#tired student with a part-time job where he has to be charming. <- in the throes of autism

[intertexts-moving]

good afternoon... how r we all. hiii

[yandereforme]

Yan!Mafia Batfamily x reader

Part 1:Introduction and Duke

TW: Mentions of murder, mention of harassment

After Bruce’s parents died, Bruce began having the same mindset Red Hood/Jason had in canon; You can’t eradicate crime, but you can control it.

He soon built a persona of the bat, a mafia boss that everyone knew and feared/loved. This is a less moral Batman, who doesn’t personally kill, but has nothing against murder if it’s just.(Justice remains a part of his mission.)

This leads to a slightly more complicated bat family, with each of them playing a vital role as their counterparts, and Robin being the term used for shadowing the big bat, and learning the ropes. (If you want me to expand on that part, let me know$

No one knows the Wayne’s are the Batfam, but they all know they are vaguely connected, with many suspecting a relationship between Bruce and The Bat or The Bat being an illegitimate child of Thomas Wayne(though neither theory is voiced in earshot of the Wayne’s. Connected to the Bat or not, the Wayne family is still terrifying.)

Most people are pretty scared of the Waynes and the Bats like, fearing them and avoiding them 

You, on the other hand, could give less of a shit about them.

You are an orphan with good grades and even better computer skills. So while everyone believed you lived with your parents who traveled, and that you were 17 to your actual age of 13, you got away with living on your own and working a part time job. Working as a waitress wasn’t terrible, though you occasionally had to deal with Karens and harassment.

However, after a terrible night at work where a Karen poured her drink over you and a drunk idiot slapped your ass, you had run out of willingness to deal with bullshit. So, when a trust fund brat tried to make you move from your seat in the library, you refused, glaring at the blurry person standing next to you, ignoring the gasps from the students around you.

You expected him to yell at you, or let his companion, who was glaring hard at you, deal with you. Instead, he spoke briefly with his friend in a language you didn’t recognize. After a minute or so, they both sat down and quietly studied with you

Duke was charmed by your behavior. It has been a long time since anyone outside of the family had said no to him. The look of anger in your eyes was belied by pure exhaustion. He knew you had no clue who he was, and you were too tired to care.

You were interesting. So Duke didn’t let Damian yell at you or (attempt to) intimidate you.(while Damien was very intimidating when he had to be, Duke had a feeling you would not care in the slightest.)

So Duke convinced Damian to sit with him while he observed you studying, instead of discussing Bat business like they had planned. He had known of you, and Duke remembered you being in a few of his classes, but this stunt caught his interest too much to let you go.

You weren’t sure why, but apparently the Wayne kid (or Duke as he insisted you call him) seemed charmed by you basically telling him to fuck off. He started partnering with you in classes when he would normally work alone. He started eating his lunches with you in the library or in the auditorium, even having his brother join you on occasion.

You slowly got used to his presence, and even became begrudgingly fond of him and his little brother, even though his brother tended to stare at you more often than not. You hadn’t had very many friends for a long time, so maybe this was gonna be a good thing.

A big thing with Duke Thomas was that while he may seem calm, he is one of the most calculating of the Yanderes. He will always appear to be on your side, but unable to help you. He will become one of your closest confidence trusted friend , all without you realizing how much of a manipulative and possessive Yandere he is. He just knows that letting you have more of an illusion of power will help in the long run of making you like him.

So for now he’ll be content, letting you slowly come to him, similar to a feral cat. You’ll adore him soon enough. Come to think of it, you might make an excellent addition to the family.~

Edit: Life has been hitting me like a semi truck. I won’t go into too much detail, but I just ended a long-term relationship, had one of my grandparents die, and the other have a stroke. There’s a bunch of other stuff I also could mention, but I don’t wanna talk about it. Updates will be very sporadic for a long time I think. I’m sorry and I really hope you guys understand. Got enough motivation today to finally finish the first part of the Mafia au. Don’t know when I’ll be updating any of the other ones. I really hope you like this.

[joanofexys]

jo i need to know more abt angel's trauma

Angel angst!!! This boy is so packed full of trauma and I'll dig it all up

tws for pretty much everything in AFTG ever

At four years old Angel's mother goes missing and he starts becoming the target of his fathers abuse. His father's treatment leaves him scared and confused. He's beyond spoiled once his mother goes missing. Suddenly his father bringing home gifts nearly daily. But every time he makes a mess, he's too loud, he cries, he complains he's being hit. If his father comes home and seems to be having a bad night he could be being given a new toy and in the same breath receiving 10 new bruises.

CPS was contacted for the first time when he was five years old by his kindergarten teacher. She had seen bruises, he was a lot quieter than other kids, flinched at things no one else did. When he got scraped up on the playground he wouldn't even cry. But when they show up at the door they meet a very charming, but tired, father, mourning his missing wife. He welcomed them in to a slightly messy, but still well kept, house with his quiet son who hid behind his legs. They asked to speak with Angel alone and sat down with him at the kitchen table.

"Did you find my mommy?"

There's silence for a few minutes. Because how do you tell a little kid that his mom's probably not coming home? That you're not here about his mom but because they have to ask if his other parent is hurting him? And when they do ask all Angel does is deny, deny, deny.

"Are you gonnna take away my daddy too?"

They leave. Nothing happens. And if Angel doesn't get hit that night for doing a good job, well, nobody but him knows.

CPS gets called a few more times throughout the years. Angel gets good at lying. His father has father has perfected the grieving widow, single dad act. By age eight it escalates from just getting hit. Things are thrown, he explains away the visible cuts as accidents on the playground. He dropped a plate while his dad was at work and tried to clean it up by himself. The cuts lead to nasty scarring under his shirt, they all keloid, and even when they heal they still hurt.

Sometimes he'll get a week or two where his father's hand is light. Where nothing gets thrown. Maybe a few days where he doesn't get hit at all. Of course he doesn't know it then but it was always following one of his father's murders.

And then he's 10 years old. Alone in a hospital bed with a cut up face and more broken bones than he's ever had. And everything hurts. And he wants his mom and he hates his dad. When the strangers step into the room he's old enough he knows no one will ever come with news about his mom and he's angry enough that he won't lie about his dad. And he's ten and all he wants is to never see his dad again. He doesn't care about any of the charges they're talking to him about, about them pressing him to confess that this had been happening for years, and he especially has zero interest in sitting in a court room and having to look his father in the eye.

He meets his first foster family before he's even discharged from the hospital. He was quiet when they first met him. They knew he was in rough shape but thought he would be easy enough. They're nice. A white picket fence type of family. Angel hated them. They were the polar opposite of what he was used to and he thought that was what he wanted. But when realized it was something he missed out on for the past ten years, something people just got while he had to be taken out of his home to get it, he was just so mad. Seven months. Seven months of therapy, of being taken out of classes to see counselors, of family vacations. Seven months of yelling that they weren't his family, of slammed doors, of fights on the blacktop. He left his "siblings" alone for the most part. Preferred to ignore them. Kept his fights to other students at school. But the last month he started yelling at them too. Never tried to hit them or physically hurt them but he certainly intended to be mean. The behavioral issues became too much for them and that family decided to let him go.

He doesn't care much for his other foster families. He knows he won't be staying with them for long. That he causes too much trouble. His next one has a dog. A chocolate lab. He likes the dog. His foster brother in his next family has a cool guitar. He tries to teach Angel before the two of them split up and move to different homes. There's the little girl when he's 12 who's even angrier than him. He likes that she's angry. He hopes she'll do something with it. One of his foster siblings gets the head torn off their teddy bear by their foster family's son. They leave it in the backyard. Angel steals some of the mom's sewing supplies and messily stitches it back on. The head is crooked and doesn't have enough stuffing. But when he puts on their bed their face still lights up. He's in detention near constantly. He ignores the look on foster parents faces every time one of them has to pick him up. There's the house that says a prayer before every meal. The house that always has fresh flowers on the counter. The house with the broken grandfather clock that chimed at random times. The house that fed the stray cats. Little things that differentiated every foster home, things that were unimportant when he was only with them so shortly, but things he remembered regardless.

Then he was 14. Two months in with a new family when the police showed up at the door. He's sure some kid got fed up with the fights and their parents decided to press charges or something. Instead they start asking about his dad. No elaboration on what it's about at first. And he's 14 and he's scared and he's being pressed to talk about a man who he hasn't seen in the past 4 years who nearly ended his life. And then they bring up his mom. He's 14 and he's angry at the world and he puts on that stupid tough guy act all the time, but he's never really stopped wanting his mom. They found her. She's dead. His father's confessed to her murder and the murders of 12 other women who resembled her. Does he know anything about it? They don't get far. He's sobbing, hyperventilating, begging for his mom. They offer to let him testify. He doesn't want to. He doesn't show up for the trial at all. The news mentions that Matteo Di Fiore, convicted of murdering his wife, Sofia Di Fiore, and 12 other women has a son. No name is ever given. He's a minor and he's already been in the system for years.

He gets home from the police station at 3 in the morning, following 7 hours of questioning, and promptly wrecks his room. Destroys books and toys and any other sentimental item he held onto from former families. He breaks two vases, cuts up his hands bad. They scar. Within the week he's placed somewhere else.

And like the flip of a switch he's that quiet kid again. Like his concerningly quiet 5 year old self. The eldest daughter in his new foster family, going into her senior year, decided that teaching him to play Exy was a good chance for bonding and could get him out of his shell. He had no reason to say no. He makes the high school team as a backliner and they play through that school year together. He's with that family for 5 months before one of the parents has a job opportunity and they have to move out of state for it. They offer to start adoption process, take him with them, but he doesn't want to leave.

He meets Harper Shaw later that year. Second semester, biology, they're 15 years old. She sits in front of him, they become lab partners, and study partners after that. He thinks she's a genius. Part of the cheer team and top of her class. She knows nothing about him, about who he was. It was a relief. He asked her prom, she said yes.

8 months together and then they find out she's pregnant. And it's terrifying. Harper wants to keep the baby. Angel isn't going to tell her to do otherwise. They're together for a little while before they realize it's just not gonna work that way and they decide to co-parent. A little while later and they're welcoming Phoebe Sofia Shaw into the world. Angel has never been more scared in his life. He thinks he's gonna be a terrible dad, he's determined to be a halfway decent one.

They get through high school. Angel's still flitting through foster homes, but he's half moved into the Shaw's place. It's overwhelming for them both. They try not to fight about it. He tries to remember how to breath when Phoebe cries. Tries to remember that he can always call Harper's parents to take Phoebe for a bit if he ever needs a moment. Harper gets accepted to college, Angel never bothered to apply to any. She'll make the move to PSU, he'll go with her and start working full time to support them.

Then he's called into his coaches office and David Wymack is sitting there. He knows the foxes. How could he not? One of their star players was in the news for his connections to the mafia. They had, by some miracle, won finals. He asks for some time and with Harper's encouragement he, stupidly (in his opinion), signs the dotted line.

Starting college is so much worse than he imagined. Andrew fucking Minyard put together who he was and why he fit the bill for the foxes before he even moved in for the summer. He has no clue what he wants to study or what classes to even take. Phoebe is entering the nightmare toddler stage where her favorite word is no and nothing seems to make her happy. Wyamck and Abby and even Bee seem more than happy to help out with her when Harper can't take her and he's stressed beyond belief but that only does so much.

He spends most of his time pacing in the court building or fox tower's hallways on the verge of tears, silently begging Phoebe to just go to sleep. People are assholes about him being a teen dad, people are worse to Harper. It brings back some of his temper. He might not be with her anymore but she's still his best friend. His work load is worse than he expected, yet nowhere near what Harper has on his plate, and keeping his grades up is a struggle. Surprisingly, it's Kevin who proves to be the most help with that. He loses a lot of sleep and ends up spending most nights at either Wymack or Abby's place because there's only so much, being woken up in the middle of the night by a screaming toddler, that most college students can take. He seriously considers dropping out multiple times in that year alone.

And this is hella long now so we're gonna wrap it up there, but I promise Angel doesn't drop out and he really loves his daughter and he loves the foxes too and it all works out.

[meirisuu]

decided to indulge in my 14 year old self's obsession with winx next gen ocs and finally design a whole group of them!!

character sheets and descriptions + doodle dump under the cut!

Blaire

21. Daughter of Bloom and Sky. An Alfea graduate, Enchantix fairy, Guardian Fairy of Eraklyon and Heir of Eraklyon's throne. Basically a burnt out overachiever and perfectionist who shouldered everyone's high expectations due to being Bloom's daughter, and had high hopes for the future but is now barely trying to hold things together. She can be a little intimidating and hotheaded, but that's because she's very tired.

She's cordial exes with Luke, Stella and Brandon's son, but they still remained best friends. She's currently dating a wizard named Ike.

Lucian (Luke)

21. Son of Stella and Brandon. Crowned Prince of Solaria who has recently taken on more responsibilities as the de facto new King of Solaria now that he recently came of age—but...he doesn't really want to be called a King quite yet. He's a charming and responsible young man who's inherited his mother's love and passion for fashion, and is a little snobby about it sometimes, much to his friends' chagrin.

He's cordial exes with Blaire, Bloom and Sky's daughter, but they still remained best friends. He's currently single, but there isn't a day where he isn't talking to or seeing someone.

Violet (Vi)

21. Daughter of Flora and Helia. Guardian Fairy of Linphea and a reputable freelance photographer who's a bit too chill for her own good. She can be nonchalant and a bit too cool headed at times it freaks people out, but it's quite handy for her job and hobby as a photographer, requiring precise focus to capture the best photos. She's also a deeply sentimental person, capturing and treasuring all memories of her family and friends through photography.

Maxine (Max)

21 years old, daughter of Musa and Riven. Formerly an Alfea student and a fairy-in-training, but have shifted to Red Fountain to pursue being a Specialist. She turned out to be a skilled prodigy, and now teaches at Red Fountain part time. She's a chill and easygoing person, and is well liked by everyone in the school, even capturing some people's hearts. Despite this, she can also have an explosive temperament if certain buttons are pushed.

On a long term relationship with her former roommate Tesla, Tecna and Timmy's daughter. They go way back, since Alfea.

Riley

20 years old, son of Musa and Riven. He's a quiet and chill guy who's had a bit of a troubled past. He went to Red Fountain alongside his sister but he mostly did it to appease Riven, and has no interest in being a hero, instead preferring to pursue his interest in music. He looks a little scary to some people, and he used to have a notorious reputation, but he's passed that now.

Tesla

21. Daughter of Tecna and Timmy. A gifted tech genius who dropped out of Alfea to defy expectations and pursue her passions, and now works as a reputable robotics engineer in Zenith's government. Her demeanor is generally blunt and sarcastic, which is off-putting for most people, but she mellows out around people she's comfortable with.

On a long term relationship with her former roommate Tesla, Tecna and Timmy's daughter. They go way back, since Alfea.

Amir

21. Son of Aisha and Nabu, and the wizard prince of Andros. A reliable and approachable young man who gets along with everyone, and is actually in talking terms with everyone in the friend group despite the incident. He's also a very physically active person, and despite being a formidable wizard, he still chose to take some combat classes in Red Fountain. Behind his easygoing demeanor is a cunning and strategic mind that should not be underestimated.

--

+ some more doodles about the TxT and MxR kids because can you not tell that tecna and musa are my winx meowmeows

[all-inmoderation]

ugh one thing i dislike about under the oak tree is how riftan and maxi have like,,, no friends. like riftan is such a fucking asshole to his knights and has such a stick up his ass that i have to wonder why do these other knights follow him ??? his entire character trait is being a downright asshole to everyone but maxi and it gets tiring to read at some points bc to me, it really flattens the world.

because personally, even when i read a romance, i want the main leads to have an enriched life outside of their love interest! i always hoped to see a scene of riftan having some form of camaraderie w his knights and treating them with,,, at least a little bit of friendliness, perhaps ??? bc i want there to be a reason these knights are following riftan, other than just him being a good warrior. i know riftans general disposition is very reserved and rigid but good god how many times has he gone to war w these guys??? and yet he cant even return a modicum of the affection and respect ruth and the other knights give to him smfhhhh

and as for maxi. i have a less of a grudge w her bc of her backstory obviously but i wish the author couldve shown her finding some solace in friendship as part of her journey in healing. its beautiful that she comes to see riftan as a source of home and safety, but i also wanted to see her dynamic w ruth deepen, along with Agnes. *especially* Agnes, actually, i want Maxi to slowly but surely stop feeling insecure and threatened around her. the little nuggets of her interacting w them and the maids and other knights are so charming and heartwarming to see. I want to see Maxi LOVE the people in their house and form genuine connections with them beyond surface level.

I do think the author does a good job of that when it comes to maxi and the household staff but.. the most disappointing part and the entire reason of this post was how utterly disappointed I was with maxi going to Nornui for three years and not making any fucking FRIENDS. like BRUH. do you know how desperately i wanted to see Maxi in Nornui, thriving despite herself, socially thriving and loving magic even while she's missing riftan. Like I haven't read book 3 yet but that little sneak peak we got of the first few chapters where some of the other students treated her like shit and she only had surface level friendships with some other wizards was sO FRUSTRATING TO READDD. l

like you're telling me maxi left home for THREE YEARS and she spent that ENTIRE TIME missing riftan and keeping everyone at a distance ???? didn't she leave bc she felt suffocated by riftans obsession and she wanted to become more of her own person ??? what the hell was the point then if she made no real connections and just wasted it thinking about riftan lmfao. they'll just go back to where they started- two people who are obsessed w each other w no other companionship, except now maxi just knows how to throw magic rocks or whatever lmfao.

sigh. im being being a bit nitpicky but i just really really wanted to see maxi in nornui making really good friends and building up confidence and pride- and then i wanted her to come back to anatol and for her riftan to see her and see how she's more at ease, maybe even a little more charming, and more confident after spending time in the towers and gaining the admiration and respect of other wizards, and coming back w her own allies and supporters. people whose companionship she forged on her own instead of what was forced onto her (like her marriage). like if it had been up to me i wouldnt have even had any of the wizards at the tower be rude to maxi- i wanted her leave in the tower to be one where she found herself and who she was, beyond her marriage, beyond even her magic.

like even though maxi is shy and reserved i wanted to see her come out of her shell a little bit is that too much to ask? and i wouldve loved to see that kind of transformation in her and how riftan wouldve handled it. of course its not to say that maxi shouldve come back from nornui as an extremely confident outgoing girl with no fears, in fact i think having a significant change but then her returning to anatol and bringing up her old habits and characteristics against who she's become wouldve been so delicious to see , but alas, i dont think thats where the story goes at all.

[birdnamedenza]

Where the down bit starts

OCs: Ketan, Hunter

Not me casually being back after almost two years.

I had already started to write this story and basically had an entire plot arch all layed out in my head... and then life happened. It didn't help that this was quite the challenging story to write with all of the plot and action going on besides the actual sickness part. We have a crossover between Tiago's arch nemesis Hunter and Ketan, the one who got away so far. Ketan's scenario had to be special and Hunter is just fun to make sick with all the casual perfection going on around him. I hope I kind of succeeded, thank you for everyone who's still enjoying my writing after that long hiatus.

TW: Vomit

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ketan was stressed out, and that rarely happened. Usually, his restless energy and exuberant imagination helped him to channel every adrenaline rush into something creative. He had already come up with a perfect plan: There was a funfair in town, the ultimate setting for an interactive live stream. It was a cold and cloudy monday morning. Occasional downpours were expected, so there wouldn't be a lot of visitors, certainly not around the opening hour at 10 a.m.

The only trouble was that none of his friends were available to join him. Calvin was studying for an upcoming examn – in fact, he had just pulled an all-nighter and sounded dead tired when Ketan called him. Zena spent the entire weekend out of town for a job and wouldn't return before the late evening hours. Much to Ketan's surprise, Cassandra was the one who picked up Ezra's phone. Apparently, he had been busy barfing up his guts for the last 24 hours, thanks to a nasty stomach flu. Cassandra stayed at his apartment to take care of him and keep him hydrated. And Natalia… Natalia would have never been down for a trip to the funfair, even if she hadn't been avoiding Ketan like the plague after her drunken meltdown.

Of course, Ketan could have gone on his own or postponed the stream, but he had already announced the date to his followers. The whole thing was supposed to be a competition-style setup with challenges and matches. To fire up the engagement, the viewers could vote for the next ride and who handled it better. Short queues were expected at those perfect conditions, but whatever waiting time would occur could be passed with asking each other embarrassing questions. It was all layed out in Ketan's head and it absolutely needed to happen.

