuesday. A classic. Like Thursday pudding.”

“There’s nothing to fight about,” James muttered without turning around.

“Nothing?” asked Remus, walking beside him, his voice low. He was more perceptive than the other two combined, and he knew James well enough to recognize when something was off. “When was the last time you two exchanged sharp insults?”

“Couple of days ago,” Peter chimed in from behind, in a neutral tone like he was reporting the weather.

“Thanks, Pettigrew, we didn’t need the exact track,” James grumbled without stopping.

There was a pause, as if the three of them were mentally calculating how far they could push before James snapped.

“So what happened?” Sirius asked, cocking his head with genuine curiosity now. “Did she finally bore you? Beat you in a fight and crushed your ego? Or are you just swallowing your feelings like an idiot?”

James came to an abrupt stop. The wind tousled his hair, and for a moment, the pitch fell completely silent. “I’m not bottling anything up,” he said quietly, but firmly.

“Of course you are, mate,” said Remus, with that rare kind of patience he only used when he truly cared. “You’re bottling everything up. And you’re not even pretending you’re not anymore.”

James pressed his lips together. He closed his eyes for a second, as if he needed to gather strength just to speak. “It’s not worth dragging this on,” he said at last, and there was a strange bitterness in his voice—something that didn’t usually belong there. “That’s it. It’s over. It was fun while it lasted, but... no more.”

“You really believe that?” Sirius asked, more serious now.

James looked at him, and for a moment, there was nothing but exhaustion in his eyes. Not physical tiredness—something heavier. Emotional fatigue, like he’d been fighting a battle he didn’t even remember starting.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “All I know is that talking to her is... complicated. Everything with her is complicated. And if I don’t talk, if I don’t look at her, if I don’t say anything... then at least I’m not making things worse.”

“Or maybe you’re just avoiding the inevitable,” Remus murmured.

James didn’t answer. He simply started walking again, a little faster this time.

Peter exchanged a glance with Sirius, who shrugged. Then they picked up their pace to catch up.

“What if it’s not the trouble that bothers you?” Sirius said quietly, just beside him. “What if it’s that you don’t know what to do with how she makes you feel?”

James stopped again. This time, he said nothing. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t confirm it. He just looked down at the ground, at the dry leaves crunching beneath his boots, and stood there for a moment, like the answer might be hidden in the mud or in the wind beginning to pick up.

Then, without another word, he murmured, “Let’s head back to the castle.”

And the three followed him, saying nothing more—because they knew that in that silence, there was more truth than in any half-spoken confession.

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James was standing in the middle of a fifth-floor corridor, like so many times before, with his usual three companions. They were leaning against the stone wall, taking up far more space than necessary, talking far too loudly for a time between classes. Sirius was gesturing wildly as he recounted some absurd story that had Peter laughing uncontrollably, while Remus tried—without much conviction—to get them to lower their voices. The laughter of the four echoed through the corridor like a familiar soundtrack, a regular occurrence for anyone passing by. It was the same old scene—messy, loud, as if the whole world revolved around them.

And then, without warning, you turned the corner.

You were walking fast, determined, clutching your books tightly to your chest. Your robes were a bit disheveled, and your face held a look of focused determination, as if your mind was already in the classroom ahead. You weren’t expecting to run into a group blocking the hallway. And you certainly weren’t expecting him to be standing right there.

The collision was inevitable. Literally.

You both staggered a step back from the impact. One of your books slipped from your grasp and hit the stone floor with a sharp thud that seemed unnaturally loud amidst the suddenly fading laughter. The Marauders’ chatter died off as if someone had hit a switch. For a split second, time froze.

You looked at him first, your eyes finding his like it was instinct. There was something defiant in your gaze—something that had been simmering for weeks and now, finally, found a crack to slip through.

“You do know corridors are for walking, not chatting, don’t you, Potter?”

You didn’t say it with anger. It came out in that perfect blend of annoyance and dry sarcasm you used to reserve just for him. Like the weeks of silence vanished in that instant, bringing everything back to familiar, if uncomfortable, territory.

James didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even blink. “And you do know you’re supposed to look where you’re going.”

The tension that followed was almost tangible. No one said a word. Sirius froze mid-laugh, mouth still open. Peter’s eyes went wide, like he was witnessing the return of an anticipated storm. Even Remus, usually so composed, frowned slightly—watching.

“Throwing yourself at me to get my attention? You could’ve chosen something less dramatic,” James added, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Peter laughed like it was the best joke he’d heard all week. Sirius let out a theatrical “Oof!” clearly delighted. Remus let his head fall back against the wall, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Not again…”

You didn’t even blink. “And you always block hallways like they’re an extension of your common room” you said, crouching down calmly to retrieve your books, never breaking eye contact. Your voice was steady, but sharp as a freshly-honed blade.

James opened his mouth, like he was considering a clever comeback, but no words came. For once, he hadn’t expected that answer. Sirius watched with a mocking glint in his eye, but also curiosity. Peter rocked on his heels, unsure whether to laugh again or stay quiet. Remus remained silent, though now he was watching you closely—measuring, calculating.

“You know,” you continued, rising to your feet, gripping your books tightly to your chest, “not all of us have time to loiter around making noise and taking up space like the rest of the school doesn’t exist. Some of us have more important things to do.”

The tension became almost unbearable. James’s grin faltered slightly, and while he still looked composed, something in his stance shifted. A slight tightening of his jaw, a flash of something else in his eyes—something rarely seen.

“And yet, here you are,” he replied, voice lower. “Right in the middle of our noise.”

“Lucky you, Potter,” you shot back just as quietly, your voice intimate but unmistakably clear. “You bump into someone and already have a snappy comeback prepared.”

James tilted his head just slightly, with that familiar smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes—but the spark behind it was unmistakable.

“Lucky you,” he murmured back. “Found yourself an excuse to talk to me.”

It was just a moment. But it was enough.

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t respond immediately. Part of you wanted to keep going—to throw another sharp line, to cut through that arrogant armor he wore like an invisibility cloak. But another part—smaller, more annoying—wondered if that was exactly what he wanted.

So instead, you simply stepped to the side, still looking him in the eye. “Lucky for me, I don’t plan on staying.”

And without waiting for a response, you kept walking down the corridor, forcing them to move out of the way as you passed. The silence that lingered behind you stretched a little longer than usual.

That brief encounter, that minimal exchange, held more weight than any of the shouting matches from weeks before. It was a crack in the wall you had both so carefully built. Not a truce. Not a reconciliation. But a break in the silence.

James watched you until you disappeared at the end of the corridor. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stood there with an unreadable expression—though Remus didn’t miss it.

As soon as you turned the corner and vanished into the crowd of students passing through the halls, the group remained quiet for a few seconds. It wasn’t awkward silence—but it was heavy, expectant.

Sirius was the first to speak, using that tone he always saved for when something amused him far more than it should.

“Well, well, well…” he said with theatrical slowness, folding his arms. “Are we back in the game, Prongs?”

James didn’t answer right away. He kept staring at the spot where you had just disappeared, as if the corridor still held some echo of your voice. There was no smile on his face, none of that cocky expression he usually wore when he came out on top of a verbal exchange. What he had now was something more restrained, more serious. As if, deep down, he was regretting something he’d said—or maybe something he hadn’t.

Remus watched him with the quiet patience that was so typical of him. He didn’t mock, didn’t exaggerate. He simply observed, like someone reading between the lines of a scroll that had been handled too many times.

“So the vow of silence lasted sixteen days?” he asked—not mockingly, more like stating a fact.

“There was no vow of silence,” James replied curtly, still not looking away from where she’d vanished. “And this was… nothing. A collision. Literally.”

Peter, who had remained quiet until that point, let out a sound somewhere between a nervous laugh and genuine concern. He glanced sideways, as if checking whether someone else might’ve overheard the exchange.

“Do you think she’s mad?” he asked softly, like saying it too loud might summon the answer.

“Her?” Sirius replied, a wide grin now spreading across his face. “If that was anger, I call it progress. She used to act like he didn’t even exist. Now at least she ran over him.”

He paused, clearly enjoying his own phrasing.

“Metaphorically. And physically.”

Remus let out a long sigh and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

“It was strange,” he said at last. “Not enough for them to start fighting again, but just enough to know this whole ignoring-each-other thing… it’s not going to last much longer. Whatever that between them is, it’s unresolved.”

James finally turned on his heel to face them. His dark eyes glinted with something that wasn’t anger but wasn’t clarity either.

“There’s nothing between us,” he said sharply, like he needed to say it more to himself than to the others.

Silence fell again among the Marauders, but this time it was heavy with meaning. Sirius just smirked, that half-smile he always wore when he knew he was right and didn’t need to prove it anymore. He clapped his best friend on the shoulder and lowered his voice.

“Of course not. Absolutely nothing. That’s why you look like you just swallowed a Bludger every time you see her.”

James didn’t respond. He just looked down and shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes, as if trying to contain something threatening to rise to the surface. He tried to pick up the conversation they’d been having before the collision, but the thread was lost. And they all knew it: something had changed.

You were walking fast through the corridors, as if moving quickly could somehow put distance between you and what had just happened. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, your brow furrowed, your thoughts a hopeless tangle. With each step, the scrolls you’d scooped up after the collision trembled in your hand, like they still remembered the impact.

Charms class was on the third floor, but in that moment, it could’ve been on Mars—you would’ve kept walking just as distracted. Your mind kept replaying what had just occurred.

You’d spent weeks building a wall of indifference. You’d convinced yourself it was better not to speak, not to look at him, not to give him any space in your day. That if you ignored him consistently enough, he’d stop mattering. But it had only taken a second—an accident, a brush of contact, one miscalculated corner—for all that self-control to collapse like a house of cards.

"Throwing yourself at me to get my attention? You could’ve picked something less dramatic."

You repeated it in your head, hearing his stupid voice, with that damned confidence that never wavered. The line was trivial, almost a joke. But the way he said it… wasn’t. There was something else. Something you weren’t sure if it bothered you or confused you.

You entered the classroom with firm steps, though the tremble in your fingers hadn’t entirely gone away. You sat in your usual seat, opened your Charms book, and pretended to pay attention—even though you knew you hadn’t heard a single word the professor had said in the first few minutes.

Part of you was frustrated that you’d spoken to him at all. Another part—though you didn’t want to admit it—felt alive. As if that brief exchange had reignited something you thought long buried.

You didn’t know what it was. But you knew one thing for sure:

You weren’t going to be able to ignore it much longer.

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That Saturday, your friends—and a couple of your Quidditch teammates—had dragged you to the stands of the stadium, forcing you to watch the third match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. You’d tried to resist, of course. You had a pile of homework waiting, a training session to plan, and, honestly, zero desire to spend the morning watching James Potter strut around on his broom in front of half the school.

But Owen had insisted, using logic you couldn’t entirely refute: “We have to study the Ravenclaws,” he said with a serious tone, as if it were a matter of life and death. “They’re slippery, unpredictable… no one really knows how they play.”

And he wasn’t wrong. The ravens were rarely seen training. Their schedules were so erratic that more than one person had questioned whether they trained at all. They entered the pitch before dawn and left just before classes started, like ghosts. There was no chance of spying on them—not even with the help of an invisibility cloak. So there you were. Against your will, seated in one of the middle rows, a yellow-and-black scarf knotted around your neck, arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed as you waited for the match to begin. The air was cold and smelled of damp grass, polished broomsticks, and collective excitement. Around you, students from every house filled the stands with enthusiasm.

You crossed your arms tighter, uncomfortable, and let out a sigh that didn’t go unnoticed by Owen, who was beside you eating an apple with a smug look on his face.

“Oh, come on, captain,” he said with a teasing grin. “A bit of team spirit. This is field intel, not torture.”

“It’s Saturday morning. It’s freezing. I haven’t had breakfast. And I’ve been forced to sit next to a couple who hasn’t stopped kissing since we got here,” you replied, turning your head with a resigned expression toward the pair beside you.

“But you always say Quidditch is won with strategy. And what better strategy than observing your enemies?” Nora chimed in from the other side, bundled up to her nose in her scarf, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Observing the enemy, yes. Freezing to watch Gryffindor was not part of the plan.”

And, as if the universe had been listening just to mess with you, that was precisely the moment the teams took to the field.

The roar was immediate. A mix of cheers, shouts, and applause filled the stadium as the scarlet and blue robes soared over the pitch in formation. The sound of broomsticks slicing through the air made you look up almost by reflex.

And there he was.

James Potter led the Gryffindor formation with that same charming arrogance that followed him through the corridors. It was obvious the pitch was his natural element. He didn’t just fly—he owned the sky like it belonged to him. He gave commands with confident gestures, and his teammates responded with perfect precision. The game hadn’t even started, and it already looked like he had it all under control.

The crowd's excitement grew by the minute, and all you could think about was how many more useful things you could be doing right now.

Or at least, that’s what you forced yourself to think… because, even if you wouldn’t admit it—not even under Veritaserum—part of you knew your discomfort wasn’t just about the weather or your to-do list.

The real reason was at the center of the pitch, adjusting his gloves with arrogant ease and that carefree smile that seemed permanently etched onto his face since birth. Sitting on his broom like it was a natural extension of his body, chatting animatedly with his teammates, laughing with Sirius Black, bumping fists with another chaser. He looked perfectly at home.

And you couldn’t help the way something—annoying, uncontrollable, unnecessary—stirred inside you when you saw him.

“Careful not to stare too long. Might strain your neck,” Owen muttered beside you, still watching the pitch.

You shot him a sharp look, but he only grinned, clearly entertained, as he settled further into his seat.

“I’m watching the Ravenclaws,” you said stiffly. “As you should be doing.”

“Sure, sure,” Nora nodded from your other side. “And I swallowed a Snitch this morning.”

You rolled your eyes. The sound of Gryffindor’s drums started to rumble, announcing the teams’ final formation. You tightened your scarf, took a deep breath, and forced yourself to focus.

You had a mission.

Study the Ravenclaws.

Only the Ravenclaws.

The whistle blew—sharp and clear, slicing through the cold air like a dagger. The match exploded into motion: Bludgers shot off, the Quaffle was tossed into the sky, and the players scattered like a controlled storm, each with a clear purpose.

Your eyes didn’t take long to find him. Not the Quaffle, not the Beaters, not even the fastest Chasers on either side. Your attention was focused on the highest point of the sky, where James Potter had already risen above the chaos, scanning every inch of the field.

Seekers played a different game. While the rest fought for points, they hunted the final prize. And he did it with a level of focus that stood in stark contrast to his usual attitude on the ground. No jokes. No smug smiles. Just a sharp gaze and precise movements, almost feline, like he could feel the Snitch in his bones.

“You see that?” Nora whispered beside you, leaning slightly forward to keep him in view. “He hasn’t moved from that quadrant in over a minute.”

You nodded, narrowing your eyes. “He’s casting a net. Closing in on zones to narrow the search.”

“Like you,” Owen added, crossing his arms with one eyebrow raised.

You didn’t answer. But yes, in a way, it surprised you. James moved with calculation. He flew in wide circles, crossed the field diagonally, and paused briefly at strategic points. And when one of the Ravenclaw Beaters sent a Bludger his way, he didn’t just dodge it easily—he used the momentum to gain height and shift his angle, not wasting a single second.

For several minutes, the match turned into a chaotic and vibrant choreography, but you weren’t seeing it all anymore. You were only watching him.

Until, suddenly, he stopped mid-air.

The Snitch.

You saw it too: a golden flicker hovering a few meters above the west hoop. Almost no one else noticed. But he did. He turned his broom sharply, body nearly parallel to the handle, and dove. The speed of his descent made the crowd erupt in cheers. The Ravenclaw Seeker reacted a second too late—and that second was all James needed.

He caught it with a flawless maneuver, closing his fist around the Snitch as if it had always been part of the plan.

Owen stared, mouth agape. “Merlin! Even I wouldn’t have reacted that fast.”

“That's because you usually react after the matches even start,” Nora teased, elbowing him.

But you said nothing. You kept watching James as he descended slowly, the Snitch still in his hand and a satisfied smile painted on his face.

The stadium exploded with deafening cheers, but you couldn’t look away. Something about the way he’d caught the Snitch left you speechless. He’d been so precise, so exact, that you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of admiration and frustration.

The rest of the Gryffindor players gathered around him, applauding and celebrating, but James barely paused. He’d caught the Snitch as effortlessly as someone might catch a falling feather.

That’s when you realized your breathing had quickened. It wasn’t just the game that kept you glued to the stands.

It was him.

And you couldn’t deny that the uncomfortable feeling inside you was becoming harder to ignore.

You were walking down the stadium steps, heading back to the castle, with Nora and Owen chatting about their weekend plans. Nora suggested a trip to Hogsmeade that afternoon, while Owen groaned about all the homework he had and how it killed his mood for any outing. Between laughs and jokes about whether magic could do his assignments for him, you tried to relax, to forget for a moment about the match and everything that had happened on the field.

The crowd was starting to disperse, the buzz slowly fading, and the crisp afternoon air hit your face as you reached the bottom of the stairs. But just as you were about to take the next step into the courtyard, a familiar voice stopped you cold.

“Did you enjoy the show?” The voice was soft, but laced with challenge, and it made you freeze. It was him.

James Potter walked toward you, his robes billowing behind him and the golden Snitch still in his hand, as if there were nothing more important in that moment than making sure you knew he’d won. The smirk on his face was as arrogant as ever, but there was something else—an unmistakable gleam in his eyes that suggested that, for some reason, he wanted your attention.

Owen stopped when he saw the two of you falling behind, and Nora gave you a knowing look before walking a few steps ahead.

