#but yes... many shenanigans... feel free to share the shenanigans You have in Mind

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Hello! I've been loving your tiktoks and I have a somewhat selfish question. I'm wondering if you have posts with links of the fics you've recommended on tiktok? Specifically I'm thinking of a video where you were recommending fics for someone just getting into wolfstar. And while that's not me, lol, I was horrified how many I hadn't read! But didn't have it in me right then to go and find them and mark them all for later. Feel free to tell me that some ao3 searching is good for me ;)

Hello and thank you for supporting me on two channels?! 🥹 And yes, I'll link the fics here for you as well as a list of more fics to get people introduced to Wolfstar as a ship.

And thanks for the feedback! If I grab fics from a list to post on TikTok, I'll start commenting with the link so you can find them easily. Hope that helps and thanks for sending an ask!

Wolfstar Starter Kit WolfstarLibrarian on TikTok

New To Wolfstar Fics

Fics to share with people to get them on board this ship!

Incredible Things orphaned account When Lily Evans agrees to go on a date with James, he panics and seeks comfort from his favourite werewolf who is pining away for his own, secret crush. One thing leads to another, and they discover a few things about themselves.

Nox by bliiinding

The Marauders are starting their fifth year at Hogwarts; Remus is starting with a massive scar across his face - a byproduct of the increasing severity of his furry little problem, which is a definite cause for concern despite his insistence that it it’s fine.

If I May Just Take Your Breath Away by @lovingremus "Sirius making it to the team had brought an unpredicted guest to the stands surrounding the pitch. Remus Lupin’s sudden interest in their Quidditch practices after years of refusing to attend even the matches was odd enough, and at first, Sirius didn’t understand why James was complaining – he was more than happy to have Remus there, to keep him company and for him to stare at."

copycats by @kangandkodos

Sirius is a trend setter. Sirius is a trend setter that doesn’t seem to notice it, or care, or make any comment towards the fact that he wore his hair in a ponytail last week and now half the school have styled their hair in exactly the same way. Remus cares.

I Wouldn't Mind by @omg-someone-actually Your typical Hogwarts get-together including but not limited to: vicious full moon, teenage shenanigans and drama, excessive swearing, one (1) oblivious idiot in love, one (1) not-so-oblivious-but-still-an-idiot in love and some good old pining.

Wet Dog by @lying-like-breathing Sirius is tired of Remus saying he smells like a wet dog, so he bathes himself in amortentia to cover it up. It doesn’t work quite as well as he expected it to…

Share this with your own recs!

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hii!! so i just want to say first that i love love the way you write dmc fanfics. The way you just understand them, makes all their action seem like something they'd do. And well, if it doesn't bother you, may I ask a few advices on how to write Vergil, young and current? I'm trying to write a story and I think your input would be very helpful since you're probably the most accurate Vergil writer there is. Thank you andI just want to say that your fics helped me out a lot mentally. Thank you for bringing the characters to life 🫶

You just left me floored, loved to death, giggling like a 7 year old in public, and I thank you wholeheartedly for that 🖤🖤

First of all, thank you SO much for your words - and wow, I am absurdly flattered that you think so highly of me as a writer, really! I mean, I'm just writing my crazy shenanigans here, I don't expect much hahahaha words like yours make my day and, honestly, you made my whole week!

I am SO happy what I write helped you mentally. I do write to help myself in that regard too, and seeing I was able to have an impact on someone else, it makes everything worth it. That's what Dante would have wanted :')

Asking me for advice doesn't bother me AT ALL! Feel free to ask anytime you want it - by all means I see myself as someone so good as to give advice, but I've gained some experience and it's always good to share! Maybe I'll say something that makes sense to you!

So, without further ado, a few advices on writing Vergil - young and current - down the cut 'cause I haven't written it yet, but knowing myself, I know it's gonna be big :)

(spoiler: it's huge *puts on fool hat and jingles away*)

I sprinkled some things here and there about Dante and Vergil on this blog, but I think it'll be nice putting it all together in one place!

I recently got an ask about which MBTI personality I think it's Dante and Vergil, and there's a LOT on BOTH of their characters in there. You can find it here.

(I won't repeat the things I wrote there, 'cause oh boy this one's got bigger than I expected)

But oh, Verge, this little emotionally constipated goth man *sighs* he's Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. I'm not even joking.

But all of that aside, I do keep a few things in mind when writing him. I've said before I have many similar personality traits with him and I think it makes it easier for me to write this little bitch (affectionate).

Vergil is pretty much shaped by his trauma. You could argue Dante is as well, but differently from his twin brother, Vergil never really found acceptance. Yes, the twins lived through the same thing but the fact that Eva managed to save Dante and not Vergil is crucial to both characters.

Dante has survivor's guilt and depression from all that happened. He can't keep a deep connection to save his life, 'cause he keeps everyone at bay - he thinks his demonic blood is a curse and he is the reason everyone perishes. So it's best if people keep away from him.

But even with that, Dante loves being around people. It's what makes him so fond of his human part and, in my opinion, it's what made Dante healthier than Vergil. He seeks connection and humanity, he wants to use his strength to protect the weak - like Eva once used hers and sacrificed herself to protect and save him. That is crucial to Dante's character.

Vergil, in the other hand, believed for a LONG time he was left for dead. That his mother chose to save his brother because she loved Dante more and Vergil was left to die. He was left all alone in the cold, in a cemetery filled with demons who slaughtered him in quite a gruesome manner. If he hadn't find the rage, strength and power inside of himself that day, he wouldn't have survived.

Vergil learned he is on his own, his own family didn't love him (even if he was wrong, that's the impression he had for a LONG time) and the only one he could count on was himself. That made him withdraw completely: be wary of people and their intentions, shut himself to the world, allow only strength and power to come through his personality and keep his vulnerabilities and feelings shut down in the darkest and most protected place of himself because if he didn't, that could be his death.

Vergil didn't learn to protect the weak, because he wasn't protected when he was weak. He learned to survive, because when he needed the most, no one was there and his own will was the only thing that could save him. If he had given up, he would've died - no one would come, no knight in shiny armor, no powerful protecting demon, no sacrificing loving human mother.

✨That's why he's an asshole✨

Hahahaha jokes aside, that's why he's so laser focused on power, I think. When he was younger (around DMC 3), he finds Dante again and there's a hatred for his brother because he believed he was left to die and wasn't loved as much as Dante (as always, our red devil being a clueless himbo who just got lucky to be around Eva, poor guy). He wants to prove he is better than Dante, that he was worth something, that he too was worth saving - even more than his brother.

To some extent, up until that moment in DMC 3, Vergil is better than Dante (regarding power). He's got a lot of knowledge and control over his demonic heritage, things Dante didn't even know he could do. But Vergil is so blinded by his hurt and in so much pain he can only deem himself worthy if he beats Dante down, if he wins, if he gets all the power in the world.

I don't think he ever wanted to kill Dante - he just wanted to win. Like a kid, going "see, mom, dad, I win, I'm worth as much as Dante!!" - quite tragic, really.

With his power thing, it's not a desire for power for it's own sake, but as an armor. Given everything that happened to him, that Vergil has this thing of "only I can protect myself and I can count only on myself to save my life", it's very understandable that his logic takes him to the path of "if I am the most powerful being in this world, I will never bleed and I will never hurt again".

So, even if he says on the outside he is power hungry because he wants to honor his demonic heritage and humans are weak, on the inside it's actually that he's trying to carve his heart out from himself so he won't feel nothing and stop hurting - as well as gain all the power he can so NO ONE can make him feel scared, vulnerable, weak and powerless like he did that night when no one appeared to help him.

Vergil hides his pain under a mask of cruelty and hubris - since being honest means being vulnerable to him and that is something he's got a deep aversion to.

Current Verge has dragged himself out of Hell in a crumbling body. If Dante hadn't "killed" him as Nelo Angelo, he probably would've never been free of his shackles with Mundus, but once again he was left for dead (even if not intentionally, I know Dante would have gone through all the layers of Hell to bring his brother back, but VERGIL doesn't know that). Once again, Vergil had to muster all his will, his power, his demonic heritage to drag himself out of that godforsaken place.

He didn't know Nero was his son, he just took Yamato back 'cause he didn't really had time to explain everything that was going on. Vergil was on the brink of death, it's not like he could think logically about everything he was doing and weight pros and cons. He needed to survive. That's what he does.

It's only when he separated his human and demon parts that he came to realize a bunch of things - because Vergil never really had time to do anything else other than surviving; and thinking too much, going over your feelings and past trauma, doesn't do anything good when you're stuck in survival mode (been there, done that).

After he gets both of his parts together and goes back to being Vergil, he knows a lot more than he did before, because V allowed his heart to feel and to process all that pain he didn't allow himself to process before - because if he did, he would probably break, like V himself was falling to pieces.

He knows his mother loved him. He knows it wasn't Dante's fault. He knows it was all a tragedy and no one is to blame - he knows he wasn't left there to die: Eva died trying to get to him. It honestly changes everything he's been thinking for the past 40 (if I'm not wrong...?) years.

That's why he wonders, if he was in Dante's place all those years ago, would that change something? And honestly, it probably would. Because everything Vergil did was from a wound he couldn't bring himself to heal from that fateful night.

Therefore, current Vergil is a lot more accepting to his feelings - but internally only, he won't let it show. He also understands his thing of wanting to surpass Dante wasn't his brother's fault and it's something he has to work on.

Not saying he won't be a little bitch sparring with Dante all the time and keeping score over stupid stuff, because that's EXACTLY how these two function - but now Vergil is fueled by healthy sibling rivalry and fun instead of inferiority complex and pain/hatred.

Vergil's path is a lot similar to Anakin from Star Wars: fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate leads to the Dark Side of the Force. If the Jedi Council had understood Anakin's upbringing as a slave, his deep love for his mother - and for all the beings on the Universe, I argue, because he did want to become a Jedi to free all slaves - his overflowing empathy, his deep feelings, his love for Padmé, etc., Anakin wouldn't find himself vulnerable to the grooming of an older man who saw all this and took the opportunity to twist it all to make him feel pain, fear, anger and hate.

If Qui-Gon Jin had trained Anakin he would've never turned to the Dark Side, I will DIE on this hill and fight EVERYONE, even if I love Obi-Wan

Star Wars ramblings aside, that's Vergil in a nutshell. And I think with him older, currently, he can finally see all of that, because he had a chance to be just demonic, as Urizen, and just human, as V - noticing how everything that happened to him shaped him to feel pain, fear, anger and hate, doing desperate things to protect himself and feel safe.

I argue Vergil hasn't felt safe for a single day in his whole lifetime, and that matters. Because in the end, that's how I write him: a wounded stray dog who knows only pain and hatred from the outside world.

If you try to approach him, he'll first bare his teeth, bark and try to bite you - not because he's mean, but because he's stuck in survival mode and that's his first response to ANYTHING. Just like a wounded stray, you have to approach carefully, offer kindness and show him you're not there to hurt him.

And just like a stray dog, he'll eventually melt and accept that kindness - he just has NO IDEA how that feels like.

✨What about Nero's mother, I hear you ask?✨

Hahahaha so that one I have some doubts myself. I often imagine two scenarios and I still haven't chose one of them to satisfy my heart HAHAHAHA

That might be me projecting, of course, but because of ALL THAT, I don't see Vergil as being open to relationships and one night stands - he takes things too seriously, and that's part of his character.

He either decided to try it out empirically with a one night stand with someone who was kind to him and he wanted to understand that kind of experience to understand himself better and out of curiosity (look, I know this sounds crazy, but that's exactly what I did on my first kiss with a super random guy at a party and I was like "oh, well, that's not for me, I'm gonna stick to kissing people I love, this sucks" and it took a weight off my shoulders)

oooooor he was treated with kindness for the first time in his life and that broke him for a while, he melted under a soft touch and gentle words and couldn't resist trying out new experiences he only had by proxy from his books - and when he woke up next morning, he was reminded how broken he is, how powerless, how not worthy of love not even from his own mother, and left because that would lead to nowhere. Because of him. Because he wasn't worth it - she probably fell for his looks, his heritage, his outside, but when she knew his inside she would run in horror.

Again, Vergil has a lot of issues, the poor man.

When I'm writing Nemesis, we have young Vergil - laser focused on power, proud as fuck, stepping over anything and everything to get what he wants, because life favors the ones who survive. The weak ones should die, that's the law of the jungle and he won't waste his time saving those who can't do it for themselves like he did for himself. When he sees the reader struggling to keep fighting him to protect others, he sees not only Eva, but himself in a will of a survivor who will go through excruciating pain to save themselves. He values that and admires that - admiring the reader as an enemy and having utmost respect.

When he's older, he's trying. And he has a LOT to learn - but his partner has to understand he's the stray dog who knows nothing but harshness. Vergil is quiet, methodical and disciplined, knowing how to live only with himself as company. But now he has a family: he has his brother back, he has a son, he has the whole crew to live alongside him. That's new, harrowing and comforting at the same time.

