#but i had fun getting to reference that one photo of the person with all the harp seal pups | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunnami · 5 months

Text

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society.

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black.

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun.

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways.

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused.

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.”

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt.

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?”

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?”

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.”

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—”

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society.

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly.

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.”

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?”

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it.

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!”

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity.

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give.

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress.

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry.

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight.

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat.

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period.

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then—

“That’s Sirius.”

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit.

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.”

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!”

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.”

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either.

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.)

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.”

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.”

You grimace. “Which cousin?”

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.”

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.”

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.”

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.”

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.”

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice.

You nod.

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.”

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe.

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.”

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you.

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.”

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?”

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?”

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.”

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.”

“Oh, Harry. . .”

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?”

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath.

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly.

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?”

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.”

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?”

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes.

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.”

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be.

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.”

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space.

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered.

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved.

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease.

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open.

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision.

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.”

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears.

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!”

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.”

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.”

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked.

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?”

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations.

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?”

Were you?

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend!

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize.

Then, you find it.

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face.

It’s a space on that wall just for you.

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.”

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much.

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.”

That’s all you say before you run out of the door.

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.)

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe.

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.”

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.”

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well.

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.”

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes.

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.”

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!”

You don’t look back.

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.”

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair.

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.”

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you.

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?”

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks.

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?”

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.”

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater.

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra.

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.”

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more.

“Certain,” You respond, yawning.

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones.

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!”

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out.

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came.

“I know,” You say defeatedly.

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.”

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.”

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?”

“I don’t know,” You say honestly.

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora.

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well.

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.”

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.”

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home.

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order.

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips.

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.”

“I’m always right.” You pout.

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.”

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back.

How lucky you are.

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen.

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly.

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.”

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!”

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?”

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.”

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.”

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway.

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.”

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.”

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will.

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!”

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.”

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?”

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.”

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.”

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.”

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.”

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?”

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror.

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.”

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll.

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.”

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them.

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.”

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?”

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.”

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.”

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness.

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters.

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement.

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue.

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead.

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.”

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?”

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast.

“Avada Kedavra!”

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor.

“No!”

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice.

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh.

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?”

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need.

“Expulso!”

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down.

“Accio wand!”

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense.

“Peter?” You call out.

“Crucio!”

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt.

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!”

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.”

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.”

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat.

“Defodio!”

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground.

That just leaves one more problem.

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.”

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.”

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.”

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die, s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.”

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow.

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work.

You just wanted to rest now.

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words.

“Avada Kedavra.”

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms.

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man.

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.”

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely.

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?”

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?”

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?”

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.”

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?”

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors.

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!”

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.”

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.)

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus.

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains.

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.)

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by.

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for.

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader #sunny's hp fics

3K notes · View notes

xhopelesslyromanticx · 7 months

Text

I love a man in shorts - Oscar Piastri x Wolff!Reader

Masterlist

summary: when people start to notice Oscar only owns one outfit they start calling him out for being a dad and you can’t help but see it too.

f1updates

Austin, Texas

liked by y/n.wolff and 35‘567 others

f1updates Oscar has arrived in Austin Texas this morning. He was all smiles and giggles greeting the local Papaya fans.

view all comments

f1stansss I‘m convinced this man doesn’t own long pants

user355 right? he needs a stylist

f1god he is a simple man

piastriii Y/n is there toooo

user355 she should try to get him dressed better

f2starter the guy owns two outfits; mclaren gear and shorts and shirt

user37 right he gives off sich dad vibes

landonorris @y/n.wolff this is your man?

y/n.wolff @oscarpiastri you’re being attacked broooo

oscarpiastri shut up Lando

y/n.wolff

Austin

liked by lewishamilton and 456‘789 others

y/n.wolff dads :)

view all comments

lewishamilton ?

y/n.wolff the girls that get it, get it.

user345 hahaha not her confusing sir lewis hamilton

user221 the way lewis is sitting has me dead

oscarpiastri aha, getting the reference ;)

f1troll shorts and shirt king

f1lover oscar has me dead, he is truly such a dad

georgerussell63 lewis is looking horrid in those pants

lewishamilton you didn’t even make the slide show shut up

mclaren Oscar is truly dad material

landonorris more like daddy

y/n.wolff LANDO!

toto.wolff ??

landonorris

Austin

liked by pierregasly and 1‘257‘890 others

landonorris @mclaren, next time Oscar gets to bring his child I‘d like a warning

view all comments

mclaren loud and clear Lando

oscarpiastri wow, what a great picture really did me well

y/n.wolff i love it, especially the cup, thanks lan :)

oscarpiastri don‘t

user457 uhh daddy coming through

pierregasly was it bring your child to work day?

charles_leclerc someone tell Carlos he can finally bring his

y/n.wolff gasp

f1troll so the RUMOURS are true?

y/n.wolff

liked by toto.wolff and 345‘789 others

y/n.wolff texas had my heart, let‘s go halloween and mexicooo, thanks for the sippy cup lan :)

view all comments

landonorris stunning (the last picture)

toto.wolff the first picture is not very nice

lewishamilton don’t embarass her

y/n.wolff daaaaad

kellypiquet you look absolutely stunning

user456 y/n‘s so cute, oscar really won

f1update fav wag

user676 wag and dad

charlottesine miss you lots :(

y/n.wolff miss you too, see you soon though :)

mclaren

Mexico

liked by f1 and 2‘789‘890 others

mclaren dad off grid, daddy on grid

view all comments

y/n.wolff dead

mercedesamgf1 totos throwing his headphones again

user233 the second photo damn

f1troll hot right

f1 the famous stance though

piastrilovers my poor oscar is getting so much hate :(

landonorris nah he loves the attention

oscarpiastri thin ice lando

f1gossip

Mexico

liked by user566 and 68‘890 others

f1gossip Lewis when asked about his newly earned „dad“ title by teamboss daughter Y/n

„I personally don’t really get it. But people think it’s fun right. But I love Y/n, she’s a treat to have around.“

view all comments

user566 awww he‘s like a big brother

f1troll lewis and y/n are the real father daughter duo

f1fans crazy to think Lewis has watched her grow up

user456 yes he‘s always loved her so much

landonorris Oscars probably throwing his phone hehe

piastrifans ariana? what are you doing here?

user455 Lando is just as involved in gossip as we are

landonorris

Checos hometown

liked by charles_leclerc and 907‘799 others

landonorris mexico con papa 🍼 (y mama)

comments are disabled

oscarpiastri

Texas

liked by georgerussell63 and 1‘167‘890 others

oscarpiastri the only thing that makes me a dad is my „ipad kid“ girlfriend

view all comments

user345 wait this makes actual sense hahah

y/n.wolff wow horrid pictures

oscarpiastri you look as lovely as always

f1troll 1:1 Oscar

y/nstans she is truly an ipad kid

landonorris good one osc

y/n.wolff shut up Lando

mercedesamgf1 googles what an Ipad kid means

user355 the best couple on the grid

georgerussell63 couple of children right

lewishamilton y/n and a cow? she‘s scared of them?

y/n.wolff

Mexico

liked by mclaren and 678‘908 others

y/n.wolff mexico was a treat, i love you @oscarpiastri

view all comments

lewishamilton awww the first one

oscarpiastri move about two steps two the right and you‘re right where you belong

georgerussell63 you built the LEGO WITHOUT ME?

mercedesamgf1 its mclaren George?

user455 its mclaren georgie

toto.wolff too much orange but you look beautiful

mclaren parents

landonorris what a viewwwww damn

y/n.wolff talking bout yourself again huhhh?

3K notes · View notes

rad-batson · 1 year

Text

The Batkids and The Arts (Feral Edition)

They’re all musical theatre nerds. Every single one of them. Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, Tim, Duke, Damian. They go see Broadway shows together then don’t stop talking about it for like a week. It is the one bonding activity they will never pass up.

Jason and Steph once entered a ballroom dancing competition and won after some pompous rich kids insulted their moves during a gala. Since then, they’ve entered a competition every month or so just for fun. (And for the prize money :P)

Tim is an avid believer that Culinary Art is one of The Arts. (Can he cook? Absolutely not. It was Bernard that convinced him, but he stands by it.)

Duke talks through every single movie he watches. He always promises to be quiet at the beginning, but then he gets too excited and whispers commentary to the people around him. This habit has since bled into the entire family. They are no longer welcome at the local AMC.

Every single one of them is pretentious about something.

Dick is pretentious about any and all performance arts featured at the circus. Once, someone made a joke about going to “Clown School” and Dick screamed at them about how not even their pinky would have the privilege of being admitted into clown school.

Jason is pretentious about classic literature. They can no longer tell if his jokes and references to Shakespeare and Jane Austen are correct or if he’s just fucking with them.

Cass gets pretentious about martial arts being a performance art. She is also pretentious about ballet being a martial art. She could kill a man in fifth position without losing her balance, and that’s a fucking fact.

Stephanie is very good at acting pretentious about the arts. She absorbs everything she’s learned from the rest of the bat family’s interests then pretends to be pretentious about it to mock them while sneaking in just enough correct information so no one can call her out on it. (Her true interest is graphic design.)

Tim has no professional experience with photography, but he will be pretentious about it like he knows everything. (Bruce: Tim, why is there a filter on this evidence photo you took? Tim: I thought it looked nicer that way. Really makes the blood splatter pop.)

Duke isn’t exactly pretentious about writing, but he will lay down his life for the Oxford comma. (Bruce didn’t use it until Duke called the punctuation in his mission reports “insulting.” He now uses it.)

Damian is pretentious about studio art. If he ever hears his family or friends say, “I don’t get it,” at an art museum, he will make them look at it for five minutes as he explains in painstaking detail what’s so revolutionary about it.

The kids decided to take an improv class together once for their undercover work while Bruce and Alfred were out of town. It was so fun that they still play improv games when they’re bored.

Cass is secretly a metalhead.

Whenever one of the younger kids needs to write an English paper, they will just walk up to Jason, riddle off a dumb opinion about the book or poem they had to read, and record whatever Jason ends up lecturing them about. The most recent incident resulted in an award-winning paper about how the theory that William Shakespeare never wrote his own work is deeply rooted in classism.

Damian always has paint under his nails. It just never comes out.

Dick has personally taught everyone in the family how to do The Perfect Backflip. They all get a little ceremony once they’ve mastered it. There is cake.

Whenever Cass is standing around with nothing to do, she’ll practice her foot positions for ballet. The others always notice and follow her lead.

Jason: dramatically recites a poem in the living room Steph: starts beatboxing

Steph is always the first to find typos or continuity errors in a book, play, or movie. She doesn’t intend to; it’s just second nature to her. (She is now Duke’s official proofreader.)