When Ketan was at the verge of despair, Calvin proved once again to be the best friend ever. He had contacted some of his fellow students if someone was, quite literally, up for the ride. A classmate named Hunter had actually agreed to join in on the fun. His health and fitness content was popular, albeit mostly among young women who weren't exactly there for the educational part. Ketan couldn't blame them – that Hunter guy was just the right eye candy he needed to attract the masses.

All giddy and hyped up, Ketan arrived almost half an hour early at the fairground. The colorful rides, stalls and games lay dormant under a dull grey sky. Only a handful of visitors strolled among the whimsical attractions that just started their work for the day. Ketan used the waiting time to map out the area and plan a route. Here and there, a whiff of sugary, oily goods hit his nose. In the near distance, the first ride began blaring out 90's electronica. It was hard to suppress a maniacal grin.

Finally, Ketan rushed back to the entrance to welcome his guest star. Just like he remembered, Hunter was ridiculously handsome with his bronze skin, sensual lips and defined curls, but his smile and his posture gave away his nervousness. Determined to break the ice, Ketan put on his most charming expression and greeted Hunter with a warm hug.

"My savior has arrived!"

"Uhm, sure thing, no big deal", Hunter replied, still a tad shy. "I haven't been to the fair in ages. Sounds fun."

"Yeah, right? It's nostalgia on steroids." Ketan had his equipment all set up and ready to go. The countdown for his viewers was ticking and quite a few were waiting for the stream to begin. "Cal has told you that we're doing this live, right? No cuts, no editing."

"Eh… yes, that's fine, it's just… I've never done this before."

"Oh, don't worry, I have." With a pat on Hunter‘s strong back, Ketan subtely directed him towards the designated starting point. "Just be yourself, they're gonna love you. It might feel a little weird at first, but you'll get used to it in no time. I promise I'm gonna make this easy for you."

"Okay, uhm… thanks." Hunter's bashful smile was thoroughly endearing. Ketan hoped that his heterochromia would show up well on camera – the light blue spot in one of his brown eyes was almost mesmerizing. The obvious fact that the guy had no idea how attractive he was only made it better.

"Take a deep breath and enjoy the adventure", Ketan reassured him. "You're gonna be great. Just don't take anything I say personal, we gotta give the audience a bit of a fake rivalry thing. Pretend that it's a sport competition and we're both taking this super seriously."

"Yeah. I think I can do that." Hunter hesitated for a moment, then scratched the back of his head. "Ah, yes… I guess I should mention that heights make me a bit nervous. I won't back out, just wanna let you know."

Ketan could barely contain a triumphant roar. He had ended up with the perfect filming partner after all.

"That's okay, don't try to hide it. I'm sure many viewers can relate", he encouraged Hunter. "They want to see real people with real emotions. Can you tell them a few things about yourself first? I'll jump in if you ever feel stuck. You'll see – before you know it, you’re an absolute pro."

-

After Hunter had successfully tackled the first obstacle of introducing himself, he slowly began to calm down. Ketan made sure to start out nice and easy with some classic games. The tin can alley, the shooting gallery, the unclimbable ladder and the strongman test all gave Hunter a chance to excel with his physical skills to gently ease him into the challenge.

To keep things exciting, Ketan had already put up a vote for the first ride they had to go on. The drop tower won by a landslide – much to Hunter's dismay. It wasn't even a big tower, 130 ft at best. A young girl barely passed the height requirement, grinning from ear to ear, while Hunter nervously looked around like he was considering a last minute escape.

"It's a bit early to regret your life choices", Ketan teased with a friendly dig in Hunter's ribs. "You can always skip the ride if you're too scared, you know?"

"No way!", Hunter attempted to join in on the banter. "I'm in the lead, remember? And I never go down without a fight."

"We're both going down in a minute, but first it's all the way up, up, up to the top." Filled to the brim with anticipation, Ketan took a seat and secured the restraints. He adjusted his 360° cam to a nice angle that showed both their faces and a good bit of the surroundings.

"Oh boy", Hunter exhaled sharply as the operator performed the final safety check. "I'm not so sure about this."

"Too late to wimp out now." Chuckling like a madman, Ketan captured their slow ascenct. The camera did a great job at conveying the height, even added to it with the warped perspective. Hunter, of course, couldn't appreciate any of it since his eyes were shut tight. He was humming a slightly distorted tune while his hands held on to the restraints. Surprisingly, it didn't even sound half bad. Besides his stunning looks and athletic skills, Hunter was also gifted with a deep and silky voice.

"You're missing out on the view, bud!" Ketan reached over with his free hand and pinched Hunter's impressive bizeps. Hunter flinched and looked up for a moment, visibly startled.

"Oh God, I hate this", he moaned and turned his eyes towards the gloomy clouds. Better than looking down, Ketan assumed. Meanwhile, the ride had come to a halt, leaving his brave three riders suspended in anticipation.

"Got a message for the crowds?", Ketan grinned.

"It was nice to meet yo-uuuaaaaaaah!" Hunter's words were ripped into a breathless scream as the platform plunged towards the ground. Weightlessness washed over Ketan's body, the sinking and exhilarating feeling of a free fall. It was like his stomach was floating in his chest, tingling and fluttering and almost unbearable, but in the best way possible. And then, before his nerves could even make sense of it, the brakes set in and it was all over.

"That was amazing!" Ketan couldn't stop laughing and after a few seconds of a horrified blank stare, Hunter joined in. Nervously, but still.

"I was right", he said with a crooked smile while fixing his hair, "I hated it."

"Well, you didn't spoil your pants, that's a plus. Should be an easy win for me, though."

"Uhm… yeah, I guess so", Hunter nodded, still out of breath. Then he remembered the whole competition aspect and forced out a: "Unless our viewers appreciate me overcoming my fear."

Ketan could barely stop himself from pinching Hunter's cheek. The man just wasn't made for bragging and taunting. His feeble attempt was so wholesome that Ketan almost broke character, and he was sure his followers noticed.

"You deserve a pat on the shoulder. Now let's check the results."

The results were anything but clear. Ketan came out on top, but only by a few percent. And the lifechat made it perfectly clear that the audience was smitten by his first time companion.

"I want to hold his sweaty hand so badly", Ketan read out loud. "Still hot, even when he's about to pee himself."

"Stop it", Hunter protested, pretending to reach for the phone. "How 'bout your embarrassing comments?"

"Later. Maybe. First, you guys gotta pick the starter, main course and appetizer for our eating contest."

"Like… who's gonna eat the most?" Hunter's eyes widened. Maybe the drop had left a lasting impression on his stomach or he feared the ride following their meal.

"What, do I look like a sadist to you?" Ketan put on his best serial killer impersonation before breaking into a smile again. "No way, I gotta do the same thing, remember? It's all about speed, baby. The winner finishes first."

"Big mistake. I'm a fast eater." Hunter pounded his shredded abs that, even under his shirt, looked like he lived on nothing but broccoli and lean chicken breast.

"Never underestimate my power!" With a last ominous glare, Ketan checked his phone for the jury's votes. Unsurprisingly, corn dog and chocolate churros were the clear favorites – phallic-shaped food always came in first, pun intended. The third pick was a bit of a wild card: chocolate covered bacon. It probably sounded too weird to give it a pass. While casually chatting some more, Ketan went to the food trucks to gather their democratically elected meal.

"You guys are the referees", he declared to his viewers. "Just in case it's a close race, which it's totally not going to be."

"Keep telling yourself that", Hunter gave back with newfound confidence.

"Look who's getting cocky", Ketan sneered and grabbed his corn dog. "Alrighty then… get ready… set… go!"

As fast as he possibly could, Ketan munched away at the crispy cornbread and the plump, meaty hotdog. He felt pretty confident until he shot a glance at his opponent. Somehow, Hunter had managed to shove almost the entire thing into his mouth at once and chewed at lightning speed. Damn it, he was a fast eater indeed. Determined not to lose, Ketan took bigger bites, then swiftly reached for the churros.

The deep fried crispiness, soft inside and intense cocoa flavor made it easy to get down bite after bite. Ketan stared at the horizon beyond the stalls and rides, focusing on nothing but pushing in the strands of pastry, chewing once or twice, then gulping forcefully. Finally, he grapped the long strip of chocolate covered bacon and chewed it off the stick before he could think about it. The smokey note hit harder than expected – the sweetness of the chocolate tried, but failed to overpower it. It wasn't horrible, just not entirely to his taste, and it left a greasy mouthfeel. That didn't stop Ketan from nibbling away every last bit, then swallowing once more.

He looked up to find Hunter already taking a sip of his water. An unfamiliar grin parted his rival's lips as he probably felt that adrenaline rush for the first time. He had finally stopped pretending – now he was taking this seriously. Ketan frowned and wiped his lips.

"Told you so", Hunter declared unabashedly triumphant.

"Just because I'm not as good at deepthroating corn dogs", Ketan growled.

"You're not mad, aren't ya?" Genuine worry clouded Hunter's smile.

"A little." Ketan gave his guest star a wink to assure him that his concern was unfounded. "Better enjoy that victory while it lasts. You might not like what's in store for you."

-

The next stop was a historically themed photo booth, just to give their stomachs some time to settle. Meanwhile, Ketan had already put up the poll for their following ride, which was going to be one of the main attractions. One that would make even him a tiny bit nervous. He knew perfectly well that the audience wanted to see them suffer and he was ready to ham it up for the camera.

Of course the viewers went for the fair’s most intimidating ride – a huge inverted coaster that started off with a steep drop, followed by a tight loop and a maze of zero-g rolls, corkscrews, hills and helixes. It was hard to imagine that this monster was actually portable. Hunter's face fell as he saw the massive steel skeleton.

"I – I don't think I can do that", he mumbled, lowering his head towards Ketan's ear. Maybe he was hoping the camera wouldn't pick up his voice.

"Come on, it's a little late to tap out", Ketan encouraged him, even though his own smile felt rather forced. He knew that this beast was assembled by pros and safety tested, his brain just couldn't get over that whole too big to be portable thing. The park management had agreed to him filming on-ride, he reminded himself, which they wouldn't have done if they weren't confident in their attractions. The uneasy feeling in his stomach was probably caused by a severe neglect of proper chewing during their eating contest. It was not like he was actually scared. "Unless… you want to give up. Double points for the winner, what do you think?"

"Uhm… I… I mean…" Hunter was biting his lip, hands fidgeting nervously, eyes staring intensly at the coaster towering over them. Then his chest heaved with a deep breath and his brows furrowed in nervous determination. "Alright. Let's do this."

"That's the spirit, big guy!" With some enthusiastic slaps on the back, Ketan steered Hunter towards the measly queue. There were five other people in front of them, waiting for the train to return. As soon as the gates opened, Ketan grabbed Hunter's hand and rushed towards the front car, ignoring the protest of a middle-aged woman. His heart was pounding, more out of excitement than anxiety. They were going to get a lovely video out of this. His followers were in for a treat.

"I… I think I made a mistake", Hunter whispered, wide-eyed. His caramel skin barely hid the fact that he had turned pale around the cheeks. As much as the restraints allowed it, Ketan reached over to pat his shoulder.

"Trust me, these things are never as bad as they look."

"No, oh no." Hunter sounded desperate as the train set in motion. Slowly, the chain lift pulled them up the first hill with the familiar click-clack. Ketan looked down towards his dangling feet while holding his camera as stable as possible. His trusty cam had this insane ability to make the selfie stick disappear on video, creating an effect of it floating in mid-air. Ketan gave his viewers a big grin while Hunter looked like he was about to burst into tears. In a futile attempt of reassurance, Ketan kept on rubbing his rival’s impressive biceps.

Finally, the train shifted into an upright position and for a moment, the entire funfair was below them. They followed one last bend towards the inevitable drop.

"I don't feel so good", Hunter rasped, his muscles tensing under Ketan's palm.

"This is the scariest part", Ketan tried to calm him down. "It's all gonna be fun from here!"

Hunter faintly shook his head, then pressed his eyes shut again and attempted to disappear into the shoulder restraints. The very next second, they went over the edge and gravity set things in motion. Ketan began to scream, but the train accelerated so quickly that the air was knocked out of his lungs. Then ground and sky changed places and all of a sudden, his feet were up in the clouds. It was amazing.

Until he heard that sound right next to him.

It was a deep, guttural retch. In one horrible moment, everything clicked. Hunter wasn't just scared. He was feeling sick. No wonder he had looked like he was about to wiggle out of his seat and jump off the ride. And to make things worse, the 360° twist of the zero-gravity roll made Ketan painfully aware of the unrest in his own stomach.

A series of dry heaves assaulted Ketan’s ear, loud enough to overpower even the wind’s roar. It was incredible that such a beautiful person could produce such revolting noises. They sent a wave of nausea through Ketan's body and made him shiver in his clammy skin. Like the rollercoaster, things were going downhill fast.

"Try to breathe", Ketan screamed, barely able to follow his own advice.

"Hu-hhhhhhrrrrrrrRRRRrrRRRrrrrrrr", was Hunter's response, and it sounded awfully wet. If only he could keep it down a little bit longer! The guy didn't even cup his mouth. He held on to the restraints like his life depended on it while his body was shaken by violent gags. Every single time, his head jolted forwards, lips wide open, tounge sticking out, like he was already in mid-puke. At this point, everyone behind them was probably terrified.

"Hold it in!", Ketan pleaded, just before the train twisted into a corkscrew. The last thing he saw were Hunter's eyes flying wide open and his cheeks bulging out. Ketan quickly turned away his head, preparing for a foul smelling flood to hit him any second. Once again, the world spun out of control and the greasy food he had scoffed down swirled in sync with their cart. It was only when they had made it through the inversion that Ketan dared to look up again.

Big mistake – another one in a whole string of unfortunate decisions. As Ketan anxiously glanced towards Hunter, he found him with his cheeks still puffed, lips pursed, eyes widened. Just a second later, vomit sprayed out of him like a fountain. With only a small gap to escape from, it came out with quite some pressure, but it didn't stand a chance against the airstream. A good bit of puke splattered right back into Hunter's face. Some disgustingly warm droplets and mushy pieces hit Ketan's cheek and his upper arm. Someone behind them screamed in terror and Ketan had the strong suspicion that it wasn't because of the wild ride.

With an instant gag, Ketan's body arched against the restraints. His nose was hit hard with the sour stench of sick, mixed with a fermented sweetness. He felt something sliding up his esophagus, like it was still well-greased from all the fried snacks. Desperate to keep his hasty meal down, Ketan swallowed several times and cupped his mouth with his free hand. The train descended into a downward helix and Ketan's stomach immediately sank, forcing another retch out of him.

Maybe it were those wet gurgles that set a chain reaction in motion, maybe it had been inevitable all along. Hunter's shoulders tensed as another gush of undigested food spilled out of his mouth and all over his front. At least now he tilted his head forward and fully parted his lips to prevent another explosion. With a horribly moist, gargling retch, the impossibly gorgeous hunk puked up large chunks of sausage and soggy dough that splattered heavily on his thighs.

Ketan's eyes watered as he fought against the mass that kept on pushing up his throat. The forceful movement of the rollercoaster, the rancid smell and the sickening noises Hunter produced all became too much for him. But the station was close, so very close. Another turn and Ketan already felt the brakes setting in. He pushed against his lips like with the force of sheer determination while his abdominal muscles clenched painfully.

"I'm so sorry", Hunter moaned weakly. Somehow, he still looked ridiculously handsome, even with strands of vomit dripping from his lips. Tiny droplets of tears had been caught in his long lashes as he looked at Ketan with pleading eyes. Ketan just nodded, mouth clutched, frantically taking in rapid, shallow breaths through his nose. The train slowed down as they entered the final stretch. He could do it. He had to do it.

Hunter, however, could not. A spasmodic hiccup shook his buff frame and without any resistance, another massive wave of beige liquid spilled from his lips. His face went blank as he immediately threw up again. Mushy bits of bacon and hotdog and cornbread plopped wetly onto the restraints. The sound was enough to send Ketan into a violent heave. Acrid liquid bubbled up from his stomach. It burned like hell and brought up bigger lumps that slid over Ketan's uvula, forcing him to gag even harder. With every fiber of his body, he tried to swallow the soggy mass back down.

Just as it all seemed lost, the train came to a halt. They had made it to the station. Unable to stop retching, his cheeks bulging against his palm, Ketan pleaded silently for the restraints to open. He saw a fairground worker approaching them hastily – a young guy, probably an undergrad like himself who  just wanted to make a bit of extra money. And then, in a cruel twist of fate, Ketan's stomach forcefully ejected another surge of puke. Hot, creamy liquid shot out of the small crack between his tightly closed lips. It poured out over and under his hand, between his fingers, down his arm, all over his cheeks and chin.

The worker stared in horror, his face one substantial "Oh no!", as he saw Ketan lose his battle in such a spectacular way. Finally, the shoulder restraints lifted themselves, like they wanted to mock his futile attempt. Their fellow riders frantically rushed out of the train. The woman that had snapped at them before was now giving them a death glare. Her hair, her face and a good part of her blouse were stained with Hunter's stomach contents.

Before she could break out into a tirade, Ketan's insides went for another loop and he projectile vomited all over himself. It spurted out of him in such a big arch that some droplets even hit the camera. The camera? A cascade of silent curses popped up in Ketan's fuzzy mind. Their entire barf‑a‑thon had been livestreamed to all of his followers, and thanks to the superior image stabilization, they probably hadn't missed a single chunk.

"Are… you guys okay?", the operator asked cautiously. Ketan looked at him and broke into a laugh. He just couldn't help himself. The entire situation was so utterly absurd.

"Sorry", he gasped, unable to calm himself down. "It just sorta… happened. I tried to hold it in, I really did, but… but…“

The laughter overwhelmed Ketan's bubbling stomach and he was shaken by another retch. A greasy brownish mush splattered onto his lap. Ketan's clothes were pretty much soaked with puke at this point and clung to his damp skin. The fresh breeze made him tremble, but he kept on chuckling as he expelled poorly chewed corndog bits. Hunter awkwardly patted Ketan's back to help him through the violent bout. After what seemed like an eternity, both the wet heaves and the hysterical giggles finally subsided.

"We can clean it all up", Hunter rasped. "I… I really didn't mean to ruin your, you know, ride."

"Uhm, no, it happens", the young man reassured him. He sounded more nervous than comforting, probably expecting either one of them to blow chunks again any seconds. "We’ll just hose it down. You guys look like you better go home."

"Yeah… you're right... sorry." Hunter sounded horribly guilty. Defeated. Ketan pressed his co-star‘s shoulder before they finally got up from their stained seats. Soggy lumps, now cooled down, slid down Ketan‘s legs. With a stiff gait, he walked down the platform – still nauseated, but doing his best to pull off a smile. At this point, he had no chance but to play it off and act unaffected.

Ketan's eyes did widen just a little as he looked at his phone. The viewer count had, in fact, almost trippled during their disastrous ride. And why was he even surprised? People were sadists after all. There was a reason the most popular challenges were always the one that made someone puke. It was the perfect blend of schadenfreude and childish humor.

"Okay, guys, this is going to be a tough one", he picked up the chitchat with his audience like nothing had happened. "I can proudly state that we gave it our all – all of our stomach contents, that is. Will you reward the spectacular human fountain or the last one barfing? The choice is yours while we're… trying to clean ourselves up a little. Stay tuned!"

Hunter hesitated to step closer. He looked helpless, lost, so Ketan grabbed his hand and pulled him along to a more quiet place behind the stalls.

"Feeling a little better?", Ketan asked in a much softer voice than his usual hyped up persona. He did feel bad for dragging Hunter into this mess. Nobody wanted to have a vomiting fit immortalized on the internet, especially not during their very first live stream.

"Yeah, I… I think so." Hunter gave him a crooked smile and a thumbs up.

Good thing Ketan’s philosophy was to be prepared for anything. Among his many technical gadgets, he also brought a large water bottle that turned out to be a life saver. First, he helped Hunter clean the worst mess from his skin and clothes before giving himself the same treatment. Quite a bit of puke had splashed back onto Hunter‘s own face. There were chunks and strands in his hair, heck, even in his ears. Ketan brought out some much-needed backup in the form of paper towels. Even then, they could only do so much – the stench of sick still lingered around them, their clothes were soaking wet and the stains easily visible. Ketan shivered and the goosebumps on Hunter's arms showed that he was freezing as well.

"Things are getting a tad uncomfortable for us and I don't think they're gonna welcome us on another ride", Ketan declared with a somewhat sheepish grin. The stream had definitely been cut short, but at least they were going out with a bang. "Let's see what you guys have to say… 'Blergh. Puke emoji, puke emoji, puke emoji' – relatable. 'Ketan, I would totally rub your back.' – aw, thank you. 'I wanna clean Hunter up with my tongue.' – interesting."