So, when in doubt, think about how a wounded animal would react - and how you would have to act to be able to approach and help.

Vergil, differently from Dante, is forever stuck in survival mode and has forsaken his humanity so he could keep going. As a younger man, he's ruthless and won't spare efforts to get what he wants because he is desperately trying to not feel vulnerable and worthless as he usually feels. As an older man, he's trying - in his own stupid Mr. Darcy way - to recover, to understand himself better and finally heal that horrible wound in his heart.

But of course. He is still proud, observing, regal and prone to overkill here and there and showing off his skills. These are all inherent to his personality.

(Also. Vergil enjoys some dumb fun sometimes - he only lets it show a tiny little bit when competing with Dante over ANYTHING. If Dante says he can eat a cheeseburger in three bites, Vergil will go above and beyond to eat it in two. Everyone thinks he's just being stupidly competitive with Dante and wants to win against his brother no matter what, but that's just his way of being fun)

Phew! That's quite a lot on the blue devil! Hahaha it isn't everything I keep in mind - of course there are the other things like him being reserved, more on the quiet side, intellectual, methodical, a lover of beauty (like literature, philosophy, poems, etc.), stupidly independent... But I think those traits are more "worldwide" known.

If you take all his trauma and how it affected him into consideration, I think, his personality follows easily. You understand a lot better how he would react in certain situations - in the end, that's what being a writer is all about: creating characters and watching how all of them react to situations given their backgrounds and baggage!

I'm so sorry it's such a HUGE answer, but I do hope it helps. There's a lot to unpack and I didn't want to just "oi, he's a traumatized asshole, that's it" - because you miss the nuances if you just work with that perspective.

Thanks a lot for asking, though, I had fun writing this little essay on Vergil, the man, the myth, the legend HAHAHAHAHAHA

Hope you have a nice weekend and have fun writing!! If you need any advice, even on writing in general, you can always ask me again! As you can see, I'm happy to help and I do love sharing what I know xD

[kataang-dungeon]

Kataang Smut Weekend 2023

It’s coming soon!!!

What is?

Kataang Smut Weekend! An 18+ event for celebrating Kataang and the sexy shenanigans they get into post-ATLA~

Oh? when is it?

November 10-12. That’s 5.5 weeks from the time this is posted!

Sounds like fun! Are there prompts?

That’s where you came in! Sidebar: how many times can I work the word ‘come’ into this post? You voted on the prompts, and the results are in. Just kidding, you didn't. This is the year of the dom and we are not taking requests.

Here are your Kataang Smut Weekend 2023 Prompts:

November 10th: Wait

With topic suggestions

-Edging

-Teasing

-First Time

November 11th: Play

With topic suggestions

-Toys

-Bending

-Breath Play

November 12th: Work

With topic suggestions

-Pregnancy/Labor

-Rough

-The Avatar State

What kind of content can I make?

Whatever you’re into! Could be art, fic, edits, meta, anything! Just be sure to keep in mind tumblr’s nsfw policies and try to leave the sexy stuff under a cut or censor visuals where it’s necessary. We don’t want your brilliant hard work kept from being shared!

How explicit does it have to be?

If you’re more of a fade-to-black or lime-over-lemon kind of person, we want you here, too! Any level of Kataang spice, shown or implied, is more than welcome in these parts.

What about too explicit?

There’s very little we won’t reblog. But if unsure, you can check out our guidelines (found in our description if on mobile), or feel free to send us an ask!

How should I tag my work?

Tag as your heart directs, but the best way to ensure we see your post is to tag us @kataang-dungeon. We will also be checking the tag “#kataang smut weekend 2023,” and of course content warnings are recommended.

Is it okay if I post late?

Yes! Just don’t forget to @ us, as we may not be checking the tags at that time!

Can I only post on tumblr?

You can absolutely post your work on other platforms! In fact, some platforms are more lenient with explicit works, so if you have a more explicit version of your work that you feel you can’t post onto tumblr, we encourage you to post that version elsewhere and provide a link here for people to view!

I wanna contribute, but I think I’d rather do it anonymously.

Hey, we have options for you, too! You can

submit your works on anon directly to this blog for us to post! Check out the guidelines there for more info :3

I STILL HAVE QUESTIONS

Feel free to send us an ask!

Kataangers, please reblog to spread the word, as we are so excited to see what you come up with! Happy creating!

[jtl07]

You made a perfect start to the writing shenanigans, what a cute little ficlet. You can write them in any universe, and still keep their personality. That’s really one of your many, many strenghts. I believe it’s them when you write! Meet-cutes are fun to read when they’re done well, and this one was 🥰 Now I can picture Bea Google her when she gets back to her room, because she had never heard about her before they met in the cafeteria. Now she wants to learn all about break dance and Ava!!! Lol. Thank you! Okay, new prompt: in propose (now am found), could you please tell us more about why and how Ava decided to leave the box and the note. When did she do it? What made her sure?

aw thanks anon, that's very kind of you <3 and lol yes, Beatrice definitely will be very curious about Ava and her endless stomach and boundless energy

but first - what a great question about propose (now am found) - i didn't put a ton of thought into Ava's side of things, tbh. the only thing i had in my head when i wrote that fic was that it followed this sequence where Ava meets her aunt. and i think ... Ava just ... knows. she's known for a long time. if you were to press her, she'd say she knew from the start - that she'd want Beatrice in her life; that she'd ask her to be her wife.

it doesn't make sense logically - of course not. but Ava likes to think that there's some things stronger than logic and faith and death so of course she will choose - again, again, again - to live, to love:

Beatrice, who laughs at all of Ava's jokes, who's the only one who keeps pace with her puns, her winding tangents, her wandering feet when they go on walks. who holds her hand and holds her in bed, who says her name like no one else - with reverence, with awe.

Beatrice, who will stand at the stove barefoot and bare-shouldered, head bowed not in prayer but in an intense focus. who treats the art of making pancakes (her favorite though she has yet to admit it) as seriously as martial arts (her face soft when she teaches the free self-defense classes at the community center), as seriously as the dinosaur lego set in their study (both shared, leisure and work never unbalanced), as seriously as the planning of their next overseas trip (Aotearoa; Beatrice seems just as if not more excited than Ava after their Lord of the Rings movie marathon).

Beatrice, who still holds herself back when they come across something she wants. at times physically - her hands clasped behind her, back straight like at a museum, as if both the thing and her feelings have been set behind a sign labeled 'do not touch.' at times verbally - her words clipped, her tone without inflection. Ava's seen both many times, the former most recently at a jewelry store Ava had oh-so-casually pulled Beatrice into; the latter when they'd come home and Ava had broached the question.

not the question but a question: "is it something you'd want?" Ava had tried to ask it as carefully as she could, but Beatrice had still stopped sharply. like coming up to a wall, like coming up to the end of a path. and Ava knows - knows that in Beatrice's mind, she's hearing in the same roar of 'you shall not pass' the command 'you shall not want' and it takes everything in Ava's body not to tear open the sky, to yell at the universe, at everything that this woman has endured: there is no better person on this earth; how dare you try to find her wanting, to treat her wants as anything less than a gift.

Beatrice, who has lived, is living, and learning more everyday, had loosened her clasped hands, had trembled and looked up at Ava with tears in her eyes and a quiet truth on her lips: "yes."

so yes, Ava knows. knows also that Beatrice is someone who needs time, and Ava is more than happy to take things at her pace. they have time, after all, time that Ava will give and defend with her life - so they can live it, together, full and free.

they're about to leave for the airport when Ava tucks the box with her promise and the note with her best handwriting into the desk drawer Beatrice only occasionally uses. she knows it'll be found soon enough, that the answer may not come for a while, if at all. but she doesn't mind waiting - not now when she has so much to live for.

[merakiui]

Helloooo! My first time participating in one of these ask games, I couldn’t resist!

1. Seaglass! I ADORE the tweels in there, and while I haven’t read it in a whiiile, I love how unsettling and quiet the scenes are! They’re so strange and scary, but I can’t resist reading more and more— but one scene that stuck with me the most was waking up, the way you wrote of the body and the blood and the pain, I ADORE IT!

7. Probably DRU! Before stumbling upon your blog, I’d just gotten through a little obsession with a fic called Bloodlust (on ao3, by a user named F_Smutt_Fitzgerald), and I was head over heels for contrast of calm and chaotic/“savage” (not really sure what to call it), and while Jade doesn’t exactly fit into that little box, the thought of such a calm and composed character having such a side to him blew my mind, and lord I am thankful for it.

9. MOONBROCH (seaglass 2, if my memory isn’t messin with me again)! I’m so ready for it, and jumped to the poll you posted as soon as I saw it on there. Was a bit sad to see it didn’t win, but I’ll wait as long as needed for it 🙏 anything for Moonbroch!

11. More Jamil! Me and a friend love him, and while he shares a bit of similarity to Jade (the j’s strong together hehe), I find that he’s more normal. He certainly isn’t as infamous as the more courteous fish mafia member, and since Azul’s established the livestream was really just a call to Kalim and the likes, his reputation isn’t even ruined. He’s just an outstanding babysitter to the rest of NRC, which leaves much more room for deception and shenanigans >:]

12. Many! One I didn’t expect to read as much as I did was Rollo’s letters in your Lunar Love Hotel event. I don’t really like Rollo’s design (his bowl cut is too funny for me to thirst over him), but how you wrote him was AMAZING. Reignited my love for characters who know what they’re doing is bad, but can’t resist. A tear of morality and desire, which I adore so much!

13. Yes!! I adore your writing, and often talk to some of my writing friends about your works. Originally, I found your blog surfing tumblr with a friend (I’m a born n bred Floyd lover, and you definitely supplied), and have been sharing it with a few friends since!

14. Probably Sugar Dew Sewn Anew. I typically don’t read about Rook or anyone I don’t already like, but I loved how you wrote him and the scene! Unsettling, can’t-quite-place-them characters have my heart, and I love some good ole depiction of artistry and the reader’s artistic process.

I loved filling this out though, thank you for writing and sharing it. Wishing you well, and hope you have a wonderful day today!

(Also, could I be “Lionfish anon”? The floodgates of my mind are opening & I’m hoping to linger in your asks more!)

(ask game)

Hello, Lionfish anon!!! It's so nice to meet you!!! I look forward to hearing more from you!! Please feel free to linger in my inbox to your heart's content hehe!! >w< and please allow me to happily ramble my responses!!!

Sea Glass!!!! Yes, 'quiet' is the perfect way to describe it!!! I wanted to portray this feeling of quiet unrest in the fic. There's a dreadful peacefulness to the beginning scenes, but once the reader becomes entangled in a scheme that has been in the works for years things begin to feel so suffocating!! The tweels are absolute menaces in that fic. I'm glad you could enjoy them and the way I described the murder scene! I wanted to write it in a way that was so visceral you couldn't tear your eyes away. The entire plot came to me when I had the thought: what if Reader was the one who did the killing and the yandere holds that over their head? And thank you for looking forward to Moonbroch!!!! It's definitely going to be a wild sequel. >:)

After reading your ask, I went and binged "Bloodlust" right away and oooooo it did not disappoint! It hurt me in the best ways. >_< reading about Floyd grappling with his own monstrous whims and the desire to either hurt or help Shrimpy... it was so good. The emotions and feelings were written so powerfully. Azul's cover-up scheme... and Jade!!!!! GOSH. T_T the ending left me in horrified awe. Poor Shrimpy... the eels are the worst, aren't they? ;;;; I'm glad that DRU can evoke similar emotions in you!! I also love the contrast of composed and calm with secretly sinister and brutal. Jade fits into that trope so wonderfully!! I love writing about his secret sides as a serial killer. He's terrifying. <3

Oooo yes yes!!! I definitely want to write more for Jamil. The J's are indeed stronger together hehe lol!! Along with your points, I also find that Jamil is far more outwardly trustworthy and reliable. When compared to Octavinelle, whose reputations are all quite iffy, Jamil has this safety about him that makes you more prone to trusting him. I think that makes it easier for him to deceive you. He always downplays his own capabilities. He's really just a servant, or so he says, but the truth is that there is much more to Jamil than meets the eye... There is so much room for lots of devious shenanigans!!! I hope to write it more often!