Duke: So how’d you like the movie? Damian: I really loved the mise-en-scène, especially during the breakfast scene and that one shot near the end with the warehouse doors. Duke: *nods thoughtfully* Everyone Else Leaving the Theater: wtf is a meez on sen?

When Duke is finished writing something and wants to share it with his family, he’ll give it to Jason and Cass first.

Jason and Duke have frequent passionate arguments discussions about who is the best poet. Never bring up Dickinson, Poe, Shakespeare, Hughes, Plath, Wilde, Kipling, Sappho, or Angelou in their vicinity unless you want to start it up again.

Damian is surprisingly good at acting. Too good.

Dick knows your music taste before you do. He has a carefully curated playlist for every single family member, every possible combination of family members, and every possible mood at the ready.

They can and will correct anyone who mistakes Gothic architecture for Victorian or Gothic Revival and vice versa. (It’s really a Gotham thing.)

Tim: How dare you call The Grand Budapest Hotel the best prison break movie when it’s clearly The Shawshank Redemption! Jason: Well, as someone who’s BEEN TO PRISON, I think I should know! Dick: It’s clearly Chicken Run! You’re all just Chicken-ist. Duke: But what about Midnight Express?! That one’s so good! Steph: Has anyone mentioned Toy Story 3 yet? No? Damian, watching from the sidelines: I liked Escape from Alcatraz. Cass: Same.

There are several art pieces in the manor that have been positioned directly over top of bullet holes and other suspicious damages.

Damian and Duke made an animated short film once for the Gotham Film Festival. Dick and Cass were their models for the concept art. Tim did historical research. Jason helped Duke edit the storyboard, and Steph was the continuity supervisor. It was about a British super spy working for MI6 that saved the world in the late 70’s. It was titled Agent A.

3K notes · View notes

strawberrystepmom · 3 months

Text

pro hero deku x f!reader. reader is wearing a dress and they are married and they refer to each other as husband and wife.

“I am so glad that is over with.”

Izuku stands in the doorway of your bedroom loosening the knot of his tie around his neck, the silk drooping through the collar of his shirt in response. A sigh is all he can manage when you raise a brow, lips remaining in the same flat line they’ve been in since the two of you started your ride back home.

The glitz and glamor of events like this is only fun as long as everyone is enjoying themselves and you did not. The pair of you had your photo taken probably hundreds of times, photographers calling your names to get you to look at their cameras, wives of other pro heroes subtly mentioning beneath their breath about how good the pair of you looked and especially your husband.

Your smiles only felt more forced as the night went on, agitated by the gall of anyone to mention your husband’s attractiveness within your earshot. Sure, it’s evident and you can’t do anything about it but it’s not like you were sitting there drooling over their less impressive specimen partners.

“You okay over there?”

He doesn’t waste a moment crossing the room to come to you, reaching to tug down the zipper on the side of your dress. Doing your best to dodge the touch, you reach for the metal yourself and he hums in response, frowning. Folding your arms over your chest to hold your dress in place, you walk toward the closet and let the fabric drop to the floor.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

Izuku sighs to himself and removes his tuxedo jacket, shrugging it off and placing it on a hanger before following you into the closet. He grins when he sees you standing there in nothing but a luxurious looking bra and panties, his hands reflexively reaching for you. You step out of his reach, searching for your robe to throw on over the unmentionables.

“Hey,” he starts and you shake your head, holding up your palm. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Contemplating the cost of telling the truth, you shake your head stubbornly and refuse to speak.

“Nothing, Izuku. I’m trying to get ready for bed.”

Green eyes trace over every contour and curve of your body but you’re preoccupied being angry, intentionally ignoring the hungry gaze. You cannot find your robe and you turn around in a huff, preparing to head to the adjoining bathroom on the other side of the room, but he stops you by grabbing your arms gently and holding you in place.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

No longer being asked but commanded to spill, you slump in his grasp and puff air out of your mouth. His big hands rub a reassuring path up and down your arm and you reach out to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt, undoing each of them to keep yourself occupied.

“I overheard all of them talking about how hot you are,” you murmur so quietly that your husband has to lean in to hear it. “What a prize you are. How sexy you look in your suit. Did you change your workout routine? Who is doing your hair now? Blah, blah, fucking blah…”

Loosening another button, you scowl at the sight of tanned skin peeking through the opening in his shirt and stop, throwing your hands down at your sides. Izuku watches you carefully, reaching to finish unbuttoning his shirt, letting it sag out of the waistband of his pants. Grabbing your hands from your sides, he gathers them in his larger ones and presses them against his collarbones.

“They can say whatever they want,” he shakes his head and looks at you so earnestly it almost makes you feel less frustrated at being the cat who got the cream. “There’s only one person who I’m a prize for.”

Raising his eyebrows sarcastically with his words, you look up at him and purse your lips. He slides your hand down his collarbone, settles it over his pec and presses your palm against the bare skin and muscle.

“And who is the only person who gets to touch me here?”

Cheeks warming, you glance downward and furrow your brows. He subtly flexes the muscle your hand rests on and despite your best attempt to bite back your smile, it appears in an instant, the curve of your cheek lifting with the side of your mouth. Shaking your head on a hard exhale, you attempt to move your hand but your devoted husband holds it in place.

“Stop that. There’s no need for this.”

Izuku smirks, freckled cheek jumping as he moves closer to you, your extended arm bending at the elbow as he takes up the little space existing between the two of you. His hand over yours, he slides your palm down his pec and toward his defined abdominal muscles, taking a detour over his dorsals.

“No? My far too generous little wife doesn’t need to be reminded of what’s hers?”

Your fingers twitch over the freckled skin covering his broad body as if every bit of him hasn’t already been committed to your memory for as long as you live. Sensory memory kicks in and you have enough control of your finger to run it through the divots separating each of his abs and he chuckles in response, leaning down to press his lips against yours.

“Because I know what’s yours and it’s me.”

Graciously, your husband gives you back your hands and you make quick work of drawing a line down his torso and to the waistband of his pants, wedging your hand beneath the tight fitting fabric.

“Oh yeah?” You ask and he nods, his big hands finding your hips and pulling your body against him.

“Yes. All yours,” he repeats, leaning to capture your lips in another kiss.

#mimidoriya #kendall writes #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #midoriya izuku x reader

487 notes · View notes

royalarchivist · 6 months

Text

Pac: I said, "Hey, let's do something fun, you know? Let's kidnap the [Federation] baker!" And we are kind of like, locked up, and [Richarlyson's] even sadder now, right? Phil: I can put my hand through the bars. Pac: [Laughs] Can I ho– Please save us! Phil: Do you miss human touch, Pac? Pac: Yeah, I miss human touch. Phil: I'm here for you. [...] We can smuggle things into jail. [To Richarlyson] It's okay, mate. Pac: Can you smuggle me a cellphone?* I know information is power here.

Phil visits Pac and Richarlyson in jail.

* Pac's quote here is a direct reference to Fuga Impossivel, where Cell (Cellbit) had a cellphone he used to threaten people with his "contacts from the outside." (In reality, the phone had no signal, but that's how he earned his name "Cell")

[Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Pac: Richarlyson feeling a little bit sad 'because 'cus he's locked up, you know? That's why he's using a different kind of hat.

Phil: Oh, Jesus Christ. Wait– why's Richarlyson's [happiness] bar gone down?

Pac:Yeah, 'because 'cus he's unhappy, 'cus, well, we kind of like, got locked up, and it's his birthday today, and he's feeling a little bit sad about like, growing up, you know?

Phil: Is that why he's got a different cow head on?

Pac: Yeah, yeah, and to try to help him, I said, "Hey, let's do something fun, you know? Let's kidnap the baker!" And we are kind of like, locked up, and he's even sadder now, right? [Richarlyson shakes his head] Yeah, but look – jail is fun!

Phil: I can put my hand through the bars.

Pac: [Laughs] Can I ho– Please save us!

Phil: Do you miss human touch, Pac?

Pac: Yeah, I miss human touch.

Phil: I'm here for you. [Cracks up]

Pac: I miss human touch. Oh my god, a hand! Richas, you want to touch a hand? Touch uncle Phil hand. [Laughs]

Phil: Yeah, right here.

Pac: Touch it, Richas! Connect with every–

Phil: I can get you out, I can get you out, I don't know if I'll get punished though, but we'll see. [Laughs]

Pac: I don't think you're going to get punished. [He looks at Richarlyson] Right? [Richarlyson shakes his head, holding a camera] There's nothing wrong about setting two persons out of the jail.

Phil: Yeah, I feel like you've learned your lesson, right?

Pac: Yeah, I won't try to kidnap the baker.

Phil: Oh, Richarlyson wants you to take a photo of, like, hands touching, I think.

Pac: Oh. Ok, let me...

[They stand there, holding hands in silence until Richarlyson takes a photo, then they burst into laughter.]

Pac: Well, Richas, you wanna do the same? I can take a picture of you! I just need a paper. [Pac checks his inventory] ...I don't have any papers, if you have one?

Phil: [Still cracking up as he holds hands with Richarlyson]

Pac: I need the paper, Richarlyson!

Phil: I have paper, there you go.

Pac: Oh, thank you.

Phil: We can smuggle things into jail. [To Richarlyson] It's okay, mate.

Pac: Look! [Laughs and throws Phil the photo] Can you smuggle me a cellphone?* I know information is power here.

Phil: I can – hold on, let me see, let me see...

Pac: Maybe like a cellphone? Or maybe a gaming setup so me and Richarlyson could put some gaming in here, you know, so we can play games?

Phil: I can – I could just break you out. [Laughs] But it's up to you – do you want to be out?

Pac: Yeah, if – Richas, you want to get out of this prison? I know it's bigger and better than our house. Look at the size of this, Phil! You wanna, like–

[Richarlyson breaks the jail bars and lets himself out, then replaces the bars to keep Pac inside]

Phil: [Dying]

Pac: ALL ALONG? Wait – we have been in here for the past 15 minutes, Richas! Oh my god. Ok, ok, I'm done, I'm done. I'm just gonna stay here. I'm just gonna stay here. [Pac walks to a corner of the cell and sits down facing the wall]

Phil: [Still wheeze-laughing] Dude...

Pac: I'm just gonna stay here.

Phil: I can't– [wheezes] I can't break these blocks, he's locked us in!

Pac: RICHARLYSON–

#Pactw #Philza #Richarlyson #QSMP #Phil #Pac #I gasped when he said the cellphone line #I was also a little bit 😒 when Phil first said that touch line but they turned that into a cute thing rather than a cursed thing #I mean I could definitely see q!Pac being a lil bit touch-starved since half the Favela is missing and his kid was missing for a long time #and Mike is STILL missing #someone give this man a hug #Anyways I NEED Cellbit to come back so he and Pac can finally have a talk about that. And Purgatory. And everything really #November 30 2023 #Phil was offline when this happened btw #This is another one of those clips where I was like ''yes this is a bit long but it's better to keep it in one clip than split it up''#Q

571 notes · View notes

houseoftroi · 6 months

Text

Captain John Price's Flat

I thought today's posting would be a little bit different. The fun thing about the Call of Duty: Modern Warfare characters is their personal lives aren't really talked about. It gives the fanbase a blank canvas to create their own versions of the characters. So, I give you Captain John Price's London flat.