You didn’t look at James right away, focusing instead on the path ahead, but you knew you couldn’t ignore him for long. Finally, you turned to him with an expression that teetered somewhere between indifference and defiance—though he, of all people, likely knew that you hadn’t yet managed to erase the image of him catching the Snitch with near-perfect precision.

“The show?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow, fully aware of what he wanted to hear. The sarcasm was inevitable. “Sure. Pretty impressive. I didn’t think you could catch anything other than your own ego.”

James’s smile widened, but this time there was something more genuine in his eyes, like he was actually enjoying the challenge.

“Hey, not every day a bloke pulls off his very own ‘great feat.’ I thought you’d appreciate it,” he said, spinning the Snitch between his fingers like it meant nothing at all.

He was clearly teasing, but there was something in his posture—a subtle provocation. Like he was testing you. Like it was a game.

“Appreciate it?” you repeated with a small smirk. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of worship Seekers. Or oversized egos.”

James stepped a little closer, that smug smile still playing on his lips, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—like he enjoyed this back-and-forth, this push and pull only the two of you seemed to know how to play.

“I wasn’t expecting applause,” he said. “But if you ever decide to give me a chance to show you what else I can do…” He shrugged, almost like he was joking, though there was an edge of sincerity beneath it. “Might be worth considering.”

You looked at him for a moment, feeling the tension rise between you again, unsure what to do with it. It was a provocation, no doubt—but there was something in his tone, in the way he stood there, that made you wonder if he meant something more.

“In your dreams, Potter,” you replied, not breaking eye contact, refusing to be pulled into his game—even if a small spark of curiosity had already been lit.

Apparently satisfied with your answer, James grinned again—that same maddening, challenging grin.

“See you around, Captain,” he said as he turned to leave, walking toward the locker rooms with that infuriating ease of his, still toying with the Snitch like he hadn’t just won a critical match. Like the win didn’t weigh on him at all.

You stood there for a few seconds, watching him disappear into the crowd of students. Something inside you—a small flicker you couldn’t name, irritation or curiosity—was still burning. Because James Potter wasn’t just a boy who sought attention. He was a boy who knew how to get it. And now, for some reason you didn’t want to examine too closely, he had yours.

“You okay?” Nora asked, reappearing at your side again—though she’d clearly been watching from closer than you realized.

“Yeah. Perfectly fine,” you replied, not entirely convincing, quickly regaining your composure as you walked with her and Owen, who had also lingered nearby, watching like a silent spectator to a play that was just beginning.

“Did he say something interesting?” Nora pressed, using that tone she always used when pretending to sound innocent—and failing miserably.

“Nothing worth to repeat,” you replied, though the echo of his words still bounced around your mind.

“You looked at him like it was,” Owen said with a shrug.

You shot him a glare, and he just raised his hands in surrender—though he couldn’t hide the amused smile tugging at his lips.

“What you saw was sheer amazement at the height of human arrogance. Rarely do you get to witness something so... refined.” You said it with as much seriousness as you could muster.

Nora snorted. Owen let out a loud laugh.

“Sure, sure. Refined. Like Ravenclaw’s plays, right?”

You didn’t answer. Because the truth was, yes. You were studying him. Maybe not with strategic intentions. Maybe not for training purposes. But you were watching him. Noticing how he moved on the field, how he spoke, how he looked your way even when it seemed like he wasn’t.

And that… wasn’t part of the plan.

You quickened your pace, letting the castle’s familiar buzz wrap around you. It was still early. Hogsmeade awaited. The weekend was just beginning.

Part three.

Tags (I hope you enjoy this part<3): @whoismonse @collectionof-cells

[yanderecrazysie]

Dude, if you do crossovers. Imagine that one headcanon scenario with Kageyama where reader kept dating boys that look like him and after scaring off her last boyfriend, a year later she started dating Haru.

kuudere (yandere) vs tsundere (yandere)

Title: Rival

Pairings: Kageyama Tobio x Reader, Nanase Haruka x Reader

WARNINGS: yandere themes

Rival

/noun/

one of two or more striving to reach or obtain something that only one can possess

Kageyama thought he had taken care of your problem.

You had a certain habit of picking the same sort of guys- tall, dark-haired, handsome, and rarely showing emotion. Kageyama fit all of that to a T, yet you had the nerve to turn him down.

It had all come to a head when your latest boyfriend noticed Kageyama following you both home. He and Kageyama got into a fist fight- one that your boyfriend most definitely did not win.

You had given up on dating completely for about a year now.

So what were you doing with him? That emotionally-constipated swimmer boy?

Nanase Haruka was a perfect example of your type. He swam through life with an aloof, detached expression. Where Kageyama was the star setter of the volleyball team, Haru was the star freestyle swimmer on the swim team.

Haru’s calm, collected personality had drawn you in, maybe because he was such a stark contrast to Kageyama’s fiery possessiveness. Where Kageyama was fire, Haru was water and, most unfortunately, water almost always won against fire.

Kageyama had watched the two of you meet at the university pool. At first, he had been caught up in admiring your swimsuit-clad form. Then, he realized that you were talking with someone who fit your type a little too well.

Kageyama knew everything about you, so he was not surprised when you announced to the world that you were dating Haru, with a social media post of you slinging your arms around his neck. He was angry, yes- furious even, but not surprised.

He began to see Haru turning possessive, not allowing you to speak to others without him next to you. He watched as you lost friends, but put it all aside because your rose-tinted goggles favored the swimmer.

“You think you’re better for her?” Kageyama glared at Haru, the two men alone in the locker room together. Haru used his towel to wipe the pool water from his face uninterestedly, and Kageyama’s hands balled into fists.

“She’s happier with me,” Haru said with an infuriating smile, “And she should be with who she’s happiest with.”

“That should be me,” Kageyama snarled, stepping closer and cracking his knuckles, ready for a fight.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why it isn’t,” Haru said coolly.

His words hit harder than any physical blow could and Kageyama’s heart twisted with envy. He watched as Haru walked out of the locker room, a smug grin on his face, with a mixture of rage and fear.

Fear, because deep down, he knew Haru was right.

—---------------------

Was Haru really any better than Kageyama was? You were beginning to wonder if that was really the case.

The dark-haired swimmer had an arm thrown around your shoulders- yet another sign of his possessive behavior. He remained silent as his friends chatted around the lunch table, but the unsaid threat was there.

Don’t say a word.

Thankfully, his friends seemed to understand Haru’s behavior because never once did they direct any of their conversation to you. Sadly, you gazed across the cafeteria at your old group of friends.

Too bad Haru would never let you talk to them again.

Haru turned to you and whispered into your ear, “Why not drop out and move in with me?”

You stood up suddenly, halfway falling off the bench. Nononono. No way in hell were you going to do that.

The way Haru glared at your reaction was the breaking point. You were not going to let you manipulate you into dropping out of college. And you were not going to let him take away your freedoms any longer.

“We’re done,” you said, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Haru’s eyes widened, “You don’t have to move in.”

“It’s not just that it’s- you’re too possessive. I want to have friends, Haruka.”

Haru gritted his teeth, “Then you can have a friend or two-”

“No! Not just a ‘friend or two’. I’m sick of you controlling me! We. Are. Over,” you stormed away, furious with him and with yourself for letting him control you for so long.

You approached your friends’ table and, after explaining to them that you and Haru were no longer an item, they welcomed you with open arms. You had forgotten what it was like to have friends and were completely blown away by how much fun you were having talking to them again.

At his friends’ table, Haru was seething.

—--------------------------------------

“What happened to ‘she should be with whoever makes her happiest’?” Kageyama mocked.

Haru gritted his teeth, “If you don’t want to then-”

“Who said I didn’t want to?” Kageyama snapped.

The two men looked across the park, where you sat under the shade of an oak tree, laughing alongside a tall, dark-haired man- one that was neither Haru nor Kageyama.

“It’s a deal then?” Haru asked.

“Yes,” Kageyama replied, “We kill him tonight.”

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

Hey guys! Didn't ever get around to making a post for The Rookie 7x14, so here's a little one!

Only a tiny bit of Wesley <33 💔. But he ate up those few seconds he had 🥰 lol. I love him <3.

Angela of course did great <3 loved her gossip with Tim, how she's not one of the guys xD and her trying to bribe Wesley lol 💀 insane, love her <3. And of course she was great at her job :).

It took me several days to watch this episode so I'm kinda struggling to remember everything lol, but the whole hired assassin thing o.o. Certainly interesting! And while Tim was recruiting Miles xD or trying to, anyway. Also YAYY Hi Lauraaa :DD 🥳🥳!! It's been too long :)). Also the short hair is eating!! Anyway, it was interesting, and I'm glad the FBI's on it now!

Even if no one else did, I'm glad everyone (of the gang) showed up to Nyla and James's meeting :'). Even if none of them could stay xd. And I love how Miles went back through the training videos and volunteered to do them! The originals were iconic lol, but definitely inaccurate lol. Still, that guy was certainly determined, so I'm glad Miles is too :). And starring Tim LOL, iconic xD. Plus as a trade for the football was great lol. Also, I'm assuming the coach was a football guy, but at first I thought he was the guy from the training videos xD.

Glad everything worked out with Malvado :O *phew face idk*. It certainly was way suspicious though and you guys should be careful xD. Also the prime product placement this episode was 💀 could've been worse though xD. Looking at you Warehouse 13- lol. Anyway, so sorry Bailey 😔, but I'm glad we won :D 🥳🥳. The cops I mean lol (though normally I wouldn't want that, irl or in my other shows xD). Good job everybody :D! And Miles really did do well as a ringer lol! Also, Nolan and Bailey trash talking (or pranking/stealing lol) the entire time was great xD. Gotta agree though, getting me up in the morning to trash talk is crazy 😭 xD. Still, love em :). And how Nolan was still like sending her hearts and stuff and kind of staying out of it all xD lol great.

Gosh, Lucy and Celina's case was so dark :(. And poor both of them, honestly 😭 they went through it for that. It was awesome seeing Lucy support Celina though, and Celina getting to help someone else rescue their sister was <3. It just sucks when she couldn't do anything to save her own 😭 :((. Her staring at them, kind of looking through them, tears in her eyes but a slight blank smile expression on her face - gosh, wonderful 😭😭🥺💔❤️. My poor darling <3. But I'm so glad they're both okay, as well as the sister and her baby :'). I hope those sisters can make up, but I think they'll be okay in the end <3.

Also Chenford once again 👀👀 we'll seeee I suppose. Also I'm glad Angela pointed out that Tim will be very lucky lol - fair point xD.

And Grey was great as always this episode :). Him at the game too lol.

It was super fun to see them all play flag football together 🥰🥰 :D. And I love me a good police vs fire sports event lol. Or any event xD as long as it's not TOOO tense xD. I do wish Lucy was there too, but yk :') and of course I get why she wasn't. But everybody did great this episode :D, at their jobs and at the game 🥰. And I'm so glad everyone's okay right now :)).

And of course. . .

YESSS THE NEXT EPISODE'S A DOC EP!!! WHOOHOOOOO 🥳🥳🥳🥰🤩👏!! Idk what people on IMDB are talking about because the doc eps are so fun lol, and they have so much rewatch potential/ability!! Love watching them.

Worried for Abigail though o.o I think she'll end up alright, just more that she got them to look into it more and was involved than that it's literally about her specifically/only, based on what we saw in the promo. But she'll be the start of it, yk? Anyway! Super excited, I'm a bit nervous o.o and it looks dramatic 😬👀, but it looks so good :D.

See y'all next time!!

[thatlotuscookie]

✧･ﾟ: a/n : since I can't re-respond to requests I guess I'll just have to screenshot this. planned to post it all in one go but tumblr said error being processed? and i lowkey panicked. anyway!

✧ Title: ✧ More Than Just a Wish ✧ ✧ Characters: Oliver, Jenny, Georgette, Winston, Fagin, Dodger, Rita, Francis, Einstein, Tito, Jenny’s parents, and a couple of other supporting characters. Oliver x Jenny ✧ Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Romance ✧ Rating: G ✧ Summary: Oliver’s wish to make Jenny happier leads to an unexpected twist when he transforms into a human. He has to navigate the world of school, relationships, and all the changes that come with being human, all while growing closer to Jenny. ✧ Content/Tag: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Transformation, Interspecies Romance, Emotional Growth, Change vs Tradition, Communication ✧ WC: 1011 words // 5.7k chars

It started with a conversation.

Oliver had always been special, but he never quite knew how special until one night, lying curled at the end of Jenny’s bed, he decided to speak.

Out loud.

“I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me,” he murmured.

And to his surprise, Jenny turned, wide-eyed. “Oliver?” she whispered, sitting up.

“You… heard me?”

From that moment, everything changed.

Georgette shrieked when Oliver next spoke, then barked back herself—in English. It turned out she could talk this whole time. She’d just never tried. The same went for Francis, Tito, Einstein, Rita, and Dodger. Once Oliver broke the ice, they all followed, and it shook New York to its core.

Fagin nearly passed out when Rita addressed him. Winston fumbled his tray when Georgette called him by name. Jenny’s parents took a long vacation from work just to process what this meant for the world. Because soon, it wasn’t just their animals who were talking—everywhere in the city, pets were following suit. Talking. Sharing. Laughing. Being heard.

Oliver, the sweet, brave kitten from the street, had started a movement.

He became a quiet kind of famous, especially among animal-lovers. Jenny stayed close to him through it all, never letting fame change their bond. But behind her soft smiles, she was struggling.

School was hard. Boys were mean. She’d come home red-eyed and quiet. Even though her parents loved her, and Winston treated her like a princess, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong. Not really. Not anywhere.

One day, in a swirl of bright scarves and incense, a fortune teller at the fair took Jenny’s hand and smiled mysteriously. “You will have a husband one day,” she said.

Jenny laughed bitterly. “Sure. No boys even talk to me.”

But that night, while Jenny was being teased again at school and standing up for herself in a hallway standoff with one of the meanest boys in class, Oliver had his own encounter. His ex-girlfriend—a sleek, sharp-tongued kitten—cornered him in an alleyway and spat out cruel remarks.

“You think you’re some big hero now?” she hissed.

He didn’t want to fight, but she lunged at him—and he fought back. And he won.

Later, bruised and breathing heavily, he scrambled back through the window into Jenny’s room. She was already there, holding an ice pack to a red mark on her cheek. They looked at each other—both a little battered, both a little tired—and laughed.

“You got into a fight?” Oliver said.

“So did you?” Jenny asked.

They shared their stories in the dark. And as Jenny drifted to sleep, head on her pillow, Oliver sat by the window and stared at the stars.

“She deserves someone who gets it,” he whispered to the sky. “I wish… I wish Jenny had a friend. A real one. Someone who could be there for her at school, so she wouldn’t feel so alone.”

A star streaked across the sky.

The next morning, Jenny woke up to someone knocking over her lamp.

“Hey! Ow—what is this thing?” a voice grumbled. She sat up sharply.

A boy, about her age, was tangled in her bedsheets. He had familiar amber eyes, wild reddish-orange hair, and an utterly confused expression.

“O… Oliver?” she said slowly.

He stared at her in shock. “I have hands?!”

Cue a full-blown panic. Winston dropped his tray. Jenny’s parents had to sit down with coffee. But when Oliver explained the wish and how he remembered making it… none of them were mad. Not even close. They were amazed. And worried, sure—but supportive.

They decided he’d stay with the family under the story that he was a distant cousin from out of town. And of course… he had to go to school with Jenny.

Learning to be human wasn’t easy. Oliver struggled with math. He didn’t understand cafeteria lines. He hated shoes. But Jenny helped him through everything. And for once, she didn’t feel so alone at school. They walked the halls together, studied side by side, and passed notes in class—half written, half drawn as doodles of cats and dogs.

They grew closer.

Jenny didn’t want to admit she was falling in love, but she was. It was slow. Soft. Comfortable.

Oliver was scared to say anything, because how could he explain it? He wasn’t even really human. But he felt things he couldn’t ignore. One night, as they sat under the stars again, Jenny told him what the fortune teller had said.

“She said I’d have a husband one day,” she said softly. “And I didn’t believe her. But… now…”

Oliver looked at her, eyes wide. “You think she meant… me?”

She nodded. “I hope she did.”

That night, their first kiss was gentle and warm. And just as their lips met, the room filled with a soft light.

An angel descended, radiant and kind, holding out her hands to them both.

“Your love is real,” she said. “So I’ll give you a gift.”

With one wave, she gave them the ability to shift between forms. Cat or human. Boy or kitten. Girl or child.

It wasn’t always easy—Jenny had her own struggles adjusting to life as a kitten when she transformed. But Oliver helped her, just like she helped him. They were a team. Always.

Years passed. They grew older. Their love never faded.

They got married on a beautiful spring day, surrounded by family—both furry and human. Georgette cried (loudly). Dodger gave a toast that somehow involved a street brawl and a song. Tito tried to catch the bouquet. Jenny’s parents hugged her tighter than ever.

Oliver and Jenny had children—bright, wild kids who shifted from meowing to speaking mid-sentence. The media dubbed them interspecies children. But even more than that—Oliver and Jenny themselves became famous, known as the “interspecies children.”

Their story spread across the world—a story about love that crossed boundaries, about courage in the face of change, and about two hearts that simply knew they were meant to be.

Because it all started with a wish… and a voice.

[blowflyfag]

PAUL E. DANGEROUSLY VS. JIM CORNETTE

DRESSED TO KILL!

Jim Cornette and Paul E. Dangerously: rival managers, sworn enemies. Paul E. thought he had the key to embarrassing Cornette at the Great American Bash, but Cornette had a game plan tailored for success

By Bill Apter

[Jim Cornette is eager to scrap with Paul E. Dangerously (above). Dangerously has a momentary advantage over his rival (below).