AAAAA YAAAYY!!! It is my duty to spread the Rollo agenda!!! ( `･ω･´)9 I'm so happy you enjoyed that fic!! Writing in first-person letter format was very fun!! I love it when characters struggle with moral dilemmas and even go through with their terrible actions despite being aware that it's wrong. Rollo is perfect for that sort of character type!! I loved writing him continuously reassuring himself and the reader that he's so patient and logical and righteous when he's actually none of those things and is just a depraved, perverted stalker. I'm also glad you liked 11:11!!!! Rook's character is so perfect for so many yandere tropes, and I wanted to capture just a fraction of his off-putting creepiness. He's so unsettling, especially when written in a setting as isolating as a cabin in the woods. ;;;;

Omg I'm very flattered and honored to know that you have shared my writing!!! T^T <3 thank you for discussing it with others!! I hope to provide more yummy Floyd food for your enjoyment as I am also an avid Floyd enjoyer hehe!! I know I may have written it many times, but I truly am so grateful to read your kind message!!! Thank you for sharing your thoughts on my stories and for always reading and enjoying them!!! I am sending you lots of love and good, happy vibes, lovely Lionfish anon!!!!!!! ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ੈ♡‧₊˚

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[northerngoshawk]

for the fic writer ask game: 5, 9, 28, 29 ♥

happy fic writer appreciation hotwife!!

5. Share one of your strengths.

... everyone just wants me to compliment myself, huh. *sigh* okay, fine.

i've already talked about my ability to write emotions many times already, and i've talked about my knack for characterization here with choco, so i guess for you, a strength i have would be my attention to detail. i've been told before that i seem to have a keen eye for detail, in both reading and writing. i think this strength really helps me catch some things in the show that most people would miss, and then be able to implement them in some way in my fics. the best examples i can think of is gods don't bleed (except you do), which is based completely on... one line that Katara says during the introduction of the show, and teach me how to live my life (because I can't remember how) because it's the little details—a lost story here, a forgotten memory there—that really culminate into the tragedy of cultural loss.

9. Which fic has been the hardest to write?

for sure see the sky and sea (and remember me), my multi-chapter Big Fish & Begonia Kataang AU. so much research on Asian & Indigenous cultures and creatures. so much time spent on pausing and playing the same scene over and over and  o v e r  again. so much brainstorming over how to make the characters in character while following the plot.

but do i regret it? heck no! it’s by far the most self-indulgent fic i’ve written by far, and it’s so freeing to be writing something all for me and just for me.

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

aewjfaksjdflkawjelkfsajlkfajalkwejflkaesjflkwf

FINE. OKAY. guess we’re doing this now... 😑

@itsmoonpeaches for her descriptions, in-depth worldbuilding, Kataangst, and very spirity shenanigans. i know she’s no longer pursuing Kataang fics in the near future, but i love how her fics always has at least some sort of plot to it that really deepens the worldbuilding of ATLA in some way. her writing is really compelling to read, and she’s really good at what she does!

@chocomd for her characterizations of Aang and Katara, the way she writes Kataang, and the way she focuses on the details and the layers in Kataang. i’m not a very romantic person at heart and can easily get squicked out by physical contact, but choco always manages to write Kataang in a way that feels intimate without being overly romantic. not to mention, the amount of details she puts in her fics and the depth she’s able to show for Kataang really puts her up there for me!

@justoceanmyth for her poetic descriptions and the way she weaves the story together to make it feel so meaningful. she also has an eye for detail and certain phrases that really blows my mind and lowkey makes me question my own writing hahaha

okay, i guess that’s all--

SIKE! you really thought i would stop at three?

alright, i'm gonna make this quick: @thinkingisadangerouspastime for her on-point characterizations and introspection (her fic was the one that drove me to try introspection), @f0xfordcomma for the way she manages to weave together humor and poetic wordsmithing, @the-last-cuddlebender for her out of this world metaphors, @penguinsledder for her amazing fluff and angst fics for Kataang (and also her Hamilton AU i will scream to the world about it), and YOU, Hotwife, yes you, for your amazing Kataang fluff that gives me nice warm feelings.

there’s a lot more authors i wish i could include, but seeing as how they mostly write nsfw and i haven’t been able to read them... 🤷🏻‍♀️ but i hope y’all know i’M THINKING OF YOU AND Y’ALL ARE BRILLIANT TOO!

29. If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

oof. to be honest, i don’t really do much fic reading nowadays due to... lack of quality control in fandom and also the fuzz in my brain that prevents me from being able to coherently comment

with that being said, a part of my brain has briefly thought of an idea of a spin-off to @chocomd‘s fic To Owe an Ostrich Horse, a Song-centric fic that explores the consequences of war on the little people—those whose friends and fathers and sons were drafted in the war, those who live day to day just trying to survive.

i’ve briefly thought of a Zuko-centric fic years after the war, where he (by chance) pass through the village again... and Song and her mother rip him a new one, haha. but i also want to see Zuko slowly realize the consequences of his selfish actions on people like Song and Lee, and maybe as the years go by after this chance encounter, he slowly begins to gain a new understanding of how the war affected the ordinary people.

now, i don’t think this sequel would be necessary. if anything, i feel like the way choco ended the fic is more fitting and realistic—people are capable of change, yes, but there are some things that some people won’t ever be able to learn. Zuko is one of those characters that has had immense growth, but i think it would take a lifetime for him to unlearn his colonist/imperialist/entitled mindset—and even then, i don’t think he would be able to unlearn all of it. even so, a girl can dream 🤷🏻‍♀️

thanks for the ask!!

40 Questions — Meme for Fic Writers

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Thinking of You - Fred Weasley

Title: Thinking of You Pairing: Fred x fem!reader Summary: Fred and the reader are best friends. No matter what George thinks he knows. Just best friends. Best friends who are in love, that is. A/N: this is for the anon who wanted a best friends who are obviously in love with each other!! Reader is the daughter of Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon, I tried to make it obvious but there it is in case it isn’t clear!! Feedback is always welcomed and requests are open!

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

“So, any fun plans for this summer?” Lee asks, trying to break the tension in the air.

Y/N shrugs, pulling her eyes from the landscape swirling outside the train so she can look at the three boys sitting with her. Train rides home for the summer with Lee, Fred and George are easily some of the best memories they’ve made together.  They’re usually filled with loud laughter, too much chocolate and plans for their next year of pranks. They’ve been the fearsome foursome since the first day of term nearly six years ago, when Y/N had called Snape Snivellous under her breath, and Fred had laughed so loud he landed himself in detention. Fred had insisted she sit with him, George and Lee at dinner that night and the four of them have been pulling pranks and causing chaos together ever since.

But this year, this year is different. Over the past few years they’ve become accustomed to their school year ending in a less than traditional way, but it’s never stopped them from having fun together one last time as they head towards home. This year though, the last few weeks have been so tense and sad around the castle that it has carried over into their moods. Y/N has never seen Fred and George so quiet, except for the time Fred fell asleep with his head in her lap in the common room third year.

“Come on, Y/N. You’ve got to have something exciting going on. You and Remus always have summer plans,” Fred teases, nudging her knee with his.

Y/N scowls at Fred, trying to hide her smile. Her home life was certainly less than traditional, and Y/N’s friends loved to tease her about it. They didn’t tease her about the fact that she had been raised by her Godfather, but more so about the fact that she had been raised by Remus Lupin, their former professor. When Remus took up a teaching position at Hogwarts during their 5th year, Y/N had no choice but to reveal to her friends just exactly why their new professor knew her so well. They had all thought it was pretty cool, but unfortunately for Y/N it raised more questions about her home life than it had answered.

She rolls her eyes, shoving Fred lightly. “We went on a road trip one summer and you’re still giving me shit about it? Pathetic,” she teases with a giggle. Fred throws his arm around her shoulder and messes with her hair. “If Remus,” she mocks, sticking her tongue out at Fred as she leans into his side. “Has planned anything then he hasn’t said anything.”

Y/N swallows thickly, trying to force the lump in her throat away. She hates lying to her friends, but she’s on strict orders from Dumbledore not to say anything. Now that Voldemort has returned secret plans have been made, the biggest of them being the reformation of the Order of the Phoenix. Remus had moved into Order headquarters a few days before the end of term, and she’d be joining him there for the summer.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” Fred chides before he turns his attention to Lee.

Y/N lets herself snuggle into Fred’s side, a small smile appearing on her face when his grip around her tightens. George gives her a knowing look, and she sticks her tongue out at him, a pink blush creeping up on her cheeks. Despite whatever George thinks is going on with her and Fred, Fred Weasley is her best friend and absolutely nothing more.

-

“Dad!” Y/N squeals excitedly before she’s running down the entry hall of 12 Grimmauld Place and into her father’s open arms.

Sirius chuckles and wraps his arms around his daughter tightly. “Hello there little one. I’ve missed you.”

Y/N pulls away from her dad, a bright smile on her face, unable to contain her happiness. She’d been dreaming of the day that she’d get to live with Sirius and be a proper family since the end of last year, when the truth about James and Lily’s death was made clear. Y/N had only gotten to see her dad briefly before he had to flee, and she’d spent quite a bit of her free time thinking about him over the past year.

“Oh no, Y/N, Sirius, don’t worry. I don’t need a hand. I’ve got it,” Remus huffs, his tone teasing. Y/N turns back towards the door, giggling as Remus struggles to pull her trunk through the door. “What in Merlin’s sake do you have in this thing? It didn’t weigh this much when I dropped you off at Kings Cross in September.”

“I may or may not be harboring some things for the Weasley twins,” she admits with a laugh.

Remus gives her a disapproving look to try and hide the gleam of mischief in his eyes. He takes out his wand, waving it so that her trunk is now floating. “Harboring what? Is there something illegal in there? I know what Fred and George get up to.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and laughs along with Sirius. “It’s nothing like that, Remus. I promise. It’s just some stuff they’ve been developing for their joke shop. If Molly finds it she’ll destroy it, so Fred gave it to me to hold onto for a bit. Not a big deal.”

“Come on, Remus, don’t be a stick in the mud,” Sirius chides. “We got up to quite a bit of mischief in our younger days. It’s only natural that Y/N does as well. She’s got the blood of one Marauder and she was raised by another, that’s double the mischief.”

Y/N can tell that Sirius is trying to joke, but his voice shakes. She and Sirius have corresponded a few times since he flew off on Buckbeak and many of her letters contained stories of things her and Remus had done as she grew up. Often times Sirius’ replies were filled with apologies and regret that he had missed out on doing those things with her.

“As long as it’s nothing illegal I’ll let it slide,” Remus says quietly a few moments later. He directs Y/N’s trunk to fly down the hallway and up the stairs. “Second door on the right, yes?”

Sirius nods and puts his arm around Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing tightly. “That’s right. I spent all week preparing your room.” He looks down at Y/N with a reassuring smile. “Alright then, let’s head down to the kitchen for something to eat.”

-

“Have you got the rest of the rooms cleaned out, Sirius? Our guests will be arriving in a few hours,” Remus says as he takes a sip of coffee.

Y/N frowns, looking between Remus and her dad. “Guests? What guests?”

It’s only two weeks into summer break and Y/N has been enjoying every minute of it. Remus has been in and out of the house doing things for the Order, so she and Sirius have had plenty of time to connect. The house is pretty busy as is, with Order members fliting in and out at all hours of the night, so Y/N can’t imagine it getting any crazier.

Sirius and Remus share a look before Sirius turns to look at Y/N. “Dumbledore has fully briefed the Weasley family on what’s going on, and Arthur and Molly have joined the order. And since Arthur works at the ministry and their son Percy is an assistant to Fudge, Dumbledore thinks it’s best that they stay somewhere that’s under protection.”

“So, the Weasleys are going to be spending the rest of the holiday here?” Y/N asks, her cheeks heating up. When Remus nods she bites her lip. “Do they know? That Sirius is, you know, my dad?”

“You haven’t told them yourself?” Sirius asks. Y/N can hear the hurt in his voice.

Remus shakes his head. “Dumbledore told Arthur and Molly I’m sure, and Ron knows because of Harry, but I don’t think the Twins or Ginny know.” He turns to Sirius then. “We talked about this, Sirius. For Y/N’s safety no one knows you’re her father, that’s why she has Marlene’s last name. We all know that you’re innocent, but the rest of the Wizarding World doesn’t. It was smart of Y/N not to tell anyone except for those who know the truth about you.”

Y/N watches Remus and Sirius look at each other as if they’re having a conversation without even saying anything. “If it makes you feel better,” she says softly, causing both men to look over at her. “I only told them Remus is my Godfather because he started teaching at Hogwarts. He ruined my mysterious reputation.”

Sirius laughs, breaking the awkward tension that had fallen over them. “It does make me feel a bit better, yes.”

“Hey now, I won’t have any of this. You two ganging up on me. Y/N you’re supposed to be on my side,” Remus teases. “Now hurry up and finish your breakfast, you need to get a start on your summer reading. You remember that reading, Sirius? The reading I told you to make sure she started last week?”

Sirius puts his hands up. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says innocently, sending Y/N a wink.

After breakfast Y/N does reluctantly head up to her bedroom to start on her summer reading.  And she has every intention of doing it. But as she settles into her fluffy bed and starts to read about some transfiguration method she can’t help but let her eyes close, dreams of what shenanigans she and her friends may get up to this summer floating through her mind.