"I don't think that's a good idea", Hunter replied in such an sincere tone that Ketan could barely hold back a chuckle. Or a hug. He handed over the almost emptied bottle instead. Hunter took a deep sip, swished the water around in his mouth and politely turned away from the camera before spitting it all back out on the grass.

"Probably not, but thanks for the kind offer.“ Ketan waited until Hunter was done before he poorly imitated drumrolls. „Now let's determine the winner, shall we? It's the moment we've all been waiting for. Remember, we got double points for the last ride. So the winner of our final competition and the entire day is…" With a dramatic pause, Ketan looked at the poll. Took a deep breath. Then broke into a smile and raised his rival‘s arm. "Hunter!"

Countless hearts flooded the chat. It probably helped that Hunter's drenched clothes stuck to his chiseled body and that his face lit up in such an endearing way.

"Thank  you, everyone! Honestly, thank you.“ A tinge of red brought back some life into his cheeks that were still far from the usual golden-brown tan. „I know you guys weren't even here for me and I'm glad I didn't ruin the whole thing for you. Guess my stomach isn't used to deep-fried food anymore."

"Don't worry, it happens to the best of us.“ Ketan stretched himself to ruffle Hunter’s soft locks. „Case in point, it even happenend to me.“

„Yeah… sorry… that kinda feels like it was my fault as well. I made you… you know… I started the whole vomiting thing and then… sorry. It’s a little embarrassing.“

„My idea, my responsibility, okay?“ The shame-fueled puppy dog expression on Hunter’s face was utterly adorable and, weird enough, it sparked Ketan’s protective instinct for the significantly taller hunk. „Now before we ride home towards the sunset, let’s read some last comments to cheer you up. ‚Hottest. Thing. EVER!‘ – ‚Marry me, Hunter! Heart emoji times a bijillion‘ – ‚More streams together plllzzzz‘ – You’d like that, huh? You dirty little weirdos. Any last words to the audience, Hunt?“

„Uhm… I’m already taken, so I have to decline the marriage proposal. But thanks for the votes and everything! I really appreciate it!“

„You heard him! And you will never know what we’re gonna do next… in private. Kay thanx bye!“ After his signature abrupt last wave, Ketan bumped the phone against his forehead, then quickly turned off the camera. His grin instantly fell into an expression of pure guilt. „Hit me. Like, hard. Fist and all. I deserve it. That’s not how things were supposed to go down. I mean, it was my most successful stream ever and I’m eternally grateful for that, but I’m also honestly sorry.“

„No, it’s okay.“ Hunter waved a hand, visibly confused by Ketan’s sudden change in demeanor. „I should have said that I wasn’t feeling well. It kind of, you know, got to me with the whole contest thing and all and then it was too late. I’m just glad it all turned out fine in the end.“

„You’re too good to be true“, Ketan sighed. „And probably cold as hell, so how about a detour to my place for a hot shower and some tea? I owe you one, more than one, and it’s the least I can do.“

„Sounds great. My stomach’s still a little angry at me, I guess.“ Hunter’s hand drew a circle over the perfectly defined muscles of his abdomen. He seemed worn out, but mostly relieved. That was because he couldn’t possibly know at this moment that nothing was fine and that the steepest drop was only about to begin.

He found out soon enough when his phone started ringing.

[serenasoutherlyns]

passionately, i'd say

chapter 2 of my woman!jack au. ao3 rewrite of s5e10 house counsel.

“We would’ve been more comfortable in Aruba,” Jack says.

“You prosecutors don’t have the time for frivolous travel like we do. It’s too bad such a great mind is wasted on this office. Third in the class,” Paul volleys right back with a nod to Claire. “But I’ve never lost a case on account of my 2.5, have I. And what do they say, the C students end up kicking the A students in the ass? That’s probably not it, oh well Jackie, I can’t wait to do it anyway.”

“We have Furini on tape,” says Claire. The case is a slam dunk.

“Another A student?” says Paul. He’s smug.

“Law review too,” Claire says, trying not to seem too defensive. “But you don’t have to be to see where this is going.”

Jack leans back a little in her chair and pushes her hair behind her ears, tousling it ever so slightly. Claire likes Jack’s hair a lot. She likes the shine, how soft it is to touch, how it smells like coconut and honey. She does dye it, Jack confirmed one day, looking in the bathroom mirror. She had to get her roots redone. Claire likes her faint crows feet and smile lines, too. She presses play on the cassette. “Mr. Parks is all taken care of, Vin. Bada bing, bada boom.” “Good job, John.” “I think the meaning is obvious,” Jack says.

“Sure it is,” says Paul. “They were talking about Miss America. Look Jackie, I hate to burst your bubble but this case is gonna go the way of all flesh.”

“Because you’re the defense counsel?” Jack says, playfully incredulous.

Paul grins and cocks his head to the side. “Motion to suppress. That tape will never be heard by a jury. Oh, and Anna sends her love. She wants you to come over sometime.”

“Tell her we’ll all go to Aruba this weekend.”

“Sounds wonderful. See you in chambers, Jackie, Miss-”

“Kincaid,” Jack says.

“Miss Kincaid. She seems like a good one,” he says on his way out.

“Jackie?” Claire says when the door closes.

“Yeah, well. Old nicknames die hard.”

“You two seem close,” Claire says, not even trying to hide her annoyance. He wasn’t her typical type. Jack generally has little patience for macho posturing. For dick measuring contests. She does usually win those, however.

“Exes,” she says. “Two years and we never did anything but argue and try to beat each other at pool.”

“Two years,” Claire says. “I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“I didn’t,” Jack says, her voice matter-of-fact. “Ask Carolyn Waters.” Claire thinks she would not have gotten along with 23-year-old Jack. ---

“It’s about the battle, Claire, not the prize,” Jack says.

“You would agree with me if it was anybody else,” is her response. “You’re acting like defending a mob boss is some sort of noble cause.”

“It’s all a part of the game,” she says. Jack can really piss Claire off. Something about Paul Kopell brings out her cynical, egotistical side.

“Last I heard, it was about justice,” Claire says.

“Justice is a story we tell to make ourselves feel better, not something we can reasonably seek. Effective prosecutors should do their best to let it be the byproduct.”

“Of what?” Claire says, knowing that Jack was about to say;

“Of winning, plain, simple, and as often as possible.”

“I’m not in this to score points,” Claire says.

“Well you better change that, Claire, or you’ll never sleep again,” Jack says with that charming, fond, smile. It’s hard to stay mad at her when she looks at her that way. Claire does her best imitation of a frown.

“Adam, we have the tape on Furini. If we’re lucky, he won’t want to spend the rest of his life in prison.”

“Good,” says Adam in that tired but sure tone of his.

---

“I meant what I said, about winning,” Jack says, and takes another sip of scotch.

“Do we really have to talk about work?” Claire responds. She’s had about enough of the case today, and Jack will not let this go. She insists on winning her over.

“What else is there to talk about?” She says, and she has a point. It’s not like they do much else.

“You could ask me about lunch with my mom,” she says after thinking for a second.

“How was lunch with your mother, Claire,” Jack says, mock-interested (because she can guess how it was). She leans into her space Claire leans in too, matching her challenge.

“Awkward and unpleasant,” she says. Claire takes a sip of her pinot noir and rests her her chin on her hand. “She wouldn’t stop going on about my biological clock.” Jack lets out a bright scoff.

“You’ve got some time on that one,” she says.

“I’m in no rush,” Claire says, and brings her bottom lip between her teeth. She touches Jack’s calf with her own. Jack places her hand on her knee.

“I’d hope not,” says Jack. “Cause, I’d be of no help.”

“Thank God.” Jack raises her glass to that.

“Anyway,” she says, “if you get too focused, you’ll drive yourself insane.” Claire goes to respond, to say something pithy, but Jack doesn’t let her. “I’m being serious, Claire.” Claire opens her mouth and closes it. She lowers her head and picks it back up. She puts her hand on the back of her neck.

“I know,” Claire says. “I can feel it happening.”

“So stop,” Jack says. “Don’t beat yourself up if you lose a motion, hell, if you lose a case. Move on, and do your best to win. But if everything is about justice, and you don’t get it, you’ll--”

“Make myself miserable, I know.”

“Good,” says Jack. “You’re getting it.” She touches her shoulder affectionately. Claire sips her wine.

---

“Your friend plays the game by a different set of rules,” Claire says. She’s standing, leaning over the table. She’s been pacing the room, trying to come up with a way to reindict and coming up empty. Paul Kopell is certainly a smart guy. “He and I are not playing the same game anymore, Claire,” Jack says from the couch. She is sitting back, sunk into the leather, her heels are on the floor and her legs are tucked under her. She’s been staring off into the distance for ten minutes, thinking about what, Claire can’t say. This revelation concerns her, she wonders what Jack is about to get into.

“Is that disappointment, or the sound of your ego deflating?”

“It’s contempt,” Jack responds. “He’s reprehensible. First day of law school, ‘What’s the cornerstone of the adversarial process?’” She rises from the couch.

“I don’t need the socratic attitude,” Claire says. Jack walks up close to her, comfortable. The top of her blouse is unbuttoned and Claire’s eyes linger at her collarbone as she tilts her chin up to face her.

“Just answer the question, Claire.”

“Two independent counsel, arguing points of fact and points of law before an impartial judge and jury,” she responds reluctantly.

“Right,” Jack says. “The operative word being ‘independent.’ Paul crossed a line.”

“He didn’t do anything illegal, Jack. He listened to Dasso brag. You heard the tape.” Claire rests her hands on the desk behind her. Jack stands across the room from her with her arms crossed, anger apparent on her face-- she’s even a little red. Her hands are balled into fists.

“He facilitated the operation of a criminal enterprise.” Jack is enraged. That must be why she hadn’t said a word for so long. “How do you think he knew Lempert’s spending habits?”

“Maybe they had cappuccino together,” Claire says. She can’t help the it. Jack is reaching at best but there was no telling her anything when she got like this.

“The juror questionnaires,” Jack says, realizing mid-speech. “How much do you owe, how much do you make. He knew exactly what he was doing in voir dire, he asked the questions that would find him the person most likely to take a bribe. I can’t believe this,” she says.

“I’m not sure I do,” says Claire. Half of her is trying to spare Jack the pain that finding out something like this is true would cause her. “Paul Kopell goes the extra mile, every time. I just didn’t expect him to drive the car into a wall.”

The clerk leads them to it. Claire sees the devastation in Jack’s eyes, the pain of betrayal. It’s heartbreaking. In the cab back to the courthouse, she takes her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. Jack sighs and squeezes back.

---

“Twenty-five years ago, Paul stayed up until 3:00am with me teaching me the rule against perpetuities,” Jack says.

“Smart has nothing to do with honest,” Adam replies. “What are you gonna do?”

“Burn him at the stake,” says Jack. She looks tired.

“Even if we can implicate Kopell, it’s only an E felony.”

“No,” says Jack, determination and rage in her voice. “It’s an A felony. Conspiracy to commit murder. Paul picked Lempert’s name.” Jack is taking things to far, Claire thinks, or she’s going to. She thinks about asking her, if this were any other attorney, would she do something like this?

She thinks better of it, but tries to sway her anyway. “You don’t think he knew they were going to kill Lempert?”

“It doesn’t matter. He set the chain of events in motion. Do you want to convict Dasso?” Claire and Adam nod. “Paul can give him to us.”

---

“You son of a bitch,” says who must be Paul’s wife.

“Anna, calm down. You could’ve called, Jack, you have my number,” Paul says, bursting with anger, spitting the words out.

“I’m sorry, it fell out of my rolodex,” says Jack. The room feels like it’s going to light on fire.

“Are you happy, Jackie?” Paul says bitterly.

“Happy yes, I’m so happy to discover one of my closest friends is a felon.”

Paul actually laughs. “Even if Dasso bribed the clerk, what the hell has that got to do with me?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Paul.”

Anna looks Claire straight in the eyes as if to say how could you. “This is really getting your juices going, isn’t it,” she says.

“Anna, if you can’t let me proceed, you’d better step outside.” Paul gestures to Claire. Jack makes a stop motion to her, and though she wasn’t going to leave anyway, she appreciates the show of respect.

“Paul, you can put an end to this, right now,” says Jack. “Give us Dasso.”

“Give you Dasso, who the hell do you think I am? You know what, Jackie, you can’t even carry my briefcase, you never could.” Jack shows how hurt she is: her eyes dart to the side, where Claire is standing. She can see Jack starting to lose her composure, like she’s going to cry, or like she’s going to hit Kopell. “I’m gonna get this bullshit charge dismissed and then write you a civil suit that will have your great-grandchildren answering motions.”

Paul storms out and Anna is close behind him. When the door closes, Jack sinks into the couch. Claire sees one tear roll down her cheek. She goes to take her hand, but Jack pulls it away.

“I’m going to go get a cup of coffee,” Claire says. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” Jack says. She looks out the window.”

---

“I don’t need your sarcasm right now, Claire,” Jack says as they walk back to the office. It’s fair. Claire could stand to be a little kinder.

“Look, Jack,” Claire says as she takes her arm. “Don’t you think this is getting out of hand?” Jack stops walking in the middle of the sidewalk and turns to face her.

“Do you want to convict Dasso?” Jack asks.

“Of course I do.”

“Well I’m fresh out of ideas,” she says. “This is the only way I can see of doing it.”

Claire looks at her and sighs. Jack is right. Her argument against Kopell is sound. But she hates seeing Jack so distraught, so hurt. They haven’t had a moment to themselves since the arrest.

“Alright,” Claire says, takes Jack’s arm again, and walks them down the street.

---

“He’s a murderer,” Paul says. “He’s my client. I don’t judge him. I defend him. It’s what I do.”

“You don’t have to climb into bed with him,” says Jack. “That’s where you’re wrong. I have to get into his bed. I have to think like him. I have to attend his grandchildren’s christenings, I have to eat his mother’s cooking. It’s the only way I can defend him with any kind of passion. How can you not see that, Jackie?”

Claire can see Jack start to bristle at the nickname where she hadn’t before. It was like watching two angry dogs bark at each other.

“That’s your only agenda?” Jack says, disbelieving.

“Hell no,” says Paul. “I do it because I like it. I do it because it’s fun. I climbed macho mountain and it feels damn good.” Jack grips the table tightly. Claire is disgusted. Jack must be too. He really isn’t Jack’s type, after all.

“We’re offering you a way out,” Claire says. Paul looks at her like she’s nothing. Jack bites her cheek.

“Maybe you should hear him out, Paul,” Anna says.

“Absolutely not,” Paul says, stretching the first word out to five syllables. “Don’t you see, Anna? He called this meeting, that means his case is weak. This is a game of chicken. And you just blinked. See you at trial.”

---

They convict him.

The foreperson stands and delivers a “guilty” verdict. There is no celebration, no after-work drinks, no congratulation from Adam. Nobody is happy.

“That sounded like more than a game,” Claire says as the elevator door opens.

“You better take the next elevator,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t be very good company.”

[snowmaniaph]

Snow Man’s Snow Life #127 - MemeRau’s two-shot and talk

Meguro Ren and Raul, the 2 youngest members of the group, appear in this issue for photos in the other’s member color. They also thoroughly talk about their thoughts on each other.

“Meme is straightforward and doesn’t put on airs. That is his number one charm.”

“The number of times Raul helped me is increasing.”

For these two who love each other, what are their wishes for the other?

It’s been about 3 years and a half since these two’s sudden addition to Snow Man’s member lineup. Raul, who was only a middle school student when he joined the group, also graduated from high school. As someone who saw his growth up close, how does Meguro feel?

Meguro: His personality and appearance both changed, and I think he really grew as a whole. I was the one helping him when we joined the group, but now the times he has helped me have increased. I am really grateful that he reaches out to me when I’m a little tired or when I’m feeling down.

Raul: Really? That makes me happy. I talk to him when I think he’s tired from the continuous drama and movie filming because I think it would be nice if he could rest during the time he’s with all the members, but there’s also a part of me who simply wants to talk to Meme (Meguro) (laughs).

Meguro: My mood does get better because of that. You’ve become really reliable!

Now that Raul has grown into a reliable man, is there still a part of him that you think is cute?

Meguro: (immediate answer) None.

Raul: Really?

Meguro: You’re already 18 years old after all.

Raul: Zero?

Meguro: Ahaha. Really. I do think Raul’s whole existence is cute!

Raul: Meme’s cute part is...

Meguro: None. I’m already 25 years old.

Raul: That humble side of you is also wonderful (laughs). He doesn’t go “me, me” but is always considerate of the people around him and puts them first. I also want to become someone like that, and I respect him because of that. Also, despite everything Meme is a tennen (t/n: can mean natural or airhead)!  I don’t mean careless or stupid, but “natural”. He is straightforward and doesn’t put on airs. That is his number one charm.

Meguro: There are times that I’m too straightforward and I hate that. For example, I would be thrown off when someone says “Hey, do that” while I was in the middle of doing something else. Then I’d think I have to concentrate on the second task too, so I’d forget or make a mistake on the first task. I hate my character where I lose sight of what’s around me because I can only focus on one thing.

Raul: But on the contrary, I think that’s a good thing so it’s okay!

If you could mention a work of the other that made an impression on you...

Meguro: I think Raul’s talent as a model is amazing. I also thought of this when I saw the pictures of this year’s TGC, there are poses other people won’t nail if they do it but looks good when Raul does it.

Raul: Uwa-, I’m happy!

Meguro: That’s why I think it would be nice if he could broaden the places where he could be active as a model more. He really should become more active in more places.

Raul: I’m already overwhelmed by emotions. I’ve been allowed to do various works in Johnny’s but modeling is the only one aspect where I feel like I can be a pro. It makes me really happy to be complimented in a job that makes me feel that way. There are a lot of Meme’s works that made a deep impression on me but the one that really resonated with me was Kyojo II (2021, Fuji TV). This is an unforgettable work where I was able to differentiate (Meguro’s) idol side and actor side. There are times I watch it again.

Meguro: It was a big job for me too that’s why that (Raul’s answer) makes me really happy.

Furthermore, they gave the same answer when we asked them which job they challenged together was unforgettable.

Meguro: When the two of us unveiled our performance of Sexy Zone’s GAME in The Shounen Club (NHK BS Premium).

Raul: Right. The two of us really talked a lot that time. We remember everything even the camera cuts, and the “It would be better if we do it like this”. It was before our debut but I remember thinking that I shouldn’t forget that fastidious attention to detail.

Meguro: We haven’t really had a lot of chances to hold a microphone and sing in Shokura until then, so I think the feelings of wanting to produce results no matter what really showed. I feel like we talked about things like “I have to do it with this kind of mindset” at that time. And from time to time we affirm that experience and reminisce about it so we wouldn’t forget about the passion and feeling that we had then.

Raul: Honestly, I sometimes remember how hard it was to have the same fastidiousness as that time.

Meguro: You can get back your original resolve, right?

The feelings of “like” overflow between the two who occasionally look at each other and talk with a smile on their faces. Do they not have any complaints about the other?

Meguro: Limited to times when I’m busy, but he sends me long videos (laughs)! I think “I can’t watch this now!”.

Raul: Ahaha. I’m sorry. I understand that you’re busy but I feel like wanting to send you something alive. It’s because the feeling of “novelty” wears off as time passes. But it’s fine even if you don’t watch it immediately. I’m already satisfied that I sent it (laughs).

Meguro: So it’s for your self-satisfaction (laughs).

Raul: No! It’s the feeling of wanting to send something. It’s the feeling of “it would be nice if this made you smile and alleviated your fatigue”.

Meguro: Of course, there are times that I laugh when looking at the pictures you sent. But this (complaint) is limited to sending long videos when I don’t have free time.

Raul: So the timing is bad... this isn’t a complaint but a request. I don’t have clothes so I want Meme’s hand-me-downs.

Meguro: I don’t think even my size would fit you! I saw that Raul wore Fukka-san (Fukazawa Tatsuya)’s clothes and the size totally didn’t fit (laughs).

Raul: Fukka-san’s shoulder width is narrower than mine so his clothes didn’t fit me. But I want Fukka-san to look at my clothes and once I got to wear them the members told me “It doesn’t suit you”.

Meguro: Ahaha. Who said that?

Raul: If I remember right, it’s Shoppi- (Watanabe Shota) (laughs).

Meguro: Then, I’ll give you clothes if I find one that’s your size!

[i-am-literally-deranged]

Actually you know what I WILL criticize you on the hottest dating sim character.

Shuu Iwamine is objectively more attractive than Yuuya, and here is a neat bulleted list of why I think so:

He evil. Everyone likes someone evil and a little bit irreparably damaged.