This was so much fun putting together. It took about three weeks to assemble, and about a day to render all 15 images. They are grainy, mostly because I had to lower the quality to get them rendered faster.

One quote that always stuck with me about Captain Price was, "We get dirty, so the world can stay clean."

Well, here is that clean world he exists in. There are very few references to his life within the military, outside of his bonnie hanging near the door, some combat boots beneath, and military bags above his wardrobe. I see him as wanting to leave his work at work.

Overall, I went with an industrial, cluttered feel to the space.

A running gag of his character is that he is quite old. The man's only in his mid-thirties. So, I filled the space with old timey photos from the turn of the 20th century, models of early automobiles, and old antiques along the walls. Maybe he has a passion for old things, a love of a bygone era.

In his bio, he was one of the youngest people to have graduated the Royal Military Academy. So this means he is quite intelligent. I have piles of books stacked around the entry, living, and sleeping areas. I think he is quite learned. I also put in a piano, because his actor can play the instrument.

There are also a lot of whiskey glass sets, but I didn't focus on them in the pictures. I don't think I'm going to be doing any of the others; the project took a lot of time. Anyway, I do hope you enjoy!

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #mw2 #mw3 #mw2022 #mw2023 #cod fanart #cod warzone #john price #price cod #cod price #houseoftroi living spaces #3drender #3dartist #daz3d #dazstudio #dazstudioiray

411 notes · View notes

maddogofshimano · 9 months

Text

The Boss’s Date Coaching

oh baby it's another Goromi event! this one's a board game with Nishida as our protagonist

the board music was Receive You the Madtype

I thought it was kind of funny that they were squeezing another Goromi event in when her character story and past event already covered............. basically every single moment available in YK1! but that's okay.

because this one doesn't take place in YK1

as a brief aside on pronouns, I’m sticking with she/her for any references to Goromi. the term for boss Nishida uses for her, 親父, is explicitly masculine in the same way that patriarch in english is, but I’m not factoring that in for this translation

I will put a content warning that there's a brief attempted sexual assault in this, it's only a few lines and is resolved very quickly but it is there

summary: It is 2006. Goromi is waiting for Kiryu to arrive at SHINE to help out a hostess so she can (once again) surprise him. Nishida has a date coming up, and in her boredom Goromi decides she'll teach him the secrets of a woman's heart.

[2006] [After Kiryu Kazuma was released from prison….] (Tl note: the first time I completely blew past the fact that this said 2006 and not 2005. But I guess 2006 is technically after Kiryu was released from prison, so.) Goromi: ……Kiryu-chan, you're takin' so long~.

Goromi: Nishida! Are ya absolutely sure ya actually emailed him?

Nishida: Y-Yes! I'm positive I did...

Goromi: Then why ain't he come here? Nishida: Kiryu-san is… a really busy person, so… he must have gotten himself caught up in something…. (tl note: Nishida refers to Kiryu as Kiryu no ojiki, which is literally your uncle who is younger than your dad, and in yakuza terms usually means a patriarch less senior than your own. I'm going with -san for simplicity of showing he's being deferential)

Goromi: ……..Well, a burly guy like Kiryu-chan probably gets tons of invites. Goromi: But I got all this time to kill~. …Nishida, ain't there just nothin' interesting? Nishida: I-I guess so… Goromi: Kaaa~… When there's a girl this cute with nothin' to do, ya oughta be helpin' her kill some time! <phone buzzes> Nishida: …! (tl note: this is literally the first time Nishida has looked not extremely worried)

Goromi: Oh! Is it from Kiryu-chan!?

Nishida: N… No, it wasn't. Goromi: What the hell. Who's it from? Nishida: Umm… well… Goromi: …You're stallin'. Give it here! Nishida: Ah… Goromi: …"I had a lot of fun on our date on Saturday, Rina"… This is… Nishida, did'ya get yourself a girlfriend? (Tl note: it's not……….. it's not YK1 SHINE hostess and known lesbian Rina, right? it's a different Rina……. right???) Nishida: No, it's not that serious…! We just met when I went to a group-dating event the other day… Nishida: Then we emailed a little… and she ended up asking me out on a date… Goromi: Ohh~… Seems like she's into ya. What kinda girl is she? And what do ya think of her? Nishida: Umm… here's a picture from the group dating. Nishida: She's a really sweet, attentive, and kind, and we get along… I think it'd be really great if we ended up dating…

Goromi: ……… Nishida: …Boss? Is something wrong? Is there something strange about the photo? Goromi: …Just shocked. A beautiful lady like her is all but wasted on ya. Nishida: …Y-Yeah, I think so too. I'm not even sure why she ended up contacting me at all… Goromi: ….I got it! This situation calls for me to step in and help ya, yeah? (Tl note: Goromi is using "washi" as her personal pronoun here, which is what Majima usually uses when he's speaking as a boss, or "ore". Goromi usually goes with "watashi" but does use "ore" when Kiryu catches her off-guard) Nishida: Eh? Goromi: To make sure yer date goes well, I'm gonna teach ya all about a woman's heart! Nishida: Eh… Goromi: And I've got tooons of free time right now… aren't ya lucky~! Goromi: Hang tight! This is gonna be "the heart of a woman: lesson 1"! <Goromi leaves, presumably to make slides or get props or something> Nishida: I-……… I have a bad feeling about this… Nishida: I think my boss is just… doing something absurd to me to kill time while waiting for Kiryu-san to show up… (Tl note: lol this time it was actually -san. just gotta be EXTRA formal talking about Kiryu around Goromi, I guess) Nishida: No… it's bad to assume. It's possible that my boss might honestly be trying to help me… Nishida: …She said this was lesson one on a woman's heart… How many lessons is she planning? <scene transition to later> Goromi: …I've come~! And I've brought pleeenty of booze~! (Tl note: Goromi says お・ま・た～！ which I presume is a shortening of お待たせしました as in "sorry to have kept you waiting" but omata on its own is uh. it's vulva. it's vulva and that sort of crotch area. hence my translation of trying to get some kind of weird double entendre there) <sound of a cork popping> Nishida: Wh-Why are you filling that tower of glasses with alcohol… Goromi: I thought I'd show ya how to drink. I brought a buncha different kinds. Goromi: Sake, shochu, wine, whiskey, cocktails, plum brandy, beer, take your pick! Go on, drink whatever ya want! Nishida: A-Alright… Nishida: (…Boss… did say she was going to teach me about the hearts of women… so does that mean this is a test?) Nishida: (In that case… a cocktail is probably bad… that's something a girl would pick, I think…) (tl note: NISHIDA NO DON'T LOSE TO THE TOXIC MASCULINITY) Nishida: …Boss. I'd like a whiskey and cola to drink, please. Goromi: Ohh… Whiskey, huh…? Nishida: Well then… cheers. Nishida: (The way I drink will probably also be judged… the manly way to do it is in one shot…)

<horrible gulping sounds and the glass hitting the table> Nishida: …Thank you! Goromi: Oooh, yer a big drinker, huh? Goromi: Although… did ya notice anythin' strange? Nishida: Eh? Something strange…? Now that you mention it, the taste was a little bit peculiar… <stomach noise> Nishida: My… my stomach's… Wh-What did you put in that, boss!? Goromi: Dumbass! You were so complacent ya didn't even realize that thing was fulla laxatives! Nishida: L-Laxatives!? Why did you.. guhh… Goromi: And now ya know lesson one of how women's hearts work: "I don't want to be with a man who would easily be poisoned to death!" Goromi: If you're a man, ya gotta be cautious of anythin' that gets served to ya, cause ya could get poisoned!

Nishida: Th-That's… unreasonable… Nishida: (…I think my worries were correct… She's just using me for amusement to kill some time…) <stomach gurgling> Nishida: Ughhh… S-Sorry… gotta… bathroom… Goromi: …No can do. If ya wanna go to the bathroom, ya gotta beat up that guy. Nishida: …Eh? <footsteps> Beefy Majima Family Member: …Sorry, Nishida no aniki. Boss says I gotta.

Nishida: Y-You… Goromi: Now, after poisonin' ya, this ruffian's here to snatch your pretty girlfriend! Goromi: Nishda! Endure that stomach ache 'n win! Show Goromi-chan somethin' good! Nishida: Ughuugh… Y-Yes… boss!!!! Beefy Majima Family Member: Well… I hope you'll forgive me, Nishida no aniki. (Tl note: I did shorten that name to "beefy member" and then reconsidered)

<fight happens> <sounds of a toilet flushing> Nishida: Haa… Haa… Just in the nick of time… Goromi: Heh, ya gotta a lotta willpower to avoid havin' an accident like that, huh? Here, drink this so ya don't get dehydrated. Nishida: Ah, some water? Thank you, Boss. <drinking sounds> Nishida: …What the… it's a little bitter…? Boss, what's up with this water-- <Nishida hits the ground> Goromi: Dumbass! I just told ya, don't make it so easy to slip ya sleepin' pills like that! Goromi: …When ya wake up, I'm gonna train ya until ya can identify every kind of poison by taste. Buckle up, buttercup. Nishida: Uugh… uughhh… that's……. impossibleee…. <END PART 1>

[While waiting on Kiryu to finally arrive, Goromi learns of an upcoming date and uses her free time to instruct Nishida on the matters of a woman's heart.] [After drinking poisoned booze, Nishida has learned lesson number one, "girls don't want guys who are easily poisoned".]

Nishida: (Boss… She told me to wait outside for the next lesson on a woman's heart…)

Nishida: (This lesson comes after poisoning… What sort of terrifying part of the female psyche is she going to teach…) Goromi: I've come~ 🎶 (Tl note: yeah. yeah it's the same one. yeah) Nishida: Ah, boss. What's the next lesson going to… be? <Goromi appears with a whole army of goons> Goromi: A woman's heart: lesson 2! "Obviously I like strong men 🎶"! (Tl note: this is probably the same line she says to Kiryu about her type of man, but I'm too lazy to double check OR look up what she exactly said in english)

Goromi: A man's not a real man at all if he ain't tough! Now you're gonna tussle with these guys! Goromi: Smash up these ten opponents, and show a gal what she likes to see in a man! Nishida: No… this is… just the boss's pastime… Nishida: She said this was about a woman's heart… but this is more like training in a battle manga… Goromi: Let's get it rollin'! Get it done nice 'n quick! Goromi: Oi, everyone! No goin' easy just cause it's 10 on 1, I want everyone goin' all out against Nishida! Majima Family Members: Roarrrrrrrr!!!! Nishida: ….Crap… Guess there's no avoiding it…! Nishida: Haa… Haa… (tl note: THIS WASN'T THE OBLIGATORY FIGHT? I THOUGHT THIS WAS GOING TO BE THE FIGHT IS THERE ANOTHER??)