-

“Five more minutes, Remus,” Y/N mumbles, batting away the finger that’s poking her in the cheek. When the poking persists she opens her eyes, a noise of surprise coming out of her mouth. “Fred? George?” she asks in surprise, suddenly sitting up. She starts to fix her hair, a light flush on her cheeks. “What in the hell are you two doing here?”

“We could ask you the same thing, Y/N,” Fred says, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“Yeah, imagine our surprise when we enter what we think will be our room for the summer,” George continues, taking a seat on the edge of the other side.

“And we see you, peacefully sleeping in a bed,” Fred says, leaning a bit closer to Y/N.

“In Sirius Black’s house,” they finish together.

“There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for that,” she starts, trying to figure out how to explain one of her deepest secrets to her best friends. They both look at her expectantly and she starts to twirl a piece of hair around her finger. “Sirius Black is my dad,” she mumbles.

Fred and George give her identical looks of disapproval. “Gonna have to speak up, love. We’re old men now, being 17 and all. We’re a bit hard of hearing,” Fred teases, lightly nudging her foot.

Y/N rolls her eyes, ignoring the feeling she has in her stomach from Fred’s pet name and touch. “Sirius is my dad. And not like how you guys like to tease me and say Remus is my dad. He’s my full on. Blood related. Dad.”

“Blimey, Y/N. You’ve been holding out on us. What are we going to find out next? Your mother is the Queen?” George teases with a laugh.

“You’re an idiot, you know who my mum is,” she says with a light laugh, leaning forward to punch George in the shoulder.

Fred wraps his hand around Y/N’s ankle and squeezes lightly, causing her to look over at him. “You have been holding out on us. How come?” he asks, trying to keep the same jokey tone his brother had to hide his genuine hurt.

“Because it’s pretty hard to make friends when the world thinks your dad is one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters,” she answers honestly. “That’s the reason why Remus changed my last name back to my mum’s when he got custody. My mum and her family, they died heroes, that’s the legacy that Remus wanted me to have.”

Fred squeezes her ankle again and Y/N tries to pretend that it doesn’t cause goosebumps to erupt up her leg. “But what about after? When you found out about what really happened?”

Y/N shrugs, looking away from Fred’s gaze. She knows that she could have told them the truth after she had learned it herself and she’s not really sure why she didn’t. “I dunno. You guys had just barely found out about Remus. It just seemed easier to keep it to myself.”

“So, it’s not because you secretly hate us and don’t really want to be our friend?” George asks with a grin.

Y/N grabs a pillow from behind her and throws it at his head. “You’re a moron, George.” Y/N fidgets, suddenly very aware that she is still in her pajamas. “Now shouldn’t you boys be doing something else? Like unpacking your things or bothering I dunno, anyone else in this house?”

George looks from Y/N to the place where Fred is still holding onto her ankle and gives her a glance that Y/N knows means he’ll be bringing this up to her later. She grabs another pillow and throws it at him. “Fine, fine, we’re leaving,” he laughs.

“Wow, someone is feeling feisty,” Fred teases. He squeezes her ankle one last time before he gets up and follows George out of her room. “Oh, by the way, nice Pj’s,” he teases, causing Y/N to throw her last pillow at him.

-

“Y/N dear, it’s lovely to see you!” Molly greets as Y/N enters the kitchen a bit later. Y/N smiles at her and accepts her warm hug. Having Molly in her life was certainly one of the best perks of being friends with Fred and George. Molly radiated warmth and was always willing to open her home and her heart to her children’s friends; something Y/N was always thankful for.

“Hi Molly. I’m so glad you’re here. Remus and Sirius are pretty awful cooks,” Y/N says with a laugh as she goes to sit down. She tries to take a seat next to George, but Fred grabs her arm and pulls her towards him instead. Y/N flicks Fred on the ear and takes a seat in between them, hoping to avoid more teasing remarks from George later on.

Sirius eyes the interaction between Y/N and Fred carefully, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Now while I can’t speak for Moony, I did just spend 12 years in Azkaban,” Sirius chides a moment later.

“I see why you always beg to spend the Holidays at the Burrow, Y/N,” Remus teases, choosing to ignore Sirius.

“Oh yeah it has everything to do with Mum’s cooking,” George pipes up, his tone a clear indication that Y/N’s yearning to spend time at the Burrow has little to do with Molly’s cooking.

Y/N hits George upside the head, causing Ginny and Fred to burst out in laughter. “Well I obviously don’t go there to spend more time with you, git”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough out of you lot,” Molly scolds lightly as trays of food start to fly onto the table. “Y/N is welcome at our home anytime no matter the reason.”

Y/N sticks her tongue out at George and reaches for a sandwich, her hand brushing Fred’s as he goes to grab the same one. “You take it,” she says quietly, letting her hand linger near his for a moment.

Fred grabs the sandwich and puts it on Y/N’s plate with a wink. “Nah you have that one, I’ll take this one.” Fred winks at her again as he takes the sandwich Ron was about to close his hand around.

“Hey!” Ron shouts in annoyance.

“Sorry ickle Ronniekins, gotta be faster than that,” Fred teases with a laugh.

Y/N laughs along with him, trying to ignore the warmth Fred’s hand gives off as it rests on her knee.

-

“I really am doing my reading, Remus, I promise!” Y/N shouts after someone knocks on her door.

Y/N had spent most of the day with Fred and George, getting caught up on the new item they’d started to develop in the few short weeks it’s been since the end of term. For a while she had just laid on Fred’s bed, watching him and George pour over their notes to try and work out the issues with what they called ‘extendable ears.’ Eventually she got up and went to find Ginny, mostly to avoid George’s stare after Fred’s hand wound around her ankle again. She avoided both boys until dinner, when the topic of her reading was brought up again. Unfortunately for Y/N, George ratted her out to Remus about her mid-morning nap, and he had made her promise that she’d head up to her room after dinner to read.

“Really? That’s quite boring,” Sirius says playfully as he pushes her door open.

Y/N laughs and throws the book she had been skimming onto the bed next to her. “Oh hey, Dad.”

Sirius closes the door behind him and comes to sit on the edge of her bed. “What’s with all this summer reading anyway? Last I checked Hogwarts didn’t set homework over the summer holidays.”

“It’s not official reading. Just something Remus makes me do during the break. Keep my mind fresh or something,” she explains with an eyeroll. “It has come in handy a couple times, but don’t tell him I said that.”

Sirius winks at her and pretends to zip his lips shut. “Your secret is safe with me.” Sirius pauses for a moment. “So, what’s going on with you and that Weasley boy?”

Y/N can feel her face start to heat up, and she starts to twirl her hair around her finger. “Fred and George are my best friends. Nothing more.”

“Your mother was one of my best friends back in our Hogwarts days, and you can clearly see how that worked out,” he jokes, reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Y/N says softly, trying to both avoid the current topic and find out more information. “Remus didn’t talk about you much, growing up. For obvious reasons,” she chuckles.

Sirius gives her a sad smile. “Your mother was a wild card. You never really knew what she was thinking unless she told you. She instigated quite a bit of the shenanigans James and I got into, just to see if we would actually go through with it.”

“And of course, you guys did,” Y/N laughs.

Sirius scoffs playfully. “Well duh. I was never one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it gave me the opportunity to show off for your mother. I so desperately wanted her attention; it was actually quite pathetic. James would tease me relentlessly for it, but he was no better. Lily didn’t give him the time of day until at least 6th year, no matter how hard he tried to impress her.”

“Well obviously you got her attention eventually,” Y/N says, gesturing towards herself. “I’m living proof.”

“That you are, little one,” Sirius smiles. “You remind me of her so much. Obviously not looks wise,” he adds with a laugh when Y/N gives him a look. Appearance wise there is no doubt that Sirius is Y/N’s dad, they have the same Grey eyes and dark wavy hair. “You have her spirit and her attitude. You have her ability to charm anyone in a matter of minutes. I’ve seen you use it on Remus, it’s quite uncanny really.”

Y/N blushes. Growing up Remus had told her story after story about her mother. Probably to make up for the lack of stories about her dad, but Y/N enjoyed it either way. He often told her how much she reminded him of her, but it sounds different coming from Sirius. Sirius had been in love with her mother, had known her deepest secrets and had even started a family with her. If Sirius could see Marlene in Y/N, then there’s no doubt in her mind that it’s true.

“So, just friends eh?” Sirius asks a moment later, playfully nudging Y/N’s leg.

Y/N blushes again for a different reason and nods. “Yes, just friends,” she insists.

“We’ll see about that,” Sirius says with a wink. He stands up then and looks down at her. “Now you better actually do some summer reading, before Remus forbids us from spending any time together.”

-

“How’s the summer reading going?” Fred says teasingly as he sneaks up behind Y/N.

Y/N quickly turns around and hits him on the chest lightly with her book. “You’re such an asshat. This house is creepy enough as it is, there’s no need for you to go sneaking up on people.”

Fred laughs as he jumps over the back of the sofa and sits next to Y/N, his arm resting on the piece of furniture just behind her head. “But that’s half the fun.”

“Where’s George?” she asks, turning her head to look around and make sure that he isn’t lurking around somewhere as well.

“Why? Am I not enough for you?” Fred asks with a pout.

Y/N rolls her eyes and digs her fingers into his side, tickling him slightly. “No. But I recall Molly tasked you two with getting some doxies out of the curtains in the study upstairs so if you’re slacking off he is too.”

“Me? Slacking off?” Fred asks astonishingly, grasping at his heart. “Y/N, you absolute monster! You’ve wounded me! I would never be slacking off!” He grins down at Y/N, causing her to roll her eyes again. “But to answer your question he’s upstairs recovering from a mishap with one of our nosebleed nougats.”

Y/N grimaces, a memory of Lee Jordan bleeding all over her Potions notes coming to mind. “Yikes. Still haven’t gotten them just right?” Fred shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “You think they’ll be ready? By the start of term?”

All Fred and George have talked about for years is opening up their own joke shop someday. In the past few years they’ve become closer than ever, having already developed some successful products with more in the works. Their only real roadblock has been funding, and Fred had shared with Y/N their plan to develop something called a Skiving Snackbox that they could sell to students to help with their startup costs.

“Oh yeah, there’s no doubt in my mind,” he responds confidently. “George and I are a force to be reckon with when we’ve got our mind on something and now that we’ve got our best girl with us for the whole summer,” Fred pauses so he can wink at Y/N and she hopes that the immediate blush that appears on her cheeks isn’t noticeable. “We’ll definitely get all the kinks worked out in time.”

Fred’s arm has fallen from its’ original resting place to Y/N’s shoulder, and his fingers have started to play with her hair. She rests her head on Fred’s shoulder, her fingers fiddling with the pages of her book. Fred’s fingers tug on her hair lightly, causing Y/N to look up at him. “What’s on your mind, Y/N?” he asks softly.

Y/N shrugs. “Just thinking about next year. We’re gonna be in our last year of school in a couple of months and I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.” During her OWL year Y/N had told McGonagall that she wanted to work in the Care of Magical Creatures department at the Ministry, but she isn’t quite sure that’s exactly what she wants. “You and George have already figured everything out and I’m just kinda stuck.”

Fred scoffs. “We have far from figured everything out, Y/N. But I’m glad it appears that way,” he chuckles. “And who cares if you don’t have everything figured out yet? You’re not even 17 yet. Frankly I think it’s rubbish that we’re expected to have our lives figured out when we’re this age.” Fred bites his lip. “If it really bothers you that much, then just come work at the joke shop with George and I.”

“What?” Y/N asks in surprise, trying to hide her excitement at his casual remark. “You’d really want me to work with you? The both of you. You and George,” she says quickly, looking away from Fred to hide her embarrassment.

“Yeah, ‘course, Y/N,” Fred says with a laugh. “You’re my best friend, why wouldn’t I want you to?”

“So, I’m your best friend, hm? Can’t wait to tell Lee you said that,” she teases, trying to hide her disappointment.

“Well, don’t you too look cozy?” George asks suddenly, causing Y/N and Fred to jump apart.

Y/N turns around so she can glare at George before she throws her book at him. “Blimey you’re a menace.”

George laughs and comes over to Y/N and Fred, forcing them apart so he can sit in between them. “Hey, that’s not very nice,” George says, giving Y/N a look when she digs her elbow into his ribs.

“You couldn’t have sat in any of the other chairs in this room?” Fred groans, moving over to give George room.

“I could have,” George says playfully. “But I wanted to sit here.” George grins wickedly at Fred. “Is that a problem, dear brother of mine? That I wanted to sit next to Y/N?”

“Not at all,” Fred says as he suddenly stands up. “We should probably get to that stuff Mum wanted us to do anyway.” Fred gives George a look and starts to head towards the door. “Enjoy you’re reading, Y/N,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

Y/N glares at George before digging her fingers into his ribs, causing him to yelp. “Ow! What was that for?” he asks, rubbing his side.