Long hair,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, tied up in a cute little bow

Those EYES. We've all seen the "Unique!! White blue-eyed boy!" but I've seen people drool over those deep purple eyes

Tired all the time. Relatable

Constantly drawn covered in blood. People go crazy over that

He berates the player but occasionally gives them validation, which is enough to make most people coming back for more (as ill-advised as that may be)

Oh I love a good debate!!!! :D

• I actually think that irreparably damaged but still NOT evil is the hottest variety of character! It's easy to be traumatized and evil, but it takes some real SUBSTANCE to be more than that. Yuuya has some real dimension to him! He's incredibly selfless! He murdered a baby. He's incredibly loyal! He mutilated one of his best friends' body and covered up her murder. He's such a truly good person! How many students died while he was on the job? But Shuu is just plain evil. Sure there is dimension to him, but I don't find it COMPELLING. I can't get into Shuu's head and see myself making the same decisions he did. I can't justify or rationalize any of the things he did. That's a lot less hot to me than someone like Hitori or Yuuya who come in all these lovely shades of gray. Their bad deeds are so UNDERSTANDABLE, so genuine. They're more understandable, more sympathetic, and so it's easy to feel closer to them. I can't imagine feeling close to Shuu. The things he does are too evil, and don't make as much sense. When Yuuya does something awful it makes SENSE. It feels like an almost inevitable tragedy, there's no other way it could have gone, there was no right answer and he took the best way out he knew how. THAT'S SOME HOT TRAGEDY RIGHT THERE, REAL SHAKESPEAREAN SHIT!! THE GOOD STUFF!! When Shuu commits atrocities it's like. Ah, it's Tuesday. He just does it because it's What He Does. He's evil, and a terrible decision maker, and that's why he does what he does. And honestly, as much as I love the shades of gray, and the appeal of villainous characters is undeniable, I'm a real sucker for the good guys. I've never been one to fall into the tumblr sexyman trend of loving the villains. I love heroes and anti-heros! Good people in bad situations, just doing their best in a world without any right answers. Nothing makes me UwU💕 more than that.

• okay you got me there. Shuu's hair is fantastic. I love it. And his bow is amazing you're so right. ALTHOUGH credit where credit is due, Yuuya's little hair clips! They're so cute.

• Okay but HAVE YOU SEEN YUUYA'S SMILE??? It's so charming!!!!!! You can just FEEL the warmth in it. It's playful, it's easygoing, it's charming, it's mysterious. And as we all know!!! Mystery IS the most powerful of aphrodisiacs after all! Shuu has those purple eyes, but his smile says serial killer, and it's not lying. Yuuya's smile strikes my heart still! Also, Shuu's purple colour scheme is physically part of him, he didn't make that cool style decision himself. But Yuuya having all orange matching accessories?? That's so cute!! He planned that, made a conscious decision to colour code himself in orange. It makes me think that maybe it's his favourite colour. Shuu was handed the purple aesthetic life, but Yuuya chose and intentionally curated an orange aesthetic for himself, and I think that's wonderful.

• Okay but have you considered that Yuuya is also frequently covered in blood, and it's almost always his own blood? Being drenched in your own blood is SO much better than being drenched in somebody else's. It's more sanitary, and it gives poor little meow meow points. Yuuya covered in his own blood is infinitely hotter than Shuu covered in anonymous blood from somewhere unknown. What can you do with a Shuu covered in blood? Where do you GO from there? But a Yuuya covered in blood, that's the start of a hurt/comfort fanfic in the making! You can like, take him home and patch him up. There's places to go with that, there's a plotline in the making. Ergo, Yuuya's blood is hotter than Shuu's.

• I am immune to this effect on account of not being into degradation. Also, if Shuu's subtle praise is worth coming back for, what about Yuuya's flirtations? They're genuine compliments AND kind of a funny joke at the same time. That's the best of both worlds. You can joke with him about it, AND feel good about all the nice things he said about you. They're fun and cute, and some of the nice things he says are pretty genuinely sweet.

Some further points,

•With Yuuya you can get into these action packed near death experiences. Nothing more attractive than that, a "You and me against the world" partnership in a world that wants you dead. That's the best kind of bonding experience there is, and so logically, doing super spy stuff with Yuuya makes for an objectively fantastic date. Bonding through danger! A partnership where you trust eachother with your lives, literally! You can't get that kind of thing with Shuu, because Shuu IS the danger.

•ALSO Yuuya would Treat Me Right, and I know this with absolute confidence. Shuu is limited in his potential hotness by the fact that you can never really get close to him without getting murdered. But Yuuya? Yuuya cares. Yuuya would literally die for you. Yuuya is loyal, and kind, and just a damn good guy all around. He cares so much! He's such a good friend. Just look at the way he interacts with Sakuya. Or better, how he interacts with Ryouta, who he has no real connection with or obligation to, but still treats with so much kindness even though Ryouta is so hard on him. You gotta appreciate how much Would Treat Me Right energy Yuuya brings to the table

• I have terminal I Can Fix Him disease, and Yuuya's abysmally low self esteem makes me foam at the mouth. Every time something horrible happens to him I go absolutely feral, and bad things happen to Yuuya a lot. The more a character suffers the hotter they are. This is an objective fact.

[earnestly-endlessly]

kind of an odd request — do you have fics where erik is grumpy with everyone else but a ray of sunshine with charles?

Hi anon, thank you for the ask. First and foremost, I'm so sorry for how long this took me but I've been searching for all the fics that come to mind that fit your request. Second, this is not an odd request because I love this trope so much. I mean, it's basically canon that he's grumpy with everyone except for his Charles, right? Anyway, I might add to this list later on, but I can't sit on this any longer and hope that you have found some fics that you enjoy!!

Fic Recs Where Erik is grumpy with everyone but a ray of sunshine with Charles

Twice as Blind – Darksknight

Summary: Erik is probably the biggest asshole on the face of the earth, and because of this, he'll probably die alone. Charles is a complete flirt and playboy and, probably, will never commit to anyone ever.

(The lesson here is that when you have two friends who are BOTH secretly seeing someone, well, it's probable that they're seeing each other.)

In the moonlight, on a joy ride – scarlettblush

Summary: Librarian AU. Charles is the young librarian and Erik is the college student who is completely besotted with him.

The Proper Care of Actors – Clear_Liqueur, Clocks, Etherei, afrocurl

Summary: Erik is an A-list action star who is notoriously difficult to work with, until the day he gets cast alongside Charles Xavier, rom-com darling who can charm the pants off movie audiences the world over and apparently even one Erik Lehnsherr. The paparazzi catch them out and about soon enough, and their real-life Hollywood movie romance becomes instant tabloid fodder.

Rumor Mill – ikeracity

Summary: Erik is the grumpiest, most foul tempered worker at Stark industries. His grumpiness is the stuff of legends.

So it's obviously the talk of the office when Erik is being made to go to the company party and he's bringing his husband. There's rumors flying round about how much of a masochist or equally antisocial bastard Erik's husband must be to put up with him. Others think he must be a meek mouse perhaps bullied by Erik.

What they weren't expecting was the confident, charming, adorable and unbelievably nice Charles that turns up on Erik's arm. What they certainly weren't expecting was how much Erik obviously adores his husband and how happy he is to let others see this.

Work/Life Balance – pocky_slash

Summary: Alex is pretty sure his weird, anti-social boss is a robot. Right up until the guy's adorable husband shows up. His adorable husband who happens to be a famous actor. His adorable husband who happens to be the very same famous actor who was the source of many of Alex's teenage fantasies.

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Of kittens and teacups and love – Ren

Summary: Modern AU in which Charles and Erik are flatmates. Charles studies psychology and likes tea and chess and keeps bringing home stray kittens, and Erik lets him because he's maybe perhaps a little bit sort of in love with him.

Fools Rush In – LoveSupreme

Summary: Erik owns a cafe on the edge of campus and accidentally starts maybe-stalking a Biology Professor there.

Growing Pains – ikeracity

Summary: Twelve-year-old Erik Lehnsherr is an angry, closed-off foster kid with trust issues and a bad temper. Ten-year-old Charles Xavier is a lonely kid in boarding school who just wants a friend.

Logan pretends he doesn't think they're both fucking adorable.

Series

Home Together (The Finding Our Way Remix) – significantowl

Summary: Erik is not the sort of person other students strike up conversations with. His expression, his posture, every part of his manner say: Don’t talk to me. I don’t want to talk to you. But none of that stops the boy ahead of him in line with the collapsible white cane, and nothing can stop Erik from falling for him, like it or not.

Melted Ice Cream and Macaroni Art – pocky_slash

Summary: Everybody likes Charles. Nobody likes Erik. And that's really the source of Erik's doubts. Also, there's ice cream and a baby. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

Walling in or Walling Out – stlkrchck

Summary: Erik stifles a sigh. Of course this is Mr. C. F. Xavier. Of course.

For the prompt: Charles and Raven are throwing a holiday party. Erik is the grumpy neighbor who is annoyed by how loud they are being. So he goes to complain, and Charles makes it up to him.

(Wise Men Say) Only Fools Rush In – wildelybroken

Summary: After reading a fic where Erik and Charles are super sluts, meet at what is presumably Raven and Emma's engagement party, and end up sleeping together, I made the following comment and just inspired myself.

"They start casually texting each other throughout the day, maybe while they’re bored or frustrated at work, and start out meeting up and sleeping together semi-frequently. And eventually they accidentally start dating without noticing it at first, not until Raven and Emma get them alone and are like “wtf you two super sluts are actually dating??” And at first they deny, but then they’re both like “holy shit, we are!” And they meet back at one of their places and they don’t have to say anything, they just look at each other and come together immediately, kissing passionately and ~making love~. In the middle of it they realise that’s what they’ve been doing for a long time now and they confess their love to each other and they live happily ever after because they deserve all the good in the world."

For Charles – Shigai

Summary: Tired of being told he has to find his 'heart', classical piano graduate Erik Lehnsherr decides to travel to Italy and drink from the famous Italian passion for music. While searching for it, he meets Charles Xavier, a graduate in Fine Arts who is basically travelling around the world perfectioning his technique, and who will turn his world upside down.

Together they will discover that, sometimes, what you thought you didn't need is what you needed the most.

Erik Hates People – Anonymous

Summary: Erik hates people- it's his rule, a way of living.

Sugar – humanitys_cutest

Summary: Erik glances at the clock for what feels like the tenth time in less than half the minutes. It feels like he's been in some meeting or other since the day started almost 10 hours ago, and he's had just about enough of listening to these pompous old men discuss what would be the best design for his building like they know anything about it. He tries as subtly as possible to massage his temples to assuage the building migraine, but he knows it's no use.

He just wants to go home.

Everyone Likes Charles – Rosawyn

Summary: '“Everyone who's met him likes him.” Cain's grin was even stupider than before. “Once you meet him, you'll see.”

It was almost like a challenge then. And damn. Erik hated saying no to a challenge.'

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

All I know is pouring rain and everything has changed – hllfire

Summary: Charles meets Erik, the man he had heard about many times from his sister and some friends, on a rainy Sunday morning. The stories about Erik paint him as a distant and intimidating man, but Charles finds out that maybe the stories had been wrong.

How to Successfully Ruin Your Life – humanveil

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Charles Xavier accepts a job at his local café, expecting nothing more than a fun, new pastime. What he gets is a mysterious customer and a schoolboy crush.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – magneto, pangea

Summary:Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

The Theory of Partnership Dynamics – Pangea

Summary: “Detective Lehnsherr, how wonderful to see you out on the job!” The fed in the front greets him as they draw nearer. He’s shorter than the other two by a full head, and he’s beaming at Lehnsherr as if completely undeterred by Lehnsherr’s paint-peeling scowl.

“What do the feds want?” Lehnsherr asks bluntly.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” the fed answers cheerfully. Then his gaze lands on Alex, and, impossibly, his grin gets even brighter. “Did you get a new partner?"

“No,” Lehnsherr says through his teeth while at the same time Alex says, “Yes.”

[puppypeter]

✨ All fics are complete! ✨

He Loves Me Cause I’m Cute, He Thinks I’m Pretty Funny | 2588 words 📱

He watches it back one more time after it posts, checking for typos in his subtitles and captions, and has to laugh again.

Steve fucking Rogers? His brain thought he could pull Captain America, literal superhero and America’s favorite sweetheart?

“Hello I’m a 35 year old amputee living in New York and I think that I could get Steve Rogers.”

OR

the one where bucky posts a tiktok and steve is utterly smitten.

Summer Slipped Us Underneath Her Tongue | 10712 words 🧳

Bucky is a tour guide who enjoys sharing the rich history and culture of each city they pass through with a bunch of early-20's college students who just want to know the cheapest place to get drunk.

Except for Steve, who asks Bucky for a personal tour around his hometown.

The rest is, as they say, history.

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet | 3853 words 🧑🏼‍🍳

“I made soda bread.” Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.” The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

Ollie Meets Bagel | 5517 words 🥯

He was a skater boy, Steve said let's get bagels, boy.

Steve wants to start doing this twenty-first century thing properly. He gets help in the form of skateboarding, skateboarders, bagels, and Sam Wilson.

Taxi | 5113 words 🚕

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.

He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well. It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.

Enough said.

Leg Day | 12157 words 🏋️‍♂️

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Love In Aisle Four | 2127 words 🛍️

When Bucky needs to swing by the supermarket after a long, hard day of work, the last thing he expects is to meet a cute grocery clerk named Steve…

Coming Up Easy | 45515 words ✍🏻

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

Anywhere The Wind Blows | 8845 words 👨‍🚒🎖️

After a catastrophic fire that shakes him to his core, Steve Rogers quits his job as a Brooklyn firefighter and relocates to a cabin in the remote Canadian wilderness, wanting quiet and solitude and to maybe never have to speak to another human being ever again. He gets his wish, more or less, until a recently injured Bucky Barnes is discharged from the Army and rents the cabin next door.

The Safer Course | 7918 words | Part 1 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

When Steve moves to the suburbs in 2033, he intends to retire from superhero life.

He does not intend to fall in love with his pain-in-the-ass neighbor.

Every Year I Have You | 7064 words | Part 2 of Won’t You Be My Neighbor 🏡

Steve set the bar pretty high, as birthday presents go.

Bucky is determined to outdo him when July 4th comes around.

Beneath The Mistletoe | 21203 words 🎄

Bucky had a bet with his sister that if he didn’t have a boyfriend to bring home for Christmas by the time he was 25, he had to give her $200 and go blonde for a year. But now he's 25, it’s nearing December, and not only is Bucky as single as ever, but he’s also running low on cash. He doesn’t exactly want to bleach his hair, either.

At least Steve is willing to upgrade their relationship from best friends to fake boyfriends.

The Settler | 52203 words 🍞

“What do you want to do?”

Steve pauses and looks at them.

What he wants is to stay with them. He doesn't have any family left, they all died before he even joined the war and became... this. Captain America turned whatever he is now. But Natasha and Sam have become his family over the years. Not just because they're on the run together, fugitives and vigilantes, but way before that too.

He doesn't want to leave that.

But he knows that, realistically, he can't stay with them and they can't stay with him.

So he looks at them with a smile and lies. “I don't know.”

OR; In which Steve retires and finally finds a place to call home.

You Can’t Put Your Arms Around A Memory | 1148 words 🐈

"Alright, Bucky," Steve slows his steps, watches his neighbour stop at the bottom of the next flight of stairs. There's a canvas bag in his hand that Steve didn't notice earlier, cream coloured with the figure of a sleeping, black cat painted on it. "Have a good day."

He thinks Bucky's cheeks pink up a bit right then and there, but Steve can't tell. He's too distracted by his pounding, foolish heart, by the way Bucky smiles bashfully, and ducks his head. The way he seems like he wants to stay.

To Believe In Tomorrow | 3959 words 👨🏻‍🌾

Bucky's mornings at the community garden get a little more interesting when the new guy shows up.

Maybe This Christmas | 24873 words | Part 1 of Maybe ❄️

Bucky’s not going home for Christmas. But it’s fine. He’s spending Christmas alone in his apartment, but it’s cool. He’s not feeling up to seeing his family after his accident anyway, plus he has to work. He’s totally fine with it. But then he runs into Steve, literally, and suddenly his Christmas isn’t looking so empty after all.

-----

Hurrying was a bad idea. Bucky’s foot hits a patch of ice and slides out from under him in what would have been a comical cartoon banana-peel-like trip, if it wasn’t happening to him, and he braces himself to hit the ground. This is going to hurt.

“Fuck,” Bucky screeches, but as he lands on his back, it’s not the cold hard concrete he expected, but a solid mass beneath him. Oh god, Bucky thinks as he realises he smacked into the person behind him and took them down with him.

Maybe This Year (Will Be Better Than Last) | 133868 words | Part 2 of Maybe ❄️

Last year, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers. Well actually, he slipped and fell on him. What followed was the best Christmas either of them had ever had. But what happens when Christmas is over and life returns to normal? What happens after the Christmas miracle?

-----

Bucky should have known. He did know. When things seem too good to be true, they usually are. And Steve is the best thing that has happened to him in a long time, possibly ever, so of course it couldn’t last.

Maybe This Time (I Hope I Get The Chance To Say Goodbye) | 34561 words | Part 3 of Maybe ❄️

Steve and Bucky Barnes are happily married. They've made it through some hard times and come out stronger and happier, together. Then Steve gets called on to come out of retirement for the most important mission of his life and everything changes. Everything.

-----

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas…” Steve starts singing along softly, and Bucky chuckles, before leaning his head onto Steve’s shoulder, always happy when he’s in Steve’s arms.

“From now on, our troubles will be miles away…” Bucky joins in.

Dancing round their living room, just as in love as ever, their troubles seem light-years away, if not non-existent.

Sadly, they’re closer than they think.

The Unexpected Gift | 9504 words | Part 1 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Steve Rogers is fine.

After ending a long-term relationship with Sam Wilson, Steve moves back to New York. He's tired and lonely but depressed? No. At least, that's what he thinks.

From the window of his apartment, he watches a dark-haired man and his service dog sitting in the park, wondering what his story is.

The Winter Storm | 2218 words | Part 2 of When Winter Comes 🐕

"If I could give you one thing in life, I would give you the ability you see yourself through my eyes, only then would you realize how special you are to me."

After Bucky and Steve confessed their feelings for each other, life has its own twisted way to challenge the most profound love.

One January Night | 4213 words | Part 3 of When Winter Comes 🐕

Before going back to work, Steve Rogers still has things to learn: 1- Depression is a bitch and the battle against it isn't an easy one. 2- Dating a person with disabilities comes with its share of challenges.

Bucky Barnes Has His Shit Together (And Other Lies He Tells Himself) | 14159 words 🔒

You’d think a guy who owns one of the most successful bakeries in Brooklyn, has a million-dollar smile and that antiquated good ol’ boy charm, blond hair and blue eyes and biceps for days, would know what’s what.

But don’t let that fool you: Steve Rogers is a mess.

Obvious | 917 words ☕

"Oh, I have a prompt! So, it makes me laugh how painfully obvious Steve and Bucky's feelings are to everyone when they're in that pining, slowburn, does-he-doesn't-he phase. But imagine Steve and Bucky working in a coffee shop together and constantly bickering, nudging and playfully flirting with each other. And all the employees and patrons are so invested in their relationship and just want them to kiss already but no one realizes that Steve and Bucky have been married since they got out of HS."

[angry-geese]

Alien Blues

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: none! sfw. romantic/platonic(interpretable). mainly fluff. mentions of overworking and death, but nothing graphic. gn!reader

Notes: touch-starved Gojo

Word Count: 2.3k

Gojo doesn't get a lot of downtime in his line of work.

It comes with the job. Sorcerers don't exactly work a 9 to 5. This line of work is far from a normal one. Curses don't exorcise themselves, nor do they pick convenient times to show up. He usually has his hands full; be it taking down curses, or dealing with his students. A guy like him really can't take a vacation.

Despite going to the same school—and being only a year younger than him—you didn't meet Gojo until well into your adult life. After graduating, you went off on your own. The typical way of life for sorcerers wasn’t for you. You really didn't want to work with—or under—any of the major clans. At that point, you just wanted to do your own thing. To hell with the school; you’d be fine on your own. And you were.

You spent much of your time exorcising curses across the world, traveling from place to place, not staying in a single town for very long. A lot of it was freelance work. Such jobs were typically frowned upon, or at least looked at strangely. But it really didn't bother you. On your own you were powerful, and an impressive fighter, but you were working in a world that didn't accept you.

So you said to hell with fitting in.

Doing your own thing was the best decision you’d ever made. To this day you’ll stand by that. The jujutsu world is meant for people like Gojo. It demands so much more from you, and in return gives a whole lot less. It demands perfection from you—maybe even more—while he’s the set standard for this perfection. You hold no ill will towards him for it. He didn't make things this way. But it's hard not to envy him at times.