JIM CORNETTE WORE powder blue, Paul E. Dangerously wore traditional black. They both wore tuxedos into the ring at the July 23 Great American Bash in Baltimore, almost as if they were attending each other’s funeral.

Of course, that was the whole idea. 

“I’m obsessed with your demise,” Dangerously told Cornette. “I’ve been living over the edge of the Empire State Building. I’ve hired Rob Lowe as babysitter! But win, lose, or draw, when I get through with you, you’ll never be able to walk again!”

“I don’t care if you try to break my leg, I’ll hop,” Cornette promised. “I don’t care if you break both my legs, I’ll crawl. You tried to take my place, but if you wanna do that, you’d better put me six feet under. If there’s one time I needed to win a fight it’s tonight!”

The style of victory wasn’t important to either man. Infact, Dangerously didn’t care who won the match, as long as he had the chance to cripple Cornette. “I’m not concerned with winning,” Dangerously declared. “I just want to take Cornette out.” And, Cornette countered, “I never said I was a wrestler, but I can deal with Dangerously on my worst day.”

In reality, their egos were doing most of the talking. Although there are three other managers in the NWA-Paul Ellering, Gary Hart, and Teddy Long-Dangerously and Cornette are the fastest talkers and, thus, have the highest profiles. Theta are also very much alike: You’d be hard-pressed to tell Dangerously apart from the pre-fan favorite Cornette. Even now, the similarities are startling.

Dangerously uses a portable telephone; Cornette uses a tennis racket.

Dangerously once managed a team called The Midnight Express; Cornette manages a team called The Midnight Express

[Dangerously throws powder in Cornette’s face (Above); Paul E. would later get powder in his face. Cornette attempts to roll out of the way of Paul E.’s elbow drop (below).

Dangerously once was a wrestling photographer and did some work for Inside Wrestling; Cornette once was a wrestling photographer and did some work for Inside Wrestling.

Both men fit the profile of the modern-day yuppie. But when Dangerously invaded the NWA along with Randy Rose and Dannis Condrey late in 1988, the fans decided to take sides with Cornette. That’s the biggest difference between the two.

But try telling that to Cornette and Dangerously, both of whom think they’re one of a kind. This war cannot be settled by words outside the ring or by a match inside the ring. It can only be settled when either Cornette or Dangerously leaves the federation. The NWA simply isn’t big enough for both men.

The intensity of their feud, in fact, made this rare manager bs. Manager match possible. In most cases, these matches turn into total bores, simply because most managers either have no ring training or are simply poor wrestlers. Cornette in fact, displayed his lack of ability several years ago at the Great American Bash when he was embarrassed by Baby Doll. 

“That wasn’t going to happen again, and you know why?” Cornette quipped. “Baby Doll scared the hell out of me a lot more than Dangerously ever did-which ain't much.”

Cornette wasn’t even frightened by the fact that Dangerously was aware of his biggest weakness. Prior to the match, Dangerously revealed that he knew of a knee injury Cornette suffered at Starrcade ‘86. “He’s done his homework, he’s right,” Cornette admitted. “I tore my anterior cruciate ligament, I was hospitalized, and I still wear a brace to the ring.”

Seconds after the opening bell. Dangerously threw powder in Cornette’s face, then began working on both of his archrival’s knees. He ripped off Cornette’s jacket, then pulled off his cummerbund away and used it to strangle Dangerously.

But Paul E. regained control and slapped Cornette to the mat. After missing badly with a flying elbow smash, he rebounded with a series of punches. Cornette psyched himself up sufficiently to floor Dangerously and rip  off his shirt, but then Paul E. dipped into his pocket for some more powder. Cornette didn't seem to know what was coming. The end was near. 

Cornette, as it turned out, was aware of Dangerously's scheme. As Paul E. strutted toward him, Cornette kicked the powder into his face. Seconds later, Dangerously hightailed it back to the dressing room, wearing only his blue Fruit of the Looms and a pair of black shoes. As the standing-room-only Baltimore Arena crowd cheered and laughed loudly, Cornette smashed Dangerously’s telephone to the canvas and held his arms in victory. 

“That was as sweet as anything that’s ever happened to me,” Cornette said afterward. “That was as good as ‘Sweet’ Stan and ‘Beautiful’ Bobby winning the World tag team championship. That was better than when my Mama sold AT&T one day before the crash. I did it for myself and Mama, but I also did it for the fans out there that have supported me for so long. Dangerously, you’ve been exposed!”

In more ways than one. Because when a match based on style came down to substance, Cornette wasn’t only dressed to kill. He was ready to complete the task, too. How can Paul E. show his face now?

[accio-sriracha]

a marylily fic please? <3

YAY ONE I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN BEFORE!

Thank you so much for the request! I hope this is alright for my first attempt haha

I bring you all the good fluff and stuff and a LOT of pining.

~~~♤~~~

When Words Fail, My Heart Finds Yours...

~~~♤~~~

Lily Evans climbed the stairs to the astronomy tower, grateful to finally have some time alone. She loved all of her friends, but sometimes being a part of the popular group was... well it was a lot.

"Room for one more?" She asked, knocking gently as she opened the door.

Regulus Black turned from his seat on the half wall, one leg dangling over the edge and a cigarette raised to his lips, "Yeah, c'mon up, Evans." He nodded.

She closed the door behind her, settling against the wall opposite him and dusting off her fishnets. She joined him in watching over the grounds, the people seemed so small from up in the tower.

"You smoke?" He asked, offering her one. She shook her head,

"Not really my thing, no."

He just nodded and turned back to the lawn.

They had shared each other's company here before, both of them outcasts at heart that somehow found purchase in a well known group of friends. She enjoyed his company, his quiet presence was comforting.

"You watch the game today?" She asked, striking up conversation, "Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuffs."

He shook his head, "I don't normally watch the ones I don't play in." He took another long drag, "What was the score?"

"Gryffindor won, I don't know the numbers."

He gave her an amused look, "If I wasn't a Seeker I'd be pissed at you right now."

She only shrugged, "I've never been one for sports."

"Why do you go?"

"All my friends are either playing or watching, its just easier to be where they are."

He raised an eyebrow, "Is it" He asked. She lifted a shoulder again,

"I suppose."

"Are those friends my brother's group?" He asked. There wasn't any real curiosity in his eyes, she knew he was just trying to keep up the conversation. She nodded,

"Yeah. I'm friends with his boyfriend Remus, Peter and I get along really well, I don't know James too well at all though."

"Do you want to?" He asked.

She could tell he was aiming for casual, tossing the cigarette bud to the ground and stomping it out with his combat boot.

But she could see the sudden interest in his eyes when he looked up at her, carefully blowing the smoke in the other direction.

"I don't know. I suppose I should."

"What do you mean you suppose?"

"Well, you know, everyone said he had a crush on me forever ago. I don't know, he's popular and funny and he's got good manners. I probably should get to know him a little better."

"I am going to be honest with you Evans. I don't give a shit about what other people think. It isn't what you're supposed to do. It's what you want to do. What do you want?"

She hesitated, "I don't know. It would be nice to get to know him..."

"But?" He prompted.

"I was just never really interested before."

"Are you now?"

That look sparked again in his eyes, She wondered what it was about Potter that made his eyes alive, that drew out a stronger reaction than the permanant indifferent expression on his face.

"I'm not sure." She paused, looking to the lake again, "No." She whispered, "I don't like him."

"There's someone else." He guessed, studying her own face.

She hesitated once more before she nodded, "Yeah, there is."

"Alright, come here." He muttered, holding out a hand towars her. His chipped black nail polish identical to her own.

"What?"

"Don't give me that look. Come, sit in front of me." He patted the stone again, still holding out his hand.

She stared at him, waiting to see if this was a joke or not. They'd never shared more than a half hearted, smoke hazed conversation. Each one usually about the bigoted arseholes at their school and how they couldn't wait to get out and make a difference in the world.

Despite her confusion, she does as he says and swings her own converse over the half wall, letting him keep a hand on her waist to make sure she was secure.

Her oversized smashing pumpkins shirt she wore like a dress pooled around her hips, she adjusted it carefully to cover the top of her thighs.

He leans forward a little, dropping his voice,

"May I touch your hair?" He asked quietly, "You're allowed to say no."

She narrowed her eyes and nodded, "Fine. But don't you dare push me."

"Well, seeing as that would be attempted murder, I think you're safe, Evans." He laughed softly.

He gathered up a a small section of her hair into his hands, combing his fingers through it gently and making her already poofy curls even poofier.

"Pandora has me do this for her whenvever we have a serious conversation, it helps her relax." He explained.

Lily couldnt help but smile at the way his voice caught on the word serious, it was amusing to think even all those years ago his brother was still tormenting him with the name.

"Tell me about the person you like."

Lily waited for a long time before she spoke, trying to find the right words to say, "Her name is Mary." She started, testing the waters.

If Regulus was surprised it was a she, he didn't show it, he simply nodded and moved on to combing his fingers through a new section.

Lily took a deep breath, steeling her resolve, "She's popular and she's really close with my other friends Marlene, Dorcas, and Alice. She's the one who introduced me to them first year."

Regulus hummed, keeping his touch light and his movements steady as he moved on to braiding.

Lily could understand now why Regulus' friend has him do this, it was a lot easier to speak now that her body was more relaxed,

"Sometimes I wonder about the way she looks at me y'know. It feels like the way I used to see Remus looking at-" She trailed off, not wanting to force him to hear about his brother's love story, "Well, it's just sometimes I think that maybe she likes me, and she just hasn't told me yet."

She could hear Regulus' breathing, slow and calming, she wondered if he was doing it on purpose for her to slow down her own breaths.

"Do you think you could ask her how she feels?" He asked. Lily shook her head slightly, careful not to mess up the next braid he was starting on,

"I don't know if that's a good idea. What if I'm wrong? Wouldn't that just ruin our friendship forever?"

Regulus hummed again, "It's true, things aren't the same once you cross that line between platonic and romantic, but that doesnt mean you can't still be friends."

She sighed, "What if she hates me for this? We're supposed to be best friends, what if she thinks I'm some sort of creep for having feelings for her?"

Regulus gently touched her shoulder, drawing her eyes up to his, "Evans, you're not abusing your friendship with her in any way. Just you worrying about her feelings through all of this proves that. You have nothing to worry about. I'm sure she will still care for you and respect you the same as she always has."

"What if she doesnt?" She asked. Regulus dropped his eyes. She could see he was struggling with emotions of his own,

"We'll then I'm here if you ever need to do this again." He whispered, turning back to focusing on her hair. He pulled the front pieces forwards and started working on a braid to her left side.

"Thanks." She whispered back. He nodded,

"Anytime."

~~~♤~~~

Lily sat down at lunch, her usual seat between Dorcas and Mary- Marlene and Alice on their other sides- and across from Remus and his friends.

"Where'd you dissappear earlier? I went to ask Mary where you went so I could talk to you about the essay but nobody knew." Remus asked, looking concerned.

Lily shrugged, "I was getting some fresh air. It was a nice morning."

Peter looked up from his plate, "Why do you sound suspicious?" He asked.

Lily's eyes widened, "What?"

Remus placed a hand on his friend's arm, "Wormtail, we've talked about this." He muttered. Peter nodded and went back to his food.

"Talked about what?" Mary asked, joining in on the conversation.

Remus gave a small laugh, "Pete has this weird thing where he can usually tell when people are lying. I had to tell him not to get involved in other people's conversations since it's not always a well received party trick."

"So he thinks she's lying?" Mary asked turning to Lily, "What would you be lying about?"

Peter looked up again, shooting an apologetic look at Remus before clarifying, "I don't think she's lying, just hiding something."

"I'm not hiding anything." She told him, then winced when his eyebrows furrowed, entirely unconvinced.

Sirius looked over then too, noticing Remus' distraction, "What's happening?" He asked, tugging on his boyfriend's sleeve.

Dorcus answered before he could, Lily wasn't even are she'd been paying attention, "Mary's trying to figure out what Lily's hiding."

The way she worded it made Lily's cheeks heat up. She looked away, accidentally finding herself staring at the Slytherin table.

Silver eyes stared back at her, concerned.

This made her blush worse, Regulus cocked an eyebrow.

"I just-" She shook her head, "I just went for some fresh air before lunch, is that really such a crime? Why is everyone getting involved?" She huffed.

"Woah, someone's getting defensive." Marry laughed, poking her side, "C'mon, chica, what's going on?"

Lily could never lie to Mary, it was the one person she never managed to sneak anything past. The name only made her more nervous,

"I was hanging out with Regulus." She blurted.

She hadn't meant to say it, but it was definitley an easier secret to let out than the other one.

Mary's hand stilled on her waist, her eyes wide.

Everyone glanced at Sirius, who sat shocked into stillness, his smile dropping,

"What?" He whispered.

Lily looked past him, Regulus must have read his name on her lips, his own eyes wide with panic.

Sirius turned to look where she was staring, noticing he was already looking too.

"Lily, what the fuck?" He asked quietly.

Sirius and Regulus weren't close, in fact- to everyone who didn't know them- you'd think they hated each other.

But Lily knew the pain on both sides when their names were brought up, she was familiar with Regulus' regretful and pained expression, the one Sirius had on right now.

"You were hanging out with my brother? Why didn't you tell me?" He pressed, waiting for an answer.

She shook her head, "I didn't plan it or anything, it just sort of happened. We both went to the same spot to calm down and ever since it kind of-"

"It's happened more than once?" He hissed.

Remus put a quiet hand on Sirius' arm, his other pulling Sirius' face to look at him.

Sirius let out a breath, closing his eyes for a moment before turning back to Lily, "How um... How is he?" He asked, his voice suddenly small.

"He's okay." She nodded, "Really, he's okay. He misses you."

Sirius looked away, his eyes glued to his and Remus' now interlaced fingers.

"And Potter too, I think." She added, trying to lighten the subject a little.

Potter sat up suddenly, he'd been paying attention ever since he heard her confession about Regulus.

"What? How- when- what?" He stammered.

She shrugged, "I don't really know anything he just acted a little different when we were talking about you." She replied. Maybe bringing up Potter was a bad decision too...

"You- You two... you and him... you talked about me?" He asked incredulously, looking a bit pale now.

She only shrugged, knowing she probably shouldn't say anything else, everything she did seemed to make people panic.

"Prongs? You alright, mate?" Remus asked, looking between both of their pale faces and wide eyes.

James stood from his seat, "I'm gonna head to the bathroom, be right back." He squeaked out before he tumbled over the bench.

Lily turned back to Mary when she felt a sudden hand in her hair, "I like these on you." She whispered, "Did um... did he do them?"

She looked into Mary's eyes, filled with hesitation.

"Yeah, he was trying to help me relax, I guess his friend Pandora and him do it a lot." She spoke without thought.

She really couldn't keep anything from Mary for long. Nothing except the one thing that mattered, the one thing that could tear their friendship apart.

Mary dropped her hand, looking away, "I like that you're making other friends chica. I know it's hard for you sometimes to feel like you fit in here. But just... just be careful okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

Lily frowned, "Reg won't hurt me." She whispered, "We don't really talk much anyways, today was the first time we had a real conversation."

"Do you like him?" She asked.

Lily saw it, that same spark she'd seen in Regulus' eyes when he talked about Potter.

Lily shook her head immediatley, the small braids moving with her, "No, absolutley not. He's a friend... sort of. Nothing more."

Mary nodded, letting out a quiet sigh that sounded like relief, "Okay. You're still my best friend right?" She asked.

"Of course, you'll always be my number one."

Mary pulled her into a hug, her chin resting on Lily's shoulder.

"Love you, chica." She whispered.

"Love you too, Mary." Lily smiled back, tucking her face to hide her blush.

~~~♤~~~

"Hey, do you have any mascara I could borrow?" Mary asked, digging through her makeup bag, "I can't find mine, I think I might've lost it."

It was later that same day, the group was getting ready to go out to hogsmeade. Lily got up from where she sat on Mary's bed, watching her go through her routine,

"Uh... mascara? I think I have that." She nodded.

Lily wasn't that much into makeup, she just loved the way eyeliner looked and sometimes did dark lipstick. Mary was always the one who knew how to use all the shimmery stuff to make herself look different.

"It's a long tube, should say mascara on it." Mary explained, moving on to combing her hair. She used a small brush to gel the little hairs into curvy shapes, it was always Lily's favorite part.

"Here." Lily handed it to her, their fingers brushing together briefly and sending little shocks through her.

"Do you want me to put some on you? I think you look really pretty without any makeup on, but your eyelashes are so long already, they would look good with mascara too."

"On me?" Lily repeated, swallowing hard.

Mary nodded, setting her hair products down and turning to face her, "I don't think you should use and foundation or anything, I really love your freckles." She whispered, her fingers reaching out to brush Lily's cheek.

Lily could feel her face heating up under Mary's stare.

"Thank you." She mumbled.

"Do you mind if I put this on?" Mary asked quietly. Lily shook her head,

"No, I don't mind."

She followed Mary's instructions, sitting on the bathroom counter in front of her. Mary stood between her knees, her fingers holding Lily's face with the lightest touch possible.

"Close your eyes." Mary whispered, a light tickle on her eyelashes startled her and she opened them again.

Mary laughed softly, "It's okay, love, it's just the brush, it won't hurt."

Love. Lily felt her heart flutter.

She nodded and closed her eyes again, letting Mary do whatever it was she was doing.

"Okay, look at me." Mary mumbled. Lily opened her eyes again, finding Mary's quickly. She was biting her lip in concentration, looking at Lily intensely.