<a goon slides in> Nishida: !?

<Nishida gets smacked> Nishida: Guh…! <A new goon slides in> Majima Family Member A: Haa! Nishida: Crap! <Nishida steps away> Nishida: Haa… Haa… Nishida: (When there's this many opponents… while you're busy with one guy, another will circle around behind you…) Nishida: (They're not that strong if I can take them on one by one, but I can't fight them properly when they're in my blind spots…) Nishida: (What the hell do I do…) Nishida: …..! That's it….! Goromi: …Seems like ya figured it out. Goromi: Everyone! What're ya standin' around for! Go beat the shit outta Nishida! Majima Family Member A: Y-Yes! <scene change> Nishida: Yes… right here…

Majima Member A: Oi! It's too cramped to go together! Majima Member B: Shit… this is… too narrow! Nishida: (Yes… This narrow alleyway forces them to come down it one at a time…) Nishida: (Since I don't have to keep watching my back, this negates their numbers advantage in close quarters.) Nishida: …What's wrong, come at me! Otherwise it'll be the boss that's hitting you! Nishida: …Time to go…! Nishida no aniki! Please don't hold this against me!

Majima Member D: Gahh…

Nishida: Haa… Haa… Somehow… I won… Goromi: Ya did it, Nishida! Now ya don't gotta be worried when ya get jumped by a buncha thugs!

Nishida: Um… I think I will still be worried… Goromi: Well, if they really wanted ya dead they woulda done ya in the first time you stumbled… Goromi: Eh, we'll call it good enough this time. Ya passed lesson 2 of a woman's heart, "Obviously I like strong men 🎶" ! Nishida: Th-Thank you very much… Goromi: Now, this will be the final thing I can teach you about a woman's heart… A woman's heart: lesson 3… Are ya ready? Nishida: Y…..Yes. Nishida: (Next is the final one, huh…) Nishida: (I figured that if she's just doing this to kill time, she'd get tired of these sorts of antics… but this is faster than I thought.) Nishida: (But I can't let my guard down. Lessons 1 and 2 were seriously absurd… What on earth will lesson 3 be?) <music changes to the more emotional soft track> Goromi: A question for ya. Right now… what do ya think Goromi-chan wants? (Tl note: I misread it as "what do you think of Goromi-chan" at first and was like, so scared to continue. I was shook by the possibility of Goromi emotional vulnerability momence)

Nishida: …Eh? Goromi: What's wrong? Answer already. I wanna know whatcha think I'm after. Nishida: Eh… Well… Nishida: (What do I say… The number one thing my boss would probably want is to fight with Kiryu-san.) Nishida: (But, that would be way too easy for this quiz… what the hell… what is it…) Goromi: …Figured out your answer? Nishida: ……….. Nishida: ……Sorry, I don't know. Nishida: I thought getting to fight Kiryu-san would be it, but… I'm not confident enough in that to commit to it. Goromi: …Ya got it. "I dunno" is the right answer. Nishida: Eh? Goromi: The final lesson on women's hearts: "Don't presume to know a woman when you're only looking at one side of her".

Goromi: Every woman has her own circumstances. Goromi: A woman who loves sweets can still have days where she wants something spicy, and there are women who will claim to hate what they actually like. (Tl note: .............................................................................hey when this is in direct response to Goromi's number one desire being a fight with Kiryu. there's. hmm.) Goromi: So, don't look at just one aspect of a woman and think ya know everything about her, okay? Goromi: Women are deeply complex, living beings, despite what men think. ...Got it? Nishida: Y-Yes...! I will take your words to heart! Goromi: ...Alright, good. I taught ya about the female psyche, so make good use of it on your date. Nishida: Y... Yes! Goromi: Well then, time to head back to the club. I got a feelin' that Kiryu-chan might be there soon.

<she leaves> Nishida: While the other two were obviously farces... it feels like that last one was surprisingly genuine. Nishida: Guess it makes sense, after she got tired of doing the absurd. But, that doesn't seem quite right... hmmm... Nishida: Still, something to make use of on my date... Nishida: "Don't presume to know a woman when you're only looking at one side of her" is good to keep in mind... Nishida: But "I don't want to be with a man who would easily be poisoned to death!" and "Obviously I like strong men 🎶" are-- Nishida: Maybe not as helpful... <END PART 2>

[I'm skipping the recap lol but today's the day of the date] Rina: Hehe, I thought the same thing during the group date, but talking to you is really easy, Nishida-san...

Rina: I was really nervous to ask you out, but I'm glad I gathered up the courage 🎶 Nishida: Oh, nah... I was worried we wouldn't be that good of a fit, too. Nishida: ........ Rina: ...? What's going on? You keep looking around the perimeter. Do you have a friend here? Nishida: Ah, no... it's nothing. Sorry, it's just nerves. Rina: Ah, no worries then! Really, I thought it was cute, you looked like a baby animal. Nishida: C-Cute...? Is that so... Nishida: (I can't tell her that I'm traumatized from my boss's training, and that I'm looking for a good spot to fight a pack of thugs...) Nishida: (Or that I'm being cautious about drinking the water brought to me in case it's been poisoned...) Nishida: (The boss's lessons on a woman's heart... my body sure remembers them, huh... ha...) Rina: Ah, that's right! Listen to this! I'm not making this up, the other day at the park, I saw a squirrel-- (Tl note: I thought that was just, the end of her sentence at first. she's just REALLY excited about squirrels) <scene transition to outside> Rina: Nishida-san, your recommendation of restaurant was delicious! I'm definitely bringing all my friends there 🎶

Nishida: I'm glad. I like going there because it's fairly cheap while still being delicious. Rina: Cheap and delicious restaurants are the best. I feel like it being cheap makes it taste even better, you know? Nishida: Ah, I get you! It's really a question of mood. This restaurant here is also good. There's this pork fried with ginger and grated daikon on top-- Rina: Hehe, you sure know your eateries Nishida-san. I'll have to rely on you next time I can't decide where to go eat~. Rina: ................So...... What are you doing after this? (tl note: NISHIDA SCORES?) Nishida: Eh? Umm... What am I doing. Maybe... getting drinks? Rina: ...Could we go somewhere to rest a bit? There's a place where we can talk slow and relaxed. (tl note: NISHIDA GETS SCAMMED?) Nishida: Eh? Somewhere to rest and relax? That's... Rina: Hehe... You'll have fun if you go. Come on. <another scene transition> Nishida: This is... the place?

Nishida: (BAR, huh... The hallway to the bathroom would be good to use if I'm outnumbered...) (Tl note: yeah the bar is named. BAR. in english. which is just great for translating) Nishida: (I'm still hung up on my boss's training, it really messed me up... I'm not the protagonist of a battle manga...) Rina: What do you think? I find it very relaxing, and since it's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place there's not crowded so you can really take your time and talk. (Tl note: very funnily hole-in-the-wall is fairly direct, the jpn being 穴場 or "hole place") Nishida: Ahh, you're right, this is a very relaxing place. Rina: Yeah. ...Hmm? Nishida-san, did you perhaps think it was something naughty? (tl note: well I sure did) Nishida: N-No... I-It's nothing like that...! Rina: Hehe, no need to panic. I just said it to make you conscious of it 🎶 (Tl note: struggling with the second sentence here, it's ふふっ、慌てなくてもいいですよ。ちょっと意識させようと思って言いましたし🎶) Nishida: Eh...? Muscular Bartender: ...Are you ready to order?

Rina: For me, a kahlua milk! Nishida: Umm... How about... Barley shochu. (Tl note: 麦の水割り, which probably has a better word for it but that's my best guess) Bartender: ...Alright. Here's your kahlua milk and barley shochu. Rina: Well then, kanpaiii 🎶 Nishida: Ahh, kanpai! (Tl note: Nishida why do you say kanpai in full kanji you fucking dweeb) Nishida: (I keep thinking my boss might emerge from beneath the bar, so I'm worried about this drink being poisoned...) Nishida: (There's no way it's actually poisoned... though... hmm... there's a bitterness...) Rina: ...? Is something wrong, Nishida-san? Nishida: No... it's just, this tastes like the sleeping pills my boss made me take... Bartender: ....! Nishida: Yep... My boss made me take sleeping pills over and over, and this... tastes exactly like those sleeping pills. I don't know why it would be sleeping pills... Rina: IIII have no idea why that would be. Right, bartender? Bartender: ...Sir, we are an upstanding business. We don't take false accusations lightly. Nishida: Ah, no, I didn't even say you put them in there... Nishida: But someone could have put them in there to cause trouble for you, so the police should check the other drinks to be sure Bartender: ....Tch. Oi. <a bunch of thugs jump out> Nishida: !? Bartender: You all, this guy's making up lies about us. Shake him down for some apology money to make up for it. Nishida: No, I'm not accusing you of anything. All I'm saying is a quick confirmation-- Bartender: You all! Get him! Nishida: (They aren't listening... I'm getting the feeling that the sleeping pills weren't in there on accident.) Nishida: (I'm up against 4 opponents. If they surround me I'm done for..... that's it! I just need time.) Nishida: Rina-san! Hide in the bathroom! Rina: Uh... r-right! Bartender: Wait! Do you really want to hide somewhere with no exit? Bartender: ...What's the point...? Is he going to bunker down in the hallway... Nishida: I know there's no way out of this... Only Rina-san will be hiding. Nishida: (This narrow corridor in front of the bathroom, it'll force them to come one at a time. This is my only way to win.) Bartender: ...Heh... You went through all that trouble to run, only to go for a narrow hallway with no way out.

Bartender: You'll regret ever speaking a single false word about my drinks!!!!

Bartender: S-... stupid...

<he hits the ground> Nishida: Haa... Haa... That was close. Nishida: If I didn't make use of those tight quarters, I would have been a goner as soon as they got behind me. Nishida: All thanks to that training my boss gave me on fighting multiple opponents... Nishida: And the fact that I had to drink sleeping pilsl and laxatives so I'd know what they tasted like... that ended up being useful too. <the door opens> Rina: N-Nishida-san... are you okay? ...Eh!? You... beat all of them? Nishida: Yeah... somehow, I managed it. I think we should get out of here before they wake up. Rina: Umm, no... I'm... Nishida: ....? What's wrong? Rina: I-It's... it's nothing... L-Let's go. <back outside> Rina: ...Yeah, I had no idea it was that kind of establishment. I really never thought they would attack you and try to take your money...