When you came back to the school, you were first assigned a teaching job.

Although you were a talented sorcerer, it was clear from the beginning you weren't meant to be a teacher. Your teaching style was viewed as a bit harsh, as you tended to just throw your students into a situation and let them figure things out for themselves, correcting them where needed. Overall you weren't a bad teacher, but your students got sent to the infirmary often. And by often, it was nearly every day. You just wanted them to be capable. You wanted your students to be prepared. To be the best of the best. How are they supposed to improve if they don't have experience?

To be fair, your students were some of the best in their grade.

For the most part you substitute if needed.

Upon first meeting, he was too eccentric for your tastes. Really, you found him annoying. Your first impression of Gojo was that he was full of himself and out of touch with the world around him. His first impression of you was that you were stuck up and a bit of a bitch.

There wasn't one thing that changed. Maybe he wore you down to the point where you tolerated him. He likes to think it was because of his charming personality. You know otherwise. His charms rarely work on you; if ever. Over time you found yourself less and less repulsed by him. The two of you bonded over harassing Nanami. On your own you weren't much trouble, but when paired with Gojo, Nanami learned to stay out of your way. If you let him. Usually you tracked him down. Your sweet tooth was just as insatiable as his. When you first took up baking, he was always nearby, wanting a taste. You’d drag him along to see new movies or shows or anything you’d think he’d like. He likes co-existing with you. The two of you don't have to even be doing anything. He can sit for hours with you by his side, doing absolutely nothing.

You've gotten to the point in your relationship where you show up unannounced. It's payback for all the times he’s come to your apartment, claiming he has some work for you, only to stay and raid your fridge, conveniently forgetting what he had to tell you. Yes you have scared the absolute hell out of Megumi on several occasions. In Gojo’s defense, he likes your cooking.

He’s not used to having you stay in one place for so long. You’re not used to it either. It feels strange sticking around Tokyo for so long. You hate feeling trapped more than anything. Maybe that’s why you moved around so much. Maybe you’re getting sentimental the older you get. For the first time in years, you feel truly at home. Gojo is one of your closest—if not your closest—friends, and there’s not much you wouldn't do for him.

You guess this is home. The end of the line, or whatever. You don't see yourself leaving for a while.

It's well after dark by the time he gets home.

The place was empty when you got here. Megumi must be out with friends. He's a strange kid. Strange circumstances lead to strange adults—or almost adults in his case. You try not to judge him too hard. You don't have a whole lot to say on his… situation.

He notices your form curled up on the couch, your face illuminated by your phone screen. The tv plays some horror movie you’ve long stopped paying attention to. Your face lights up when you see him.

His hand briefly touches your head, messing up your hair. He looks tired. There's dark circles under his eyes. He was gone for a while this time.

“I brought takeout,” you say, gesturing to the fridge, “I wasn't sure when you’d get home so I put it in there.”

“Did you eat already?” He asks. He makes a note to pay you back for the food later.

“No, I wanted to wait for you.” You say.

A bit of guilt hits him. You really didn't have to wait for him. You know his habit of being chronically late. He says he’s fashionably late, to which you reason he is never fashionable ever. He actually seemed a bit bothered by that one, which only made you tease him more.

Momentarily he disappears into the kitchen, returning with your food. You have his order memorized. There's only a handful of things he’d get anyway. He’s not a picky eater, and usually gets what you get. Pick one of about three things and he’ll probably eat it.

The food is still good even while cold. Gojo talks about his recent job while you eat. He says it was nothing special. But he called Nanami for backup, so you know that’s a lie. He hardly touches his food. Since when doesn't he want to eat? The guy has a pretty impressive appetite at times. Seriously, he could eat you out of house and home.

“Are you done?” He asks.

You nod.

He clears away the empty takeout containers from in front of you, returning the leftovers to the fridge.

When he returns, he sits next to you, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. The leather is an ugly shade. You’re sure if it weren't for Megumi, he would have bought something much worse. His taste—in everything, really—can be tacky. You make sure he knows this. Always have to keep him on his toes. Nanami is right about some things. You never take Gojo’s side for too long.

“You were gone for a while this time.” You say.

A smug looking grin spreads across his face. It's almost enough to make you roll your eyes and groan. “Sounds like you were worried about me.”

Really, you could worry yourself sick thinking about him. It's hard not to. Everyone has their limits, and you constantly wonder when he’ll hit his. Strongest or not; he’s human after all.

“Of course I worry.” As much as you hate to admit it, you care about him. You won't say it. It feels like bad luck to say it out loud.

He knows. He feels the same way. Over time he’s grown jaded and angry with the way things are. He tries not to worry too much about you. This life isn't an easy one, but you can handle yourself. He knows that. Years on your own have proven you're not only a capable sorcerer, but a talented one. The strongest doesn't need to worry about himself, so much as the people around him.

In a weird way he’s proud of you.

You open your arms, instinctively he goes into them.

You pull his head to your chest. He does little to fight against you. Hell, he practically leans into your touch. You take his glasses, setting them on the table beside you. His eyes close when your hands move to his hair, gently pulling it out of his eyes. He’s not quite sure what to do with his arms. Eventually he settles on resting them at his sides. One snakes around your stomach, coming to rest on the fleshy part of your hip. You're awfully comfortable to lay on, he notes.

Your movements are familiar, and oddly comforting. He makes note of the way your heartbeat suddenly drops off, before picking up in pace. From the smell of your shampoo, to the sound of your breathing. He can only describe it as home.

Lots of people will die in this line of work, but he has faith you’ll always be around. You’re too stubborn to die.

Touch in a sense like this is almost foreign to him. Touch in a non fighting context is just bizarre. He never de-activates infinity long enough to get hit. He's had his fair share of one night stands. Hell, he could have anyone he wants. He’s had everything and anything in between. Men and women across the world either want to be him, or be with him. But this—intimacy like this—is strange. The others get kicked out the morning after. But you’ll always be around. He likes to think he’ll be around for you too.

Maybe he’s more touch starved than he thought.

He’s Satoru-fucking-Gojou, a man like him doesn't get touched starved. He feels a wave of shame at his reaction. His face burns. His pride won't allow him to admit how much he enjoys this.

It's the first time you’ve held him close like this. The action is so oddly intimate and it’s not even in a sexual way. Your movements are familiar. He fits so nicely against your chest, he notes.

He practically purrs in delight as your fingers brush a sensitive spot towards the back of his head—where his neck and shoulders meet—sighing softly. Goosebumps rise along his exposed flesh. You take note of his reaction, and focus on that spot more, dragging your fingers across his skin. Your nails are getting long, and feel nice against his scalp. His eyes close as he leans into the crook of your neck.

"Do you want to watch something different?" You ask.

His heart nearly stops when your hand moves to cup his cheek. His face is warm. He's a wimp when it comes to horror movies. He says they don't scare him. They do. You’ve spent plenty of night sitting next to him, watching his body tense with terror.

He wasn't paying attention to the tv until now. He shakes his head, but his eyes remain fixed on the ground and not the screen.

"This is fine." He says.

"You sure?"

He nods.

He fights sleep as long as possible, but eventually he'll have to give in to it. You’ll be there long after he’s fallen asleep. Maybe even after he wakes up. His head nods, his eyes struggling to stay open. His breaths even out, his chest rising slowly.

You're not really sure what to do once he falls asleep on you. Your position isn't the most comfortable, but you suffer through it so as to not wake him up. If he’s fallen asleep on you, then he definitely needs the rest. He’s a light sleeper anyway. Any movement would be sure to wake him up.

It’s not long after that his body heat—and the sound of his steady breathing—lulls you to sleep.

You wake up to a blanket haphazardly tossed over the two of you. The tv is off. Two glasses of water are set out on the coffee table, condensation collecting on the outside. Megumi must have come home. Gojo's drool collects in a small pool on your collarbone, which is a bit gross. You use the corner of the blanket to wipe it away. It’s a bit odd seeing him so at-peace. It's rare he even lets his guard down. You rest your chin on the top of his head. His hair is soft, and tickles your neck. The sight of him makes your chest swell with affection. The intimacy of it all is enough to overwhelm you. It's been a while since you’ve cared so much about someone.

It's nice having him home.

He stirs, stretching out a bit like a cat. You card a hand through his hair. He grumbles something in response. Probably a weak “what?” Your joints are a bit stiff from staying in the same position for so long.

“Do you want coffee?” You ask.

He sleepily mumbles an answer—one which you don't understand. It's just as legible as the first. His eyes don't even open. You take it to mean he wants to go back to sleep. You pull the blanket up around his shoulders, tucking it under his chin. The sun is still barely up. You’re not in a rush to get up. You don't have anything to do today anyway, work can wait. If Nanami calls, you’ll just ignore him. You could stay in all morning if you wanted.

And you just might.

Come hell or high water, you’re staying on this couch.

In a bit you should get up and start breakfast. Most of the food in the house is for Megumi, but there should be enough to make something small. Pancakes sound nice.

[asavt]

Cookie Squad Headcanons part 3

Featuring a bit of Angel, more bar gays, Chestnut appreciation, City of Wizards and Future! Headcanons.

-Before departing ways, Angel gave Madeleine one of their feathers, something like a gift to keep light with him if he ever needs it. The feather still glows gently, and Madeleine keeps it as a lucky charm, in one of these necklaces— I’ll better just show:

-Roguefort knows French, might not speak it all the time, but they do know. Almond understands some of it, does not speak it. Latte started picking it up from what Roguefort would say sometimes.

-There has been times where Sparkling wouldn’t be at the bar, either needing a rest, having an event somewhere else, or something else. In times like those he usually leaves the bar in charge of Mint or Herb, Vampire is always in there too. There have been a few instances where this lead to Roguefort meeting one or both of them. Herb is happy. Mint is wary. Vampire is holding his laugh.

-Walnut is good friends with Chestnut and Pudding too. Almond often looks after Chestnut whenever he goes around. Chestnut is usually seen around delivering newspapers on his bike with Pudding sitting behind in the dockable trolley. The rest of the group know them both too.

-*They also know Creampuff, Chestnut will ask her about the city of wizards and any other interesting things she has read in any books. Creampuff will happily tell him.

-*Latte knows those kids too, and the rest of the pudding sibs too. She is naturally good with children it seems.

-*Chestnut and Pudding are both a bit intimidated by Espresso as first like many other people. Essy isn’t sure what to do with their excitement when he tells them that yes, he’s been in other places, towns, cities. Luckily, Madeleine is there to help a little with that (Chestnut would ask so many questions about their travels I think).

-*There was one chance where Roguefort (As Phantom Bleu) was escaping from whoever was chasing after them that night, hid behind some wall and was meet with two pairs of big fucking eyes looking at them surprised and excited. Rogue had to hush Chestnut and Pudding (wondering what were those two doing out so late at night), wait a little to get out of their hiding spot and take the kids with them somewhere close to a police officer (or Almond if he happens to be around) so they can be taken home. Outside the thief job? Rogue has seen the kids pass by his workshop many times, sometimes they will have some candy out for them for when Chestnut goes by to deliver newspaper.

-Roguefort baby-talks Lord Crumbles, and will spoil the other cats if given the chance.

-Roguefort and Madeleine: *Become besties*

Espresso: Oh god there’s two of them—

-Espresso has used Latte’s spoon a few times. He doesn’t really needs it to perform magic, but he is rather good with it (and just as terrifying as her).

-Because Essy has sometimes lifted Madeleine off the ground and carried him floating, Almond showed curiosity of how many people he could carry with magic aid.

He managed to have both Madeleine and Latte in his arms, Walnut on his shoulders, Almond and Roguefort hanging off his feet and Creampuff begin carried by Almond.

He was a bit tired after that, but it was a fun experiment with the rest of the squad.

-Creampuff has talked about the City of Wizards many times, as she has been there before coming to Parfaedia and entering the academy. She will often talk about this old man that reads other cookie’s fortune (and that Almond has meet before “Creampuff don’t belive everything that guy says he is a swindler”), a woman that is forever bound to a library, that might seem a bit cold on the outside but that is actually very gentle towards the rest of the magic wielders that go visit her, another young mage, one that Espresso and Madeleine have meet (Creampuff is surprised to know that he has left the City of Wizards, and wonders if he will ever go by Parfaedia), a magician that, although he might not seem like a real mage at first glance, he is deftly blessed by the moon, and the moonlight itself, a meeting that was short and (in Creampuff’s mind) very lucky.

-*Creampuff never got to explore all the city. She was told by the moonlight that there was a place where she could learn magic. It was a bit sad, but the she told her she was always welcome back in the City.

-*The adults tend to forget that she has traveled a lot before coming to Parfaedia, often begin surprised when Creampuff talks about the City out of what she has read in books.

-*Creampuff made the promise to Walnut to take her to the City one day. She misses the place a little, and those she meet there, too.

Future - Walnut and Creampuff (it’s what I have)

-During this time, Walnut already knows Roguefort’s secret (the full thief thing). Something I’ll maybe talk about in another post

-Creampuff starts learning black magic from the belief that it can be used for good if used correctly. Someone has to research on it, right

-After Creampuff disappears, all the group is, silently, looking for her, in their own ways. Even Sparkling and Vampire get a bit worried about it and do their own part.

-*Maybe Latte is the most worried of all. She cares for her a lot after all.

Maybe she is the only one who has an idea of why she got apart, both her and Creampuff had talked about before after all.

-Walnut is often helped by a mysterious figure in some investigations. Sometimes information on suspects, given inside papers and letters that often are adorned with a feather, or protected by this person, they are never standing where the light can hit them (whatever it is artificial or the moon’s). Once Walnut manages to catch a glimpse of white hair and an owl’s hoot is that she starts to connect the dots (and she mentally slaps herself for not noticing sooner). They did have a promise to become partners once they grew up after all.

-Creampuff eventually comes out from the shadows. In a rather hard situation where all the group got in trouble, no one else but them get to see her. They are all surprised to see how much she changed since the last time they saw her.

-*They never get to get to her though, she escapes before they can say anything (and the only words from her were a soft “I’m sorry”)

-There are mixed opinions. None of them can be really angry at her, especially after hearing what Latte knew of Creampuff’s interest in black magic (The latte mage is wary of it, but trusts her student).

-There are a few encounters between the group and Creampuff, never all at the same time like the first time they get to see her.

-*With Almond and Latte there’s a part of conflict, both teachers are a bit hurt of seeing her like that. But they still see the same gentle student (now a true mage) they know. (Almond still isn’t sure what to think, Latte can only hope for the best).

-*With Espresso and Madeleine there’s a talk, both asking her a few things, Creampuff answering. In the end, Puff tells them that she doesn’t understand why others confused (and still do) coffee magic with black magic.

-*With Roguefort is at the bar, late at night and with also the presence of Sparkling and Vampire as well. The lights dimmed a bit when she got in, as to keep other eyes out. Their talk was short, and by far the most peaceful of all.

-*She sees Walnut the most. The detective always telling her it was ok to go back with them, and the mage wondering if she really meant those words (She is scared, still unsure of what others think).

-Walnut eventually gets to her. A big case showing up, multiple magic creatures appearing, a big rift in the sky (yet again), the M.E.H. getting involved, the rest of the group helping out.

No one knows why the rift opened this time. There are people pointing guilty at the mysterious figure (Creampuff). Some of the group takes it as a possibility, but in the end they all decide to stand by Puff’s side. Even if it was an accident, she wouldn’t want to hurt others, they know her and by the little interactions they had they can tell. She is still gentle and kind.

Creampuff is the one who closes the rift in the end, with Walnut by her side, telling her that she wouldn’t allow anyone to get her apart from the group.

-She does go back with the group in the end :)

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

OHSHC: Mitsukuni (Honey) x Fem!Reader Fluff

A/N: Okay so this was something I wrote WAY back in 2013 when I was obsessed with Ouran Highschool Host Club. So I did make a bunch of revisions (like fixing typos and changing up some of the events that occur).

But if you wanna read the original check it out on my DeviantArt!

Welp, hope ya'll enjoy this!

It was a lovely Friday afternoon. School was out and most students were eager to go home. 

But you, on the other hand, decided to visit the Host Club for a few hours. You always looked forward going to it everyday after school, though not just because you desperately wanted to be swooned by handsome men.

You just liked to observe the hosts indulging in their element, be it Tamaki’s flamboyant acts or the Hitachiin twins’ performances. All the while, you drank tea and ate delicious pastries whilst chatting with other ladies who babbled about their crushes.

Most had their eyes on Tamaki, for obvious reasons, but for you there was a different host that stole your heart every time, without fail:

Mitsukuni, or “Honey” as everyone liked to call him. 

You did have a slight crush on him, considering you both shared classes and hung-out quite often on the weekends. But even after all the years you’ve known him, you never actually acted on this crush, not wanting to take away his duties as a host.

Besides he might treat you extra “sweetly”, but you assumed he was like this with all the other girls.

Unbeknownst to you, however, Honey didn't see you the same way as he saw them. To him you weren't just another visitor to entertain.

He saw you as something, well, more.

........

'Okay this wasn't...what I expected. But I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer..' You sighed as you looked down at the blonde who was now laying on your lap.

Honey must've had a sugar crash, since he fell asleep on the same sofa you so-happened to be on, even though the club meeting had ended fifteen minutes ago.

'Poor guy must be tired, running around and entertaining..he deserves at least this.' Relaxing back against the sofa, you gently stroked his hair with one hand, and kept Usa-chan wrapped around your free arm. You were sure he wouldn't mind it, given that he's let you hold it before.

All the while, you hummed a gentle song, taking note of the tiny smile that adorned his sleeping face. You knew very well that you shouldn't move, but you didn't mind it. 

Being able to get this close to him made it worthwhile.

Haruhi, Mori, and Kyoya would glance over every so often while they were cleaning up, smiling at the scene. Meanwhile, Tamaki and the twins were hiding behind a nearby couch, looking at you with comically-wide eyes. They wondered how you've managed to not wake up Honey at all, and how you were so calm.

You looked over and gave them a bemused smile, waving politely. Honestly you didn't know what their deal was. They were staring at you like you were about to invoke the wrath of god.

Or in this case the wrath of the loli-shota.

"H-How does [y/n] do that?" The frenchman stammered as he gazed at the twins.

""It must be Nekozawa's sleeping magic. Maybe she's in cahoots with him."" The brothers replied, trembling too.

"You guys are acting insane." Haruhi sighed as she walked past the three with a porcelain tray in her hands. "She’s known Honey-senpai for years, so..it's obvious they're close. Doesn’t take a genius to know why she’s not afraid of him.”

"But why does she keep choosing him every time she visits?!! A-Am I somehow unworthy?!!" Tamaki cried out, already tearing up. "It makes no sense!! Mommy!! What do you make of this?!!" He swung his head to the already-annoyed Kyoya.

"Tamaki..our job here at the club is to make every girl happy, right? That includes Miss [L/n]-"

"B-But-But..she could at least give me a cha--!!"

"If you'll let me finish..." The black-haired male huffed. "Like every girl here, she has the right to choose whichever host she desires. You don't get to make that decision for her. So I suggest you keep it down, lest you wake up Honey-senpai." Fixing his glasses, he turned back to his laptop, ending the conversation.

Tamaki pouted in defeat and got up from his hiding spot. The twins followed him to where you sat and crouched down, now more curious than fearful.

"Gentlemen." You sighed quietly, waiting for them to get to the point so they could leave you alone.

"How are you able to keep so calm??" Hikaru hissed.

"We told you how he acts when his nap is disturbed.” Kaoru added. “You’re taking a big risk-”

“You’re overreacting a bit.” Finding it hard not to chuckle at their bewildered expressions, you kept your gaze on Honey instead. "I see no reason to be terrified of him waking up from a nap. People get cranky after naps all the time. But they eventually get over it, don't they?"

Then you glanced back up at the three, smiling reassuringly. "I do believe that little “horror story” you told me. But don't worry, if anything happens I'll protect you guys, okay? Nothing bad will happen to anyone here...especially not Honey.” You patted the sleeping blonde’s head.

The twins were relieved--moved, even--by your response, but Tamaki on the other hand seemed a bit freaked out by your promise to protect them. He tried grabbing your shoulders to yell about how “guys should protect girls, not the other way around”, though the duo managed to restrain him.

"B-Boss!! Cut it out!"

"You're gonna wake him!!!"

Unfortunately, the commotion they were making was exactly what stirred Honey from his rest. The three hosts immediately retreated back to their hiding place, expecting their fellow club member to awaken in rage.

But all he did was open his eyes and rub them tiredly. 

"Morning, Hon." You chuckled, ruffling his hair lightly.

As he realized you were still in the same spot as before, he smiled up at you. "Did I really sleep all night, [y/n]-chan?"