It didn't help that their faces were so close together, Lily's heart fluttered faster.

"Blink when I tell you to okay?" She whispered. Lily nodded.

She tried to follow the instructions the best that she could, watching Mary's face as she blinked every other second, the mascara brushing underneath her eyelashes.

"Okay." Mary leaned back a little, "I think it looks good.

She closed the bottle and set it beside them, her hand falling to rest on Lily's thigh.

"You look beautiful, chica." She whispered a soft smile on her lips.

Lily couldn't speak, she could still feel the ghost of Mary's breath across her face, a tingling sensation where her fingers had tipped her chin to get a better angle.

"C'mon, we should find you something to wear." She held out a hand to help Lily down, keeping them together as she walked her to their shared closet.

"I was thinking about the outfit I wore last month, the one with the Fleetwood Mac shirt."

Mary nodded, clapping her hands excitedly, "Ooh, I loved that one! I'm gonna go change, I'll be right out and the bathroom's all yours."

She picked up a pile of clothes from her bed and closed the door behind her. Lily let herself fall back onto the mattress, this had been one very long day.

"Knock, knock." Dorcas walked into the room, followed by Marlene.

"Hey guys." Lily mumbled, not bothering to sit up.

"You alright? Everyone's been worried about you today."

"Yeah I'm okay. Everything's just a little weird right now."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Marlene nodded, "Sirius and Remus haven't left their room all day apparently and James isn't anywhere to be found either. Pete's running around like a chicken with his head cut off, he's got no clue what to do."

Lily laughed softly and shook her head, "I don't know what's up with Potter, but I do feel really bad about hurting Sirius. I didn't mean for anything like that to happen."

"We know, hun." Dorcas walked over and sat down by her side, running a hand through the parts of her hair that weren't pulled into braids, "You and his brother get along, then?"

Lily shrugged, "I guess. It's one of those friends by circumstance situations."

"What do you guys even talk about?" Marlene asked curiously.

Lily's eyes shot to the bathroom before she could stop them, Dorcas raised an eyebrow,

"Does he know?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah, he was talking to me about Potter and then he asked if I liked him and then he could tell there was someone else and it kind of just came out." She let the words whoosh out of her in one breath.

"Hey babes, bathroom is free." Mary called, closing the door with her hip, "Oh, hi guys."

Marlene snorted, "Damn girl, what a weird web you've spun for yourself this time."

Dorcas sighed, "You should just tell her, Lily. It'll make everything a lot easier for both of you."

Dorcas and Marlene shared a look and stood, "We were actually just heading out, see you two in a bit!" Dorcas pulled Marlene out of the room, shooting a look back at Lily.

"Weirdos." Mary smiled as she watched then leave.

"Hey Mary?" Lily whispered. Mary turned,

"What's up?"

"Do you think that-" She cleared her throat, "It's not really important or anything, but I was just wondering if, um..."

Lily looked away again, her face scorching.

Mary frowned and sat down in front of her, "Lils? Talk to me, what's going on?"

Lily shook her head, unable to find her voice.

"Come here." Lily pulled her up and held her against her chest, holding her securely in her arms.

Lily relaxed instantly, letting herself be enveloped by everything Mary.

Her smell, like hairspray and vanilla, her warm voice and caring eyes, her gentle but steady touch.

"I love you, chica." Mary whispered, pulling away to meet eyes.

Lily felt her own get a little wider, the words not forming properly.

Something seemed to click then, Mary's expression changed from worried to searching, hesitation filling her eyes again just like they had at lunch,

"Lily?" She whispered.

Lily looked away.

"I love you." There was something different about the way she said it now, her voice was breathless, her expression serious.

"I love you too, Mary." Lily whispered.

Her eyes dropped to Lily's lips and Lily could feel her entire being freeze in place. Sparks of anticipation shot through her.

Oh, Merlin, how did they end up here?

The next thing she knew she was being pulled into a kiss, her heart slamming against her chest, their hands coming up to hold each other closer.

"I love you." Mary breathed when they broke apart, "Fuck, I love you so much."

"I love you too." Lily smiled, kissing her again, and again, and again, "I always have."

It wasn't exactly the huge, production level confession she was expecting. It was small and wordless, something private and so entirely theirs.

They didn't need to say anything for them both to know exactly how strong they felt for each other, and they walked down the stairs to the common room a half hour later, smiling and holding hands, feeling their friend's eyes on them the whole way.

"We're dating." Mary spoke, breaking the confused silence, she had a proud smile on her face as she looked over at Lily, "This is my girlfriend."

Girlfriend. Lily found she loved that word.

Lily's confession to hanging out with Sirius' brother led them to talking again too. Regulus was brought to their weekend hogsmeade trips, and even sometimes found perched on the arm of the couch in the Gryffindor common room, talking with his brother in low voices and hesitant smiles.

That was probably a good thing, seeing as they would stay girlfriends for a long, long time.

~~~♤~~~

A month had gone by and Lily and Mary were happier than ever, they fit perfectly together, like they were made just for this.

They were all giggles and urgent touches as they flung open a broom closet in a deserted corridor, tumbling inside without breaking their kiss.

A muffled groan of pain and a surprised hiss sounded before the lights flicked on.

Inside, in a very similar position to them, were James Potter and Regulus Black, making out.

Lily gasped, her eyes wide.

"So..." Regulus flushed, looking up at Lily, "I see you and Mary got together." He started awkwardly.

She rose an amused eyebrow and glanced at Potter, "And I see you finally managed to snog Potter."

Potter's face went bright red and he hid himself in the crook of Regulus' neck.

"I think we should probably give them some space." Mary finally decided, pulling Lily's hand and closing the door behind them.

The four never spoke of the incident, but the boys came out to the group a week later, both of them flicking glances at the girls the whole time.

It was perfect, everything was exactly as it was meant to be. Lily and Reg continued their chats on the astronomy tower, gushing about their partners and complaining as always about anything and everything else in the world.

Lily couldn't help but smile as she held her girlfriend while she slept, the girl who- just a month ago- was so completely unattainable in her eyes.

She was never happier, and she supposed she had Regulus to thank for a lot of it.

~~~♤~~~

[justaboutsnapped]

Not that brocedes and coriolanus + aufidius are really parallels (friends to enemies vs enemies to friends. Teammates and bitter rivals vs warriors with opposite allegiances having respect for one another because they are each others only rival) but there are certain quotes that get to me and god the Donmar 2014 interpretation of the play gives me insane thoughts about brocedes but Shakespearean… not exactly a connection I’m just placing them in my mind side by side and being really normal about it

Aufidius kneeling at the very end face contorted into an expression that is laughing and crying and something else all at once, letting coriolanus’ blood shower his face,, that scene alone is sooooooo Abu Dhabi 2016 aftermath. The chase all throughout the season. The crowning of the victor yes you won but at what cost?? The subsequent bowing out becoming the best revenge you will never take this away from me I slaughtered you I have your blood on my face and the world will forever remember. You were my biggest opponent you were the only one who could find meaning in my every move you were my biggest regret. I’ll make myself the villain in your narrative so that they retell our story again and again and again (4/25 crashes being them in that recent video, the f1 official weibo putting the Bahrain 2014 embrace into a quiz question yesterday) I hate you and I will kill you but I’ve also loved you all along.

[dany36]

actually i need to talk some more about the ch 11 ending and human milla/milla maxwell because this game just stabbed me in the heart over 36 times and i still have 5 chapters to go so i won't be able to hold on until i do my usual junk thoughts post at the end.

GOD. WHAT AN AMAZING CUTSCENE. Dare I say the best cutscene in the history of tales games?? I just...can't deal with all of the emotions it handed to me at once. from Elle being such a fucking sweetheart trying to protect Milla by hitting rideaux with her sword, to Milla's heart-wrenching scream of "Please! Look after Elle!" before she sacrifices herself, to everyone's lovable badass Lord of Spirits Milla Maxwell's incredible return to the action...like...WHAT THE FUCK!!!! AAAAAA now THIS is how you write a damn cutscene!!!

FIRST OF ALL, when the game introduced fractured milla, of course i was happy to see A Milla in the game!!! Milla has become one of my all-time favorite video game characters so the fact that we got to see her again was fucking wonderful!! obviously I quickly realized how different this Milla was from Milla Maxwell, but I honestly liked her?? i'm glad we saved her from the fractured dimension she was in because holy shit she just looked so vulnerable in front of fractured muzet!! once she joins your party you realize she is much more charimastic in her own way, her voice conveyed much more warmth than Prime Milla, and of COURSE her relationship with Elle was so cute and sweet!!! Prime Milla's friendship with Elize and Leiah won me over in Xillia 1 but Elle's attachment to Human Milla was so fucking well-done that I just lack the words to express how fucking devastating the follow-up to Milla's sacrifice has been to watch, and to see Elle get so angry with Prime Milla for not being HER Milla is like....AAHHHH THIS IS TOO DAMN GOOD!!!! I HATE IT BUT I LOVE IT BUT I HATE IT!!!

SECOND OF ALL, i was such a naive fool when I got excited to see the title card for chapter 11 and saw that it said "Milla Maxwell" because oh shit!!! The Milla we all know and love from Xillia 1 is FUCKING BACK, BABY!! But NOOOO, of COURSE there can't be two Millas in the prime dimension, I had no fucking idea her "dying" was gonna be so fucking heart-breaking to watch!!! I couldn't even be as happy as I thought I was gonna be upon Prime Milla's return because of what I had just witnessed, but...that's what makes this so damn good, isn't it??? 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔 human Milla was just so relatable and the game did such an INCREDIBLE job of having her grow on you as her own character!! she isn't the Lord of Spirits but who the fuck cares?? this Milla was amazing in her own way!! 😭

And can I just say that Milla's voice actress has done a fucking excellent job in this game?? I noticed the difference in her voice between Human Milla vs Prime Milla right away, it's insane!! like, as soon as Prime Milla spoke, I got...a bit sad because that warmth and charisma from Human Milla was gone, but then I was like...yep...that's Milla Maxwell alright... 🥺😭

it's a bit weird to see that your affinity level of Human Milla carries over to Milla Maxwell, especially 'cus I just did Milla's ch 3 story and it really does feel like you're starting over in terms of getting her trust. even though she DOES say that when she was in the dimensional abyss she dreamt of the Human Milla and Ludger and the rest, but....idk idk human Milla you will never be forgotten!!! ;_;

ALSO THANK YOU NAMCO for including a small skit of Elize being happy to see Prime Milla again and Milla saying that she looks as good as ever. LIKE YES ELIZE AND MILLA BESTIES FOREVER 😭

and lastly...Elle. Elle you beautiful adorable little girl you must be protected at all costs. i must admit i didn't care much for her at the beginning of the game and found her...kind of...annoying lol. but wow once again good job namco for her character development because if ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ELLE I WILL GO ON A KILLING SPREE!! she's suffered enough!!! FIRST with her dad being missing and now Human Milla!!! AUUGHHHHADLJFALDKJFL

well, enough xillia 2 for today. i need some time to recover from this heartbreak. ;(

[miracleweaponhunt]

Miracle Weapon Hunt Chapter 46: Round 3: Part 2

Cassandra sat reading a magazine in the infirmary while the doctors tested Julian. Something about Dark Matinee, where the two leads actually hooked up for real. Both were in relationships though, so that was a shame. She'd have to consult Roxanne on these developments later. The two doctors walked out the door to his room, and Cassandra immediately slammed the magazine on the table.

"How's he doing?" she asked, getting to eye level with the scrawny doctor.

"Well, we've ran some tests, but his opponent's abilities don't seem to be showing any physical effects on him."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it's more of an illusion he's placed on him. If it hasn't healed at least a little in eighteen hours, call us back."

They left to their next patient, probably the guy with the stabbed eye, and let her in with no issue. Julian was laying in bed, looking at a magazine.

"Your eye's working?" Cassandra asked.

"Nah, the magazine just sounds really interesting." Julian replied, rapidly flapping the pages randomly, then trying to recreate some kind of techno beat with them. It wasn't working. Cassandra held his head and turned it upwards, meeting his eye. As the doctor said, no visible signs of damage.

"So you can't see anything?"

"Well, it's not painful anymore." Julian asked. "Roxanne was the same. Sharp pain, the effects lingered for a bit, then she was good. Lights still coming in, it's just blurry, like a microphone zoomed in a billion times."

"Yeah, I get it." Cassandra nodded as if she ever used a microscope. "What about the glass eye."

"Told them where I got it, and they don't trust it. Won't let me put it in while I'm stuck here. Anyway, you win?"

"Oh, I made Luca my bitch, don't worry about that."

"Oh thank gods." Julian sighed as he flopped back onto his bed. "So who won between the other two?"

"Don't know, actually." Cassandra answered as she turned on the TV. Fiorella and Capri were both about to step into the arena.

"Sorry for the delay, folks!" The announcer yelled out trying to mask his exasperation. "We had to wipe some… gunk… off the floors. But anyway! Fight three! Fiorella vs Capri! Who's winning this one?"

The opponents bowed towards each other, each summoning their weapon of choice. They ran towards each other and clashed their weapons together, before jumping back to assess their opponents. Both silently cursed having not used their full strength, trying to test their opponent with something weaker. Both ran once again. Fiorella dematerialised her axe on the impact, while Capri shrunk her hammer. Again, both cursed not using a heavy hitter when they had the chance.

"Miss Capri, I'd like to propose something, seeing as we're not getting anywhere." Fiorella asked. Axe gone, hands in the air. If Capri wanted to attack, the opportunity just perfectly presented itself.

"I have a great deal of respect for you." Fiorella continued. "Jovial tone, unique fighting style, the way you lead your group of bizarre individuals. So I'd like it if we were to cut the antics, and just fight straightforwardly, I think we'd make a far better performance."

Capri closed her eyes, and began snapping her fingers randomly, before pointing both hands on Fiorella as she opened them.

"Sounds good." She nodded. She grew her hammer until it was twice her size, and Fiorella clashed her axe against it. It was easy for Capri to overpower her, so Fiorella ducked under it and made a beeline straight towards her, summoning her axe. Capri sprang over the axe, standing on it's edge for a brief second, flashing a quick smile before throwing a shrunken hammer directly at Fiorella's nose, which quickly expanded and threw her off balance. Capri punched her in the stomach, caught her hammer in mid-air, and slammed it down on Fiorella's head. Fiorella traded her calm expression for one of severe pain, flopping down on the ground. She wheezed something incoherent, before falling onto the ground.

"And Capri wins!"

Capri pointed towards the audience, before cartwheeling out of the arena. She flipped and perfectly landed on her feet in front of Adebayo.

"Good luck out there, big guy."

Adebayo nodded, responding with a fist bump as Capri sauntered out of the arena.

"Next up, the princess against the tower of Inariu. Willow vs Adebayo! Begin!"

Willow started by spinning her spear, while Adebayo nodded in approval towards her technique. He loudly clapped his hands, and began silently rubbing them together. Willow ran towards him, stopping just in front. One spin of her spear, and she thrust it upwards just before Adebayo could do anything. He grabbed the open spear, picking it up, which allowed Willow to kick him in the face. His only response was to punch her with a charged fist, which shocked her and forced her to drop the spear. She was flung to the edge of the arena. Willow stood as the shockwaves trickled through her skin, standing defiant as Adebayo approached her. He moved his hand for a swipe, only for sensation to return to Willow's arms as the impact was about to be made. She clung to his hand, wrapping around it and refusing to let go. Adebayo fell to his knees and dragged his hands through the clay of the arena. The second he lifted his arm, Willow leapt off it, landing a kick to his face before he could get up. She tried forcing a foot on his head to keep him down, but he quickly burst to his feet, knocking Willow down, picking her up, and throwing her once again to the edge of the arena. 

Willow landed awkwardly on her left foot, scrambling to inch her way out of bounds. She succeeded, dashing back towards her spear, which she managed to outrun Adebayo in obtaining. Adebayo rubbed his hands together as he ran towards Willow, who started running towards him. If his hands are stuck together, his balance would be off if someone, perhaps someone incredible and sexy and single in front of many great people, were to knock him over, she'd be almost guaranteed an advantage. So as Adebayo was about to thrust his palm forward, she slid on her knees underneath, spinning her spear so the end hit him in the legs, causing him to stumble over. Willow leapt up, kicking him in the back, forcing him to flop onto the arena, a flash briefly hitting the clay and getting absorbed just as quick. Willow quickly stood over his back, planting the blunt end of her spear into his back.

"So, mister Adebayo. You yield?"

Adebayo tried getting up a couple of times, falling to the floor with each attempt. After a few seconds, he just gave a thumbs up.

"And Willow wins!"

[theofficefantasyfootball]

WEEK 3 - Wrap Up

KELCE / SWIFT - Why?

So the big news in the NFL this week was obviously are Kelce and Taylor real? She went to the game. She sat next to his mom. They drove off together in a "very orchestrated" convertible. So, yeah they must be together. But why? Is it a marketing plan put together by the Pfizer people so that Taylor's fan base will want to listen to Kelce on the non-stop commercial urging us all to get the covid vaccine and the flu shot at the same time? Is it to keep Taylor's name out there for the SuperBowl half time show so when she does it - football fans love her? Are is it as simple as Taylor wanting to "feel tiny" like SNL set up in the video above? Honestly, I don't know. But, it's gonna be fun to watch and find out! Now, on to week 3 wrap ups!