Nishida: ...Hey, Rina-san. Earlier, why did you want to stay in the bar? Rina: Eh... th-that's... well... Nishida: ......... Nishida: ............If... If you're... an accomplice to that bar, it would be a good idea to stop doing that. Nishida: If you keep it up... I think you'll end up in a really bad situation some day. Rina: .....That's my choice, isn't it? Nishida: Eh...? Rina: ...Don't start talking like you're my boyfriend after one date! All you are to me is a source of revenue! Nishida: R-...Rina-san? Rina: It was me, I'm working with that bar, I took you there specifically to fuck you over! So? Happy now!? Rina: And now you've ceased to be useful to me. ...Never contact me again. <she leaves> Nishida: R-Rina-san... Nishida: ...I thought she was nice girl, too... Nishida: "Don't presume to know a woman when you're only looking at one side of her", huh. It's exactly like my boss said. Nishida: Boss... There's no way you expected all of this to happen, right...? Nishida: Rina-san went back to the store. I wonder... does she plan on doing the same thing again? Nishida: ............. <END PART 3>

Bartender: Shit... What's with that helmet bastard.... (Tl note: this is when I realized this was for real in 2006 and not a typo or a timeline mistake. which also means that Goromi hostess dates with Kiryu were a recurrent thing)

<Rina enters> Rina: .................. Bartender: So you're back... Why the fuck did you bring such a huge pain in the ass here? Rina: ......I already told you, this is was the last time. I'm done. Erase the photo of Keiko from your phone. (Tl note: name is 恵子 which has multiple readings) Bartender: What was that? Rina: The nude photo you took of Keiko and blackmailed me with! You said you'd erase it if I brought 10 people here! Bartender: Ain't happening. I didn't get any cash from that last one. You gotta do it again. Rina: That's bullshit! You all messed up, not me! Rina: If you try to make me do any more I'm going to the police, so hurry up and delete the photo already! Bartender: You really want your bestie's nude erased, huh. If so... going to the cops is going to be a problem. Bartender: So... <another goon slides in> Rina: !?

Bartender: I'll just have to get a photo of you next, so that doesn't happen. <goon grabs her> Rina: L-Let go...! Bartender: Just some nudity won't be enough for opposing me. We'll make an extra hard video... heheh. Rina: N-.... No-- <the door slams open> Bartender: !? <a punch lands> Strong looking man: Guh...

<he hits the floor> Nishida: ...I heard what you said. Rina-san, you did this all to help your friend.

Rina: N-Nishida-san... Why did you come here? Nishida: "Don't presume to know a woman when you're only looking at one side of her", that's what my boss taught me. Nishida: It was a really horrible feeling, when I thought I had been betrayed by a girl who seemed nice and kind. Rina: ........ Nishida: But, at the same time I had another thought. Fucking me over was just one aspect of you. Nishida: So I came here to see the whole picture and be able to understand it. Nishida: ...I'm glad I believed what my boss taught me. I would have regretted it if I left the situation alone, thinking I understood it. Rina: Nishida-san... Bartender: Heh, I get to see some cheap melodrama. It's real convenient you came back here, shithead.

Bartender: I was careless last time, but it won't happen again. You're going to regret coming back to rescue that woman!!!! Nishida: (This time I won't be able to make use of the bathroom hallway.) Nishida: (So far I've been able to scrape by thanks to my boss's special training...) Nishida: (But I wasn't taught anything for this situation. This will be a test of my own strength!) Nishida: I may not have any help from my boss, but... I will protect Rina-san, with my own power!

Bartender: Fuck... er...

<he hits the floor> Nishida: Haa... Haa... I... won... <Nishida also hits the floor> Rina: N-Nishida-san! <and he's back up> Nishida: ...I'll be fine... Quick, go delete... your friend's photo from his phone, please. Rina: Ah, r-right! <scene transition, police sirens wail> Nishida: ...Sounds like the cops are coming. Rina: Seems so. I'm... going to tell the police everything. I'm not going to run from my punishment. Nishida: You only did it because you were being threatened... I'm sure the punishment won't be that harsh.

Rina: ...Nishida-san. <she hugs him> Nishida: ...!

Rina: ...Thank you. Rina: My boyfriend is going to be mad that I'm saying this, but... you looked really hot... seriously, thank you. (Tl note: ohhhhhhhh I knew this wouldn't work out but RIP Nishida. he never scored) Nishida: Eh... <outside now> Nishida: ...Well, I guess she really has a boyfriend.

Nishida: But, it's fine. It's not like this kind of thing is about dating. Majima Family Member: Oh! Nishida! Are you okay!? I've been worried sick! Nishida: ...Eh? Wh-What? Majima Member: Lately, there's been a lot of nasty sleep-robbery bars. There was this picture of a woman floating around that we're supposed to watch out for... Majima Member: Here, this woman. And someone saw you walking around with her, so I got worried, you know? (Tl note: bisexual rebound time?)

Nishida: This is... Rina-san!? I guess she did say she'd done that a lot, so it makes sense there would be rumors... Majima Member: Hold on... You already knew? Nishida: Ah, yeah... But, she's washed her hands of it all, so could you please stop circulating that photo? Majima Member: ...Well, if you don't want me to, then I guess there's nothing more to be done. Nishida: I'm glad... Um, did that photo possible get shown to our boss? Majima Member: Hm? Ah, yeah he was shown it. About 3 days ago, I think. Nishida: 3 days ago... So all those lessons about a woman's heart from yesterday were... for this. <flashback> Goromi: What kinda girl is she? And what do ya think of her?

Nishida: Umm... here's a picture from the group dating. Nishida: She's a really sweet, attentive, and kind, and we get along... I think it'd be really great if we ended up dating... Goromi: ......... Nishida: ...Boss? Is something wrong? Is there something strange about the photo? Goromi: ...Just shocked. A beautiful lady like her is all but wasted on ya. <flashback over> Nishida: (Now I understand that reaction... Boss must've realized who Rina-san was...) Nishida: (All those lessons about a woman's heart... In the end it was what saved me.) Nishida: (Was... all of that just so... I wouldn't get sleep-robbed...!?) Nishida: ...Do you know where our boss is right now? Majima Member: The boss? Pretty sure she said something about waiting for Kiryu-san at SHINE. Nishida: Thanks. <Nishida walks off> Majima Member: H-Hey. Nishida! (tl note: RIP unnamed Majima Family Member, he never scored)

<now at SHINE> Nishida: Umm... The boss is... there!

Nishida: Boss! Thank you so much! Because I kept all of your lessons in mind, the date today went perfectly! Nishida: Boss... You knew about what Rina-san was up to, didn't you... So you secretly did all that for my sake-- Goromi: ...Ooh, Nishida! Perfect timin'! Nishida: Eh...? Goromi: Kiryu-chan just came to the club! The plan was a massive success! Goromi: That surprised look on Kiryu-chan's face... Fun conversations leading to a fun fight! I had the greatest time!

Nishida: A-Ahh! Is that so! That's really great! Nishida: So anyways boss, about what I was telling you regarding the date... Goromi: Your date? What's that got to do with Kiryu-chan? Nishida: Um... nothing I suppose... Goromi: Then why would I wanna hear about dumb shit like that? Goromi: I'm busy draftin' up a plan for my next fight with Kiryu-chan! Ya better get plannin' right away too!

Nishida: Ah, r... right... Got it. Goromi: Hehe, my blood's already pumpin'! Now, what next to entertain Kiryu-chan~! (Tl note: "blood's already pumping" is 腕が鳴るでえ which is more literally "my arm is ringing/rumbling" or "I'm itching to put my skills to use") <she leaves> Nishida: (...Well, that's fine. No matter what the truth is, I'm certain that it's all thanks to my boss that I'm still alive.) Nishida: (More importantly... I need to properly return the favor.)

Nishida: Boss! Wait up, please! I'll think of something great too! <END>

and then here's all of Nishida's various thoughts on things from the board game:

Kiryu-no-ojiki

A man known as the Dragon of Dojima who is absurdly strong in a fight. He’s my boss’s very favorite. Only as a fighter, though...

Alcohol

Drinking alcohol is a great stress reliever! But you have to be careful not to over do it. You should drink rather than be drunk.

Boss’s High Heels

My boss wore these while working at a cabaret club and turned them into a deadly weapon. Getting kicked by them would surely kill...

SHINE

A cabaret club where my boss occasionally works as a hostess. The store has a good reputation, but the customers my boss serves must have a difficult time...

Boss

My boss. Occasionally my boss puts on a dress and works as a hostess, but there’s never been any complaints. Though, would anyone really push on that...

Butterfly Necktie

The necktie I wear while working as a waiter. It may look like a ribbon, but it’s actually very common in formal settings.

Downtown Chinpira

Is this guy running shakedowns!? Bullying the weak is something only cowards do! Guys like this need to be taught a lesson!

The Majima Family A leading group within the Tojo Clan that's known for its violent conflicts. The family is a group of ruffians, I don't know why I ended up in it...

Majima Family Members

They're a violent and strange bunch, but if you take the time to really talk with them they’re surprisingly pleasant company. Well, they do still look scary...

Kamurocho

Painted in gaudy neon, it’s Japan’s number one entertainment district. The first time I came here, I was shocked at how many people there were.

and VERY FINALLY bonus stuff, namely the two cards! Goromi, the dreadful luck hostess, and Nishida, the mad dog’s errand boy.

this one was sooooooooooooooooooo long but also we got lore that Goromi was NOT a one-off event. which is so much more than I could have ever hoped for. I also love that Kiryu has apparently gotten the text from Nishida on multiple occasions and is shocked every time that Goromi is there waiting on him. and they still go on the date, every time

it’s not even rituals at that point they’re just using Nishida as a date coordinator with the flimsiest pretext in the world. this is that guy fighting the waffle house cook levels of pretext

#yakuza #rgg #rggo #Ryu ga Gotoku #ryu ga gotoku online #Goromi #Nishida #like a dragon

427 notes · View notes

babydollmarauders · 9 months

Text

OURS — TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x fem!reader

part of the Speak Now Fic List

summary: in which y/n and Trevor’s relationship is constantly being criticized by outsiders but they know their love is real.

warnings: references to nsfw activities, hate from outsiders, dialogue heavy, not proofread

notes: written semi-quickly, shorter than my other recent works, idk how i feel about this one, but it’s done and i hope y’all like it. ending is kinda iffy but oh well.

it seems like there’s always someone who disapproves of Trevor and i’s relationship.

my parents don’t like his carefree and confident demeanor. his younger brother didn’t trust me because i was someone new. his friends didn’t like that i write songs about exes and my relationships.

but most of all his fans and the media, judge us like they know us personally.

mostly judging me.

as a singer, my every move was criticized and picked apart. what i wore was either too homely or too dressed up. i was too skinny or too big. my heels were too tall, but then my nike’s were too ‘tom-boyish’. but the judgement had only seemed to get worse once i started dating Trevor.

suddenly his fans were saying i wasn’t good enough for him. analyzing our body language in photos and claiming that i didn’t act like i liked him. saying i was using him to further my fame.

but on the other side, i had my fans commenting that i was too good for him. citing his previous playboy ways and saying that he wasn’t smart enough or mature enough for me. claiming his bad boy attitude drew me in and that i would ‘come to my senses’ soon.