"No, only for a little while." You allowed him to sit up, and you handed him Usa-chan. "Have any good dreams?"

"Hmm..yeah, I did." Honey took his rabbit plushie, legs swinging as he tried to recall the details. "I..we were at a fair with lots of cake and ice cream! Then I...o-on the ferris wheel I might've..." He hugged the rabbit closer, to the point of hiding his blushing face.

You tilted your head in curiosity. "Might've what?"

"A-Asked you out and..and k-kissed you."

His response stunned you, and you could feel your heart skip several beats. In truth you've had similar dreams, although you never did get to the kissing part--instead you'd wake up with disappointment, never knowing if he accepted your confession.

"You know I dreamed of that, too. But..I never knew what your answer would be." You sighed despondently. "No matter how much I try to fall back asleep..I can't finish that dream. It's a shame.."

He shyly looked up at you, and he set down Usa-chan before taking your hands into his own. You gazed at him with surprise, wondering what he was going to do. "Honey? What-?"

His face inched closer to yours, and before you knew it, he kissed you perfectly on the lips.

Yep! Right here and right now he was kissing you!

The kiss tasted sweet, much like his personality and all those desserts he's had throughout the day. And you were in shock that this was really happening, but you smiled into the kiss, wanting to return it before he got the wrong idea.

When you both broke apart, Honey's eyes were large and tearful. But they were happy tears. "Y-You really do like me? But..I-I thought...I was too-"

"Honey, there's nothing about you that I don't love." You chuckled. "You're a good-hearted, smart, strong, and kind man. And that's all I could ever ask for. We've been great friends for a while and...the fact we share the same dreams must mean something."

"Something like...u-us being a couple, right?"

"Exactly, and right now..I wanna make those dreams a reality. Will you help me make them so?"

He was so overjoyed that he embraced you tightly, nearly crushing your spine. But you hugged him back, resting your chin on top of his head. You could feel his vigorous nod and knew that this is what he wanted for so long.

Of course he was probably still worried about his position as a host, so you looked to the others in question. "A-Ah..I meant to ask-"

"I see no issue with this," Kyoka smiled lightly. "I trust that this newly-blossoming relationship will not interfere with club activities."

""We knew you two were gonna get together eventually."" The twins spoke in unison once more, although they were just glad that Honey didn't snap at anyone this time.

Haruhi and Mori only flashed smiles at you two, the latter happy about his cousin finally confessing to the one he loved. He’s known about it longer than anyone at the club.

Once you let go of Honey, he jumped up and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. "Takashi!! Can [y/n] come over for the weekend??"

"Sure, why not?" The tall male nodded.

"Yaaaay--huh? Tama-chan?" Honey blinked as he noticed the only one who didn't react positively was the club leader himself, who was sulking in the corner. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Yes..I'd say we're all done here," he sighed in an exasperated tone. "If [y/n]'s happiness lies with Honey-senpai then...that's how it is, I guess. The host club is dismissed. You’re all free to leave now."

Of course, that wasn't the kind of send-off anyone expected. But the other hosts left, figuring Tamaki would eventually get over it. Though you told Honey to wait outside for a moment, not wanting to end this day on a sour note.

You reentered the now empty music room, seeing the princely-type staring out the window solemnly. Part of you felt guilty for not spending more time with him, even though he was often a nuisance trying to steal your attention.

"Hey, Tamaki-senpai..I have a feeling I somehow offended you by choosing Honey over you. And I'm sorry-"

"Nonsense." He glanced back at you, the brightness returning to his violet eyes. "I'm so obsessed with trying to charm every lady that it turned me into a blind fool. Until now I never realized that, in the end, it's what makes you happy, not me. I won't get in the way of your relationship with Honey-senpai. Cross my heart."

He made a gesture to seal that promise, smiling softly. "I mean it. I'm very happy for you two and I wish you all the best."

Knowing that he wasn't angry or upset anymore, you smiled and rewarded the "king" with a peck on the cheek. He gasped lightly and stared at you, touching the spot where you kissed him.

"Thank you. It's because of you and this club that I got to know Honey even more so...I owe you at least this. Have a good weekend." You winked before you turned on your heel and ran after your new boyfriend, leaving an incredibly flustered Tamaki alone in the room.

'Ahaha..her heart may belong to another, but she took the time to repair mine.’

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Subtext, by Calvin Klein

happy birthday @stinastar!!! I know it’s not the prompt you wanted, but I’ll write that too. :) Thank you so much for being awesome and so so sweet!

Legally Blonde au - modern - fluffy pre-getting together

depending on the comments I get on this, I might post a second part

tw: Geralt’s tragic backstory (foster care mention)

---

Geralt approached Jaskier slowly and kept his hands firmly in the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. “What’s up-” he noticed the bunny ears poking up from Jaskier’s fluffy brown hair and added “-doc?”

The young law student looked up at Geralt through teary black lashes and let out another soft sniffle, his lips wobbling unattractively. Geralt hurried to drape his zip-up hoodie over Jaskier’s bare shoulders and take a seat on the wooden bench beside him. 

The worried teacher’s assistant rubbed his hands up and down Jaskier’s arms through the material, trying to warm him up a little better. “Why are you dressed as a Playboy bunny, sitting on a bench in the middle of the night in this terrible New England weather?”

“I made a terrible mistake in coming here.”

“What?”

Geralt had never heard Jaskier sound so utterly defeated. Usually the student was bright and bubbly, congenial to a fault even when he made mistakes or answered incorrectly during class discussions. The charming brunette seemed to pull bucket after bucket from a nearly endless well of positivity; until now, apparently. 

As he sat beside Geralt on the worn wooden bench, wearing the tight pink leotard and little wrist cuffs, practically glowing in the yellow-tinged lamplight, he seemed too ethereal to be real. Even as he shivered and sniffled, Jaskier looked too gorgeous to be human. Seeing him in such a distressed state was a little unnerving, like bumping into an old teacher outside of school or accidentally seeing your neighbors kissing through a window. It felt wrong. 

“I followed the love of my life to this stupid fucking university and now he’s going to marry some fancy, well-bred blonde woman like his parents wanted and I’m going to flunk out of these classes with nothing to show for my time here and my parents are going to-”

“Hey,” Geralt interrupted, taking one hand from his pocket to place on Jaskier’s trembling knee. “It’s going to be okay. Breathe, Jaskier.”

“Right. Breathing. Yeah.”

“Are you… okay?” 

Jaskier looked at him again and Geralt flinched away from the obvious hurt in his watery blue eyes. Of course he’s not okay, he’s sobbing alone on a cold bench in the middle of Halloween night. 

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I’m not good with words but- Wait... are you saying you came to school because of a man?” 

“Y-Yeah. You could put it that way, I guess.”

Geralt yanked his hand away from the younger man’s knee and scooted backwards, away from the man he’d just been admiring. “Oh my god, that has to be the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You came all the way to Oxenfurt University’s prestigious and award-winning Law School to hunt down a husband?!”

Jaskier looks taken aback. Startled and bewildered and sad, like a much smaller child rather than an adult man with a degree and a half. “Are you mad at me!?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Geralt laughed humorlessly. He shook his head, swiping one hand over his face on his way to tuck in a stray strand of white hair. “I worked two jobs to get myself through college. I was doing full-time classes and pulling sixty hour weeks at the bar and the grocery store; I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s sleep since I graduated high school. I certainly don’t know the meaning of the word vacation anymore... and you came here to follow some- some guy that you liked?”

“We’d been together for three years before he suddenly dropped me to pursue a degree in fucking bitter looking women, to be completely fair. And I managed to get a good enough LSAT score to qualify for admittance, so it’s not like I’m totally incompetent.”

“No,” Geralt nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess that’s true.”

“No guessing involved,” Jaskier spat, tired and angry and flustered. “It is the truth, plain and simple. I deserve to be here and I will be successful.”

“Hmm.” 

“Well why are you here, then, Mr. Grouchy T.A.?”

“I grew up in foster care and let me tell you, from experience, that the system is shit. If I had been forced to remain a foster child for any longer than I was, I probably would have become a match-happy little delinquent like my youngest brother, Lambert. Luckily my third foster parent, Vesemir, adopted me legally and made me his son. He already had one adopted son, my older brother, Eskel, and after me there was Lambert.”

Jaskier took a moment to contemplate Geralt’s story, pulling the sweatshirt closer around his shoulders and burrowing down into the neckline in a way that sent butterflies swirling through Geralt’s stomach rather unexpectedly. Then the younger man smiled at him, pearly teeth glinting in the light of the streetlamp. “That’s… that’s a little sad and a little sweet. It makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“The sadness and the sweetness,” Jaskier repeated, grinning a little more shyly than before. Geralt wasn’t sure, since it was so dark and he was so skeptical, but it almost looked like Jaskier was blushing. “Like you. Sweet, kind, caring, but a little melancholy. Anyway, I should be getting back to my dorm. I need to study.”

“I want my sweatshirt back,” Geralt said, standing and offering Jaskier a hand up. He wobbled to his feet, still wearing a pair of dangerously high black stilettos. Geralt knew this outfit would haunt his dreams for the next few weeks and cursed Hugh Heffner’s lingering spirit. 

“If you’re lucky,” Jaskier replied, and click-click-clicked his way into the darkness. 

Geralt honestly wasn’t sure he’d mind if Jaskier decided to keep it… maybe someday he’d wear it to class. And didn’t the thought of that send something odd and new and terrifying swirling in Geralt’s gut.

---

“Where are we going, exactly?” Geralt asked, eyeing the giddy brunette before him. Jaskier batted his long eyelashes at the grumpy T.A. and gave his sweetest pout.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“Well then don’t stop now!” 

The excitable young law student laced his fingers with Geralt’s and pulled him through the large glass doors and into the mall. When at last his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the shopping center he asked: “What is this place?”

Jaskier grinned, taking a deep, dramatic breath. “A department store.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and took his own deep breath, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “What is that smell?”

“Love,” Jaskier replied.

“What!?”

“Love,” the student repeated, pointing at a sign with his free hand. It was large and pink and read LOVE, BY CHANEL in black block-letters. “There’s Love in the air.”

“Terrible joke, really,” Geralt teased. “But really, Jaskier, why are we here? You have plenty of clothes for court; I know because I’ve been in your closet and seen them firsthand.”

“We’re not here for me,” Jaskier elbowed his mentor and study partner gently in the side. Their hands were still interlaced in a way that made Geralt’s heart thunder dangerously against his ribs; love really was in the air, it seemed. Jaskier continued breezily, unaware of the older man’s roiling internal conflict. “I’m taking you shopping so that you have the proper outfit to wear when accepting Stregobor’s partnership offer.”

They had reached the men’s business section and the brunette released Geralt’s hand in order to dig through the racks of clothing. He was elbow deep in Calvin Klein and Kenneth Cole, hunting for jackets in Geralt’s size. “Jaskier, I can’t afford this kind of-”

“Hush,” Jaskier replied, waving his hand dismissively in his direction, letting it go limp at the wrist. “It’s a gift. No! Not a gift, a repayment.”

“I didn’t give you anything…” 

Jaskier looked up from the selection of suits he’d been inspecting and shot Geralt a dangerous glare. “You most certainly did give me something, Geralt Roger Eric du-Haute Bellegarde! You looked past my bubbliness and my pink blazer and my previous degree and treated me like a person. You supported me and encouraged me without asking for anything in return so this is what I’m giving you.”

Geralt took a step towards him and sneezed. “What is that smell?”

An attendant appeared as if from thin air, a little glass bottle clutched in her hand. “It’s Subtext, by Calvin Klein!”

“It’s not really my thing,” Geralt frowned, closing the distance between himeslf and Jaskier as he made his apologies, “But thank you, regardless.”

“Let me know if you gentlemen need anything!”

Geralt stepped close enough to feel the heat of Jaskier’s body, still not brave enough to initiate touch. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Jaskier grinned again. 

Geralt considered the feelings that were stirring in his heart, driving through his veins, branching out through his mind so that all he could focus on was Jaskier... 

It might be a problem, he thought, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. But it can be dealt with another time. 

[jamilelucato]

The Duff  || Fred Weasley

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader (any house)

summary: your life became too stressing lately, and Fred Weasley, although generally very annoying, manages to distract you just enough when he stops talking.

A/N: completely based on the book The Duff. Like completely. So reader may have some issues with her appearance. Sorry about my other fics! It’s just that, when an idea pops, I have to write. It’s a big fic. (feel like it’s one of my brightest works)

words: + 11k

warnings: insinuations and mentions of sex; body insecurities; sick father, etc

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

You couldn't understand what could be the fun in going to Three Broomsticks to party. The place is one of the oldest bars in Hogwarts, but not long ago, Madam Rosmerta decided to add a dance floor in one of the darkest sides of the pub, and she got one of those muggle music machines. It was very nice if your thing was dancing in sweat and rubbing your body in people.

Easy to say it was most definitely not your thing.

"Okay, that's it for you," said Madam Rosmerta, taking your mug away. It once was filled with butterbeer, but the barmaid seemed to think you had gotten it filled way too many times for a night.

"Oh, come on," you complained, "there's no alcohol on those."

"I know. But it has sugar, and you had one too many," Rosmerta said, ignoring your pout and walking away from your side of the counter so she could serve other costumers.

Your brain fought a battle to decide if it was worth contesting and explaining that not offering you more butterbeer was causing the barmaid to lose money when the stool next to you cried with the weight that was jumping on it.

"Good evening, y/n," said the boy who now sat next to you.

It was inevitable when your eyes rolled just by smelling his cologne. There was no need for you even to turn to know who it was. Only one boy in the whole Hogwarts was confident enough to wear such cheap cologne as if it was holy water.

"Get the hell away, Weasley," you cried, wishing, profoundly, to have another butterbeer with you.

Madam Rosmerta noticed the new client sitting close to the counter, and she quickly came back to serve him.

"Fred Weasley," she greeted him with her playful smile. She knew the Hogwarts teenage boys only flirted with her in hopes of a discount, but she enjoyed it, considering it rather fun. "What can I get you?"

"My usual butterbeer, Ro," he said, charming her with his smirk. She chuckled, while he passed her a coin.

"If you're getting him one, you're getting me one too," you warned the barmaid, raising a brow. Your serious approach worked because, with a sigh, she walked back with two drinks.

You tossed her your coin.

"That is officially your last one, young lady, so you better enjoy it," she threatened before leaving and playing with her hair solemnly for Fred to see.

He was still smiling when you decided to look at him. He was a bastard, but, boy, was he handsome.

"You have five seconds to disappear from in front of me now that you have your drink," you warned. Even though Fred's eyes followed the back of Rosmerta, yours was still staring at him. Maybe the amount of disgust you felt for him could pass on with a look.

"Chill, would you?" Fred took a sip from his mug, supporting his arms on the counter, finally looking at you. "If you're so bothered, the dance floor awaits."

You chuckled, frowning right after. "Look, Weasley, don't you have any other girl to fuss around?"

He smirked, thinking you were falling for his game. "Do you have friends you'd like to suggest?" he played, raising his brows. "Is Jess still single?"

"I'd be dead if I let you stay even one meter close to my friends, do you hear me? I don't want them catching any diseases," you shivered just with the thought of how many girls (and STDs) this boy before you might have encountered.

"So they are here," his eyes narrowed as if he was scanning the dance floor, searching for your girls.

"Go away, Fred," you sighed, tired of that conversation. You took one sip of your mug, but the butterbeer was no longer enough to keep your mind away from Fred Weasley's affairs. "And stay away from Jess and Casey."

"Oh, y/n, just put a good word for me, please. I mean, it is your job," Fred leaned in, closer to you and his scent attacked your nostrils again, making you lean back.

"It's not my job to help you, Weasley."

"Well, as their duff, I think it is," he drank from his mug, ignoring your confused look.

"Duff?"

Asking him what the word meant called his attention back to you, but he seemed surprised you hadn't heard about it yet. "You know, designated ugly fat friend," he replied, making a peculiar gesture with his neck as he spoke the last term.

You couldn't possibly have heard him right. "Excuse me??"

"Look, I don't mean to offend," he shrugged his broad shoulders, a gift from all his years playing Quidditch.

He noticed how fast your expression was changing.

"It's not like you're an ogre or anything, but in comparison…" his eyes wandered back to the dance floor, this time yours followed, seeing Jess and Casey — your longest-time best friends — dancing with some other students. "Think about it. Why do they bring you here if you don't dance?"

"Shut it, Weasley. They bring me here because I'm their friend; stop with your nonsense," your mind was working incredibly hard to stop you from believing that you were the ugly friend. Because that could not be the truth. Especially if everyone already knew and the one to tell you about it had to be the most annoying Gryffindor.

Fred had the nerve to reach over and pat your knee, but you jerked away from him. "Look," he said, "you have hot friends… really hot friends."

All the butterbeer you had drunk was starting to make you sick. Perhaps Rosmerta had been right, but if you had to bet in a guilt part, you'd bet on the ginger.

"The point is, in a group of friends, there's always a weak link, a Duff. And girls respond well to guys who associate with their Duffs."

"Where are you getting this info? The Quibbler?" you never meant to offend the Lovegoods, but Fred Weasley was speaking rubbish at this point.

"Don't be bitter," Fred pressed his lips together, pausing. "What I'm saying is girls find it sexy when lads show some sensitivity and socialize with the Duff. So, please, help me here, and just pretend to enjoy our talk."

There it was, in front of you, the living, redheaded proof that stupidity is capable of making people persevere for years. You already knew that Fred was a womanizing asshole, but it was unexpected to find out how worthless as a human being he is, too. Pretty faces definitely aren't everything.

With one swift motion, you jumped to your feet and flung the contents of your mug in Fred's direction.

The remaining butterbeer flew all over him, splattering his striped polo collar shirt. The liquid got his ginger hair wet entirely, which surprised you because, usually, you wouldn't have such great aim.

His face burned with anger, and his chiselled mandible clenched angrily. "What was that for?" he snapped, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

"What do you think it was for?" you snapped.

"I have no possible idea."

Madam Rosmerta appeared again, giving Fred a white cloth to dry himself, but it wasn't enough. Part of you wanted to be mad at the waitress for helping Fred, but you knew she just didn't want him to ask her to take you out.

"If you think I'm letting one of my friends leave this place with you, Weasley, you're very, very wrong, " you spluttered, staring at him with fire in your eyes. "You're a shallow jackass, and I hope that we never cross paths again."

The stupid muggle music played so loud that no one but Rosmerta overheard you, and she probably found you awsome. She loved some teenage drama.

You grabbed your friends as quickly as you could. They were about protest all the way to the secret passageway back to Hogwarts, so you decided it was best to explain what was happening.

"What's wrong?" Casey asked. Her once perfect dark hair was now wet — part of you wondered if the sweat even belonged to her. For such a smart Ravenclaw, you expected more of her.

"Let's get back to school; I just can't stand to be in this hellhole for one more second, " you said, dragging their reluctant bodies along behind you.

"Why are we leaving so early? It's only, like, nine-fifteen," Jess asked, frowning a bit, looking at you with her sad big blue eyes. Her Hufflepuff charm was about to work on you when you remembered why you were living.

"I got into an argument with someone, " you said, and Jess puppy eyes quickly disappeared, opening the place for her angry face to emerge. "I threw my Coke on him, and I didn't want to stick around for his response."

"Who?" Casey asked. You'd been dreading that question because you knew the reaction you'd get.

"Fred Weasley." two girly sighs followed your answer. "The guy is a man-whore. I can't stand him. He sleeps with everything that moves, and his brain is located in his pants—which means it's microscopic."

"I doubt that, " Casey said with another sigh.

"He's a jerk," you said, hoping your voice sounded like it was final. The tunnel back to Hogwarts seemed endless.

"That's not true," Jessica inserted. "Katie Bell told me he talked to her when she was alone at the Yule Ball. She was with Angelina and Alicia, and she said he just came up and made conversation, really friendly."

That made sense. Katie was definitely the Duff if she was out with Angelina and Alicia. And you knew for a fact that Angelina left with Fred that night.

"He's charming, " Casey said. "Give him some credit." Her smile slowly faded when she remembered that you threw at him your beer. "But what the hell did he do to you tonight, huh?" Now she sounded concerned. Took her long enough.

You sighed, noticing that saying something would only make their worry and you really wanted to avoid their pity. "Nothing, " you lied, "Fred just pisses me off."

Duff. The word bounced around in your mind as you three reached Hogwarts. When you took a last look at your friends before each parted to your houses, Fred's statement that you were the unattractive, undesirable tagalong seemed to be confirmed.

Jessica's perfect hourglass body and big brown eyes. Casey's athlete's features and impeccable skin. You definitely weren't like them.

"Well, see you tomorrow for the feast?" Jess asked the two of you.