TuPADRE vs TRADE WITH ME

Hey! TuPadre figured out how to load the gun! Boom! Just like that in week 3 they come away with a quick win against Trade with Me. Poor Brett. Loses Survivor. Only puts up 51 points total from his team. I guess it's better than losing by .50 of a point. Gully had great performances this week from Watson, Moss (zack not randy), Deebo, and Tyler Bass. Going into Monday night he still has Higgins to play. Probably won't get high point but week 3 goes down as a win for TuPadre and Son. Nice Win Gully! Congrats. Brett moves to 1-2.

MR AWESOME vs TREE HUGGERS

What else can be said. Scott Krippayne is finding Fantasy Football EASY this season. 3-0 start and came in this week with not only the high point of the week with 156.76 but also the high point of the season! I am just glad to not have to send it to the Moose! Nice win Scott! Devante with 34, Bills D with 36 (almost had a shut out and would have bumped it up to 46), hell even his kicker had 18 and I don't think he picked him up in round 8. NICE! Now, where there is a winner there is a loser...and once again that loser is Gabe Scott. Gabe moves to 0-3. I am not going to dig into the details. He just scored less than Scott...so he loses. Sorry Gabe. Next week you face Kyle Allmendinger who used up all his points this week so you have a good shot!

MALIK MY BALLS vs BACKDOOR BANDITS

Well, this sucks. Kyle is done for the week...finishing with 131. I am down 50 points with 4 to play on the two MNF games (Mixon, Evans, Atwell and Bengals Defense). 50 divided by 4 is 12.5 points per player. That's what I have to accomplish. Kyle had a great week from Lamar (33), Jefferson (25), Patriots D (17) and really had double digit performances from everyone but Brandin Cooks so if I can pull out the win it will be epic. I chose this GIF because whatever happens that will by my expression. At half time of the Bengals/Rams game it all looks promising...I am down 10...but time is running out for Evans who already has a dropped TD. Also had a TD from Atwell - taken away cause his heal touched the out of bounds line...and so 5 min left in the game i am down 1.06. At the two min warning I am up by .54 - but with a last min Atwell TD - I won 135 to 131. Shout out to Kyle for being a cool competitor this week. Fun Win for me - hard loss for him.

MOOSES ON THE LOOSES vs HOWARD

So this one is a crazy match up. Moose who is currently undefeated has 99.78 but has one of the most explosive rookie WR's in the game yet to play - Puka Nacua. Howard has 65.4 points going into the Monday night matchups but has 5 yet to play - Kyren Williams, Chase, Goedert, Swift and kicker for the Bengal - McPhearson. I am thinking with it being the NFL week of Taylor Swift - DeAndre Swift might have a big night (which he did) and help Howard get this to a close game with the Moose by nights end. A half time update...Nacua has been held to 35 yards and Howard has taken the lead by 1 point. But as the game went on - and Jamaar Chase got on fire - Howard could not be caught. Rob Howard takes away the perfect season from the Moose! Great job Rob. Congrats. What a night!

FUNK GUY vs LANAKILA

This one should be a no brainer but I can see where Funk Guy might be a bit nervous. He is down 15 but he has Jalen Hurts left to play...facing Cliff who still has the Eagles star kicker Jake Elliott. Can Elliott put up double digits numbers? Can Hurts have multiple rushing TDs and rush for 100 yards and throw for 300 yards? Will it be a blow out or a close one? Well, I can answer that now. It was a close one and even though Hurts put up 21 and had a great game, the kicker put up 11! So Funk Guy loses in another very close one. Cliff with an awesome week from Mahomes with 31, Olave with 15 and a game winning night from his kicker!

LONG LEFT BALLERS vs BOOMER SOONER

Well, I am not going to post what comes up when I search the GIF using the word "Tight"...as in - it's going to be a tight game. The night started out - with Stu with 92 and Bebo with 91. Stu has Rachaad White and Bebo with DeVonta Smith. 1 point difference. 1 player left for each guy. This one really didn't move much. By the end of the Eagles game...Stu only had 4 points from White but Bebo still had Higbee playing in the LA game and Higbee already put up 5 so, Bebo clinched early in the night. Bebo Norman, like Scott Krippayne is undefeated after week 3. Stu moves to 1-2. Great game guys.

SURVIVOR

Bye Brett. Bye Bebo...but who is left? We are down to 7. Krippayne, Mitch, Gully, Howard, Dana, Stu and Kyle. Good luck in week 4!

CHEERLEADER OF THE WEEK

Noella Maria of the Oakland Raiders is our featured cheerleader tonight. Noella is a freelance makeup artist and from her instagram looks like she loves going to Coachella, Disneyland and hanging with her friends. I am thinking perfect for Brett Rutledge. Let's go!

[smallerthanart]

[ID: A colored digital sketch of Essek from Critical Role. He’s lunging into view, his right arm stretched out behind him and the other held up in a fist near his face - he looks worried, tears beading in the corner of his eyes. He’s holding something sharp in his gloved fist, coated in blood that drips down into a glowing aura of purple and red, and there’s matching blood from a cut across his cheek. Behind him are Caleb and Jester - Jester is on the left, wiping her hand across her face, and Caleb hunched over on the right.]

@essek-week day 1:  whiskey // battle

looking forward to Essek doing some Inadvisable Adventurer Things like jumping in front of your party members to protect them

[yuurei20]

Twisted Wonderland, the Novel: Yuuya vs. Riddle

Someone is finally standing up to Riddle and, against all expectations, it’s Yuuya.

"‘Do you intend to ally yourself with these two fools? You misfits must have become quite close. Now that you are a student of this school, however, you would be doing yourself a favor by showing me respect rather than entertaining such ideas.’

A breeze brushes against Yuuya’s cheek. The golden scepter with which Riddle cleaves the air shines dimly in the evening light.

‘And with that, it is over. And it is I who is correct.’

‘I’m not trying to ally with anybody.’

Yuuya’s trembling voice betrays his nervousness.

With an irritated look, Riddle turns towards him.

‘What?’

Yuuya swallows to moisten his dry throat.

‘I’m sorry. But it doesn't matter to me who is right or wrong...I just want the fighting to stop!’

It was so simple. How anticlimactic. How painless was that? It’s not being criticized that Yuuya cannot stand, it is conflict. While similar, there is a big difference between the two, and he has overthought so much that, at some point, he confused himself.

Yuuya doesn’t have Ace’s strength, Deuce’s honesty or Riddle’s serious nature. He cannot judge who of the three is correct, and he doesn’t consider himself to be in a position to do so.

Finally, he understands.

Maybe it had been presumptuous of him to try and ally with Ace. Like Ace himself pointed out, even just doing what he actually wants is enough to overwhelm Yuuya. It is best not to overthink things that are just beyond him.

Only what he wants to do—what he wants to say.

‘The duel is over...Riddle-senpai won. So I don't think there's any point in fighting anymore.’

Yuuya has closed his eyes and said it all. When he opens them again, Riddle is looking at him in genuine surprise.

‘You think this is a fight?’

His expression of surprise becomes one of anger, once again.

‘Such nonsense...this is a punishment. It is only natural to punish those who don't follow the rules! Without punishment, no one would obey. To not understand even that, you reveal the extent of your ignorance. Your previous world must have been truly uncultured.’

Riddle speaks with a refined tone, yet he all but spits out the words.

Ace and Deuce exclaim in surprise—they have come to Yuuya’s side without his noticing—and Riddle gives them a contemptuous look."

[ray-ray-writings]

A Dedicated Pig-Technoblade

#3 and 47 from this prompt list! Check out my masterlist here! This is in the DreamSMP Au. I

This is a Technoblade x GN reader! 

So in this AU I am making it so that your cannon lives are shown on your left wrist. And if someone types something in chat or if someone joins the server, it appears as text on your right arm until you dismiss it! If you are confused feel free to ask me any questions!

Part Two! Part Three! Part Four!

Y/N finally meets the one that everyone has been walking on eggshells over.

Y/N’s POV

I will never forget the gasps, murmurs, and then tense silence that followed the notification that everyone received on their right arm. Technoblade had joined the SMP. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal though. Of course I had heard the stories. The horrors that he had done. The fights he picked and won. The amount of blood that had been shed at his hands had earned him the title of “The Blood God”. But when push comes to shove, he’s just another mortal man.

Everyone was a little freaked out and on edge because of the new addition to the server. I mean, Schlatt had just banished Techno’s family, his two brothers, from the nation that they created and fought for. Everyone knew that family was everything to Techno and if there was one thing Techno would do anything for it was his family. He would literally go to hell and back if it meant that his brothers and his father were safe. 

Finally after a few minutes of everyone holding their breath, I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and went on with my work, cleaning up the election decorations. All eyes turned to me “Y/N” Niki hissed, “Do you not understand what just happened? He could be anywhere” I let out a joyless laugh as I looked at my best friend, “You really think he’s going to come here right away? With nothing on him? With his brothers on the run? You think he’s going to worry about coming here, where it would be a 1 vs…” My eyes scanned the crowd doing a quick mental count, “15 plus? Come on Niki, think with that big brain of yours.” I claimed, a little annoyed, as I took down a banner. 

Niki let out a shaky sigh but nodded and continued helping me. “You’re right,” I chuckled at her response and bumped her shoulder, “You know I always am”. Soon, everyone went back to their own tasks, forgetting the news we all had just received. ‘See Mr. Pig Man Blood God’ I silently thought to myself, ‘You’re not as scary as you may think’. 

*Time skip*

A week and a half had gone by since Technoblade had joined the server and no one had seen him. Like I had predicted, he immediately had searched and met up with his brothers and had stayed clear of the main part of the server. That being said, I should have known that he would rear his pink head at some point…

When I first joined the server, I had made myself a small farm for food. Well of course everyone found out about it and wanted a part of it. So my small farm grew and grew. When Niki built her bakery, she needed a steady supply of well… supplies. Sugar, wheat, eggs, milk, and all that. I had plenty and I was more than happy to give her what she needed in exchange for baked goods. So once a week I would haul boxes of supplies across the SMP from my farm to her bakery. 

Everyone was aware of this and so on these days everyone would stay out of my way. Which is why I was so surprised to slam into someone while carrying a box of eggs to the bakery. 

I let out a huge gasp as the sound of eggs cracking filled my ears as I slammed into someone. The box fell out of my hands as raw egg covered my hands and body. “What the hell!” I cried out, looking up to yell at whoever had just crashed into me. I was momentarily stunned. There in the flesh, right in front of me, stood the Blood God himself, Technoblade. My surprise  didn’t last long as I remembered why I was angry in the first place. 

“What the hell are you doing here? It’s bakery day, sure you didn’t know that, but you should have taken the hint not to be here when you didn’t see anyone walking this part of the Prime path!” I shouted at the pink haired man. Techno’s brown eyes widened as I verbally attacked him. “And now I’m covered in raw egg! This is not pleasant! It’s gross and sticky and cold and I do not enjoy it! You are sooooo lucky I have a change of clothes at the farm and that my chickens laid a lot of extra eggs this week or else you would have had to explain to dear sweet Niki why she wouldn’t be able to open her cute bakery this week.” I hissed out. 

“I’m sorry,” Techno began with a raised eyebrow, “Do you not know who you’re talking to?” He questioned with a deep voice. I let out a loud scoff at the audacity of his question, “Of course I know who you are, Mr. Blood God,” I mocked. “So. You do know who I am and what I am capable of.” I scoffed at his smug words. “I said I did, didn’t I? And frankly I couldn’t care less about you and your reputation. You’re just a guy. A guy that has ruined my day because I now have egg all over me!” I complained, wiping my hands on my pants. 

I reached down and began picking up the box and the eggs and egg shells that had fallen on the ground.“You know, I could kill you with no hesitation?” Techno claimed as he crouched down, moving his face close to mine. “I’ve done it before to many others. They blink and my sword has entered their chest. I’ve probably slaughtered more people than you’ve ever met in your life,” Techno mused, a smug smirk tugging on his lips. 

I looked up from my box with a blank expression on my face, “Am I supposed to be scared of you? Is that supposed to scare me? Make me shake in my boots?” I questioned, my eyebrow raised. Techno’s smirk slowly slipped off his face. He quickly stood up and stared at me in shock, “Didn’t you hear me? I could kill you!” He explained. I rolled my eyes and also stood up. “So could another human. Literally anyone else. So could a fall from a huge height. So could a dedicated chicken. You’re not special.” I stated, turning on my heel and began walking back toward my farm. 

“So you’re really not scared of me?” I heard Techno question as he began to jog to catch up to me. “Haven’t I made that clear? You may have scary stories and legends surrounding you, but when it comes right down to it, you’re a man. Well, part pig, part man, but a man and mortal all the same.” Techno let out a scoff, “Technoblade never dies,” he claimed. “But you could. You have three cannon lives just like the rest of us.” I concluded. 

Techno silently followed me as I moved through the barn, replacing the eggs that had cracked when we collided. After I filled the box once more, I set it down before stepping into the bathroom I had built. “I’ll be right out. Don’t touch anything.” I commanded. Techno gave me a mock salute before looking around the barn once more. I closed the door and quickly cleaned up. I took off my egg covered clothes, washed my hands and body before putting on the clean clothes I kept here. 

I found Techno where I left him. “You ready to go?” I questioned softly. His eyes trailed from my horses back to me as he gently nodded. I made my way back to the boxes before picking the egg box back up. “Is this going to?” Techno asked. I looked over and found him pointing at the last box needing to go to the bakery. “Yeah, but you don’t have to-” I was cut off by Techno picking up the box. “Let’s go” He said walking out the door. I let out a laugh before following him, being sure to close the door behind me. 

The two of us made small talk about anything and everything on our way to the bakery. Techno told me all about Wilbur and Tommy’s constant squabbles and I told him all about everyone’s wariness ever since he joined the server. Techno helped me put everything away, which caused me to be done a lot sooner than I usually get done. The two of us left the bakery and made our way back outside. We began strolling the prime path and subconsciously came to a stop where the two of us met. 

Our conversation died down and the two of us stood there for a moment, just staring at each other. I finally cleared my throat, “Thank you for helping me today. I really appreciate it.” I thanked, running a hand through my hair. Techno mirrored my actions with a shy smile on his face, “No problem. It’s the least I could do.” There was a slight pause before he spoke again, “Hey. Listen. I’m sorry for threatening you earlier. It’s just… Everyone I’ve ever met has been terrified of me and when you weren't… It really threw me for a loop. So… thanks. Thank you for giving me a chance.” I let out a giggle at his vulnerability, “It’s no problem…. Maybe when this is all over and you and your brothers are welcome back into L’Manberg, we could hang out more.” I offered. Techno gave me a soft smile and a gentle nod, “Yeah. I’d like that. A lot.” 

“Techno!” A voice whisper shouted. The two of us jumped at the sudden interruption and turned to look at who had called the pink haired man’s name. It was Wilbur. “There you are! Where have you been?!” He questioned, marching up to the two of us. Techno made a gesture to me. Wilbur’s eyes shifted to me. I gave him a smile and a wave. “Hey Wilbur. It’s great to see you” Wilbur’s eyes softened as he gave me a smile, “Hey Y/N. It’s so good to see you too. We’ve got to go. Techno was supposed to be on a spy mission, but I see he got distracted…” I laughed at his words and nodded. “Something like that,” Techno claimed, rubbing the back of his head a blush. 

“Well it was great to see you Wilbur. Tell Tommy I miss him and that I say to stop trying to decorate with things that aren’t his, yeah?” Wilbur gave me another soft smile and nod, “Will do Y/N. Tell Niki I miss her?” I returned his smile and nod. I then turned to Technoblade and gave him a smile as well, “It was lovely to meet you. I really hope this is over soon so I can show you my weapons collection.” Techno’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “It was amazing to meet you too Y/N. And I would love that. So much.” I giggled at his response and nodded. “I knew you would. Bye guys.” I gave them both one last smile before turning and headed back to my farm. 

As I was leaving I overheard the next part of Techno and Wilbur’s conversation. “So… Y/N huh?” “Shut up.” “Who knows, when this thing is all over maybe you’ll get together and have pink haired, Y/E/C babies… Oh I would be the best uncle and-” “I’ll give you a five second headstart.” “Oh come on Techno-” “Five” “Please” “Four” “Tech-” “Three” “You know it’s-” “Two” “Oh come on” “One” “OH GOD! RUNNING!” 

I let myself look over my shoulder at the two. Sure enough Wilbur was sprinting down the prime path as fast as he could, but Techno was right behind him. “Get over here!” Techno shouted after Wilbur. “NO!” I let myself giggle at the two’s antics. My eyes focused on the two for as long as I could, but soon enough the two were out of my view and my ear shot. Oh I can’t wait until this is all over. 

There you go! I hope you enjoyed! And I hope I did the anon that requested this justice! If you did enjoy, be sure to leave a like! And maybe even a reblog or reply telling me what you liked about it! Until next time!

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Anon that asked about the Kakashi & Obito fight: I asked because I was on Quora in an Obito vs Kakashi thread and, once again, some fans who always undermine Kakashi'skills were saying that, because Obito said he let Kakashi win, it proved the latter couldn't win at all against the former. And it never seemed quite right to me, but I couldn't express why. Thank you so much for explaining it so clearly!.

Oh ya, no some of them don’t seem to understand that Obito was taunting Kakashi and talking down to him the entire time and his words should not be taken at face value

Would Obito have won in the end? Yes, but not because he was oh so much stronger than Kakashi. He would have won because he had hashirama’s cell’s and couldn’t be killed no matter what Kakashi did. Heck, Kakashi destroyed his heart and he survived.