“You know exactly what that was for, git. You always have to go and make things weird,” Y/N huffs, crossing her arms.

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, Y/N,” George says with an eye roll. “And I wasn’t making things weird, I was simply trying to facilitate a conversation that you and my brother are both too stubborn to have on your own.”

“And what conversation might that be?” Y/N asks as she swallows thickly, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t be daft,” George drawls. “You’re both stupid in love with each other, so just admit it and make out so we all can move on. It’s getting ridiculous.”

Y/N blushes and digs her fingers into George’s ribs again to hide her nerves. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, George. Fred is my best friend, just like you and Lee.”

“Oh yeah, because Lee and I are always looking for an excuse to touch you, my bad,” George rolls his eyes. “Wait, that was Fred who kept grabbing your ankle yesterday, silly me.” George hits himself on the forehead jokingly. “And it definitely wasn’t Fred who just left his brother up in bed after he nearly bled to death so he could come cuddle you. Definitely not. Oh, wait.”

“Now who’s being a drama queen,” Y/N teases lightly as she begins to twirl a piece of hair around her index finger. “Friends can cuddle with each other, it’s not a big deal,” she mumbles.

“You’re right it is normal, Harry, Ron and Hermione cuddle all the time,” George responds, nudging Y/N.

Y/N scoffs at George. “Just give it a rest, George. If I did feel something more than friendship with Fred I would never act on it. Fred isn’t shy about anything, if he wanted to be more than friends he would have said something by now. So, we are clearly meant to be nothing more than friends. Which I’m fine with,” she adds, glaring at George.  “Now go help your brother with that doxy infestation before Molly finds you here and sets off that awful portrait of my grandmother again.”

-

“Finally,” Fred groans when George joins him up in the third-floor study. “Mum’s gonna be here any minute to check up on our progress and getting rid of these doxies is a two-person job.”

George rolls his eyes and takes the spray bottle Fred practically shoves into his chest. “What’s got you in a mood? Upset that I interrupted your snuggle time with Y/N?” he jokes.

“No,” Fred grumbles. When George gives him his signature ‘cut the crap’ look Fred flips him off. “We were just sitting there, talking like two friends do. You’re the one that made it weird.”

George rolls his eyes. “Have you forgotten that we’re twins? And that I can practically read your mind?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fred asks as he grabs his wand. He motions for George to get into place as he gets ready to cast the spell that will make the doxies fly at them. When George nods that he’s ready, Fred waves his wand and a flurry of doxies heads towards them.

“You know exactly what it means,” George grunts as he sprays the immobilizing potion at the doxies. When Fred doesn’t say anything as he starts to throw the stunned doxies in a bucket, George continues. “You very clearly have feeling for Y/N that expand beyond friendship.”

Fred glares at his brother and throws a doxie in the bucket a little too hard. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Y/N is my friend. My best friend, just like how she’s your best friend, git. Or are you claiming to be in love with her as well?”

“If she’s only your best friend then why did it bother you when I sat in between you two just now, hm?” Fred looks away from George, urging the younger twin to continue. “And what about the other day at lunch? She was going to sit next to me, and you pulled her towards you. Why? And what about that thing with the ankle? Hm? What was that all about?”

Fred turns away from George, trying to hide his blush. “Friends can be affectionate with each other, George, “ he insists. “Just because you don’t feel the need to be affectionate with Y/N doesn’t mean that I have non-platonic feelings for her because I do.”

“Oh really?” George asks curiously. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I started to show more affection for Y/N then? The same way you do?”

“Not at all,” Fred responds through gritted teeth. He stomps over to George and shoves the bucket into his stomach. “Now finish up with this, I’m going to go revamp our nougat recipe so we can avoid another bleed out.”

George smirks as Fred’s back as he storms out, a plan forming in his head.

-

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Y/N whispers into George’s ear a few days later during breakfast.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Y/N,” George responds with a wink.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him. “You’re up to something, I know it.”

Ever since their conversation in the lounge, George has been acting weird. He’s been insisting that she sit next to him at meals, when she hangs out with Fred and George in their room he pulls her down onto his bed and the other day he even went as far as to hold her hand while they watched Ginny and Ron play Wizard’s Chess.

“I’m just being a good friend, Y/N. Friends can be affectionate towards each other, can’t they, Fred?” George asks, suddenly turning towards his twin.

Fred glares at George. “Mhm. Of course they can.”

George then looks back at Y/N looking far too pleased with himself. “See, Y/N? I’m just doing what normal friends do.”

“Well knock it off,” she scolds lightly. “It’s weird.”

“Oh, so it’s weird when I do it, but when Fred does it, it’s a normal part of friendship,” George muses. “Interesting.”

Y/N scoffs and stands up from the table. “I’m going to go read.” She gives one last look at George before she exits the kitchen and heads upstairs.

-

“Can I come in?” Fred asks softly, leaning against the entrance to Y/N’s room. He planned on giving her some space after what went down at breakfast, but when she didn’t come down for lunch Fred decided to seek her out.

Y/N is sitting on her bed leaning up against the headboard with a book on her lap. “Yeah, sure,” she responds, not even looking up at Fred.

Fred sighs and comes to sit down next to Y/N. He leaves a small gap in between them and resists his urge to put his arm around her. “What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you cross at George.”

“He’s just being an idiot,” she says, slamming her book shut and tossing it aside. “He’s taking the mickey out of me after a conversation we had the other day.”

Fred hums, nudging Y/N’s foot with his. “That would explain his odd behavior over the last few days. He’s been keeping you all to himself, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

Y/N blushes and punches his thigh lightly. “You know I’m just across the hall from you, right? You could have come in at any time to see me.”

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles. Fred bites his lip. “Must have been some conversation to get you both so worked up.”

“It was stupid honestly,” Y/N says with a shrug, trying to seem casual. “I just let him get to me and I shouldn’t have.”

“Yea, I got a bit stroppy at him the other day as well. That’s why he’s so quiet, he’s figuring out how to get in your head,” Fred muses with a laugh. “You’re alright though, yeah?”

Y/N nods, bumping their shoulders together. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Good, now I won’t feel bad about doing this.”

Before Y/N can ask what Fred’s talking about, she’s being smacked in the head by a pillow. “Oh, it is on, Weasley!” she shouts, grabbing her own pillow.

They spend a few minutes hitting at each other, both of them laughing like crazy. Y/N manages to knock Fred’s pillow out of his hands as she lands a hit to his chest and Fred’s hands immediately fly to her sides and he starts to tickle her as a distraction. As she tries to wiggle away from him, Fred takes one hand away and knocks her own pillow to the ground.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Y/N giggles, trying to catch her breath. Fred is hovering over her, a cheeky grin on his face. He brings a hand up to brush her hair out of her face, and Y/N tries to ignore the tingles that roll down her spine at his delicate touch. She’s suddenly very aware of Fred’s weight on top of her and a pink blush starts to creep up her neck.

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Ginny shouts, a laugh falling from her lips when Fred nearly falls off of Y/N’s bed as he tries to get up.

“What, Gin?” Fred runs a hand through his hair, trying to act casual.

“Mum needs help getting rid of some creature stuck under a bed upstairs, if you’re not too busy here,” she chuckles, gesturing towards Y/N.

Fred nods and shoots a grin at Y/N. “See ya later.” Fred heads out of her room, shoving Ginny as he goes.

-

“Damn,” Y/N mutters to herself. She was trying to tiptoe down into the kitchen to grab a snack before dinner, but the door to the stairwell is shut tightly. “Stupid Order.” She’s about to turn around and head back upstairs, when she hears some noise coming from the sitting room.

“Are you two playing Wizard’s Chess?” she asks in surprise. When she first entered the sitting room, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but Y/N certainly didn’t think it would be Fred and George sitting on either side of the coffee table, with Ron’s Wizard Chess board between them.

George rolls his eyes as one of his pieces moves across the board. “Don’t act so shocked, Y/N. Contrary to popular belief Fred and I in fact have brains and we use them from time to time.”

“I’m not shocked because you’re doing something that involves thinking,” she chides as she takes a seat on the sofa. “I’m shocked because you’re doing something quiet and innocent.” Fred leans back against Y/N’s legs, and his left hand winds around her left ankle. “Figured you two were up in your room working on those extendible ears again.”

Fred huffs as one of his pieces gets destroyed by one of George’s. “We were, ‘til Mum walked in on us and confiscated it. She’s going to Kings Cross after dinner to pick up Hermione, so we’re just killing time until we can go and nick it back.”

“And your nosebleed nougats? You figured that one out?” Y/N asks, starting to run her hands through Fred’s hair.

“Yup, turns out we weren’t using enough Billywig Sting Slime in the antidote candy, so it wasn’t strong enough to stop the bleeding,” George responds, not even bothering to look up at her.

Y/N groans. “You guys are boring. I’m going back to my room.” She moves to stand up, but Fred tightens his grip on her ankle.

“No,” he coos. “Stay, please.” Fred tilts his head back so he can pout up at Y/N. “We’ll be more entertaining, I promise.”

“Yeah, this game is over anyway,” George says with a grin. “Checkmate.”

Fred groans as his final piece falls. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Yeah sure you will,” George laughs. “Moving on to more exciting things, someone’s birthday is coming up.”

“That’s right! In just a few weeks little Y/N will finally be the big 17,” Fred teases, squeezing her ankle again.

Y/N kicks at him lightly. “Oh, shove off, I’m only a few months younger than you lot.”

“But we’re still older than you, and that’s what matters,” George teases. “So, what do you wanna do for your birthday?”

Y/N shrugs, she honestly hadn’t even thought about it. Her and Remus never really made a big deal about her birthday. They’d pick up some takeout from a muggle restaurant and later in the evening they’d have cake and she’d open up her presents. It was never anything special, and Y/N was fine with that.

“Just figured we’d do the usual, if I’m honest. Dinner, cake, some presents. Nothing crazy,” she responds a moment later.

Fred frowns up at her. “That’s it?”

“Figured you’d do something big; a young witch only turns 17 once ya know,” George says.

Y/N nods. “Yeah, that’s what I always do. Why would this year be any different?”

“I don’t know, maybe because your two best friends in the whole world are here to celebrate it with you?,” Fred teases.

“And your father is too,” Sirius says, causing all three of them to turn and look at him.

“Blimey dad, you scared me. How long have you been standing there?”

Sirius smiles at Y/N and steps farther into the room, his forearms resting on the back of the sofa. “Just a few minutes, the Order meeting just got out.”

Y/N can hear shuffling as people head past the sitting room towards the entrance of Grimmauld Place. “Anything exciting happening?” she asks hopefully.

Despite the fact that Fred and George have already reached adulthood in the Wizarding World and Y/N’s 17thbirthday was only a few weeks away, none of them had been allowed to join the order or attend meetings. Y/N had begged Remus to let her join not too long after summer started, and he had firmly put his foot down. Fred and George had managed to get their extendible ears up and running for them to eavesdrop on the meetings, but everything said ended up translated into Spanish.

“You know as much as I would like to share that information with all of you,” Sirius says slowly, looking from Y/N to the twins. “I can’t. For one it is classified information per Dumbledore’s orders,” Sirius rolls his eyes. “And two, your mother will have my head and mount it on the wall if I say anything to you boys.”

Y/N groans. “This is such bullshit. We’re old enough to be considered adults and yet we’re not allowed to make decisions for ourselves.”

“Why haven’t you joined the order?” Fred asks, squeezing Y/N’s ankle so she’ll look down at him. “Obviously George and I can’t because of Mum but why haven’t you? Sirius is clearly fine with it.”

“Because Remus said no,” she explains with an eyeroll, as if the answer is obvious. Y/N can hear Sirius shift uncomfortably behind her.

“And? Sirius is your dad. That’s got to count for something,” George points out.

Y/N frowns, she honestly hadn’t even thought about that. Sirius is her dad, and Remus may have been the one who raised her, but he’s not her dad. Y/N loved growing up with Remus, and she’s thankful that he sacrificed so much of his life so that she could be raised by someone who loved her and cared about her wellbeing. But Sirius is free from Azkaban now and they’re living under the same roof. Why shouldn’t Sirius be the one making her decisions?

“Makes sense to me,” Sirius says. “So, Y/N, you have my blessing. If you want to join the Order once you turn 17, then do it. You’re right. In the eyes of the ministry you become an adult in a few weeks, and you should be the one making your decisions.”

Y/N smiles up at her dad. “Guess this birthday will be a bit different than normal.”

-

“So, I’ve been trying to figure out what to get you for your birthday,” Fred muses as he comes to sit on the edge of Y/N’s bed.

Y/N resists her urge to pull him closer, instead choosing to nudge his side with her foot in the hopes that he’ll grab her ankle again. As weird of a gesture it might be, Y/N actually really enjoys it. “Is that why I’ve barely seen you? Too busy thinking?” she teases, a hint of seriousness in her voice.