You and Casey shared tired smiles. Although Casey would've like to stay a little longer at the Three Broomsticks, she welcomed extra sleeping hours. Her Quidditch player schedule didn't leave her much time to rest.

"See you," you stated, walking away slowly, letting your feet lead the way to your dorm where you'd try extra hard to forget the whole Duff thing.

 -

You picked your blanket up to your chin, not wanting to get out of bed so soon, even though you could very much get late for Snape's class.

Fred Weasley words were hunting you like a ghost. They shouldn't be, because you sure didn't care about his opinion. But the courage he had called you that disgusting abbreviation and how you seemed to find the one out from every single group of friends you walked past.

It had been a week and a half, so why did his words bother you? You were brilliant and a good witch, always there for your friends. Thus, who cared if you were the Duff?

If you were charming, you'd have to deal with lads like Weasley hitting on you. Ugh! That could be a Duff benefit, right? Being unattractive didn't have to suck.

Damn Fred Weasley! You couldn't believe he managed to pack your head with such superficial bullshit. Getting out of bed with a jump, you were committed.

You wouldn't think about Duffs ever again.

-

Thursdays were homework day, at least for you and your best friends.

When classes were over, the three of you would meet at the library for a long late afternoon, reading through books and doing assignments. And, of course, spilling some tea with whispers.

That afternoon was being way bored than you expected. It was like Jess and Casey interrupted your reading all the time to tell you something new, but that day they seemed to have nothing to say.

And when I say nothing, I mean nothing.

Suspicious.

You stared at them, who pretended they hadn't been facing you all along and turned back to their essays.

"Okay, what is it? You two are awfully quiet," you whispered, leaning closer to them, scared the librarian could hear you.

They exchanged looks before, sighing, Jess gave up on her silent treatment.

"Remember when we planned on going to Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" she pouted, trying to work her big eyes on you.

"You two planned, you mean. I never agreed on it."

"We kinda find dates to go with us," said Casey, ignoring your comment on the matter.

You stared at your two best friends, holding yourself to not laugh.

"Thankfully. I never said I wanted to go," you pointed out with a smile, turning back to your book.

Jessica didn't seem satisfied with you looking away just yet.

"We can find you a date," Jess suggested.

You chuckled. "Alright," you spat — the possibility sounded ridiculous; principally when Fred's words still echoed in the corner of your mind.

"y/n, you have to come," Casey's tone was more serious. "You never go out unless we force you. So, if you don't want a date for yourself, you are thrid-wheeling."

"Not in Askaban, I am not!" you protested, raising your voice way too much but thankfully nobody was around.

Jess tried to work her puppy eyes again. "Please," she sobbed. "If you don't come, I'll feel guilty. Do you want me to ditch Cormac?"

"You are going with Cormac??" you asked, genuinely concerned because he was younger than you, but then you recalled he wasn't younger than her.

"Just show up," said Casey, not really allowing you to object. "I'll pay you a butterbeer."

Her offer was very, very tempting. You had no idea if one could become addicted to butterbeer since yours never had alcohol, but you're getting closer to that.

"But I'll only stay 'till nine," you informed.

The two girls smiled, and Jess had to hold herself from clapping in excitement.

"That'll be enough," said Casey.

 -

"Is your father okay?" Casey asked you as soon as Jess left, and she had the open opportunity to corner you.

She was the only one in the school that you were brave enough to confess what was happening to your father. He had been recently attacked by some Death Eaters, and the Cruciatus curse left him with severe brain damaged.

It happened during the summer, before the start of your seventh year, so you had a couple of weeks to recover from that news before going back to school.

But when your mom's first letter arrived, saying your father was getting more insane with time, no amount of preparation was enough to hold back your tears as you ran out of the Great Hall.

You were able to lie to Jess, but with Casey, you weren't so lucky. Besides, her mom worked at St. Mungo's, so she already knew about your dad way before you told her.

It had been two months since you've been ignoring your mom's letters, all of them. You are too scared to read what they've got to say, and she doesn't let you go back home anyways.

You wanted to be with him, your father, hold his hand, make him better. But your mom was firm on her decision about you graduating Hogwarts.

So, when you stared at Casey's beautiful face, you had no idea what to answer.

"He can't get better," you said, in tone way harsher than you were planning. Who knew that not speaking about a matter would make you feel more painful towards it?

Casey gulped — she was always like that: she would touch the wound, but she had no idea what to do about it later.

"Do you want me to write to my m..."

"No," you quickly answered, not even letting her finish. "I just need to graduate — then I'll deal with my dad."

"It will take longer while 'till graduation, y/n," Casey pointed out. She knew you were convincing yourself it was just a couple more months, but that was a terrible lie you no longer could satisfy yourself with.

Casey wanted to do something, but taking you out was all you allowed the girls to do to you. You hated the new club atmosphere of Three Broomsticks, but you had to admit, it was pretty distracting.

"Promise I'll see you tomorrow night?"

"Promise," you said, before leaving your best friend alone in the hallway.

 -

Snape's latest assignment stood before you, with a lot of notes from the Professor, pointing out all of your mistakes.

And there were a lot of them.

When class ended, you walked up to the Professor, gulping and shaking. You knew he didn't dislike you, but you were never too careful with Severus Snape.

"Professor, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yes?" he turned to face you; his black robe swirled with his movement.

"I just want to know if this essay was, hm, a big part of this year's grade?" you asked, avoiding looking in his dark eyes. "If so, can I do something else to improve my grade?"

He swallowed before answering, his serious tone implicating he didn't want to be having this conversation.

"You used to be my best student, Miss y/l/n, but this year you turned into the worse," he said, pausing in that terrible way only he knew. If your last year's grade hadn't been an Outstanding, I would have written you off my class by now."

You stared at Snape, unsure of what to do next and terrified of the man before you. He never treated you that way.

"Sorry to bother, Professor," you said, leaving right away, knowing very well that he had just ruined your rest of the day, including the night with your girls.

But what would you tell them? They would say that Snape was always like that. And even Casey, who was bloody smart, didn't have classes with Snape anymore. She would say for you to drop it too.

Your mind led your feet to the Moaning Myrtle's abandoned bathroom. There, your cry could be confused with hers by those who passed by. Thus, no one would disturb you.

The ghost wasn't even startled when she heard you come in, crying, and throw yourself on the floor near the sinks. Myrtle has seen you there since the school year started when you read your mother's first letter.

You usually went there at night, when you were sure you wouldn't see anyone. But after years of trusting Professor Snape — and believing that he would never mistreat you — what you heard today was the culmination.

When you decided you had cried enough, you headed out of the bathroom, holding your Potions (terrible) essay closer to your chest. You walked around the castle, but, perhaps, your eyes lost contact with your brain — the next thing you knew, you ran smack into Fred Weasley.

As if I needed more reasons for wanting to die.

You stumbled backwards, and your essay slipped from your arms, heading straight to the floor.

The ginger boy grasped you by both shoulders, his big hands catching you before you had the chance to slip over your own feet.

"Watch it," he said, steadying you.

You two were standing way too close to each other, and once again, you could smell his cheap cologne, this time it seemed to spread all over your body. Bloody hell, am I gonna smell like Weasley now? You shivered with disgust, but he misread it.

"Trouble standing up?" he joked, looking down at you with a cocky smirk.

He was really tall — you'd forgotten that, sitting next to him at the Three Broomsticks that night.

"Do I make you weak in the knees?"

Ignoring his stupid question, you knelt down to get the essay, and he did the same, grabbing it first. You forgot how to breathe for a second, hoping he wouldn't try to read it — and notice all the corrections Snape had made with permanent ink.

However, as soon as he grabbed it, he was handing it over to you.

You took it and brought it back closer to your chest, stepping away from him and his stupid perfume and stupid touch that sent weird and uncomfortable chills through your spine.

You were starting to walk away, leaving him behind when you heard:

"Thank you, Weasley," he attempted to copy your accent. "See you around, Weasley."

But you rolled your eyes and didn't even venture to look at him again.

-

How you managed to get out of your dorm and show up was all Jess and Casey's fault. If they hadn't been talking about you going out all week, and then Jess almost crying for you to appear, you would've rather very much stayed in bed.

You drummed your fingers on the wooden surface of the bar, your mind far away from the muggle music and your very dance-pants friends.

Your mind was tricking you in remembering about your father, something you were really trying to push away. Why hadn't you insisted on staying with Dad? Why hadn't you read mom's letters?

You kept imagining your dad, wallowing in his misery… alone. You wondered if at least your mom would visit him at St. Mungos. They were never the clingy type of couple, but maybe now she could be more sentimental.

But neither you were sentimental. So why now? Why care so much for your dad when he was never that much of an extraordinary parent?

"Evenin', Duffy."

Why did that nitwit have to sit next to you?

"Go away, Fred," you scolded, looking down at your fingers, playing with your empty mug.

"I can't, " he said. "First of all, the only reason you're here's that I taught you and your friends how to scape Hogwarts," you rolled your eyes while he continued, "besides, I'm not one to give up easily. I am set to snog one of your friends," he shrugged as if he was the biggest gentleman on Earth.

"Then go talk to the one," you suggested, not even turning to see his face.

"I would, but Fred Weasley doesn't chase girls. They chase him."

His sentence stayed in the air around as for a second before you burst in laughter. He couldn't be sober to say something like that. You faced him, finally, and confirmed — he very much had just arrived, so he wasn't drunk. He was just stupid.

Handsome, but stupid.

"Til they come to me, you get the honour of my company," he said, and then he took your mug away from your restless fingers. "Lucky for me, it doesn't look like you're armed with a beverage tonight."

You awaited for his laugh, but it never came.

"What is it with you today?"

"Already told you I'm not in the mood, Weasley," you reminded him.

"What's wrong?"

"Go...away," you warned, slowly.

You no longer good handle the tension burning inside you, it had to be released in some way, and it needed to be right then. But you didn't want to cry, not in front of a bunch of students partying, and there was no way you were going to vent with the dimwitted next to you, and punching someone would just get Rosmerta disappointed.

"Are you okay, y/n?" Fred asked, touching your shoulders carefully. He was forcing you to face him, even though he was being too gentle for his usual. "y/n?" 

Then it was like your systems had stopped working — like a magic spell went wrong. Your only excuse is that you were under an unbelievable amount of stress, and you detected an exit.

You needed a distraction, and your chance was staring at you with sparkly eyes. Regret was the last thing you were thinking about.

An opportunity sat on the barstool beside you, and you lunged at it, literally.

You kissed Fred Weasley.

You grabbed him by polo neck of his red t-shirt, pulling him closer and locking your lips on his. He froze at first, but it didn't take him more than three seconds to understand what was happening, and the hand once on your shoulder was now on you cheeks.

Fred returned your urge, biting your lower lip, making his way inside your mouth with his tongue. Your hands left his neck and went to his hair, surprised to find soft hair.

His hands flew to your sides and pulled you toward him as if his hair was the secret to his horniness. As you wrapped your fingers in the strands of red hair, his fingertips dug into your waist.

It worked better than punching someone would have. Not only did it help you release the tension, but it distracted you. It's hard to think about your dad when you're making out with somebody.

He leaned into me, and I hauled at him so hard that Fred nearly fell off his bar stool. At that moment, both just couldn't get close enough to each other. Your separate seats seemed like they were miles apart.

Nothing existed, but the physical connection — there were no emotions in the way. It was amazing not to think. Nothing! Nothing… until he screwed it up.

His hand slid up from your waist, lingering along your back, and came to a stop around your boobs. Everything flooded back, and you suddenly remembered who had his lips on yours.

As fast as you jumped on him, you leaned away, taking your hands from his hair and shoving him away.

His hands dropped, one landing on your knee, as he pulled away. He looked astonished but weirdly pleased.

"Wow, Duff, that was—", but he never finished. You were already gone, running out of the bar and rushing to get to the secret passageway.

You didn't look back. If Fred followed, once you got to Hogwarts, he turned around.

When you reached your dorm and jumped on the bed, your heartbeat was impossible to keep track. You told yourself it was because of the run back to the school, but your mind was still playing flashes of the snogging session that had just happened.

It wasn't fair to remember his touch and how out of limits he was —good kisser, but still a jerk.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were madder at yourself than at him.

 -

Two days.

That was the amount of time you managed to stay away from Fred Weasley since the little "incident".

One thing was for sure: it had numbed completely any stress your father situation was afflicting him. It had even made you forget about your recent bad grades.

Now, every time you got distracted, the only thought that filled your mind was a non-stop replay of the kiss you and Fred shared. It made you feel weirdly sick in the stomach, and you swore you could feel his disgusting touch as if it dirtied your body forever.

Jess and Casey didn't even bother arguing with you about leaving early that night — they felt guilty because they left you alone at the counter. Of course, you didn't tell them about the whole Weasley situation, but, even though Jess seemed clueless, Casey noticed your change in action.

How defensive you were towards their questions, more than usual. How you avoided spending too much time at the Great Hall.

So, when she purposely asked you to watch her Quidditch practice, you knew she was testing you. Perhaps Casey thought something worse was happening to your dad and if that was her bet, you wouldn't be the one to make her see the other side of the coin.

"Came to watch me play?" an annoying voice asked, calling your attention to your left where Fred Weasley stood flying up in his broom. His torso was tilted towards you, who was sitting in the stands.

One look was all you took for your mind to fill with disgusting memories, and your stomach was killing you once again. You faced back the field, where Casey was supposed to be practising, but, apparently, the thing was over because she and her teammates were nowhere to be found.

That explains the Gryffindor in his robes, you thought, sighing and gathering your things before getting up.

Fred was still staring at you, analyzing, expecting.

"I'm not here for you, Weasley," you spat.

Your temper surprised him, but he managed to recover before you could notice.

"What a pity," he sighed, letting the corner of his lips turn up. "I thought you wanted a second dose of fun."

You stared at him, with your angry issues burning up. If before kissing him he already had his ways of pissing you off, now it was like he was power was ten times stronger.

Your first thought was to hex him right there and then, but he wasn't worth that much worry.

"That wasn't fun, Weasley," you decided to state the obvious; something Fred seemed to have been having trouble understanding.

"You seemed very entertained twirling your fingers in my hair," he smirked, holding a chuckle while your eyes widened and you closed your fists.

"That was a mistake; I wasn't in my right mind," you said, clenching your teeth in rage. That boy was driving you crazy.

From behind him, you recognized Casey, walking on the field, already out of her Quidditch robes and holding her broom with just one hand. You knew that was your way out.

"Fine, blame it on the butterbeer," he sighed, "if it's what makes you sleep at night."

"What makes you think, Weasley," you paused, stepping closer to the end of the stands and closer to the ginger, "that I think about you at night?" you raised your tone involuntarily, letting your emotions get the best of you.

"Your body language, for one, Duff," Fred smirked again, feeling his win just because you were getting out of control.

Last time you were raged like that you had kissed him, so perhaps it could happen again.

But the nickname set you back. You were still bitter, but now you remembered why — it was because of that shallow nickname and that stupid boy.

You turned around and stepped away, to the end of the stands. You needed to get out of there as fast as you could.

"See you around too, Duff," you heard Fred shouted, but you didn't dare look back.

Casey met you at the end of the stairs, where a bunch of Gryffindors were crossing paths with the Ravenclaws leaving.

"Was that Fred Weasley? Talking to you?" was the first thing Casey asked when you were close to her enough to hear.

"Yep," you sighed, still tense because of your conversation.

"Godric! Is he hot in his Quidditch uniform!" she gasped, but different from you, she had that romantic, girly look on her face again. It made you wanna vomit.

"Please, Cass, you can find someone hotter than him," you protested, frowning.

"Someone hotter doesn't take Fred's hotness away," she argued, raising a brow towards you. She was messing with you, of course, but knowing it didn't make it easier. She didn't know about the kiss, so for all purposes' sake, she still thought you would never even touch him.

"Can't you just pine over — hmm, I don't — George Weasley, his twin?" you said, sarcastically. "If you think Fred's hot, George is too, and I'm pretty sure he's a better person."

"Too vanilla," she replied as if it proved her point.

"How would you know?" you asked, but couldn't help but burst in laughter with her, both very sure this conversation wasn't going anywhere.

Casey was right again. Not about George being vanilla — that you couldn't be sure, being that you had never talked to the chap. You couldn't manage to say more than three words to George, his presence always made you kinda weak in the knees.

But George didn't know about it, and neither did your best friends, and you intend in leaving thing at that. George was kind of your platonic crush, it was healthy to have one (probably), and he was never cross that line.

Funny, huh, how George made you feel starstruck, and Fred made you wanna kill yourself.

The thing Casey was right was about Fred being hot and charming. He was appearing more times than often in your mind, and for the rest of the week, he no longer popped as a replay of a kiss. Fred was appearing in your mind as new sexy scenarios, things a deep part of you wanted to experiment. And apparently, with him. Yikes.

You tried to convince yourself that those scenarios were with George (had happened before) but, at this point, you knew how to differentiate the two very well. And, deep down, you knew who was the ginger biting your neck and intertwining his legs in yours.

And that infuriated your guts.

 -

"You did that for what?"

Your question echoed to the Great Hall, with a dozen of heads turning to what the little show you were putting on.

It was not your intention to make a scene, but, at that moment, you were more enraged than you'd ever been your whole life. Casey was your best friend, and you knew sometimes she was bold for the greater good, but you doubted that doing what she did was for the greater good.

Because you were feeling like shit.

She had intercepted your owl with your mom's letter about your father's condition. Casey had observed that you were ignoring your mom's messages — last night she went to your dorm room with Jess for a girls night, and ended up finding accidentally a box packed with the parchments unopen.

So she planned on getting your owl before it dropped its letter over you and she managed to sit next to you and starting reading it aloud, without telling you what she was reading.

It was only when she got to the second line of the thing — "they say they are doing everything they can and they don't want to raise our hopes, because his chance of recovery is almost none"— that you realized that it was your mom's words.

You got so angry as never before, shouting at Casey to shut up, and without overthinking, you cast a fire spell on the thing. Thankfully she dropped the parchment before it burned her hands, but that doesn't mean that she didn't get angry at you too.

Jess watched and came closer, trying to find words to say, but she didn't know what was happening and she didn't want to side with anyone.

You felt the urge to cry, but, not in hell, you were doing it in front of the whole school. You gathered your bag and ran out of that place, not looking back — even though Casey was screaming "I'm sorry", and Jessica was asking you to wait.

"Hey, wait up," a voice called, this time it didn't belong to a girl.

You froze at your spot, your feet slowly turning to face the boy following you in the empty hallway. Traitors, you wanted to say to your feet.

"Not now, Weasley," you said, trying hard to look away, but once his dark eyes met yours, you just couldn't bring yourself to walk away.

"Then, when? You need to talk," he pointed out, taking his hands out of his pockets, not yet breaking the eye contact. It was like he knew that he looking at you was the only thing keeping you there.

"You heard the show, huh."

"Just saw you, angrily walking away," he said while you nervously grabbed your bag's handle. "Thankfully, there was no butterbeer in your hands."

His attempt to joke went not as smoothly as he expected. You faced your shoes, biting your lip with the stupid idea that popped in your mind. You knew what you planned wasn't right.

But when he stepped towards you, it felt natural.

"Just shut up, Weasley," you said, before getting on your tiptoes and leaning in to kiss him.

He was surprised, again, but this time he was quick to respond and somehow smarter — he grabbed your waist and guided you to a door that only he knew existed in that hallway.

It was a broom closet, probably the brooms first-years use to train flying.

This time there was no inhibition. Fred's mouth in yours was not going to be enough to forget you fighting with Casey and your mom's words about your dad. You needed more. Thankfully, Fred Weasley was more than pleased to serve, fastly taking your white shirt off while you unbuttoned his pants.

"Are you sure of this, Duff?" he asked before pulling your black skirt up.

"I said shut up, Weasley," you reminded him, in a bossy tone. And in case he tried to open his mouth again, you locked it with yours.

 -

Things were worse than ever before.

After Casey's episode, you hadn't talked to her ever since. She tried, the first few days, but she saw you were ignoring her and with time, she gave up. Jess attempted to convince you to talk to Casey, and for that, you started ignoring Jess too.

Your grades weren't getting better any time soon — Professor Snape was now no longer the only one complaining to you about it. Thankfully, the other Professors were more understanding about it than Severus — the school knew about your father situation.

Oh, yeah. About your parents: since Casey attempt to read you a letter, you haven't touched one yet. And you weren't going to do it anytime soon.

The only person you were hanging out with — by Merlin, you never thought that would happen — was Fred Weasley.

It was easygoing with him because there wasn't much talking to do. He knew better than to ask you anything related to your personal life — even though he tried, a lot.