Had he not had hashirama’s cell’s then they would be on a much more even playing field and the fight could have gone either way. The only thing that put Obito over Kakashi was Hashirama’s cell’s. Their skill’s are equal in actual battle without cheats

[snappleapple]

the bunny vs. the fox

dream x reader

hogwarts au

fluff and angst i suppose

warning - cursing, reader being a small b, simpy dream, underage drinking

word count - 6.8k

a/n: hi again! please enjoy this long boi while i go on another 8 month hiatus lol. also i legit had a heart attack cause i accidentally deleted this but i got it back so phew

the vibrant colors of your uniform stands out amongst the repelling amount of green present within the slytherin common room. you had been invited to the party on behalf of wilbur for their recent quidditch cup win against gryffindor, a game lost because of the carelessness and arrogance of your teammates. along with students from other houses, you stand next to the tall boy you had met when you got onto the train in your first year.

“wilbur, why am i here?” the question lingers in his ear as you point to your current attire of your uniform skirt, an oversized gryffindor sweater you borrowed from sapnap, your thick glasses and messy bed hair from taking a nap after the long game. “y/n? what are you doing here?” you turn your head to glance over at the younger boy, “that’s what i wanna know, tommy.” as you turn around to look at wilbur, another person bumps into you, “hey! watch where you’re going- y/n! what a surprise!” with the roll of your eyes, you dismiss him and reply sarcastically, “glad to see you’re not so shaken up from the recent failure of gryffindor, fundy.” he gives you a shit-eating grin before bouncing away to continue his search for pure alcohol.

as more students enter the already crowded room, a loud cheer begins to form as a boy is lifted into the air. “dream! dream! dream!” the crowd yells at the top of their lungs, which would probably attract a teacher soon, so you begin to sneak out of the room until a loud voice interrupts the cheers, “y/n! leaving the party so soon?” dream taunts with a smirk on his face, everyone’s attention turning towards you. “mind your own business, dream.” you spit out with venom, still bitter about your quidditch loss, as he scoffs and strides towards you, “i guess if you search up sore loser in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of y/n.” he mocks once again while you begin to get riled up from the obnoxious laughter erupting from the crowd. you turn around and begin heading for the door once more before hearing, “come on y/n. no one likes a sore loser.” turning around, you glare at the annoying boy, “come on dream. the only thing worse than a sore loser is a sore winner.” the both of you stare each other down while the whole room stays quiet. dream stands with an unsatisfied smirk on his face as he reaches into his pocket, possibly reaching for his wand. with the slight slip of your fingers and extra progression , you grasp your wand. but before you could fully pull out your wand, you get lifted into the air, over the shoulder of a ravenclaw. “we’ll be seeing you guys later.” he nonchalantly says while walking out of the room, giving you perfect view of dream, with a now satisfied shit-eating grin as he waves at you. you end your interaction with the slytherin with the show of your middle finger.

“techno! why? i could’ve totally won that battle.” the older boy shakes his head as he listens to your whines. “nope. i promised phil that i would keep you out of trouble.” you groan some more before stomping away back to the gryffindor common room, barely sparing a glance at the pink haired boy.

a week passes by and when you’re at breakfast, you lay your head against phil’s shoulder while he munches away on a buttered piece of toast, keeping conversation with fundy. dream hadn’t been bothering as bad as normal but he was still around you. you were a bit confused about his change in behavior but brushed it off, ignoring him and treating him as if he’s on his own menopause situation. twiddling your fingers, boredom begins to strike you in the great breakfast hall. well, once quiet hall, in which the silence is interrupted by the entrance of dream, sapnap and george. you would assume that since they are all from different houses, there would be a tolerance for peace, yet that never seemed like an option with dream. “hello y/n.” he smirks as you turn around to look at him with a stone cold expression. “what do you want?” you say with a scathing tone. ‘“nothing, just came to see how the most competitive person on gryffindor was doing after their recent loss.” with the use of your middle finger, you raise your glasses before giving dream an innocent grin, “i’m feeling good.” the hall goes quieter than it was before as dream sits next to you on the bench. as you leans closer to you, you put your hand under your head and turn your head towards him coyly. “and what do i owe the honor of being able to sit next to the dream? he rolls his eyes as sapnap and george laugh at your shenanigans. “i was just wondering if you would do me the honor of going out to hogsmeade with me?” shaking your head, you barely even glance over at the boy. “no.” dream’s expression remains stoic as he continues to look at you, “come on y/n.” you turn to stand up and leave. raising a stiff hand into the air, you wave to phil and fundy.

but before you could fully exit the great hall, a hand pulls you into the crevice of the walls. he puts his hand over your mouth to prevent you from saying a word. “y/n. please. please go out with me.” shaking your head once again, you give him a cheeky grin. “what will you do for me if i do?” dream pinches his nose bridge, “i’ll do your charms homework for a month.” he persuades with much hesitance. you fully extend your hand out to him and he wraps his large, warm hand around yours. the large grin on your face replicates the one on his face. “next week on saturday, meet me at the bridge to hogsmeade at nine am, sharp! but if you are even a minute late, i’m leaving and you’re still doing my charms homework.” dream closes his eyes and basks in the natural light from the bewitched sky, nodding his head.

the rest of the day, you go throughout your usual classes, occasionally listening to the gossip that spread like wildfire throughout the school. “oh my god, did you hear that l/n is going out with dream tomorrow?” or “i thought they hated each other?” in all honesty, you were beginning to get annoyed from all of the side conversations happening in all classes. luckily, you were in your last class of the day, unluckily, it was with slytherin, specifically dream’s class. a yawn erupts from your mouth as pull out a set of notes to get ready for your class. as the second yawn begins, a hand makes its way to your mouth. you glare at the boy who had already caused way too much mischief for your liking. he gives you a fake grin as he sits next to you. before you can retort to his stupid action, your professor struts into the room, quickly starting his lesson.

throughout most of the class, dream remains quiet, jotting down his notes or dragging his hand through his hair. but towards the end of the class, he leans his head on your shoulder. your body stiffens up as his hand makes its way to your thigh. “you better take your hand off my thigh if you want to keep it.” quiet chuckles erupt from his lips, “can i do this on our date?” you reciprocate soft chuckles, “do you want to die?” the grin on his face get replaced by a pout and puppy dog eyes. “why are you so mean to me?” you continue to scribble down notes, not sparing one glance at the boy, until he grabs your face with both of his hands, “look at me pout, y/n.” and when he turns you face towards him, your professor calls the both of you out. “miss l/n, please take your lovey dovey business outside of class.” your mouth hangs open but before you could protest, dream interrupts you, “will do professor.” his chuckles echo through the room as you slam your head into the table repeatedly until dream puts his hand on the desk, preventing you from bruising your forehead even more. “just let me bash my skull open and die.” dream pats your head, “i can’t have you die before our date.” cringing at his words, you frantically try to remove his hand so you could smash your head into the desk.

later that night at dinner, your face remains a disgusted pout as you imagine your date with dream. while you shudder in disgust, phil taps you out of your daze. “y/n, you really should snap out of it today.” he laughs jokingly along with fundy. your eyes roll as you turn back to your dinner plate full of random things phil stacked on so that you would actually eat dinner. after being forcefully fed one chicken leg and some mashed potatoes, you check the time which read eight twenty five, giving you five minutes to go to the black lake. “oh shit.” you exclaim as you grab all of your items while phil tries to stuff another chicken leg into your mouth. “phi-“ you shut up when the chicken successfully makes it into your mouth. as you sprint out of the hall carrying your school books, robe, wand and other unnecessary items fundy handed to you, your robe decides to slip out unbeknown to you.

when you arrive to the lake, you see him waiting for you already. you toss your items down next to him and sit down next to him. “you’re late. again.” heavy huffs of air erupt from your body as try to catch your breath, still holding the chicken leg phil stuffed into your mouth. “sorr-“ a cough leaves your lips, “sorry. phil was trying to get me to eat dinner.” the boy lets out deep chuckles as he ruffles your hair, “classic phil.” you lean back and balance your weight on the both of your hands as you stare out at the frozen lake. “techno, i don’t get why we have to meet outside in the freezing cold when there is a warm library open to us. i’m cold and i lost my robe on the way here. in a silent flash, a blue accented robe makes its way over into your sight, along with a bare arm. when you turn your head towards the boy, he says away and turns back to the lake, expressionlessly. a small smile erupts on your face as you turn back to the lake, wrapping the robe around your shoulders. before you could mutter a quick thank you, you get cut off, “don’t. lets not talk about this.”

after finishing whatever school work you needed to with techno, you walk back with him into the hallways, coincidentally just as dinner was ending. though you never found out where your robe was, you bump into a tall figure as you make your way through the hall with techno counting the tiles on the floor. a small oomf leaves your lips as the person puts his hands on your shoulders. “who’s robe is that? last time i checked you were in gryffindor, not ravenclaw.” you don’t need to look up to know who you were currently speaking with, “hello dream.” you could hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks again, “hello y/n. take this off.” dream retorts with a hint of teasing, “no. i’m cold and i lost my robe. so techno let me borrow his.” the other tall boy next to you nods in agreement. “uh no. i don’t like the sight of this.” dream complains with an unsatisfied look on his face before tugging the robe off of your body, throwing it at technoblade and then proceeding to wrap his robe around your body, slinging his arm over your shoulder. “that’s better.” he doesn’t even spare a glance at the older boy as he leads you away while you try to at least say goodbye to technoblade. “bye- dream i swear to god, bye techno!”

while the both of you continue to the gryffindor tower, he doesn’t let his arm on your shoulders falter. “what’s the deal with you and that guy.” you stop in place, turn to look at dream and mime yourself zipping your lips as if you were saying, ‘you get nothing out of me.’ dream rolls his eyes before throwing you over his shoulder and continuing his way over to the common room. “okay this is unnecessary. put me down, i’m wearing a skirt.” lightly hitting his back with your fist. “don’t worry about it, my robe is covering it up.”

at the door of the entrance, the fat lady stares at you in confusion. “can you put me down?” dream lets out a grunt of disagreement, “no. just tell her the password so i can come in and snuggle you.” you take a breath in of anger, “no. i need to finish homework, plus i’m going to see you again tomorrow.” another grunt comes out of the boy before he says the password to your common room, the fat lady begrudgingly letting the both of you in. “what?! you know the password?” he chuckles before setting you down, “of course, sapnap told me. and i come in here all the time to hook up with different gryffindor girls.” your face of disgust makes a wheeze leave his lips, “i’m joking. i finish homework with sapnap in his room, not hook up with girls. i’ll have you know, i haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” you scoff before turning towards your room, “goodnight dream.” but before you can progress any further, he grabs your wrist, “no.” your face scrunches up. staring the boy up and down, another scoff leaves your lips, “what do you mean ‘no’. i’m not giving you an option.” he pouts and opens his arms, “i jus wanna cuddle.” your face scrunches up in disgust once more before you take a step back, “wasn’t it last week when you were being a bitch about my quidditch team.” his arms fall down in realization but the pout remains visible. slightly annoyed but empathetic, you walk over to him, awkwardly wrapping your arms around his waist, patting him on his back gently. while he embraces you back, he leans down to whisper into your ear, “can we cuddle?” you let out groans before letting out a deep sigh, “fine. but you have to promise not to be too grabby, like right now. i did not tell you to grab my butt.” dream sheepishly shys away from you and grabs the hem of shirt while he follows you up the stairs while you try to maneuver him so he can actually make it up the enchanted stairs that only the girl’s dorm.

when you enter your dorm, you’re met by the friendly faces of your roommates. “h-hey guys.” with the motion of their hands, they tell you scoot over to see dream standing behind you with a smirk on his face. before he could walk into the room, you shut the door in his face, wanting to speak in private with your roommates. “don’t tell anyone about this. he was begging to cuddle and would not leave until i agreed. he’ll be gone by midnight tonight and i promise i’ll make sure he’s quiet.” your roommates stare at you before bursting out in laughter, “you’re going soft y/n!” a look of shock rushes over your face before hushing them, “i am not.” they shake their heads in disagreement, making you roll your eyes. when you open the door to let dream back into your room, your roommates pack their homework and walk towards the door. one roommate holds the door open while the other still collects her things, “we’ll be seeing you later y/n. so have fun with dream.” you hide your face in your pillow, embarrassed from their current attitudes about your situation. when they leave, dream sits on your bed while you stand up and walk over to your closet and grab a change of clothes. “just lay on the bed and i’ll be out soon.” dream nods, boredly flipping through a random book he found on your bed.

in the bathroom, you tie your hair in a messy bun, change into some sweatpants and a random oversized t-shirt, you think its either sapnap’s or wilbur’s, take your contacts out and put your glasses on, before proceeding to brush your teeth and exiting the bathroom.

sitting on the edge of your bed, you stare down at dream, hugging your pillow. “y/n, can you replace the pillow?” your expression quickly shifts from a neutral face to a cringing face. you ignore his words, “scoot over.” you say while grabbing the book dream was reading before you came out, opening it and tucking your legs underneath your comforter. another sigh leaves your lips as you tap the top of your thighs twice, letting dream know that he can lay his head onto your legs, in which he gladly does. about thirty minutes pass and your hand drags itself through his hair, occasionally leaving to flip the page of your book. you stay super into your book until dream speaks up, “y/n.” you let out a mhm of acknowledgement, letting him know you’re listening. “i don’t want to cuddle your legs, i want to cuddle you.” a small okay is heard from you as you put the book on your dresser, tucking yourself into your bed. your back faces away from dream. a shiver rolls down your spine as he wraps his arms around your waist, resulting in him breathing down your neck. goosebumps arise on your body. in the awkward silence of the room, the only things you can hear are the loud thumps of your heart and the even breaths from dream.

when you wake up the next morning, you move your arms to stretch them, but fail to do so in the embrace of dream. staring at his peaceful face, free of any frowns he had shown last night, you brush his bangs out of his eyes. with a glance at the seeping sunlight, you slowly slip out of his embrace, walking to the bathroom to get ready for the day. before you exit the room, you glance over at the sleeping boy on your bed. you roll your eyes before walking over to his side and sitting down on the edge of the bed, gently caressing his messy hair. he stirs in his sleep for a few seconds and as he opens his eyes. the first things he sees is you before pulling you towards his chest with you going down with a yelp. “dream!” he nuzzles his head into your neck, mumbling something incoherent. “say that again?” he mumbles some more, “i don’t know what you’re saying.” you chuckle in-between each word, he moves his head away from your neck, “i said you smell good.” dream stretches as you pull away from him, walking over to the door leading to the common room. “go clean yourself up and come to breakfast.” dream sluggishly drags himself out of your bed before grabbing his robe and your wrist, proceeding to drag you towards the door, the stairs turning into a slide underneath him while you wait for the stairs to turn back, laughing loudly at him. at the bottom of the stairs, you meet the friendly faces of phil, fundy and sapnap.

“y/n, why was dream in your room last night?” phil asks just a bit sarcastic but with a joyful smile on his face. sapnap’s face morphs into a smirk as his eyes move from your figure to dream’s and then back to yours. “you,” he says while staring at you before turning to dream on the floor, “and you.” sapnap then proceeds to make kissy faces earning a smack from you and a chuckle from dream, earning dream a smack from you as well. “dream is leaving anyways.” you say while pushing him out of your common room. phil, fundy, sapnap, you and dream make your way down the hall, “dream. go to your room and change.” he pouts once again before wrapping his hand around yours. once phil notices, he walks between the both of you, separating you and dream, making you stand on either side of him. when you glance up at phil, he just gives you his signature kind smile before turning back to his conversation with fundy. before you notice, dream had disappeared to god knows where, you get pulled behind a pillar, not being noticed from the three of your friends. “shh, y/n.” his hand covers your mouth until he lets go, “dream! what was the point of this, we were with each other like five minutes ago.” he ignores your words and drags you towards the slytherin common room, finishing what he started earlier by holding your hand.

while you wait for dream to finish getting ready in his room, you sit in the common room, greeted by the not so friendly faces of other slytherins, disregarding wilbur sitting at your side, telling you about the dragon he was raising in the dark forest. when dream comes back out, the color of your uniform stands out so brightly in the dark green room. wilbur sits next to you with his beanie on. “wilbur, aren’t you tired? you have black circles under your eyes.” he shakes his head with optimism, “it’s for the aesthetic. don’t worry about them. oh hello dream!” your eyes shift from wilbur to dream. dream leads you out of the common room as the both of you walk down the quiet and empty halls towards breakfast. dream wraps his robe around your shoulders, “i know you get cold easily.” you look up at him with a small smile engulfed by sadness, “thanks.”

as you walk down the long hallway, you finally feel the courage to speak up. “dream,” you pause waiting for a response from the tall boy. he lets out a hum to let you know he’s listening, “why are you doing this?” the question slips from your lips with doubt and concern. “doing what?” dream answers back with his own question. “well for one,” you pause once again with uncertainty, “pretending to like me. just a week ago, you were being a jerk to me and all of a sudden, you just begin to pursue me. and i want to know why.” dream stops in place while you continue by yourself, “what do you mean pretend to like you? i do like you.” now it was your turn to stop, “no you don’t. you can’t just begin to like someone all of a sudden. nothing works like that. so, i’m going to ask you something and i want you to answer sincerely, okay?” dream’s face falls into a guilty expression as he stares at the floor, “how much?” you maintain the soft expression on your face while continuing to gaze at the tall boy, “fifteen galleons.” a tiny huff of air leaves your lips as you a soft small appears on your face in slight disbelief, eyes slightly tearing up. you walk away for a while before speaking once again, “i hope it was worth it.” you take off his robe and drop it on the floor as you walk away from him.

as you enter the great hall for breakfast, you sit next to phil quietly. with a small eye smile, you tell phil that you’re not that hungry and just take a sip out of your tea. “so , y/n. you and dream huh?” sapnap teases, “there’s nothing between us.” your cold tone resonates throughout the gryffindor table, “woah, no need to get your panties in a bunch.” he teases as the other boys around you laugh. angered, you stand up and grab his collar, pulling him towards you over the table, “i said there’s nothing. so fuck off and mind your own business.” your empty hand crunches up, turning your fist white. phil abruptly stands up and gently puts his hand on your shoulder as a signal to tell you to calm down. you could feel all eyes on you but could honestly care less. releasing his collar, the boy looks at you after being scolded by phil for butting into a girl’s business. “i’m sorry y/n. i didn’t mean to that insensitive.” you snap out of your rage induced glare and decide to mutter a small apology as well before walking out of the hall.