***

y/nofficial

liked by trevorzegras, gracieabrams, and 151,308 others

y/nofficial summer with my boy toy <3

tagged trevorzegras

Load more comments

trevorzegras my beautiful girl, you were off to a great start in the beginning and then you added the last photo

y/nofficial wdym? i think that ones my favorite!

trevorzegras whatever floats your boat mamas

gracieabrams cutest couple in the world ♥️

y/nofficial you’re the real loml <3

gracieabrams shhh i thought we weren’t telling trevor?

user26 NEW MUSIC COMING SOON?!

user81 i wonder if it’s about Trevor

jackhughes was i cut out of the last pic?! i thought you loved me, y/n 😪

y/nofficial in the wise words of Ariana Grande “you ain’t my boyfriend”

user40 the way she’s leaning away from him in the 5th pic? oh she’s over him

user95 she’s finally over the bad boy thing, i guess

user02 thank god! i don’t want her to get hurt!

user73 @/user02 HER to get hurt?! she’s gonna end up writing a slandering song about my baby Trevor and painting him to be an asshole

user02 @/user73 lmao yeah, well the shoe fits. why shouldn’t she write a song showcasing his true colors?

user73 @/user02 i’m not about to fight with a Y/N stan of all people— have fun supporting your famefucker

user02 @/user73 oh please, she doesnt need to use your little hockey asshole for fame when she’s already more well known than him

user12 we love a PR relationship 🫶

***

my converse squeak against the marble floors as i leave my execs meeting, catching the attention of many up and coming artists that are waiting in the lobby. i can feel their gazes following my every move, from when i stop in front of the elevator to when i press the down button, and i can’t help but laugh in my head; reminiscing of when i was the same way. star-struck and in awe whenever i saw any artists leaving the same doors i just walked out of.

but now, having been in the business for two years, that feeling has come and gone, replaced by small talk with those very same people that i once looked up to.

“hi.” i smile politely at a redheaded girl that sits close to the elevators, a notebook in her hand and stars in her eyes.

she looks around, as if searching, before she lets out an awkward chuckle. “oh- hi!”

the elevator dings twice before the doors open to another crowd of wannabe pop stars, and i step aside to let them out before waving a goodbye to the doe-eyed redhead and stepping into the elevator.

i’m excited to get back to my boyfriend, but that excitement vanishes when i scroll through twitter on my uber home.

—

oh- that was fast.

i can’t help but scroll through the replies and quote tweets, and by the time i arrive back home, i’m disheartened to say the least.

i thought i was being nice by greeting her? even if i couldn’t stay and talk. but apparently i should take this as a lesson for the future, don’t say hi to anyone unless i can stay and chat.

and my mood only worsens when i make it into the house, calling out my boyfriend’s name, to which i get no response.

“Trev?” my voice echoes off the walls of our home as i step into our bedroom, in search of the six foot tall hockey player. but i come up empty, finding that he still isn’t home from training camp.

i slide my phone from my pocket, drafting up a text before ultimately trying my luck at a phone call instead.

the outgoing ring reaches my ear twice before it stops, the call picking up.

“hey babe, what’s up?” Trevor’s tone is light and airy, painting an immediate smile across my lips.

“hey, i was just checking in.” i sit upon the fuzzy white blanket that’s folded along the foot of our bed, running my hands over the soft fabric. “i thought training was supposed to end at noon?”

“oh, yeah, it did.” he confirms, and i can hear someone else talking in the background. “Jimbo and i decided to grab lunch and catch up a bit.”

“oh, okay.” i nod, despite the fact that he can’t see me, and i can hear him conversing with someone.

“shh. hold on.” he tells someone. “he wants to say hi.”

i laugh as Jamie’s voice comes through the line. “HEY Y/N!!!”

“hi Jame!” i reply, listening as he grunts, wrestling the phone from Trevor, i assume.

“i’ve missed you!” he sounds closer now, while Trevor sounds farther away, calling out for his phone back, confirming my suspicions. “when do i get to see you again?”

“i’ve missed you too. if it’s alright with Trevor, and if you’re free, you can come over for dinner tonight?” i tell him. “i can go to the store and grab stuff to make my garlic and basil chicken pasta.”

“oh my favorite! i’m in! i don’t care what Trevor has to say about it, to be honest.” his response causes me to laugh, while my boyfriends calls out an offended ‘hey!’

“see you later!” Jamie yells, as i assume Trevor gets his phone back.

“did you need anything else, babe?” Trevor asks distractedly.

“no, nothin’ else.” i stand, gathering my car keys from my nightstand. “actually, i’m gonna go grocery shopping, can you think of anything we need?”

“condoms,” he replies unabashed, and i blush at the thought that Jamie heard him. “and frosted flakes. i finished ‘em off this morning.”

i roll my eyes before teasing, “the condoms or the frosted flakes?”

“both.” my skin heats up at the reminder of our morning activities, Trevor having woken me up before the sun even came up.

“oh- uh- okay.” Trevor laughs as i stumble over my words. “i’ll grab some more…of both.”

“thanks, love you!” he waits for my reply before hanging up, and i pad out of the bedroom, slipping my shoes back on by the front door before heading out to my car. i wasn’t big on driving, usually letting Trevor take that responsibility, and avoiding it when possible, so i only really used it when i had to go grocery shopping, relying on ubers to go anywhere else.

i slip into the drivers seat, huffing when i find that Trevor messed with my seat again. a harmless prank he likes to pull, just to see when i drive again and if i’ll notice. i adjust my seat before i pull out of the driveway, the radio playing faintly to fill the silence.

i’m nearly done with my shopping trip when it happens.

“he still uses those?” i’m mid-tossing the family size box of Frosted Flakes in the cart when the words reach my ears, and at first, i don’t even notice they’re being spoken to me. “he always said it felt like he was wearing nothing.”

i glance over to find a tall blonde standing next to my cart, staring down at my items.

“i’m sorry?” my brows furrow in confusion.

“oh- the condoms. Skyn Elite? Trevor used them back when he and i used to hook up a couple years ago.” the girl smiles, the supermarket lights reflecting off her sparkly lip gloss. “you’re his new conquest, right? y/n?”

“i’m his girlfriend, yes.” i nod, pursing my lips together in a straight line.

“right,” she nods. “girlfriend. you got the envied title.”

“i guess so.”

she gives another falsely innocent smile. “good luck keeping it! he’s insatiable, is he not? seemed like he was always keeping an eye out for the next girl.”

i’ve never particularly cared about the ghosts of Trevor’s hookup past. why would i be? i had them too, so who was i to be bothered by his? besides, right now, he’s mine. i’m the one he comes home to; the one he loves and talks about a future with.

“well, i should get going.” i tell her, already beginning to push the cart towards the end of the aisle, in route to check out. “it was nice to meet you.”

i was lying, sure, but i wasn’t going to let her get to me.

she bids me goodbye as i walk away, and when i glance back, i see her faux smile drop, her eyes rolling as she sneers, turning the other way.

yeah, i pretty much expected that.

i’ve just made it into the kitchen, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter, when my phone begins to ring, buzzing in my pocket with an incoming call.

i do an awkward dance of trying to free my hand from a twisted bag handle, before retrieving the vibrating device from my pocket, my fathers contact taking up the screen. pressing accept, i hold the phone up to my ear.

“hey, dad!” i chirp, opening the refrigerator to begin unloading the food.

“hey, pumpkin. what are you up to?” his voice drifts in my ear as i put away a gallon of milk.

“just unloading groceries.” i inform him. “what are you and mom doing?”

“oh, nothing.” he sighs. “just missing our little girl.”

i laugh at his dramatics.

“i know, i need to come visit.” i stuff a few cartons of berries and a bag of grapes into the fruit drawer before shutting the fridge.

“so catch me up, honey. what’s new?”

“nothing really. i’m working on some new music, and i had an exec meeting this morning to discuss how the album is coming. but other than that it’s same old same old.”

i open the cupboard, taking care of the box of cereal and a couple bags of chips as i speak.

“and you’re still dating the uh…” he trails off. “the one with the tattoos?”

i can hear the disapproval oozing from his voice and my eyes roll in my head.

“Trevor, yes.” i confirm, walking down the hallway to our bedroom and placing a few things on Trevor’s nightstand before setting a new bottle of shampoo on our bathroom counter.

“yeah, him.” he sneers, and it’s then that i hear the front door open, two sets of footsteps reaching my ears. a smile spreads across my face as Trevor calls out my name. “i don’t understand why anyone would do that to their body. that’s permanent, ya know.”

“mhm.” i hum in disinterest. “hey, dad, i gotta go. i’ll call you later.”

“oh alright, honey. love you!”

“love you too.” i hang up the phone as Trevor steps into the room, smiling at the sight of me.

“there you are.” he beams. his arms snake around my waist, pulling me against him, and his head dips down to bring his lips to mine.

“here i am.” i mumble against his lips, causing a chuckle to arise from his throat.

“Jamie is in the living room. followed me home claiming that he had to see you.” he tells me, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his close friend.

“yeah, i invited him over for dinner.” i inform him. my hands cup the back of his neck, pulling him back down for another kiss.

my whole body relaxes, any tension disappearing when his lips meet mine. his eyes scan my face as he pulls away, and his faces falls, his lips forming an exaggerated frown.

“what’s wrong?” he whispers, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear before pulling my head to his chest.

his heartbeat echoes in my head, calming me immensely.

“nothing.” i mutter, my eyes falling shut when he begins rubbing circles on my back.

“i don’t believe you.”

“it’s nothing, really.” i insist. “nothing that’s actually bothering me. just a little annoyed.”

“what annoyed you, baby?” he sways us back and forth and his hand on my back trails down to tickle at my side, making me giggle.

“well,” i sigh and he pushes me back to look into my face. “i said hi to a girl at warner today-”

he hums, encouraging me to keep talking.

“but it was just a quick ‘hi’. apparently she’s a fan of yours, and she thought it was rude of me to greet her and then not stay and chat.” i explain. “so she took to twitter to say so.”

Trevor huffs, his nose scrunching in annoyance. “well that’s just stupid. you don’t owe anyone a conversation…. except me. because you love me, obviously.”

i laugh at his joke, making his face light up at his successful attempt to cheer me up.

“what else, baby?”

“well then, at the store, i ran into one of your ex-hookups.” i continue, and his brows thread together in confusion.

“which, ya know, doesn’t bother me.” i clarify. “but she made a comment on the condoms we use and implied that our relationship wouldn’t last long.”

“our love is not hers to speculate on.” he gruffs out in annoyance, and i nod along.

“i know. so i walked away.”

“i’m proud of you, love.” he presses a kiss to my forehead, a smile resting upon my face as he does. “is that all?”

“almost.” i breathe out. “then i got home, and my dad called as i was putting away the groceries.”