You two would meet primarily at the Room of Requirement — it usually provided a bed for you, so that was more comfortable than any broom closet. If he ever attempted to make conversation, you'd shut him up with your lips and locking your fingers in his hair — that was his soft spot for sure.

You noticed he was trying to be your friend, more than just a hookup because he was lately scheduling your meetings in places where more people were around — therefore you couldn't just kiss him.

Today, you two were meeting after his Quidditch practice. In his defence, you had indeed mentioned how hot after-trainings sex could be, and that was, probably, where he got the idea.

You were waiting for him in the ground leaned in the entrance to the stairs to the stands, laughing with yourself, because, not long ago, when he mentioned you waiting for him at the Quidditch field, you thought the idea was absurd.

"There he is," you said, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, walking side by side with a just showered Fred Weasley.

"You came."

"You said for me to come," you replied, tilting your head towards him and chuckling. It wasn't like you and any other places to be, but he didn't need to know.

"Hey, Fred, what are we..." started George, rushing to Fred's side and gasping at the notice of you. "Oh, hey, y/n."

So nice to have a Weasley calling you by your name instead of the stupid "duff" thing Fred seemed to love.

But that was George — the George Weasley — and all you managed to do was blush and nervously say hello back.

"Well, brother, got do something with y/n first, but, later, we can..."

"— don't bother with me! I'm sure we can hang out the three of us," you interrupted Fred, glad this time you didn't stutter.

Fred practically spat out a laugh, looking at you like you were crazy. "We? With my own twin?"

You pushed Fred by the shoulder, disgusted by the bullshit he had suggested.

"We can change our plans," you elaborated. "That's what I meant, Fred."

George's eyes went from you to Fred, not sure of what to say next. He didn't know what was going on between the two of you — you'd threatened Fred that you'd kill the whole Weasley family if he decided to say something.

"Are you sure? Fred and I can do the prank later."

"It's a prank? Then count me in!" you smiled, pushing Fred's shoulder again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

There was one exact reason why Fred didn't tell you — it's because you weren't interested, especially in personal stuff and principally in pranks.

"Wow, y/n, I reckon I've never seen you so excited," George commented, smiling.

The three of you started walking away from the Quidditch field while Fred mumbled something about him being the reason for your excitement — for that you replied with pinching his left arm.

-

You had never laughed so hard in your life. Fred, George and you were sitting on the floor of the empty library, leaning your backs against a dusty shelf in the dark corner of the room.

"Did you see his face?" George giggled, placing a hand over his chest where his heart was beating extra fast.

All of the hearts there were beating fast.

It was almost midnight, and by the school rules, you three should be in bed, but the amount of enthusiasm you were feeling was convincing you being a reckless student wasn't so bad.

You were sitting in the middle of the twins, your hands tossed on the floor — the left one just a couple of centimetres away from Fred's. He was watching you, paying very close attention at how the red slowly painted your face back, since it had been white because of all the running from Filch to not get caught.

"Thanks for tagging me along," you said, with a small smile, looking at George.

"Anytime," George said, thinking it was the right thing to do. "You're fun to be around. I see why you wanted to hang out with her, Freddie."

You would've teased Fred about the silly nickname if it wasn't gonna ruin the beautiful moment you and George were having.

Fred watched his twin and you, giggling with each other, talking about random funny stuff related to Argo Filch, but he couldn't hear the conversation quite well. He could only focus on how you were leaning towards George, and how, involuntarily, your hand ran away from his.

"Well, chaps, I've gotta keep going," George announced, getting up and shaking the dust out of his clothes. You pouted, saddened by the departure of your favourite twin.

Fred didn't even breathe, scared that would make his brother want to stay. It wasn't like he was addicted to you — Godric, no! — but he was really looking forward to spending some time with you. Just with you.

"So soon?" you replied, noticing that one prank and you now could speak perfectly well with George. You had no idea why it became uncomplicated, but spending time with him only made you notice what you already knew — he's very different from Fred. "See you later, then."

"See ya," George then turned around and walked out of the library, making sure he wasn't being heard.

As soon as George was away, Fred turned to you, using his hand to bring you face towards him. You allowed it, not really having much choice when he touched you like that.

"Why did want to prank with us?" he asked, looking straight into your eyes.

You shrugged, saying nothing. But something in your expression — maybe the quick thought of George — gave you away.

"George," Fred sighed, surprisingly angry, but not enough for you to notice. His hand fell from your face to his side. "You like him."

"Puff! What? No. What?"

Yeah, your reaction wasn't the best. But Fred shrugged, letting his jealous side hide and acting like a jerk because it was so much easier than caring.

"Are you only with me because I look like him?" he asked, making sure his tone sounded like he was playing with you instead of really curious.

"No!" you replied, faster than you expected. "First of all, I'm not with you. Secondly, no, Freddie," — you used the nickname to mess with him — "I didn't pick you because of George. I picked you because you were there."

Fred stayed in silence, absorbing your answer.

You were suddenly lost in your thoughts, remembering that first kiss not so long ago. And then you remembered all of those lonely nights at the Three Broomsticks, where your only companies were Rosmerta and... Fred.

"You are always there."

"Yeah," Fred sighed, not sure of what you meant with that. However, he was still in jerk mode, and for that, his hand flew back to touch you, this time choosing more sensitive regions, like your belly, particularly, above the waistband of your jeans, a place that Fred had already learned to be one of your weak spots. "So, is now when you're doing what we had scheduled to do?"

You turned to face him, making it easier for him to reach your abdomen.

"Do you only think about that?"

He pretended to be thoughtful.

"Yes."

 -

It came as a hell of a surprise when you were called to the Headmaster's office. You had been doing nothing — aside from escapades with Fred, and trying to get back to your studies, you haven't been doing much — so you didn't stall to see why they needed you.

You were even more surprised when the person awaiting fro you in the office was your mom.

"Hi, sweetie," she tried to smile but failed.

You didn't move since you opened the door and saw her, because her visit probably meant something you didn't want to be true.

"Is he dead?"

"What, sweetie? What did you say?" she asked.

"Dad. Is he...?" you whispered again, not brave enough to say it too loud.

"Oh, Merlin, no! That's why I'm here, actually. He called for you yesterday," she explained, stepping closer to you since you haven't been moving. "I sent you a letter, but you didn't reply, and I was so anxious..."

"Father called me? He said my name?" you were shocked because last time you saw him, he had no idea who you were.

"Yes, sweetie. I guess he remembers you," she smiled. "And me," she added.

"Can I see him?" you were fighting tears at this point.

"Of course, sweetie! That's why I'm here," she smiled, and opened her arms, knowing very well that all you wanted to do was bury your face on her chest, just like when you were little and scared. But this time, all you felt was happiness.

 -

Returning to Hogwarts was hard. Not because you were sad — Merlin, that had been your best weekend ever! You father was almost completely recovered, although now and then he was saying some gibberish.

It was hard to come back because you wished you'd stayed longer with your dad, but your mom knew you needed to finish your school year before anything else.

A conversation that you had with your father kept replaying in your mind since you walked in the school. It was before you left when he encouraged you to enjoy your life because he wished he had enjoyed his more — especially when he thought he was dying, having Death Eaters play with his mind.

So when you saw George in the hallway, you knew you had to do something about your whole starstruck situation.

"Hey!" you called him.

"Hi, y/n," he faced you, a smile appearing in his lips. "Haven't seen you all weekend."

"I had to be away. Dad's stuff," you really didn't want to tell him about it right there. "Anyway... I don't know how to say this, but I've been feeling incredibly confident lately, so here it goes... Would you like to go on a date with me?"

You had no idea how you manage to say it. Perhaps pranking someone together does change a person, but while you waited for his reply, George didn't seem so hard to talk to.

"You want to go out... with me?" he played with his hair while saying it.

"Yep," you gulped, suddenly regretting you recently discovered confidence.

"Okay," he frowned for a second before smiling lightly. "Three Broomsticks, Wednesday?"

"Perfect. See you there?"

He shook his head in response, then turned and walked away. You stayed there, expecting a wave of happiness to come, but it never did. That's odd, you thought, before heading to your dorm, which, weirdly enough, you had missed.

When you pushed the door open, you saw the two figures sitting on your bed, as if they had been waiting for you for a long time. Jess and Casey looked at you as you walked n, with sympathetic smiles on their faces.

"What are you two doing here?" you asked, but you weren't mad. Just curious.

You had missed them too.

"I'm here to apologize. Should've done it sooner, but you didn't allow me," said Casey, getting up and stepping closer to you. "I now know your father is better, but you were right, that letter could have something horrible written on it and had no right reading it."

You stared at her, unconsciously reaching for her hand, anxious to meet her hot touch again. You were still happy, of course, but that talk made you bit sentimental.

"I'm sorry, y/n," she said, allowing you to hug her and hugging you back in the way only she knew how. Jess jumped out of bed and embraced the two of you; although you couldn't see her face, you'd bet she was smiling and crying at the same time.

The three of you stayed like that for a while.

"But, thank Merlin, he's okay now," Casey continued, slowly pulling away from the group hug.

"How do you..."

"Fred told us," said Jess, sitting back on your bed and suggesting you two did the same.

"Fred? Fred Weasley? How did he know?" you were completely startled.

"He asked about you. The three of us were confused because, well, he was right, nobody had seen you," Jess explained. "Long story short, McGonagall told him about your dad, and he told us."

You gulped, taking in that new information. Fred worried about you, that was new. Well, you did leave with no warning, but for a not-a-friend with benefits, you never consider he would care if you disappeared.

"Did he say anything else?" you rounded, suddenly worried he could have told them about your little escapades.

"Should him? Your father is okay, right?" Casey entered a worried-mom mood, and Jess seemed to be concerned too.

"My father is getting better, yes," you replied, but now it was too late. They were curious, you sighed, knowing very well that, as your best friends, they had all the right to know what was going on. "I may — or may not — have started a no-strings-attached relationship with Fred Weasley."

"You did what??" Casey widened her eyes towards you.

You spend half an hour explaining to the girls what was going on in your sex life, and they were good listeners, never interrupting unless you paused. You missed those girly talks so much that you wondered how you managed to spend weeks not talking to them.

"Wait. But your date for Wednesday is George?" asked Jess, clearly confused with the end of your story.

"I never had the guts before," you said, remembering how only the idea of asking George out would've made you weak in the knees a year ago.

"But you like Fred," she stated, convinced she was correct.

"What? No. Why did you...? Merlin, no," you rambled. You thought you had made it clear that being around Fred longer than necessary made your stomach sick and everything.

Jess and Casey exchanged looks as if they knew something you didn't.

"Fred's repugnant. He still calls me Duff, can you believe it? I mean, 'hello, honey, if I'm such the disgusting, ugly friend, why do you sleep with me?' " you said, laughing with yourself, imagining you facing Fred and telling him that. But the girls kept with their suspicious stares. "I did explain what is Duff, right?"

"You did," said Casey.

"Still not convinced you don't like Fred, though," added Jess, raising a brow towards you.

"I don't! Besides, now, I don't need him. I'm going on a date with his brother, and my father is fine. I have no worries," you reminded them, getting up from your bed. "Well, maybe one problem. I still need better grades."

"That I can help," said Casey, allowing her nerdy Ravenclaw shine.

 -

You tried to corner Fred the whole Tuesday, but he seemed to be nowhere to be found, until after dinner, when you approached him when he was leaving. Thankfully, he was alone.

"So you are back," he said, looking you up and down in that way that only he knew. You looked around the hallway, scared that students leaving the Great Hall could hear you two talking, so you gesticulated for him to follow you to the broom closet — coincidently, where it all started was going to be its end too.

"Fred, we need to talk," you said, closing the door behind you and trying to find the light switch.

"You finally realized?" he sounded hopeful, with a playful smile on his lips.

"Realized what?"

He was set back with your response. Fred was thinking of something else when he asked you that, but he wasn't going to let you win. Although you really didn't have any idea what he was talking about.

"Realized you can't live without me."

"HA! Very funny, Weasley," you said, rolling your eyes.

He stepped closer to you, expecting you to do what you generally did in that closet, and, even though, his perfume made you lose your senses for a second (that didn't use to happen before, did it?).

"Well, I brought you here because... You see, we aren't doing this anymore," you swallowed after saying it — it was as if a knife was held in your neck.

He leaned in, looking down at you. His playful smile was long gone.

"You want to do it the right way. I get it," he said, pressing his lips together for a pause. "We could just jump to the fun part."

"Fun part? There isn't a...", but you weren't able to finish. His lips met yours mid-phrase, and as usual, you couldn't care about anything else but his lips.

What was the thing I need to tell him? Never mind now.

Your hands were playing with his hair, but something was different this time. There was still an urge — one that shouldn't be there, giving that you had no problems to forget right now — but you two were acting slowly, appreciating every touch.

When with Fred, you never felt ashamed of your body, but somehow this time you were very self-conscious, afraid that he wouldn't like you. Which was stupid — he had been... with you for too long to now started caring about your form.

What you didn't know what was that, if anything, he was finding you even more beautiful tonight, with the weak light of the closet highlighting every gorgeous curve of your body.

While you two undressed (with his lips away from yours), you were able to remember you shouldn't be there, snogging him and well, about to do other things with him. You had gone there to end this thing.

You sighed, too perplexed at the view of the ginger boy's body. The light was also highlighting his best spots.

A good-bye, you concluded with yourself. You were allowing yourself one last night, before staying away from Fred.

And if it was going to be a good-bye, you were sure you wanted to make it the best yet.

 -

When you asked George out, he had been puzzled, and really scared of what to do next.

You had never jumbled him with Fred before — and after spending so much time with his twin doing Merlin knows what he expected you to never do it.

He thought it was rather cute that you took the first step and asked Fred out. Well, you did confuse the twin, but George assumed you probably were too nervous with your own feelings.

So using his best "hey, brother, this is gonna sound funny" voice, he went to find Fred to tell him that he had a date with the girl he had pining over for the last month.

George had never seen Fred say no to other girls, neither had George seen Fred stay in the castle for a Friday night, then a skip a Hogsmeade trip. You had changed Fred, even though George was sure Fred had not noticed it yet.

"What is it, George?" Fred asked, anxious to leave and meet you, no matter where you could be. He had heard that you had just got back in the castle and he just... he wanted to make sure you were alright.

"y/n, she... well," George nervously giggled. "She mixed us. She thought I was you."

"Really?" Fred was not expecting at this stage for you to mix him with his brother.

"Yeah, and hm, this is funny," George gulped before continuing. "I think she asked you out. On a date."

"She what??"

"Yeah, I guess she was on a rush, because of her father, and she said something about feeling confident," George went on. "Anyway, I said yes because I knew you'd have said yes. It's Wednesday. At the Three Broomsticks."

Fred stared at his brother as if he had solved all the problems in the world.

"She really did that?"

George shook his head yes and pointed out: "Don't mention she mixed us. It will probably make her feel worse."

"Are you sure she thought you were me?" Fred asked, overthinking it.

"Well, of course. Why else would y/n ask me out?"

-

You had to borrow a foundation from Jess (your skin tones were not so similar, but it was enough) because on the last night, Fred had exaggerated a little.

He never left a mark on his body, but yesterday he had overcome himself. As the brush rubbed the foundation on your neck, you remembered the night before.

 "You are mine, Duff," he said, between one hickey and another. "Just mine."

 Unintentionally, you lost yourself in thought, your mind continuing its replay from the night before, as you brushed your sensitive skin.

 "Only I can make you feel this way; only my touch makes you shiver," whispered Fred, and incredibly, it was true. But he was Fred, and it couldn't go on.

So when it was over, and you both were too tired, you got dressed and stared at him, knowing what was coming next.

"Thank you, Fred, seriously. For everything," he watched you as you gulped nervously. "But this really can't go on. I have a date tomorrow."

"I know."

You were about to leave, but you immediately turned, facing him with wide eyes.

"You asked George out. I know," he seemed sad. And you have never seen Fred sad before. You wanted to do something, but what could you do really?

"Fred, I..."

"Look, you had your good-bye, y/n. You can get out now," Fred said. "Go hide. It's what you do, right?"

"Hey, don't turn this on me!"

"Somehow, this is my fault?" Fred asked while putting on his pants. Although angry, he didn't seem scary. "What you want me to do, y/n? I'm the jackass womanizer, aren't I? Go get the better twin."

"Fred Weasley!" you shouted his name, trying to shut him up. "We were never a couple; don't act as if you care now! Don't act like you're jealous!"

"Why? Because I can't be jealous of you? I can't care about you?" he shouted back.

"Care about me? You call me Duff, Weasley. All the damn time! How am I supposed to know you care about me if you keep reminding me how ugly, fat and disgusting I am?"

Silence fell upon the two of you.

That was the knife in your neck all along. The stupid nickname, it all came back to it. Fred had no idea how much power that nickname had over you.

"I never meant it that way, y/n," he said, gulping slowly.

"No?" you asked sarcastically. "Really? I remember you telling me I have hotter friends."

"But that was before!" he protested.

"Before what?" you asked, but his reply never came. The words he couldn't say died in his chest — buried forever. "See you around, Weasley, " you said, before opening the door and leaving, without looking back.

 You shook your head, slowly coming back to reality. The hickeys were enough hidden. It didn't look perfect, but the Three Broomsticks had terrible lighting, so it would be okay.

You wanted to stay in, curled up in bed, playing in repeat your good-bye, and blame yourself for that sadness in your chest, but you were too embarrassed to dump George.

The place was crowded — Hogwarts older students were practically all there, having the time of their lives on the dance floor. You wished George could never find you, so you went to the counter to hide behind a mug of butterbeer.

"Hey there, pretty," said Madam Rosmerta, who have missed you all those nights without you. "Butterbeer?"

"You know it," you said, about to throw her a coin when someone pressed a hand on your shoulder.

"Make it two," he said, and he didn't even need to speak to you know who it was. That cheap perfume was going to be the death of you. "It's on me," he told you, tossing his own coin to Rosmerta who disappeared to get the mugs.

"He's not coming," he added a second later, hating the silence around you two.

"I figured it. When I saw you," you explained, gulping.

Rosmerta brought two mugs back, and both of you took a sip from it, unsure of what to say next.

It wasn't like you two fought last night because you hated each other. In fact, it was probably the complete opposite, but both looked like stupid cowards, afraid of your own feelings.

"Look, I..." he started, but you interrupted him, placing your hand on his arm over the counter.

"Let me say this first," you said, locking your eyes on his. "I shouldn't have asked your twin out. Even if we were just friends; what I did was a jerk move."

"You liked him first," Fred pointed out, trying to defend you from yourself.

You chuckled. "Oh, Merlin, no. I thought he had a pretty face," you explained, tilting your head towards him, and he understood your joke right away, joining in the laughter. "And he seemed like a nice guy. Like, huh, I thought he could treat me nicely," you looked away from his big eyes, facing the shelves with liquor.

"But?"

"What?" you asked him, turning to face him once again.

"I feel like there was a 'but'."

You smiled.

"But you also have a pretty face, and recently, you've come to treat me nice too," you said, and he pressed his lips together while slowly shaking his head up and down. "Well, actually, if it's just between you and me, your face is prettier."

He raised his brows. "Is it?"

"And your body too," you added, just to make him smile.

"Is mine bigger?" he asked, back to his normal joker self.

You pushed him lightly by the shoulder, not hard enough for him to fall off the stool.

"Never saw his, sorry," you decided to tease, and you both giggled.

"I'm sorry. About the Duff thing and all," he said, swallowing. "I kept the nickname because I thought it was cute. If I knew it bothered you so much, I'd have stopped. And I wouldn't have used it during sex."

"I'm okay with it now, I guess," you said. "It wasn't that bad hearing it during sex if I'm honest."

You tilted your head to the left, biting your tongue to not laugh because it was not funny. But Fred just had a way to ease your mood.

You thought silence was going to hunt you two again when Fred spoke.

"Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?" he smirked, placing his hands on your knees, relaxing you even more.

"Maybe," you chuckled. "Is this the part where you admit you have feelings for me?"

"Yes," he said, surprising you. "I have feelings for you."

"Well, I have feelings for you too, Freddie," you smiled, passing your fingers through his strong arms.

"You're not gonna forget that nickname, are you?" he faced away while asking.

"Nope."

"Fine by me, Duff," he replied, messing with you too. He then leaned closer, pressing his lips on yours, and it didn't take long for his hands to find your waist and bring you as closer to him as the stools allowed.

"But we are going slower this time, Weasley," you warned, parting your lips for just a second.

He smiled in the kiss.

"It's always better that way," he replied, probably remembering the soft, slow sex from last night because you were sure remembering that too.

You slapped his arm just strong enough for him to pout, but you kept kissing him anyway. When you two kissed, nothing else mattered— it was only the two of you in the world.