“y/n!” another glare arises on your face at you look at the culprit that made you angry. “i’m sorry for the bet, but i was just using that as an excuse because i kept denying the fact that i like you.” dream attempts to grab your hand like he did earlier that day but you snatch your hand away. “don’t bother lying now because i didn’t even believe you earlier.” your reply marked with extreme sarcasm. you turn around to stomp towards your common room once again. “y/n, please. what will it take for you to realize that i actually like you.” with a glance over your shoulder, you look at dream one last time, “leave me the fuck alone.”

as the week passed, it was the day of your date with dream. you stayed in your dorm for most of the day, eventually going out to eat at meal times. dream waited for you at the bridge that leads to hogsmeade for hours until finally leaving when sapnap came to tell him that you weren’t coming.

on the day of your quidditch game with ravenclaw, you lay in bed, staring at the spot dream had once been in with you. you’ve seen dream around but never even glanced towards him, isolating yourself quietly with your small group of friends. dream, for the most part, left you alone besides the points where he hangs out with sapnap in the gryffindor common room. you rarely spoke and only did when it was necessary. before you realize, you’re in the shower room, getting dressed in your uniform. sapnap leads you towards the field and your team flies onto the field. technoblade flies up towards you in attempt to speak to you for the first time that week. “hey munchkin. how’s it going.” you drag your hands through your hair, messing it up after phil had worked so hard to keep it neat. “dream told me he liked me. but his antics started after i confronted him about his bet.” techno’s eyes soften as he ruffles your hair, “i don’t want to sour your mood even more, but he’s sitting in gryffindor stands right now. just for your own information.” you roll your eyes and fly over to your side, bat in hand. the huffs of your breaths could be seen in the snowy weather of winter.

for most of the game, you played extremely aggressive. you nearly hit sapnap once and actually hit fundy while ravenclaw scored over and over again. “y/n! get down here!” you hear the rough voice of your quidditch captain call, “what’s wrong with you l/n? you never play this recklessly. sit out this game, we can have someone else sub for you.” dream watches you from the stands. you stare at your captain in disbelief before nodding and walking off the field.

walking down the hallways, dream follows you with silent steps in order to not attract any unwanted attention. “what do you want dream?” you ask without turning around to look at the boy. “y/n,” before he can finishes, he pauses, allowing time for you to interrupt, “i asked for what you wanted, not my name.” you let out the sarcastic and sappy reply. “y/n, i’m sorry i put you in such a shitty situation and because of that, inevitably hurt our relationship. the stupid relationship that makes me smile every time i think about you or when someone mentions your name.” dream walks towards you with caution while also watching your reaction. once he realizes that you’re okay with his presence, he pulls you into his embrace. your face gets buried into his chest. “i hate you. i hate that you made me believe you loved me. i hate that i like you despite you being an ass. i hate that we have an unspoken rivalry. i hate how you make butterflies appear with any spoken word and how you’re a touchy person that needs to hold my hand wherever we go.” dream’s chuckles echo in the hall along with his body. “i didn’t know you hated me so much.” you push away from him with a small smirk on your face, “i do. you just have a punchable face.” dream lets out an exaggerated gasp as he holds his hand over his heart, “i’m offended.” he pouts once again, a smile expanding on his face.

“but will you officially do me the honor of going out on a date with me on tomorrow? no bets, no money, nothing. just a boy in love.” you cringe at first then pretend to think about it for a while before finally making eye contact with him, “no.” his smile doesn’t falter, “okay then, i’ll see you at the bridge at nine thirty.” you raise your eyebrows in confusion as the boy walks three steps ahead of you, “come on y/n.” he taunts as if you are a dog. with the roll of your eyes, you skip up towards him and he wraps one of his arms around your shoulder. “you’re not busy right now, are you?” a small laugh leaves your lips as you stare at the tall boy, “well, i just kicked out of my quidditch game, so no? but then again, i’m sort of sweaty so i might need to take a shower.” he ignores you once again and continues walking towards your dorm. as he begins to sound out the password, you cut him off. “look dream, i like you okay?” dream nods with a sly smirk, “but not enough for you to come in.” patting him on his back, you tell the lady the password and walk into the common room. his smirk falters as you leave him standing outside the common room door. dream’s eyes stay on you until he fat lady closes the portrait door. “rejected!” she sings before dream walks away with the roll of his eyes.

the next day at around nine twenty, you walk up from your bed. “oh my god!” you yell checking the time. running to your bathroom, you turn the your sink on quickly, brushing your teeth and your hair before running out to go change. at nine twenty five, you run down the busy halls, occasionally bumping shoulders with some random people. “y/n? where are you going?” fundy asks while watching you run. you stop briefly, “date. dream. waiting. late.” breathing out each word slowly due to your lack of breath. as you begin to start running again, phil and fundy watch you receding figure. by nine thirty two, you make it to the entrance of the bridge, seeing dream standing there with a small smile on his face. “you’re late.” you let out coughs and heave out heavy breaths before speaking again. “sorry. i woke up later than expected.” while you try to catch your breath, dream stares at you lovingly before getting a mischievous glint in his eyes, “am i that breathtaking y/n?” a frown appears on your face before you begin to walk back towards the castle, “no, y/n. i was kidding.”he chuckles as he grabs your hand, the warmth from his hand immediately seeping into your cold hand.

after walking around for a while hearing the crisp crunch of the snow, dream’s hand remains in yours. to be honest, he hasn’t even let your hand go since the beginning of your date. while you were at honeydukes, he held your hand, at dervish and banges, he held your hand, scrivencraft’s, dream. hand. your. hand. he would constantly whine whenever you tried to let go and if you did, he would opt to putting an arm over your shoulder. you walk around with dream until finally reaching the three broomsticks.

you tell dream to get the two of you a table while you go to order drinks. while you wait to pick up the drinks at the counter, you turn around to see dream with a posse full of girls around the tiny table. with the role of your eyes, you dismiss his cocky attitude and turn back towards the lady making your drinks. “is that the boy you came in with?” you life your head off of your palm and look up at the older lady, “yes ma’am.” loud giggles could be heard from behind you as you continue to ignore them, your clenched fist turning slightly whiter by the minute. the older lady looks down at you with sympathy, “you’re jealous.” taken aback from her absurd comment, you look at her with disbelief and large eyes. “jealous? jealous of that?” you say while turning around to point at dream and the girls basically hanging off of his body. “there’s a certain amount of pride a lady can hold herself to and there is no way i’m stooping down that low. sure, call me jealous if you want, but don’t compare me to that mess over there.” you slam down one galleon and walk away from the counter and out the door. dream watches your whole interaction happen and abrubtly stands up after watching you exit the pub. “sorry ladies, but my girl needs some tending to.” he walks out, ignoring the symphony of pleads.

“stupid. stupid. how could i have gotten so mad. she was just making an observation.” you murmur to yourself, feeling apologetic to the older lady who was just as surprised as you after you went off on your tangent. you sit on a bench, which overlooking the mountains near the school. you hit your head with the palm of your hand continuously until a warm hand stop you. “why’d you run away bunny?” you slip your wrist out of his grasp, “not run. walked. and it was because of something that happened to me and the waitress. she may or may not have said something i disagreed with and i may or may not have gone off about it at her.” dream sits down next to you, leaving no space in-between the both of you despite the bench being able to seat four people. “oh bunny-“ once again annoyed, you interrupt him, “why are you calling me bunny?” he chuckles as he watches you stand up to walk off, “because,” dream reciprocates your action and stands up as well, wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you into his chest. “despite you being in gryffindor, you’re like a cute bunny to me. you’re the smartest person i know and love being around people. despite those traits, you are also bratty, willful and vengeful. it takes a certain person to deal with me and you work with me. we’re like the modern life lady and the tramp.” hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist.

“now bunny, what did the lady say to you?” you let out a small murmur of no before pulling away from him. “you don’t need to know.” a mischievous smile erupts on his face, “but i want to know.” you shake your head in response, “but you don’t need to.” with a slight side step, you stare up at the boy. “bunny.” he replies sternly, “if you don’t reply in five seconds, something bad is going to happen to you.” he uses his fingers count down to zero, “five, four, three,” in the meantime, you begin to run away from the boy, “get away from me!” you yell as you try to the reach the sanctuary of the presence of other students. before you could, you get tackled to the ground, “i asked you nicely y/n.” a second before you could repent, he begins to tickle you. “no. i’m sorry. i’ll tell you.” you wheeze out, “its too late bunny.” he continues to tickle you for what feels like hours, on the cold snow on the ground, until he gets tackled off of you, “get off of her!” you sit up to see fundy on top of dream, pinning his hands down while sapnap grabs dreams legs. their interrogation of dream gets interrupted by your laughs. their attention gets turned towards you, “you dunces. he wasn’t attacking me, he was tickling me.” fundy and sapnap’s faces turns into a surprised look as they turn to look at each other before looking back at you and getting off of dream. “my bad bro. we didn’t know.” sapnap replies as he and fundy scurry off to the safety of philza.

you stare at dream with an amused smirk as he continues to lay on the ground, pouting at the sudden interaction. you reach your hand down to help him up, “why couldn’t you make friends with hot girls that would tackle me.” before he could grab your hand, you pull it back and walk away, teasing him. “wait y/n, are you actually offended from what i said?” dream stands up and jogs over towards you, “cause i love that you have friends in general.” your face scrunches up as you stare him, “okay, fox.” now it was time for his face to scrunch up, “what did you just call me.” he says, not stating it as a question but rather a statement. “i called you fox.” his eyesbrows raise in confusion, “i’m bunny and you’re fox.” dream stares at you before grabbing your hand and walking towards the castle, “okay, i’ll be fox if you’re bunny.” smiles erupt on both of your faces as you continue to joke around on your trip towards the castle.

the first time you say i love you back to dream is from the day he pouted the entire night and while also hiding from you in the safety of his room. “beau, what’s wrong with you today?” when he finally looks up at you, he tries to keep a stern expression, but it falls into a smile as he pulls you close to him. “why don’t you ever say i love you back?” small chuckles erupt from your body as you play with his dirty blonde hair, “because i thought you knew how much i loved you. but if you need confirmation, you could’ve just told me.” he groans in slight embarrassment, “i love you so much to the point that i would do anything you ask me to. i would even kill sapnap for you.” now it was dream’s turn to chuckle, “thank you y/n. i love you too.” for the rest of the night, he didn’t let you go, meaning, you had to sneak back into your common room at four in the morning, hiding from the watchful gaze of philza.

about five months pass, and your relationship with dream prospers. at any quidditch game, you or him would be spotted in the crowd, or actually versing each other. in that case, he would stay so close to you, occasionally throwing around flirty comments at you or basically handing you the bludger. other times, when you study in the library with techno or phil, he always sits in the corner of the library with george, never being secretive. “what george? say that again.” leaving you to ignore him. whenever parties occur, you always try to walk around and mingle while he attaches himself to your side, greeting everyone you talk to. when he gets deadbeat drunk, he becomes clingy times one million, “y/n, don’t leave me.” and you reply, ‘this is my room.” cries and loves to snuggles into your neck when you come back a minute later. you’re not gonna lie but man is in lsg, little spoon gang. he loves being little spoon when he’s drunk but sober dream is another story. always has to be big spoon to keep his reputation up and has absolutely no recollection of being little spoon, so its your little secret with drunk dream. when you do your homework, he lays on your bed, usually taking a nap despite his eight page essay being due the next day. weekly hogsmeade dates, will literally buy you anything you set your eyes on, not even caring about the price. sometimes you wonder where that money even comes from. in total, will chase you down nonstop while you run away from his antics.

your relationship is well known around the school as the complex bunny and the sly fox.

philza still doesn’t approve though.

[kuromantic]

Tales of Zombish: Haikyuu Light Novel Translation

*This is my translation of the Zombie Knight Zombish snippets from the light novel. It’s split into 5 parts, and inserted between each chapter of the light novel. Don’t copy this to another site. The translation is under the cut!

Zombie Knight Zombish

 1: Zombish is Born!!

Nightfall. A lone swordsman wakes up. A swordsman that does not know of true death, because of experiencing a false death. 

“...Wait, it’s still evening, you stupid crow!” 

The man yells at the small crow beside him, having just woken up by a thin bush. The man’s body was wrapped up in an old, tattered cloth—which must have been a cloak some time ago—which covered his entire body. 

“I could have gotten burned by the setting sun…” The man blocks out the sunlight with the tattered cloth, and the crow caws apologetically. 

“Well, it’s okay. I don’t even have a body that can be burned.” 

The man laughs, and the crow flaps its black wings, flying ahead up into the sky. The man follows it with his gaze, squinting at the brightness. He stands up. 

“Oh, well. Guess I’ll go.” 

The man starts to walk. His frame was thin and delicate, which could be seen even when it was covered with the tattered cloth. And on his back, was a sword. 

The sword, which is large enough to not be recognized as one at first glance, does not suit the lean man. 

“Man, I wonder if a car will pass by… Eh, I guess no sane person would have gasoline now.” 

There’s no road where the man looks ahead. 

In the dead world where smokey, dried up wastelands stretch out for seemingly forever, the man continues to walk alone today.

“Yeah, isn’t this good? Isn’t this good? It sounds like the story’s just begun, right?” 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, stands up with an excited face and gets another drink from the self-service fountains. He returns to his table with a glass of cola in his hand. He continues working on his storyboard. 

The only equipment on the table is a notebook, a pencil and an eraser. On the open page, there are scribbles that nobody else could decipher. It’s the storyboard Udai made with all his effort. 

I wanna try and make a manga. I like it. With that, Udai had drawn a manga during his college years. And it had won an honourable mention in the rookie awards. He had gotten an editor and debuted as a mangaka. But the reality was, he wasn’t quite reaching serialization. 

But now, “Zombie Knight Zombish”, is being created in the restaurant. And there’s a confidence that hasn’t been there before. 

“‘Everything but death is nothing but a scratch’? He needs to get over himself… No, maybe ‘Mortal bodies, they make me jealous.’...” 

Udai mumbles dialogues to himself, changing his expressions to suit the main character’s. The other customers at the restaurant glance at him. 

But he can’t afford to care about those gazes.

Zombish needs to help the heroine attacked by the enemy, in an extremely cool and overdramatic manner. 

And the enemy has to be a fated opponent that Zombish has known before turning into a zombie. The heroine needs to be a key person, for Zombish to return from zombie to human. And of course, she needs to be cute, a little strong-willed, who tries to join in on the fighting sometimes. But also a girl who you just want to protect…

A flash. 

The girl’s eyes can only capture the white hand, emerging from the tattered cloth and gripping the sword on his back. 

She feels wind brush past her cheeks, and closes her eyes. She opens them again, and the bandits have already collapsed onto the dry ground. 

“Huh? What…?” 

As the girl struggles to comprehend what had happened, Zombish is already starting to walk away. 

“Hey, don’t leave me behind!” 

She grabs the knight. At that moment, the tattered cloth on him rips and falls to the ground. 

What appears is not the handsome knight she expected. Nor a fighter that’s big and well-muscled. It’s a skeleton. 

“...Wait, bone?! Why bone! Bone? Wait, do bones even talk?!” 

“Yeah, I’m bone! So sorry I’m bone, sue me!” 

The knight picks up the truly tattered piece of rag, and hides his body. It truly looks like a skeletal model. He turns his back to the girl. 

“Anyway, I’m bone. So I can’t go with you. Protect yourself, you’re on your own.” 

The “bone”, that had slain a crowd of bandits instantly, tries to walk away from one single girl, as if to escape from her. 

Staring at Zombish’s lanky, weak-looking back and the huge sword on it, the girl shouts over at him. 

“Hey, bone! Can you eat?” 

Zombish turns around, lifts the tattered cloth, and points around his stomach with a laugh. 

“You wanna see me eat? It’s hilarious.” 

“If you don’t eat… That means I don’t have to share my food or water with you, right?”

“Huh?” 

“It doesn’t matter if you’re bone or not, if you can defeat these guys. You’re pretty strong.” The girl points to the iron-clad, muscular bandit with a mohawk. “And I should sew that cloth I ripped back together…” 

Zombish laughs, his hard skull distorting a little. “I’m not strong. Those guys are just small fries. But I guess I’ll have you fix this cloth for me.” 

At those words, the girl runs up to him. 

In the dried-up world of death, two footsteps mark their paths. Up above in the sky, a crow flies around in circles. As if to watch over them. 

Zombish’s journey has just started!! 

“I wonder what my editor will say…” 

 The man, once the “Little Giant”, leaves the restaurant and returns home. And without changing his clothes, collapses into his futon for the first time in a while.

2. VS Editor A!! 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right?” Akaashi Keiji opens his heavy mouth, holding his coffee in one hand. It makes Akaashi heavy-hearted to meddle with a work an author brought to him. 

Kanda, Chiyoda City, Tokyo. 

In the editorial department of Weekly Shonen Vie, there’s an extreme lack of people in the afternoon. 