Once Hermione arrived at Grimmauld Place it seemed like Molly was kicked into overdrive. She had them working like crazy to get the house cleaned and free of the magical pests that had taken residence in the empty house. Any free time they had Fred and George spent locked up in their room, meaning Y/N has only seen them at meals for the past week.

“Aw, did you miss me?” he asks playfully, his hand winding around her ankle. “George and I have just been busy is all. We’ve finally got the extendible ears transmitting in English, and we managed to get the Fainting Fancies to taste like caramel instead of ear wax.”

“That’s good, I guess,” she mumbles.

Fred squeezes her ankle lightly. “Oh, come on don’t be like that. You’re still my best girl.”

“You could have at least invited me to join,” Y/N says, trying to keep from smiling at their contact.

“Hey, I wanted to invite you in,” Fred says defensively. “But George kept spouting about how I get distracted when you help us, and we never end up getting anything done so he wouldn’t let me.” Fred is blushing like crazy and Y/N can’t help but smile.

“I’m just messing with you,” she chuckles, her stomach full of butterflies. “So, you’ve been thinking about what to get me, hm? Any ideas?”

“Oh loads,” Fred says, his thumb starting to rub circles on her ankle. “But nothing seems quite right.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just get me what you do every year. A card that explodes and scares the shit out of me and a chocolate frog.”

Fred shakes his head. “No, it needs to be something, special. Your birthday gift to me this year was special, so I need to do something even better.”

“It wasn’t that big of a deal,” Y/N says softly, looking away from Fred. Fred and George had taken advantage of the Triwizard Tournament and had spent the days leading up to each task taking bets and sacking away the money they made for their shop. Y/N knew that Fred wouldn’t straight up take any money from her, so she had gifted him a Galleon on his birthday, insisting that it was an investment in what she knew would be a successful business.

“Yes, it was,” he insists, pinching her ankle so she’ll look up at him. “Most everyone thinks we’re mental for putting everything we have into something that may never be successful, except for you. You’ve always believed in George and I, since the first prank we ever pulled. So yeah, maybe it was just a Galleon, but it was the meaning behind it that made it special.”

“Okay, no need to be so mushy,” she teases, trying to ignore the feeling Fred’s words give her. Fred is your friend she reminds herself. It’s normal for friends to say that kind of stuff to each other. And it’s normal to feel lightheaded when they do.

Fred laughs. “Fine, don’t take my compliment. I’m still going to do something special for your birthday. Whether you think you deserve it or not.” Fred squeezes her ankle again before standing up. “Alright I’ve gotta get back to George, I was only supposed to be going to the toilet.”

Y/N lays back against her pillows as Fred leaves her room, a dopey smile on her face as she tries to deny the fact that George may have been right all along.

-

Y/N watches as Fred shuffles the stack of cards, looking far too pleased with himself. Since their conversation in her room the other night, Fred has been making more of an effort to spend time with Y/N. They’ve been playing exploding snap with Ron and George for the past 45 minutes, and Fred has somehow managed to win every game.

“Take a picture, Y/N, it’ll last longer,” Fred teases, bringing Y/N out of her thoughts.

“Don’t know why anyone would want a picture of your ugly mug,” Ron pipes up, causing Y/N to laugh.

Fred hits Ron upside the head. “I don’t see anyone fawning over you either, git. Y/N’s been staring for a good five minutes, clearly she’s entranced by my beauty.”

“Oh, in your dreams, Weasley. I’m keeping an eye on you, there’s no way you’ve been winning by pure luck. You’re up to something and I’m going to figure it out,” she says, sticking her tongue out at him.

Fred winks at her. “Sure sure, whatever you say, dear.”

“Just deal the damn cards,” George groans, clearly annoyed by their antics. “Flirt with each other later.”

Y/N watches as Fred deals the cards to them all, trying to detect any signs of deception. She frowns when nothing appears to be out of order. They play normally for a few minutes, but Y/N’s suspicion that Fred is cheating returns as he quickly pulls ahead.

“How? How are you doing it?” Y/N asks 20 minutes later as Fred celebrates another win.

“I told you, I’m not cheating. It’s okay to be jealous of my success, Y/N. You’ll get better the more you play,” Fred teases with a wink.

Y/N groans. When Fred goes to grab the cards to shuffle again, Y/N slaps her hand on top of them. “If you’re not cheating then you won’t mind if I shuffle this time,” she smirks. Fred sputters as he tries to think of a reason why Y/N shouldn’t shuffle. “I knew it! You’re charming the cards aren’t you?”

“No, of course not,” Fred says quickly, a sheepish smile on his face.

“I knew it!” Y/N shouts. “You’re a dead man, Fred Weasley!”

Fred gets up and runs around the room, Y/N following close behind him. Y/N manages to catch up and she jumps on his back, Fred’s hands automatically gripping her thighs, so she doesn’t fall.

“Do I even want to know?” Hermione asks as she steps into the room.

Fred has thrown Y/N onto the couch and is tickling her mercilessly, while George and Ron look on in disgust.

George shakes his head. “No, probably not.”

-

“There’s the birthday girl,” Sirius says with a smile as Y/N enters the kitchen. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, dad,” Y/N says as Sirius envelops her in a hug.

She takes a seat next to Fred when they part, a blush forming on her cheeks when he puts his arm around her and pulls her into his side. “Good morning to you too, doofus,” she teases, piling some pancakes on her plate.

“How does it feel to be an old woman?” Fred teases, causing George to laugh.

“I can’t believe our little Y/N is already so grown up,” George says playfully, pretending to wipe away a tear.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she drowns her pancakes in syrup. “You’re both insufferable, do you know that?”

Remus enters the kitchen then, a large smile on his face. “Didn’t expect to see you up so early.” He pauses behind Y/N to ruffle her hair and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy birthday, Y/N.”

“Thanks Remus,” she says, flicking Fred in the ear as he laughs.

“I can’t believe you’re 17 already. Seems like just yesterday your mother was laying on the beach refusing to believe she was in labor,” Sirius muses with a smile as Remus sits down.

Remus chuckles. “I remember that. I think you sent me 15 owls in the span of 45 minutes.”

“Well I was in full on panic mode, Moony. I thought Marlene was going to give birth right in the sand!”

Y/N feels like her cheeks are on fire as Fred and George snicker to themselves. “Okay, can we please talk about something that isn’t my birth? Literally anything else I’m begging.”

“Potty training, then? Because boy do I have some stories about that,” Remus teases, a laugh falling from his lips as Y/N chucks a grape at his head. “I’m only joking, no need to start a food fight.”

The kitchen starts to fill up then as everyone starts to wake up, and Y/N is thankful that all of the heat is off of her. Y/N looks around as everyone takes a seat at the table and starts to each, idle conversations popping up all around. Y/N can’t remember a time when she felt this content. Nearly all the people she cares about are sitting around the same table, it’s like every wish she’s ever made on a birthday cake has come true.

“So, Y/N, now that you’re 17 are you going to join the Order?” Ginny asks excitedly.

Before Y/N has a chance to respond Remus chuckles. “Of course not, she’s still in school. That’s the rule, no underage wizards and no wizards that are still in school.”

“That’s not the Order’s rule,” Y/N points out as she frowns. “That’s Molly’s rule for Fred and George. I no longer have the trace and I can do magic outside of school. Therefore, I’m joining the Order.”

Remus gives her a look. “Even so we talked about this at the beginning of summer. I said no, end of story.”

Y/N puts her fork down. “No, not end of story. I was 16 at the beginning of summer, now I’m 17. I can make my own choices. And besides, Sirius said it was okay.”

“Sirius’ opinion has no bearing on the matter. I told you that you’re too young to join the Order and that’s final,” Remus scolds.

“And why does my opinion have no bearing, Remus?” Sirius asks firmly. “Last I checked Y/N is my daughter, not yours.”

The air in the room is tense, and everyone looks around, trying not to pay too much attention to the exchange between Sirius and Remus.

“She might as well be. It’s not like I haven’t sacrificed the past 15 years of my life to raise her or anything since you got yourself tossed in Azkaban,” Remus responds coldly.

Y/N stands up suddenly and everyone turns to look at her. “Sorry that I was such a burden on your life, Remus. No need to worry, I’m 17 now and I can take care of myself. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you any longer.”

With that Y/N turns on her heel and stomps out of the kitchen, a few stray tears streaming down her face.

-

“Go away,” Y/N shouts at whoever is knocking at her door. She’s lying on her side in bed, her body curled around a pillow that she’s hugging to her chest.

“Please let me in, Y/N,” Fred pleads.

Y/N sits up and wipes away the few stray tears still running down her cheeks. With a wave of her wand the door unlocks. “Fine, come in.”

Fred pushes the door open and slowly comes in, one hand behind his back. He bites his lip as shuts the door behind him, his eyes focused on Y/N. “Are you alright?” he asks softly as he takes a seat down next to her.

“Do I look alright?” she asks, gesturing towards her disheveled appearance.

Fred smiles at her. “I dunno, you look just as beautiful as you always do”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” she says lamely, lightly shoving Fred’s shoulder.

“As if,” Fred scoffs. “You always look beautiful to me, Y/N. Even after you dove headfirst into that snowbank while sledding 2nd year.”

Y/N glares at Fred, but she can’t help but smile as well. “Okay fine, I’m smiling. Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Fred teases with a wink. He pauses, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand with his free one. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice serious. “That was, something back there.”

Y/N shrugs, squeezing Fred’s hand. “I always forget how young Remus was when I fell into his lap. I mean he was only 4 years older than we are now and suddenly he was responsible for a toddler than wasn’t even his. I know he gave up a lot to take care of me but hearing him say it like that,” Y/N’s voice cracks as tears well up in her eyes again. “It makes me feel, I dunno, bad. Like a burden.”

“Hey, now, I’ll have none of that,” he says softly, wiping away the few tears that stream down her cheeks. “First of all, you have nothing to feel bad about. It’s not your fault that Remus chose to bring you up. And second of all, honestly, love I don’t think he meant a word of what he said. He looked so awful after you left, he was really broken up about it.”

Y/N sniffles. “Really?” When Fred nods she takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have pushed it either. I was kind of being a brat,” she admits, sticking her tongue out at Fred when he nods in agreement. “I should go apologize.”

Y/N moves to get up, but Fred tightens his grip on her hand. “Wait, not yet.”

“What now?” Y/N groans, squeezing his hand back to let him know she’s only kidding.

“I know it’s a little too early for presents but,” he says as his other hands comes from behind his back. There’s a medium sized black box in his hand, with a big red bow right in the middle. “I can’t wait any longer to give it to you and I figured it’d make you feel better.”

“Fred,” Y/N gasps, a pink blush appearing on her cheeks to match the one on Fred’s. “I told you just to get me a chocolate frog.”

“And I told you I was going to get you something special,” he responds cheekily. He pushes the box into her hand. “Open it.”

Y/N releases Fred hand so she can open the box, her eyes not leaving his. When Fred gives her a nod of encouragement she looks down at the box, a small gasp leaving her lips. “Oh Fred.”

Inside the box is a delicate silver chain, with a silver charm in the shape of an F hanging from it. Y/N’s fingers ghost over the chain lightly, trying to find the right words to express how much she loves it. Emotions are bubbling up in her mouth, threatening to spill out everywhere and her heart is fluttering in her chest.

“Do you like it?” Fred asks nervously.

“Like it?” Y/N asks as she looks back up at Fred. “I love it Fred, it’s gorgeous. It was worth all the thinking you put into it, it’s perfect.”

Fred smiles at Y/N. “Well I settled on this particular piece of jewelry because I was able to get a matching one pretty easily.” Y/N gives Fred a look of confusion, and he chuckles as he reaches a hand into the collar of his shirt. He pulls out a necklace that looks identical to the one in Y/N’s hand, but the charm that hangs off of it is the first letter of her name.

“I charmed them, so when you touch the F on your necklace, the letter on mine warms up and when I touch the letter on mine, the F on yours does the same. That way whenever I’m thinking of you or you’re thinking of me, we can touch our charms and let the other know,” he explains softly.

“Fred that,” Y/N swallows thickly. “That is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Fred clears his throat and grabs Y/N’s hand again. “It’s looking more and more like George and I aren’t going to be completing our final year at Hogwarts.” Y/N goes to say something, but Fred puts a hand up to stop her. “With the money that we made last year and the money that Harry gave us from the Triwizard tournament we were able to rent out a place in Diagon Alley. We’re still gonna start the year, it’ll give us time to test our products and start to build up a customer base, but we already decided that we’re not going to finish the year.”