“okay.” he nods, obviously confused why i would be annoyed about my father calling.

“and he made some snide remarks about your tattoos.” Trevor barks out a laugh at that, quite used to people commenting on the art that adorns his skin.

“i ignored them, and hung up pretty much right after, because you got home. but, i just wish he could look past them, because then maybe he’d see the kind, funny guy that you are and understand why i’ve given my heart to you.”

his eyes squint as he grins at my words, bending his neck to pepper kisses across my nose and cheeks. i squeal at the affection and he pulls back to look me in the eyes.

“baby, i don’t care what your dad thinks of me. only that you like me. and i’m pretty sure that you love me just the way i am.”

i nod, biting my lip and holding back a smile. my cheeks turn hot, a blush settling over them, and he smirks at the sight.

“i don’t want you to worry your pretty little mind, baby.” he coos. “so someone was wrongfully upset that you didn’t take time out of your day to talk to them— who cares? people like to throw rocks at things that shine. and you, my darling, shine so beautifully bright. they’re just jealous.”

i roll my eyes at his cheesy statement, but the sentiment warms my heart. “thank you, Trev.”

“any time, baby.” he pulls me in for another hug, my head resting on his chest again. “our love is ours. nobody else’s. what other people have to say about it, and about us, doesn’t matter.

“you hands belong in mine, my heart belongs to yours, and no matter what life throws at us, i’m by your side.”

i open my mouth to respond, but i’m cut off by another voice.

“aww, that was sweet.”

i lift my head from Trevor’s chest, our heads both turning towards the entrance to our bedroom to find Jamie standing there with a cheesy smile.

“Jimmy, what are you doing in here?” Trevor lets out a wheezy laugh at his friend, his head dropping back and his shoulders shaking. the sound is like music to my ears.

this man.

i am so irrevocably in love with him.

“i got bored.” Jamie shrugs. “you guys were taking forever.”

#speak now fic list #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fic #anaheim ducks #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3 #faithlynn’s insta edits <3

706 notes · View notes

uva124 · 4 months

Text

So yeah, I finished the drawing of Asha's redesign from Wish :D, maybe I'll make some changes in the future, but I'm happy to have finished it, it should be noted that I haven't seen the movie. , so I can't give my opinion on it yet, but I found it very interesting that their fandom is mainly made up of people who rewrote or made their own version of the movie, they are all very creative and it got me out of an artistic block. that I had a few months ago, but above all I found the rewriting of @annymation which is the one I have been most hooked on, so I wanted to do some redesigns of the characters coming out of its rewriting, that's why everything that has to do with the story of this version of Asha, as well as her personality and her world on which I base my drawing are the ideas and work of this account: @annymation

I'm just making a drawing of her character and how I would design her as well as sharing part of the process I had to do to draw her because, why not?

BOARD:

The first thing I had to do was put together a table full of references that reminded me of the character and things that I would like to add to her design, so I used milanote to do it:

-Looked for some Asha's concept art and save the ones I liked the most, and add the main colors that I used in the design. -I also created notes to write down the personality of the character and some of his data to have a better guide, I did a little research and found publications that talked a lot about Asha's discarded designs and how Disney workers had put that she had tribe ancestry Amazigh on his mother's side and since his father was from the Iberian Peninsula, that's why the next thing I wanted to do is research more about their culture. -I am not an expert on this topic, nor do I belong to the cultures from which Asha has ancestry, so you can comment on any correction regarding this topic, I wanted to implement details of this culture to her design and I would really like to give a correct representation :)

HAIRSTYLE

Continuing with the theme, I saw that the hairstyles in the Amazigh culture mostly had this type of colorful decorations on their braids and dreadlocks, that's why I also posted these reference photos for Asha's hairstyle.

-Finally I decided that Asha would not have all her hair full of braids or dreadlocks, but only a few accompanied by these decorations with a great variation of colors, although it was fun to sketch the many hairstyle options that I had in mind based on these concept art and other photos that I had saved

TATTOOS:

-Another detail that I liked was giving Asha some tattoos with designs from the Amazigh culture, because I saw that it was quite common for women to get them, the tattoo on her forehead is a symbol of protection against bad influences, that's why the The middle symbol is responsible for deflecting it in the 4 directions, I also added a similar one in Asha's right hand.

ASTROLOGY AND THE SPACE:

-An important part of Asha's rewrite is her knowledge of astronomy inherited from her father, especially with the stars for obvious reasons xd, so in addition to adding constellations to her dresses, research the meaning (or something like that) of the planets. Only 3 really reminded me of the character, which were: -Mars: Symbolization of the internal conquering function of moving forward, independent, self-determined, enduring failures with new energy, courage and energy to fight for your desires. -Saturn: Maturity, effort to solidly build realistic criteria, frustrations are transformed into objectives to continue growing, critical and realistic, far from getting frustrated when an objective does not work, you strive to move forward and obtain even more resistant and solid achievements, perseverance , and tenacity (I feel like yhis it the most similar to Asha :D) -Moon: protective role, feeling very vulnerable outside your known areas, feeling of security with your ties, importance of family ties. The one that reminded me the most of Asha was Saturn, that's why I drew those Saturn-shaped earrings :).

SUITS:

I looked for references and placed some on milanote, I noticed that the concept art was mainly divided into whether the dresses have lilac colors or warm colors, I decided to draw 2 models based on the discarded designs, although at first I thought of using only one color palette lilac and bluish, I realized that the reddish colors of her dress reminded me of Mars which has certain meanings that in my opinion coincide with Asha's personality. In the end I didn't decide what wardrobe she would primarily have 😅, but I like to think that in this version of Wish, Asha would have wardrobe and hairstyle changes like in some older Disney movies.

-These are some of the concepts that I mainly used for my version of the dresses

FINAL COMMENTS:

I am satisfied with the result, it was fun to make all this, although what I researched mostly seems little, it actually cost me several hours and I did it at night, so as a funny fact the next day I was explaining all this information to my mother and I felt like I looked like that:

(Make this drawing was so funny LMAO)

(Apologies if there are errors in my writing, English is not my first language and my writing is very basic)

248 notes · View notes

604to647 · 5 days

Text

Husband Material

3.1K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You come home drunk after a fun night out and Tim takes care of you.

This one shot is based on that Tiktok trend where girls refer to their boyfriends as their “husband” to see what their reaction will be 🤭🤭

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls) but it’s all fluff! Maybe Tim gets a little handsy when he helps reader undress 🤷🏻‍♀️ (she’s into it). Drunk reader, consumption of Chinese food. Established relationship, petnames (Shutterbug, gorgeous, baby), soft!Tim. Reader wears a dress and heels (but they hurt her feet).

A/N: After writing Marine Attraction, I couldn’t shake the Tim brainrot so I decided to start a series of non-linear fluffy one-shots for Detective Rockford and his Shutterbug – the series will be called The Rockford Portfolio (… you know, like The Rockford Files but ‘Portfolio’ because reader takes photos 😁😁)

Masterlist

Photography aesthetic dividers by @saradika-graphics 😍

Tim pushes his reading glasses up his nose as his settles in under the fluffy duvet cover, two of your matching pillows propped up comfortably behind his back, ready to dive into his book. You’re not home yet, but Tim doesn’t mind waiting up. Since the two of you exchanged keys six month ago, he’s probably spent more time at your place than his own – he prefers the warmth of your apartment, with the soft décor and personal touches that remind him so much of you to the cold, sparse feel of his own place. He had originally worried that you might mind that most days he comes straight here after his long day at the precinct, but you hadn’t minded one bit.

You didn’t mind making room in your closet for his sharp, if slightly monochromatic suits among your more colourful wardrobe. You didn’t even mind the gun lock box that sits on the top shelf of that same closet; a safe place for Tim’s service firearm where it remains for you, out of sight, out of mind. You certainly didn’t mind the permanent home his gun holster had found on your bed post – within arm’s reach should the mood strike you to see it frame your boyfriend’s broad shoulders. And if the little pile of police paperwork that lives on a corner of your dining room table or any of the other little ways you’ve made room for him in your place didn’t convince him, you would tease that you’d never dare keep him from reading his way through your Agatha Christie collection.

It tickles you to no end that your big bad police detective boyfriend spends all day solving mysteries, only to choose to spend his free time reading books about detectives solving mysteries. When you shared your amusement with Tim, he had winked at you, tapped his finger against his temple and recited, “If the little grey cells are not exercised, they grow the rust.” So delighted at Tim quoting your favourite Christie hero you had immediately attacked his face with your lips, planting breathy butterfly kisses over every inch of his handsome face, the book he was reading consequently knocked to the ground and forgotten for the rest of the evening in lieu of decidedly less bookish activities.

He’s right in the middle of a Hercule Poirot soliloquy when he hears the front door open and then your loud, breathy giggle as you bump into the foyer table; shortly after, your keys jingle when dropped in the key bowl, clinking with his own that he had placed in the same bowl several hours earlier. Tim listens to you struggle a bit with kicking off your shoes, realizing you must finally be free of your work heels when you let out an exaggerated sigh of relief as your tired feet touch the cool hardwood. He emerges from the bedroom just in time to see you wobblily padding towards the kitchen and grins to himself - you’re drunk. Tim calls your name softly and when you see your handsome boyfriend smiling at you, delicious and all at home in your apartment, wearing only a wifebeater and his boxers, your eyes open wide – you were on a way to get a snack, but he’s a snack.

“Timmy!!!!!” you launch yourself in those strong, muscular arms that you know will feel so good around your tired body; Tim catches you easily and envelopes you in his welcoming embrace, his grin only getting wider – you only call him ‘Timmy’ when you get tipsy. You've been so excited to go out with some old work colleagues that didn’t work at your firm anymore, finally able to arrange a get-together that worked with everyone’s busy schedules. Evidently you had a great time tonight – Tim’s glad, he pulls you in for a soft, tender hello kiss before steering you over to the kitchen where you were undoubtedly headed to get something to eat. Sitting you down at the breakfast counter, he fetches you a fresh glass of water and two preventative Advils, and encourages you to tell him all about your evening while he heats up a plate in the microwave.

“What’s that? You made me food?” you exclaim, giddy.

Tim chuckles, “Nothing fancy like that, Shutterbug. I ate dinner at the precinct and brought home my Chinese takeout leftovers. Just plated it so I could heat it up quickly for you when you got home – figured you’d want an après bar snack.”

He’s so sweet. And thoughtful. And hot, you smile dopily as you thank him.

“You know, gorgeous, I could have come picked you up,” Tim looks over at you from the open microwave door.

“You’re so sweet, baby! I know you would have, but you’ve been working so hard on the Pie case – I knew you would already be working late, and I knew we would be late too with all the picture taking. I didn’t want you to get home and then have to go out again. It was easy enough to share a cab. Oh! That reminds me – I gotta check in with the group chat.”