The rookie mangaka, Udai Tenma, freezes momentarily in the meeting space. And he attempts to brush it off with a laugh. 

“Yeah, I thought, ‘Is a skeleton okay?’ for a bit. But maybe a Japanese-style zombie would be new, and I thought I could pull it off. We all get cremated in Japan, too. Hahaha.” 

“I see.” 

Akaashi looks at the copy of “Zombie Knight Zombish” on the table, and Udai laughing in front of him. And he says one more time, with force behind his words. That this is the last time he’ll say this, and he won’t say the same thing again. 

“Zombies aren’t usually skeletons, right.” 

The question mark had disappeared. 

It’s not a question, but a confirmation of fact. 

“...Yeah.” Udai replies weakly. He drops his shoulders, and bites the straw of his cola. 

 It’s tough. 

It had been his best work. He had a confidence in it, that he hadn’t before with his other works. But his concept had been fundamentally criticized. 

The editor continues talking to the crestfallen Udai. 

“And one more thing.” 

“...What is it?” 

Udai hunches his shoulders, looking up at Akaashi like a scolded child. Akaashi sips his coffee, adjusts his glasses and lets out a breath. He opens his mouth slowly. 

“We’ve established that a skeleton is not a zombie. But I think this skeleton’s design is a little lacking, in the first place. It’s no different to any old skeleton. For the main character, I want a quirk that will tell you it’s Zombish with just one look.” 

“Any old skeleton?” Udai says, and draws a normal-looking skeleton into his notebook. 

“Yes. For example, he could be wearing glasses, or he could have a large scar. I want a unique design. Even if you draw him simply, you would know it’s him. If I were to ask for more, I’d even say make his silhouette recognizable. That’s how strong his design should be.” 

Udai adds a scar to his skeleton, and mumbles, “I guess it can’t be a scar, if his silhouette has to be recognizable.” 

“The scar is just one example.” 

“I’m sorry…” 

Udai slurps the cola at the bottom of the glass, which is pretty much melted ice. He laughs disappointedly. 

“I thought the skeleton was fine, since he was cremated. Like a Japanese-style zombie. Well, there’s no zombie-ness, I guess…” 

At those words, Akaashi’s glasses shine. 

“Then… How about you make Zombish look more Japanese? It could link with his sword, too.” 

“What?” 

“Well, this is just one what-if scenario.” 

“...No, I think it could work. I’ll think about it! Then maybe he can look different from any old zombie!” Udai grabs his pen, and draws a Japanese-style zombie in his notebook. “If it’s Japanese clothes and a sword, he’d just be a samurai… How do I give him the zombie knight feeling…”

Watching the pen move busily and create many versions of Zombish, Akaashi feels a weight lift from his heart. 

It makes him heavy-hearted to meddle with other people’s works. But sometimes, his words make the author take a step in a good direction. That must be why he can continue with this job. 

“So now, please brush up on the work. And, depending on the edited manuscript, I may bring it up during the serialization meeting.” 

Udai’s pen stops moving. “Wait, why?! You’ve been talking about my work so harshly and tearing into it this whole time!” 

“...I haven’t been tearing into it. It’s entertaining, so I just want to make the story even more entertaining.” 

Udai’s face crumples, as he looks up at Akaashi. “Akaashi-san, you weren’t just an unpleasant person, after all!” 

“I’m an unpleasant person…?” 

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean it that way! I meant it in an um, good way!” 

Akaashi doesn’t ask what exactly he means by that, and organizes the manuscript. “Zombish is very entertaining, compared to the works you have brought me so far. I think you have a chance.” 

“Thank you!” 

“Oh, and lastly…” 

“There’s… still more?” Udai tenses. 

 Akaashi chuckles, before talking. “I’ve been thinking for a while, but this bit on the edge of the page, saying ‘Zombish’s journey has only just begun!’. You don’t need to write that. It’s the editor’s job.” 

“...!!”

4. Get Serialized!! 

It’s just past noon. Noticing that the phone is ringing, Udai reaches out from under the futon. He checks, and realizes it’s Akaashi. He gets out of the futon in a hurry, and answers. 

“You were asleep.” Akaashi says, in the same straightforward tone. 

“...I’m sorry.” 

“No, I’m sorry too. I’m going to get into it. Your one-shot is well-received.” 

At those words, Udai’s hand begins to sweat. He had been told to make a one-shot for the extra issue, and had made “Zombie Knight Zombish” with everything he’d got. 

He had changed Zombish’s design into a young man with patchwork skin, after Akaashi’s critique. He likes the way the bandages show around his collar. It can’t have been a skeleton, he thinks. It’s hard to relate to a skeleton. 

The “recognizable by silhouette” task had been cleared with the axe on his head. The zombie knight element was incorporated, by making him detach his left arm to wield his sword. Maybe they’ll make a movable figure out of the character. 

Above all, it was a work he’d been confident in. If it had still been absolutely hopeless, Udai wouldn’t have been able to recover from it. 

“Thank god…” Udai feels the tension drain out of him, and Akaashi continues. 

“And now, I would like to brush up Zombish to prepare for serialization.” 

“Of course! With pleasure!” Udai answers with gusto, almost like an izakaya employee. 

“Firstly, your heroine.” 

“Yes!” 

I should probably fix up the heroine a bit more, Udai thinks. Make her cuter, better… But Akaashi doesn’t steer the conversation in that direction. 

“In the one-shot, Zombish saves her, and they decide to go on a journey together, and it ends there.” 

“Huh? Oh, yes.” 

“If the one-shot will be chapter one, are they going to be travelling together in chapter two and beyond?” 

It’s not anything fun, like about making the heroine have a good figure or about how revealing her clothes should be. 

And really, Udai hadn’t been thinking what would happen once it got serialized. Well, he supposes it would be like what Akaashi just said. 

“Wouldn’t the readers grow bored of that?” As if to read Udai’s mind, Akaashi says. 

“What?” 

“The main character and the heroine go on a journey together the whole time, an enemy appears, he saves her, he defeats the enemy, and then moves on. And they continue like that until the final boss.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Wouldn’t that bore people?” 

Wait, am I getting given out to? 

No, he’d only been thinking of the one-shot as a base, so he hadn’t set anything beyond that in stone. He had only thought that leaving the readers hoping for more would be enough. 

“...Um, if it’s possible, I’d like to talk about this in person.” Udai says, wiping the sweat off his palms with his t-shirt. 

“All right. When are you free?” 

And so, in the editorial department the day after, the brainstorming session in the meeting space had continued for more than two hours. 

“So then, instead of a heroine that just keeps getting saved…” 

“She’d be like a buddy that also gives witty comebacks.” 

Udai draws a bunch of expressions for the female character. Flustered, angry, glaring… He stops his pen, and looks at Akaashi. 

“Then maybe Zombish will have a goofy side, instead of just being cool?” 

“But please don’t make it into a gag manga. Looking at the survey results, there are a lot of people saying that the manga is interesting because Zombish is cool.” Akaashi answers, looking at the survey chart. 

“I see… Balancing it out is hard.” Udai draws out a bunch of Zombish’s expressions in his notebook, and laughs. “But it’s fun. It feels like I’m making a manga.” 

“It’s good to hear that.” Akaashi smiles for a moment, and continues. “And also, about the enemy. Instead of them being a group of bandits in the harsh world, making them an organization would add depth to the story.” 

“Oh, maybe they’re the reason Zombish turned into a zombie?” 

“Sounds good.” 

Udai’s mood lifts from Akaashi’s acknowledgement, and opens up a page earlier on in his notebook. 

“Look here! The final boss is a fated opponent from before Zombish turned into a zombie. And the heroine is a key person for Zombish to turn back into a human. So I thought right now, maybe the heroine is the daughter of the final boss.” 

In contrast to the excited Udai, Akaashi lets out a low groan of uncertainty. 

“...So what, exactly, is Zombish fighting for?” 

“You always ask questions that can make the whole thing fall apart, Akaashi-san.” 

“Well, isn’t that the most important part?” 

Expanding ideas simple-mindedly is fun. The more he expands, picking up the pieces and making the story coherent will be hell, though. But knowing that, talking about final bosses and rivals is genuinely fun. 

“Secret hideouts are great, aren’t they?” 

“If they’ve taken over this world, isn’t there no need to keep it a secret? Something that would display their power…” 

“A castle!”

7. Secret Technique: Bolster Up! 

Just after serialization, the response had been very good. It had been. Udai had been in a good mood, asking “This will definitely be turned into an anime, right?” 

But now, it had gotten to a point where they couldn’t let it get any lower on the survey rankings. 

“........” 

“Are you okay?” Akaashi’s senior sees him with his head in his hands, and speaks to him. 

“...Oh, yes.” 

“It’s about Zombish, right? You should bolster it up with something. Like, with a pretty girl or a handsome guy,” the senior says. “Well, I don’t know.” He returns to his seat, after saying his part. 

“Bolster it up…” 

Akaashi’s brows knit together. 

Would that be enough? Could such a hasty, superficial solution entertain the readers? Well, the current results point to the fact that they’re not entertained. But even so, shouldn’t they be charming the audience with the protagonist’s appeal, or how interesting the story is? 

“The protagonist’s appeal, huh…” 

But what are the features of a protagonist that will be loved? 

What kind of story makes the readers want to come back for more? 

“.....” 

It would be the anticipation the readers have for the main character. What will happen next week? What will he show us next? Expectations as such. There must have been a lack of absolute protagonist strength, if he thinks about it. 

But that was the result of trying to create a dark fantasy, painting a delicate picture of emotions. Precisely because it was an absurd world with a zombie knight appearing in it. Was that what they had done wrong? Was it impossible for his literature department-aspiring self to make an entertaining manga, after all…?

After pondering for a long time, Akaashi lifts his head with a start. 

“....!” 

Wait a minute. 

Am I making the same mistake again? 

Am I thinking I could control the author and the readers? 

“...No. Pour your spirit into each ball, pour your spirit into each ball…” 

Yes. Focus on the next point, the next ball. Focus on this week’s story, the obstacle the protagonist must overcome. 

His desk becomes messier each day, as if to reflect inside his heart. Akaashi closes his eyes, and focuses his mental state. 

“Don’t think about what’s easy, think about what’s fun. What’s fun…” 

The survey rankings going down, getting discontinued isn’t fun. Then what is he meant to do…?

“Give feedback… Connect it to the next step… The next…” 

The seniors look at Akaashi worriedly, in front of the printer. 

“Akaashi is muttering to himself again, is he okay? He won’t quit, will he?” 

“He always comes back to life afterwards, you can leave him alone.” 

“Yep.”

“I want an absolute, strong main character.” Akaashi says to Udai, during their meeting. 

“Absolute?” 

“Yes. Like a star that hits any ball with his utmost ability.” 

“Am I going to get discontinued?!” 

Udai stands up with a clatter, face growing pale. Akaashi shakes his head quietly. 

“...Please calm down. It’s not getting discontinued, yet.” 

“...Yet…” Udai shrinks, and sits back down. 

“It’s a tough situation, but let’s turn things around.” 

They’re burning their bridges behind them. 

On the walls around the meeting space, there are many posters of works that had been turned into anime and movies. And the cardboard boxes blocking the corridor are packed with samples of goods. 

They have to join the ranks of those popular works, at all cost…!

Akaashi brings his gaze back to Udai, and starts to summarize the things he had thought about for the past week. 

“The main character… Zombish is a ‘star’. The readers have expectations for the star. What will he do next? What awesome moves will he show us? What kind of crazy risks will he take?

“We want the main character to amaze us with unexpected, yet charming actions. Whether Zombish sinks or swims will depend on how he overcomes next week’s desperate situation.” 

Akaashi lifts the paper bag on the floor. “And there’s a favour I want to ask from you.” 

“What’s this? I was wondering about it for a while.” The paper bag handed to him is unexpectedly heavy. Udai glances inside. “A blu-ray?” 

“Yes. I picked out swashbuckler films of all types, that have useful scenes for composition and pose references. At this point, we should take in anything cool and flashy.” 

“Thank you!”

“Also, it will be hard for you to watch it all, so I wrote the times for scenes I want you to watch.” Akaashi gives him a note. 

“I’ll definitely watch it! I’ll use them as references!” 

“I’ll do anything I can as well. Let’s both try our best.” 

There’s no way Akaashi can control what story the author will bring to him, what the other works will be like, how the readers will react. 

So, he should think about what he can do, what he should do. 

Avoiding discontinuation— it’s hard, but it shouldn’t be impossible.

10. Our fight has only just begun! 

“Zombish is getting discontinued… You have seven chapters left…” 

After getting the phone call informing him of the discontinuation, Udai had gone outside. Staying in his room felt too painful. But why, and how he’d come to the editing department, he doesn’t remember. 

Akaashi had been taken aback, after Udai had come without contacting him. But one look at his face, and he knew he couldn’t leave him by himself. And so he had taken him to a nearby coffee shop to talk to him. It was just his luck that he hadn’t gone outside the company. 

“Please order anything you like.” 

Akaashi gives the menu to Udai sitting opposite to him, but Udai drops it onto the table, not having enough energy to hold it. 

Akaashi pulls the menu closer to himself, trying not to show his shock. “Is coffee all right, then?” 

“........” 

There’s no answer, but Akaashi asks for two cups of coffee from the waiter. He chooses his words carefully, and begins to speak. 

“We had unfortunate results this time, but…” Akaashi continues, to the dejected Udai. “And as a suggestion from me…”

“........”

“I would like to get a fresh start with a new work. We should solidify the concept more for your next work, and compete with a work only you can make.” 

“Next…?” Udai raises his head at last, only to slam it back into the table. “There’s nothing! There’s no such thing that only I can make!” He lifts his crumpled face, and yells. 

“That’s not true. There must be something…”

“It is too! There’s nothing!”

Akaashi can only bite his lip, while his assigned author descends into total panic. 

What should he do…

He can’t just say “Bye, then,” and leave him feeling downcast. He had wanted to part ways with him in a positive manner, connecting him to the next step. That might just be his own ego talking, though.

“...I’m sure there’s a good theme for you. Is there anything you liked as a child, or something you put your heart into?” 

“I’m just a jack-of-all-trades, average guy. I’ve just gotten by in regards to study, sports, art and music…” 

When Udai had been in good form, he had preened about it, saying “I can do pretty much anything!”, but now he’s totally dejected. Well, that can’t be helped. He’s getting discontinued, after all. 

The only thing Akaashi can do, is to tell him his completely honest thoughts. 

“I don’t think a serialized author is just a jack-of-all-trades, average person.” 

“I’m not a serialized author anymore, I’m a discontinued author…”

At that moment, the waiter arrives. He shows a slightly intrigued face at Udai’s words, but immediately puts on his professional face and turns on his heels. 

Akaashi takes the cup, and inhales the aroma of coffee to calm himself down. He thinks. Maybe he should make some small talk, and change the mood. 

What should he talk about? Not about his work, or about what lays ahead. Then, about Udai himself? He wonders what he had talked about with him recently. What club had he joined in college? Where was he from? 

And he remembers. 

“Udai-san, you told me before that you’re from Tohoku. Were there any unusual traditions there? That you can write a manga about.” 

“...Yeah, I’m from Miyagi. But I lived in a normal estate, it was all pretty normal.” 

Udai says with a hoarse voice, and absentmindedly puts sugar cubes into his coffee. Many, many sugar cubes. Akaashi thinks he’s adding a bit too much, but there’s an atmosphere around them that makes him unable to say that. 

“Well, maybe where I live is in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, to you. You’re from Tokyo, after all.” 

“That’s not…”

Akaashi thinks that Udai is getting a little too dejected with him, but he can’t be blamed. “Zombie Knight Zombish” is Udai’s first serialization, and his first discontinuation. 

Food, sleep… Udai had sacrificed such human necessities, and yet his work had not been well-received. Of course he would be dejected. 

And as a new employee, “Zombie Knight Zombish” was Akaashi’s first work that he had launched from nothing. Due to being emotionally invested in it, Akaashi had felt deeply disappointed about the decision made for Zombish. 

Which is exactly why he had wanted to end it on a positive note. Surely there’s something in common with them, that they can talk about…

Akaashi, feeling cornered, opens his mouth. And starts to talk about something unexpected, even to himself.

“...Actually, I have someone I know in Miyagi. It was in relation to the club I was in during high school.” 

“I see.” 

Udai stirs his coffee with lifeless eyes, not picking up the conversation at all. He doesn’t even drink the coffee that is surely too sweet. 

“........” 

Of course. Someone else’s high school years is the most irrelevant subject to Udai right now. But really, what should he do? Telling someone they’re being discontinued, and thinking of what happens afterwards, is a first for Akaashi. And it’s a big job. He isn’t sure what the correct thing to do is. 

Akaashi falls silent, and Udai opens his mouth. “...What club were you in, during high school?”  He asks, not sounding that interested. It feels more like he asked out of obligation, because there was a break in the conversation. 

Akaashi feels regret, after realizing he’s made Udai read the room for him. But at the same time, he feels relieved that some of Udai’s energy has come back. 

“Volleyball.” 

“I see. I did volleyball, too.” Udai says. “During my years, we went to the Spring High nationals, too.” 

At those words, Akaashi places the coffee he had lifted back onto the table. 

“Oh, me… too.” 

“Really?! That’s amazing, Akaashi-san!” 

“No, you too.” 

And with a light premonition, Akaashi asks. “...Which school did you attend in Miyagi?” 

“It’s not a powerhouse, so I don’t know if you’d know…” Udai laughs, before answering. “It’s called Karasuno.”

Please look forward to Udai-sensei’s next work, “Meteo Attack”!