Fred releases Y/N’s hand so he can cup her cheek instead. “And I can’t leave you there at Hogwarts without there being some way for me to tell you when I’m thinking of you. Because Y/N you are constantly on my mind. You are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep at night. You’re my everything. You’re my voice of reason, you’re my source of comfort, you’re my best friend and,” Fred pauses, taking a deep breath. “And you’re the love of my life.”

“Fred,” Y/N breaths.

Y/N is so overwhelmed with emotion that she can’t find the words to express everything that Fred means to her, so she does the next best thing. Y/N tentatively leans forward and lightly brushes her lips against Fred’s. Taking the hint, Fred presses their lips together in a heated kiss. Their lips move together softly, and when Fred pulls away Y/N feels lightheaded.

“I love you,” she whispers softly, kissing Fred again briefly. “At some point you became so much more than my best friend and I tried to deny it for so long, in case you didn’t feel the same. But Merlin, Fred. I am stupid, stupid in love with you.”

Fred chuckles and presses a peck to Y/N’s lips. “Thank Merlin George was right, otherwise I would have just mucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Fred pauses, taking the necklace out of its’ box. “Just don’t tell him I said that.”

“And give him the satisfaction of being right? Never,” she says with a chuckle. Y/N moves her hair out of the way so Fred can clasp the necklace around her neck. The chain is cold, and it sends a shiver down her spine. “Well, let’s see if it works then.”

“Do you doubt my abilities?” Fred teases.

As Fred grabs a hold the charm on his necklace, the F on Y/N’s starts to warm up, causing goosebumps to pop up on her chest. “Not in the slightest,” she assures, grabbing a hold of the F. Fred leans forward and presses their lips together again, both of them still desperately dripping their charms.

“To be honest with you,” George says from the doorway, looking up at Remus and Sirius. “I don’t think she’s thinking about what happened at breakfast.

Y/N and Fred laugh into each other’s mouths as Y/N fumbles around for her wand. With a wave the door slams shut. “Oh yea, there are definitely perks to being 17,” she says, pulling away from Fred’s mouth. When Fred gives her a questioning look she waves her wand again.

“What did you just cast?” he asks, allowing Y/N to pull him on top of her as she lays back on her bed.

She grins up at him, her hands gripping his neck. “A silencing charm.”

Fred presses their lips together hotly, thinking of all the non-platonic things he wants to do to Y/N.

[the-pale-goddess]

Ethan & Tiffany: Endgame (HC)

A quick reminder: I've rejected canon Third Year completely, so mind that none of OHTY bs happens in my E&T canon timeline.

A/N: I tried my best to write every major fact down - hopefully the final product isn’t too messy or too boring, I’m new to the headcanon business and this isn’t even written in the headcanon form because I’m a rebel lol

Huge thanks to the lovely Anon who requested this HC and every single one of you still interested in E&T’s shenanigans, your support is the greatest gift I could ever receive! If you have some more specific questions about these two, feel free to hit my askbox anytime 💕

Now let’s check what’s in store for Tiffany and Ethan!

Children

Neither of them planned children in their lives; they were perfectly comfortable in the relationship they had—living together, advancing their glittering careers while supporting each other, slaying the game as the ultimate power couple.

But life has its ways, of course, and a week prior to their third anniversary Tiffany found out she was pregnant. The news sparked blind panic in the 30-year-old doctor; she thought her whole world fell like dominoes. Tiffany wouldn't intentionally start a family: she'd just started turning her dreams and plans into reality and she didn't even consider herself fit to be a mother (even though deep down she craved it).

She'd spent an entire week full of doubts, listing all her options, before she finally shared the news with Ethan. His reaction was surprisingly calm, considering his stance on having children. Based on the evidence gathered throughout the week, he'd already suspected pregnancy and did some calculations on his own.

They both agreed it wasn’t the best time—their busy schedules didn’t allow them to even reconsider the concept of starting a family. Nevertheless, the baby was coming, and their hearts filled with strange excitement. Having a baby on board seemed surreal at first, but after the dust had settled they felt oddly content about the unforseen circumstances.

E&T's world turned upside down the second their son was born. Raising a child happened to be the greatest challenge these two brilliant doctors had encountered. Luckily, they both relish a good challenge. Guided by the unexpected overflow of affection, they quickly settled into the alien routine of parenthood.

Nathaniel Jonah (also known as NJ, Nate) turned out to be a perfect blend of his parents' most prominent features & traits: Ethan's ocean eyes and stubbornness mixed with Tiffany's smile and warm heart.

Three years later, another surprise awaited. The most shocking thing about the second pregnancy was that it didn't happen sooner (they'd been exceptionally careless). Nicolette „Letty”, a spitting image of her mother, stole Ethan's heart from the start, bringing even more joy to their controlled chaos.

The fancy condo was too small for a family of four, so The Ramdams were forced to find a new home. They moved to a dreamy house in the Boston suburbs merely a month before their daughter was born.

The third one (for a change) received a proper invitation to this world. Tiffany wasn't the biggest fan of the idea of having another baby, but her window was closing (she was 38) and Ethan's palpable excitement tipped the scales. Everyone jokes Aine must be adopted because she's the most unproblematic angel, unlike her parents.

The family wouldn't be full without pets: Nettie (British Shorthair cat) & Hopper (English bulldog).

Marriage

Marriage was never on their agenda. Neither of them felt the need to make their relationship formal, it wouldn't change anything between them—they were already acting like a married couple. Both Tiffany and Ethan think there are more valuable symbols of love than some paper signed in the presence of everyone they know. Partnership they were in seemed like the most comfortable and obvious choice.

The topic resurfaced with the pregnancy news. Our good guy Ethan, our Mr Must-Do-What’s-Right, proposed to Tiffany on their third anniversary dinner, right after they discovered they were expecting. He did it because it made sense. Because it was convenient. Because it was a decent thing to do.

But guess what...Tiffany rejected the proposal. She didn’t want to marry out of obligation. If they were really going to jump into marriage, she wanted it to matter. Ethan understood her point of view, though it didn't stop him from jokingly annoying her on every given occasion that she rejected him.

He waited two years before popping the question again. This time she said yes.

Dr. Grumpsey was willing to agree on a lavish wedding if Tiffany would insist. Lucky for him, his woman hates big, conventional weddings and all that unnecessary attention around the reception. They're both very private people, so they planned the wedding they were actually excited about.

They eloped to Miami where it all started, exchanging vows to the accompaniment of the ocean waves, with little NJ by their side. The wedding reception was just three people enjoying their day at the beach.

As you may suspect, their friends and family flew into a rage when they found out the wedding took place behind their backs. Jackie's death threats were particularly disturbing, so E&T decided to throw an afterparty for their loved ones only.

Career

Tiffany saw her future in diagnostics and followed that path, balancing her personal goals with striving for improvement in patient care. The word about her accomplishments with one of the best diagnostics teams spread fast; shortly after her challenging yet successful residency, Doctor Addams quickly proved to be one of the most valuable and respected diagnosticians—not only at Edenbrook, but also statewide, and later nationwide. She cracked some of the toughest, most hopeless cases, saving lives of many patients considered lost causes.

During her first pregnancy, her career was already on high speed and the situation made her even more determined to keep it that way. She didn't want to sacrifice her newly established position and Ethan did everything he could to support her and her career development.

She remained a vital part of Edenbrook's Diagnostics Team under Ethan's leadership for a few years. Their minds combined gave spectacular results and above it all they truly enjoyed working together. However, when Letty was born sharing responsibilities at home and managing the time got significantly harder. With minimal hesitation, Ethan decided it was his cue to leave.

He'd been thinking about the change for much longer than he was willing to admit: over the years he'd accomplished everything he could dream of and Edenbrook had become more of a duty than a challenge. So he quit, leaving the team in the most capable hands of Doctor Addams-Ramsey.

For a year and a half The Ethan Ramsey was a stay-at-home dad, juggling family, research for his second book and setting up his clinic with none other than Tobias Carrick.

Ethan wasn't 100% convinced if starting the practice with Tobias would be a wise move, but the clinic exceeded his expectations. Apart from the great sense of accomplishment, he finally gained full independence at work. And there were no bloody interns to babysit anymore.

When little Ramdams got older, he approached Tiffany with a job offer; the best diagnostician in the country was the last missing link in his clinic. She let it marinate for a few years and accepted the offer at the launch of her second book, soon after Letty's 18th birthday.

____

If there’s a typo or a mistake somewhere...No, there isn’t kgjdkgjdk

Thanks for reading 🥰 I have a few exciting fics in the making (both AUs & canon) and I hope I’ll be able to finish them soon!

[lucysometimeswrites]

SUBMISSION: Prompt 1,20,29 from the Disney song list with Harry Holland ( I’m interested to see how this goes)

DUDE i am so sorry this took SOOOOO long but i hadn't had time for it and i didn't wanna just give you something rushed so anyway i hope you like it!

1. Please don’t shut me out again, please don’t slam the door.

20. Go on and kiss the girl.

29. Barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly

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

“God, that’s disgusting”, you grimaced at the newly-formed couple who was making out in the living room. The Holland’s living room, to be precise. Harry and you had been friends for a while, close enough to be invited to get-togethers and random drinking evenings. This was one of those evenings, where everyone wanted to unwind and have a good laugh to inaugurate the weekend, and Harry offered the perfect way to do that.

I mean, free booze, the guy you liked, and good music? How could you say no?

You and Harry had hit it off quite quickly after first meeting a few years ago, through mutual friends. You had a lot of similar interests, same sort of humour, and even in the things you thought differently on, you learned to like for the other. He was an absolute dream. Everyone saw it, too. They secretly hoped you’d get together soon, and already assumed something happened between the two of you but, alas, here you were. Angry at life and that innocent couple in the living room because of the stupid, lovey-dovey thoughts that just wouldn’t go away.

“Why the long face?” Harry asked with a chuckle as he entered the kitchen, stopping beside you and turning to look where your angry stare was headed.

You nodded towards the living room, and answered, “Them. Like, can you not do it in front of my face, please?”

“But you’re all the way here in the kitchen?” he said, confused.

“Shut up” you ended, giving a big swig of your cup. A silence made itself at home between you too, not necessarily uncomfortable as you would expect, but a little suffocating. You became self-conscious about every move you made, hating how the curly-headed boy could turn you into a mess with just his presence.

“I think it’s cute” he shrugged, breaking the silence.

“They’re barely even friends, then somebody bends, unexpectedly. Ha, what a joke” you challenged.

The quiet settled again and you didn’t notice, but Harry side-eyed you while a million thought ran through his mind. He remembered that one night where you found yourselves in a similar situation. Both drunk off your asses and looking at the world through a pink lens, you shared an intimate kiss just weeks after meeting each other. He also remembered how, after trying to talk about it with you, you shut him out and didn’t speak to him for an entire two weeks. It was after promising he’d never bring it up again that you ended the silent treatment, much to his delight.

As the night went on, you kept going into the kitchen for more drink refills, feeling a little tipsy. The people, getting rowdier and nastier, went on to find the darkest spots in the house for their shenanigans, and you were so distracted that you didn’t even realize when you were dragged to a circle that formed in the living room. The announcement that the classic “Spin The Bottle” game was about to be played was made and yup, cue the eye roll.

A bunch of rounds went by with no one you actually cared to remember the name of getting their turn, until the guy who looked a little to drunk to be managing the game yelled,

“Harry! My boy! Your turn to snog one of these lucky ladies here tonight” he motioned to the girls sitting around the circle, who all bit their lips or looked down in embarrassment.

“Snog? Shut up, mate,” the red-head answered and confidently spun the bottle.

You held your breath and did not tear your eyes from it, the stupid thing seeming to spin for ages until it slowly came to a stop.

Pointing at you.

Of course it’s me, you thought as you closed your eyes, damning every single power in the universe. When you opened them, Harry was intently staring at you, as if studying any movement you might make and trying to figure out what was going through your head. In response, you got on your knees and lightly slapped you hands on your thighs, showing you were ready. He didn’t move an inch, still analyzing your face. Harry knew this was thin ice he was treading on—one wrong move and everything would go to shit. He was dying to press his lips on yours, even if it was just a game, but the memories from a few weeks back flooded his mind and—

“C’mon mate! Go on and kiss the girl!” the guy from earlier encouraged.

Well, why the fuck not?, you both thought at the same time.

Harry crawled to you and you met him halfway, lips clashing with force and desire. His hand made its way to cradle your cheek and part of your neck, guiding the kiss and making you melt into a puddle instantly. Your mouth opened a little more, letting him kiss you deeper and hungrier like no one has ever before. It was absolutely everything you had ever wanted.

And it was everything you couldn’t have.

Parting your lips with your hands on his chest, you felt tears well up in your eyes, and whispered for only you and him to hear,

“This is why the fuck not”

You hurriedly got up as everyone cheered and hooted after the heated show they saw, quickly glancing at Harry but rushing towards the upstairs bathroom.

“Please! Y/N, wait!