Your fingers are still flying over your phone keyboard as Tim places a plate of steaming hot Chinese food in front of you – you smile gratefully up at him.

Tonight’s night out had been double duty for you – in addition to seeing some friends that you haven’t seen in forever, a local food blog that features your photos regularly had put out a call for cocktail photos, so your group had gone out with the mission of trying as many different mixed drinks as possible.

As he always does after you go out and shoot photos, Tim sits next to you and listens to you as you swipe through your camera roll and happily chirp about the pictures you took: the subjects, lens choices, angles and lighting options. He does his best to concentrate on the pretty pictures on your screen but can’t help stealing glances at your sweet face, alight with enthusiasm and joy.

Finally putting your phone down, you start to dig into your cooled down food as you catch Tim up on the rest of your night, tipsily chatting non-stop in between bites of delicious, greasy food:

“Ok remember when I told you about Vicky’s deadbeat boyfriend who she basically carried through her internship? He apparently tried applying for a job at her new boyfriend’s restaurant??!”

“Guess what they had on the menu, baby?? A flight of spareribs – isn’t that such a cute idea? I thought, ohhh Tim would love this, he can never choose between crispy and bbq. Ha!”

“And she ended up getting two dogs from the shelter! Do you ever thing about getting a dog? I kind of wish we had a dog but we’re both so busy…”

“… should have made him clean the toilets, is what I said.”

“Ooo! Dumplings!”

“They had that Chablis we liked so much at that wine bar in New York! I didn’t get any because we were only getting cocktails for my photos. But no one ever has Chablis – we need to go back!”

“So then you’ll never guess what she said: I would rather eat a lightbulb.”

Your unrestrained laughter rings throughout the kitchen, eyes twinkling in mirth, thoroughly amused by you and your friends’ antics. You’re leaning back in your chair, your feet resting in Tim’s lap as he rubs your sore feet, the very picture of happiness that Tim imagines whenever the stress and realities of his work threaten to envelope him and he needs a little light to guide him forward.

With amazement, Tim watches as you gracefully manipulate your chopsticks and pick up cube after cube of salt and pepper fried tofu and pop them in your mouth, your elegant movements belying your state of inebriation, “Sounds like you had a great time tonight, Shutterbug.”

“Oh we did! I miss those girls so much. It’s hard for us to find a time to all get together but when we do it’s always soooo much fun! We just pick up like we used to when we were all juniors at the firm, it was perfect… well except for those two guys that couldn’t take a hint. Yeesh.”

“What guys?” Tim looks up, eyes darkening, his big, firm hands stop their caressing of your arches.

You wave your chopsticks wildly in the air, as if to dismiss his concern, “Just a couple of guys at the bar that kept sending us drinks. We kept sending them back.” You wiggle your feet in Tim’s grip and he catches on – immediately starting to massage them again.

“Did they give you any trouble?”

“Not really. Too laughable to be trouble – they came over before dessert was brought out to ask why we didn’t accept their drinks? I mean?? We told them that we were drinking for work, like my photo thing, not for fun.”

“And they got the message?”

“I mean, it took a while, but yes – they kept trying dumb lines like, Work hard, play hard!” you scrunch up your face at the ridiculous memory, “I finally had to tell them that my husband’s a cop in order for them to leave us alone!”

Husband. Tim wills himself to keep his expression neutral, as if you hadn’t said something that piqued his interest and sent his heart racing. Husband.

“Oh yeah? What did they have to say to that?”

“Ugh! One of them tried to convince me that he’d be a better husband than 'some meter maid,'” you roll your eyes as you shove black bean chicken chow mein into your mouth, “Timmy, did you splurge for extra crispy noodles?!” Your delight fills Tim with pride – he doesn’t know how you can tell after the sauce practically drowns the noodles, but you always can.

He nods, entertained by your cheery chatter, “You know, everyone has to do a rotation in Parking Enforcement – it’s a legitimate part of training. So, what did you say?”

It takes you a beat to answer, so tickled by the image of your hulking Tim in a little cap and vest writing parking tickets, “I quoted Clueless of course: As if. My husband is the biggest, baddest detective in the LAPD. He’s the smartest investigator on the squad and has cleared more cases than anyone else in the precinct. And he’s a ferocious guard dog who would rip apart any one who would dare make a woman feel uncomfortable.”

“You told them all that, Shutterbug?” Tim’s half proud and half shy at your praise, and still unable to get over that you’re calling him your husband in public. It’s making him unspeakably happy.

You nod vigorously, eyes wide and innocent, as if you couldn’t imagine a world in which Detective Tim Rockford and his accomplishments aren’t being praised to the sky at every given opportunity. “I also told them that my husband is the sweetest and kindest person I’ve ever met. And that even though he has hardened criminals scared shitless, he only ever makes me feel loved and supported, 100% appreciated and taken care of. I love my husband!” You look so happy you could cry, and Tim can’t help but feel his entire chest swell at how you described him to those two bozo strangers - that this is how you see him, what he means to you. He loves you so much.

He tells you so as he kisses the top of your head, taking your empty plate to the sink and fetching another glass of water before wrapping his arm tightly around your waist and leading you to the bathroom.

From under his chin, you look up and coo, “And he’s hot too, you know?”

“Hmmmm?” Tim smiles down indulgently to find your cute, drunk face grinning at him mischievously.

“My husband. He’s so fucking hot. I want to climb him like a tree and sink my teeth into all his hard muscles and mark him up so everyone knows he’s mine. Oh my god!” You step in front of Tim, startling him with your sudden movement, the two you continuing to make your way through the bedroom. Under Tim’s watchful eye, you walk backwards as you babble eagerly, trying desperately to make him understand, “You don’t even know how handsome he is?!? He has the perfect nose and the deepest brown eyes. His lips are so soft, perfect for kissing. He is SUCH a good kisser. OH!!! His facial hair looks sooooo good… I wonder what he would look like with a full beard. Probably just as fucking hot as he does now. My husband’s face is DEVASTATING!” You sigh dramatically.

Now starting to get embarrassed at your compliments, Tim turns you around gently and marches forward. Once in the bathroom, you stop abruptly so that Tim bumps into you – giggling, you wiggle your butt into his crotch, wordlessly asking for help you don’t actually need to undress.

Tim disrobes you swiftly – wanting to help you get to bed as soon as possible, but makes sure to kiss a gentle path along the skin he reveals as he unzips the dress he watched you put on for work this morning; after he helps you step out of your dress, he dots kisses down the back of your thighs and calves that leave you shivering in pleasure. Left in just your matching pastel floral lingerie set, you brush you teeth and start your night time skin care while Tim watches you fondly from his seat on the edge of the tub. No matter the circumstances, you’ll never go to bed without washing your face and putting on some of the elixirs and potions that overrun your bathroom counter – Tim’s convinced they must work though - you’re radiant, stunning; if he didn’t often find himself distracted by the soft curves of your enticing body, he would never look away from your beautiful face.

“Did you know your husband has the best wife?”

You look over at him and giggle into the face towel you’re using to dry your cleansed skin, “Oh yeah? Tell me about your wife, Detective Rockford.”

As you start to apply your creams and moisturizers, Tim comes up behind you, gently skimming his fingers up and down your bare sides, leaving little goosebumps in their wake, “My wife is gorgeous. Prettiest woman I’ve ever met, inside and out. She’s smart, kind, and hilarious, and I think the most considerate person on this planet. Did you know when I first met her, she volunteered to wait and be the last to be interviewed by a grumpy detective, so that school trips and families with kids could go first?”

Your eyes crinkle at the memory of when you met Tim at the aquarium nearly a year and a half ago, “How do you know your wife wasn’t just angling to be interviewed by the hot detective?”

Tim points a finger at himself comically, arching his eyebrow at the you in the mirror reflection, Me? Do you mean me – I was the hot detective?

You nod heartily, Of course you.

“Well, looks like my wife had my number from the start. She’s smart like that. Her brain is the sexiest part of her you know? And that’s saying something because everything about her is sexy,” Tim starts kissing your neck. His hands trail up to your breasts and he softly gropes your curves over the lacy fabric before reaching one hand between your bodies and undoes your bra clasp, his other hand ready to help you drag the bra down your arms, exposing your bare chest to the detective's lustful gaze. Nuzzling into your ear, he whispers, “My wife is so fucking hot,” as his fondles your breasts in his big, meaty hands – rolling your nipples between his rough fingers then lightly tugging before releasing them, causing your tits to jiggle.

You turn in Tim’s arms, your lips immediately meeting his, mouth open with an unspoken invitation he eagerly accepts. Tim licks into your mouth hungrily and you match each stroke of his tongue with a brush of yours, every nip of his teeth with an equally playful nibble. You sigh into Tim’s mouth as his lips press to yours over and over, mapping your soft cushiony lips and sucking them swollen to mark you as his. He hardly allows you to take a breath, and you’re not sure anymore if your dizziness is from tonight’s alcohol, or the way Tim’s lips slot so perfectly over yours, stealing all your air. You love it - air is nothing when you have Tim. Moaning softly so the sound fills his mouth, you hear Tim whisper huskily, “Arms up, Shutterbug.”

“Anything you say, Detective,” you shimmy your half naked body playfully in Tim’s arms and raise your arms over your head as requested, and for a second, you can’t help but gaze adoringly at Tim’s devilishly handsome face before your vision is obstructed.

“Hey! What th-?” When Tim’s grinning face comes back into view, he lowers your arms to your sides and you look down at your chest. You realize that Tim has slipped one of his oversized band t-shirts over your head to wear for sleeping. You give him an exaggerated pout and a silly whine before pressing your now t-shirt clad body to his, your final drunk attempt at seduction.

Tim dispenses a soft kiss to your lips, nose, then forehead, “Not tonight, gorgeous. You’re drunk. You don’t need sex, you need water.” He points to the glass of water he brought from the kitchen and leaves to place the drink on your bedside table so that you can finish getting ready for bed.

Snuggling under the covers after taking three big gulps of water from your glass at Tim’s insistence, you sleepily arch you butt against Tim’s bulge, giving it a half-hearted shake, stopping only when he gives you a pinch on the bum, murmuring, “Tomorrow, Shutterbug.” You grin at the promise and yawn, “Goodnight, Timmy,” before finally succumbing to your alcohol fueled exhaustion and passing out.

Tim wonders if you’ll remember calling him your husband tomorrow. He wonders if you meant to say it or if it just slipped out. He wonders what it could mean that you said it at all. He wonders if you somehow know about the ring box that’s hidden in a pair of old sport socks he never uses at the back of his dresser drawer in the bedroom of a house that he’s hardly at anymore.

Tim tightens his arms around you - he wonders a lot of things, but the one thing he never wonders about is how he feels about you. Pressing one last soft kiss to your shoulder, Tim breathes in your soft scent – a mixture of perfume, lotion, home, and whispers, “Good night, Mrs. Rockford.”

#tim rockford #tim rockford fic #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

113 notes · View notes