Hearing a faint call of your name and footsteps catching up to you, you almost ran for the room you deemed safe. Before going in, however, Harry’s voice made you stop in your tracks.

“Please, please. Please don’t shut me out again, please don’t slam the door”, he begged.

You felt his presence a few feet behind you, the dark hallway only aiding in the tense atmosphere that surrounded you. Not daring to move an inch, the only thing you could do was stare ahead at the shower curtain, your mind going a thousand miles a minute on how anything that happened in the next few moments could make or break you.

A pair of warm, shaky hands found their place on your shoulders, making you tense and then relax as they carefully and lovingly caressed their way down your arms. You felt the ghost of his chest against your back, his breath fanning on your neck and you closed your eyes, savouring the moment but dreading having to face him and look him in the eye. Gently, he grabbed your elbows and turned you to him, still very close to you.

In all honesty, Harry did not have a plan. He ran after you because there was no way he was letting you get away once more, but now that he caught up to you and had you so close to him, he had no clue what to do. His mind had gone blank, the only thing filling it was the image of you. You, whom he had shared so many memories with. You, with the beautiful laugh and crinkly eyes that brought butterflies to his chest every time. You, who never failed to bring happiness into his life, even if you weren’t on the best terms. You, whom he loved so much.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he quietly pleaded one more time, “Please don’t run away from me again”.

“I’m not,” you answered with the same tone, eyes still very much closed.

“You were going to, though”

“I’m sorry”

“Why?” he furrowed his brows.

“For trying to run away”, you answered swiftly to each question, surprisingly. As if all your walls had been brought down just by his simple, loving touch.

“No, why do you keep running away?”

Not so swift anymore, huh?

You stayed silent, not knowing how to answer his question without sounding like a little girl scared of the dark.

“Y/N” he said again, waiting for your answer. His hands moved from your arms to your hands, stopping both pairs from shaking and lightly intertwining your fingers.

You knew you had to come clean. It wasn’t fair to him for you to not give him answers, and not fair to you to keep feeling this angst. So, still very quietly, you answered.

“I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m gonna get hurt if I let you in or that I may hurt you if you let me in. Or both. I care about you so much and I don’t want to ruin our relationship because what we have is great but I also really want to be with you and love you but then I’m also scared because of what I just sai—” your ramble being cut off by Harry’s chapped lips.

His hands held both sides of your face, making you feel secure in his embrace and the soft kiss radiating adoration. He poured everything he felt for you in it, only hoping you could feel it too and that it would bring you out of that fear that had you so trapped in yourself.

He broke the kiss, lightly running his thumb over your cheek and reassuring you immediately.

“With me? Darling, you don’t have to be scared with me. I promise you I feel the exact same way, I love you so much and the last thing I want or will do is hurt you, but I can’t let you get away anymore. I want to make you feel loved and make you feel happy and I want everyone to know you’re mine and that I’m yours. Please let me do that, Y/N. Let me love you the way you deserve to be and I promise you won’t—”

It was you who interrupted him this time. During his small speech, you felt safe enough to open your eyes and see him. You saw the honestly and frustration in his face, desperately wanting you to understand how he felt. It made you realize  that you would rather spend a few moments loving each other than the rest of your life watching him with someone else, not knowing what could have been.

“Okay,” you said after parting ways.

“Okay?” he asked you, eyes frantically scanning your features for any sign of doubt or humour.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it!” you giggled, him mirroring your actions and pulling you into his chest for a tight hug. He buried his face in your hair and yours in his chest, feeling relief course through him at the idea of you being taken by none other than him. Just holding each other, you were about to share another kiss until a random voice interrupted you from behind,

“...can I use the bathroom now?”.

[kataang-dungeon]

Kataang Smut Weekend 2022

It’s coming soon!!!

What is?

Kataang Smut Weekend! An 18+ event for celebrating Kataang and the sexy shenanigans they get into post-ATLA~

Oh? when is it?

October 14-17. That’s 7.5 weeks from the time this is posted!

Sounds like fun! Are there prompts?

That’s where you came in! Sidebar: how many times can I work the word ‘come’ into this post? You voted on the prompts, and the results are in. The people have spoken! Here are your Kataang Smut Weekend 2022 Prompts:

October 14: One Bed

October 15: What If We…

October 16: Dom!Aang

Thanks to everyone who voted!

What kind of content can I make?

Whatever you’re into! Could be art, fic, edits, meta, anything! Just be sure to keep in mind tumblr’s nsfw policies and try to leave the sexy stuff under a cut or censor visuals where it’s necessary. We don’t want your brilliant hard work kept from being shared!

How explicit does it have to be?

If you’re more of a fade-to-black or lime-over-lemon kind of person, we want you here, too! Any level of Kataang spice, shown or implied, is more than welcome in these parts.

What about too explicit?

There’s very little we won’t reblog. But if unsure, you can check out our guidelines (found in our description if on mobile), or feel free to send us an ask!

How should I tag my work?

Tag as your heart directs, but the best way to ensure we see your post is to tag us @kataang-dungeon. We will also be checking the tag “#kataang smut weekend 2022,” and of course content warnings are recommended.

Is it okay if I post late?

Yes! Just don’t forget to @ us, as we may not be checking the tags at that time!

Can I only post on tumblr?

You can absolutely post your work on other platforms! In fact, some platforms are more lenient with explicit works, so if you have a more explicit version of your work that you feel you can’t post onto tumblr, we encourage you to post that version elsewhere and provide a link here for people to view!

I wanna contribute, but I think I’d rather do it anonymously.

Hey, we have options for you, too! You can

submit your works on anon directly to this blog for us to post! Check out the guidelines there for more info :3

I STILL HAVE QUESTIONS

Feel free to send us an ask!

Kataangers, please reblog to spread the word, as we are so excited to see what you come up with! Happy creating!

[austajunk]

Game of Despair (fic)

Chapter One: Despair Gamer

Summary: Surviving through her massive injuries following the ending of the Despair Arc, Chiaki Nanami has fallen after her fellow classmates have become Remnants of Despair. However, when altercations with a certain Servant brings up the chance to find a special person that she lost once again, Chiaki and the aforementioned problematic Servant have no choice but to traverse the apocalypse to bring Izuru Kamukura back to the light of Hope…maybe!

Rating: Mature (because duh)

Warnings: Gore, death, general manipulation and Remnants of Despair Shenanigans

A/N: Hey there. Originally this was a fan comic on tumblr that I did, but due to the scale of the project, I decided it would work better as a fic. The introduction to this fic is different from the fan comic just so I could keep things fresh to write. Please enjoy! You can also find this fic on AO3 if you prefer to read there. I’ll link later.

Games were supposed to be fun. Anyone could play them and they could be played together. It didn’t matter if it was a bad game or if the person you were playing with had any talent whatsoever. It wasn’t the point. The point was to get closer to another person.

At least, that was the philosophy Chiaki Nanami once went by. Games were something that made her happy, but another thing that chained her down at the same time. By being the Super High School Level Gamer, she was locked to her beloved talent and didn’t see any way to open herself to others. That was until she met Hajime Hinata and her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, had showed the strawberry-haired gamer that it was possible to form all the connections she wanted in her life through her talent. For the first time in her life, she had started to feel complete at Hope’s Peak Academy. She was the Class Representative of a band of Ultimate students who were anything but normal... but she loved them with all her heart.

Until the claws of Despair ripped everything away from her, that was. Chiaki Nanami was now a shell of her former self, but that was okay. With her mind filled with nothing but an urge to induce chaos, she couldn’t feel anything for the person she once was. If she couldn’t remember that person, what were they really worth?

—

The fiery skies poured overhead and mixed with the blackness of the night. There was no possible way to see the stars anymore at this point so deep into the end of the world. The only light that could be seen was from a small Nantendo game screen flickering. A girl with pink hair and discolored pink and red eyes leaned against some wreckage, watching as several people ran from demolished buildings and screamed in anguish for their loved ones. Children, women, and even grown men sobbed as a waterfall of bullets cascaded down on their bodies from above.

“You’re losing, you know?” The gamer sighed, twirling a small finger around some of her peach-tinted hair.

On her game screen, a hoard of bullets were raining down on a mass of zombies, massacring them on her side of the screen. The zombie side was fading pitifully fast, their organs squishing from the onslaught of shots.

Beside Chiaki, a man was trembling with the Nantendo in his hand. Sweat was pouring down the front of his head and his breathing was heavy. It looked as though the pale-faced man was going to pass out at any moment. His eyes were blood shot. He had been at this for hours, all to keep the game going and going and going... but it felt like one big, mad, never-ending spiral. He just wanted to drop the game, but all his hostages and prizes were dying all around him the moment he showed any weakness. A large black collar around his neck was tightening every time a point fell from his score. His throat was so constricted that his lips were starting to get purple.

Oh well, Chiaki thought. She was starting to get bored of this anyways. It was really sad though. For a few sweet moments, she had felt an exhilaration like no other. Her entire body had tensed, heat caking her cheeks. She wanted to drop the game and throw herself at the poor man beside her, to rub her curvaceous body against him until she got off on human contact alone when his score had gotten ahead. But alas, that sort of contact had started to wane on his score... and Chiaki’s interests.

“This is disappointing,” said Chiaki, obliterating the rest of the man’s score. Her side of the screen flashed WINNER in big bright red letters and the man beside her squealed in terror. He started convulsing and screaming, the air in his lungs dissipating fast until he seized over and fell over. His eyes bulged from his skull and his neck was bruised and purple until a satisfying crack sounded from his neck. Well... as satisfying as Chiaki could imagine it anyways.

Watching the man’s corpse go limp, she dropped her handheld game console beside him and simply fished another one from her black and white bear-shaped bag. She tapped the screen to life and began to jab at the buttons as though she wasn’t lying beside someone's corpse on top of a bunch of debris underneath a smoke-encrusted sky of darkness. But that was just the world.

Shrieks and screams of agony littered the sky, joining together to create a chaos-induced despair. It was probably the biggest death count Chiaki had earned so far. Her victim, to his credit, had lasted a total of thirteen hours before his score declined and Chiaki’s interest dropped. It was pleasurable until he waned. Now Chiaki was content to just let the cries in the night be silenced as the conclusion of their game (with real human casualties) and to just get up and leave. She did so, leaving her purple game console with the man’s corpse as memento and something of her personal signature. All the world would know where to find the person who could bring the greatest challenge of a killing game to them and that was what she wanted.

The gamer longed to find someone who could beat her and make her feel alive again. Or to feel anything at all. Even if Chiaki knew that she was nowhere close to feeling anything anymore. “My purpose... is Despair,” she uttered to no one in particular, merely touching her forehead as though to remind herself of that fact. It was foolish to stray, foolish to want or desire anything in such a world. Something like that almost seemed like a spec of Hope was left in her heart... which was impossible once the legendary Junko Enoshima snuffed it out.

Thanks to Junko, all the games in the world would not suffice to bring Chiaki Nanami back. One by one, she had been forced to watch her classmates fall into Despair, to watch them torture, massacre and rape others in Junko’s image. Chained to a wall, she watched for over a year as blood sprayed across a dingy massive screen that Junko had left her to view the carnage. She had been tormented and stuck in Hope’s Peak Academy until the last inch of Hope was executed from her body, until she finally wavered and gave into Despair. With the last specs of good will drained from her, the chains around her neck slipped off and she was allowed to walk free in this ruined world... where it felt entirely purposeless to live. But that was the point.

Everything was ruined. Her life was only good for making everyone else experience her own personal Despair. And Chiaki had set to it.

And as far as she was concerned, games were meant to be shared with everyone. Even the bad ones…

—

On the eastern side of a Towa city, a dingy and caved-in subway had been remodeled into a small chamber for the Despair Gamer. She always returned there to rest or to just recollect herself whenever she was bored or wanted to avoid the other Despairs. A bunch of pillows were tucked together for a makeshift gaming chair that she was slumped over, absorbed in one of her prized Nantendo titles.

Only the soft clinking of chains from behind roused her attention ever so slightly.

“Ah… that guy from before didn’t keep you occupied for long, did he?” Said a carefree voice behind Chiaki as she played. “For a moment, it looked like he was really doing it for you.”

Chiaki tilted her head, sinking back into her cushioned gaming chair. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the other presence in this fortress of death was, so she didn’t bother to look at him as he went to work on disposing of the body. What she didn’t notice however was that her Servant wasn’t empty-handed. He had entered the chamber with a large burlap sack… one that was squirming eerily.

Nagito Komaeda. To say he gave into Despair wasn’t quite so accurate. Hope would always win in the end… but it had to be challenged, cultivated… yes, becoming Despair was only meant to encourage Hope. And that was why he belonged to the other Remnants of Despair. He was theirs to use as they saw fit, but he just could not help returning to her again and again. Chiaki Nanami was like a serial killer by now… one complete with a soft, pudgy face and wide, innocent eyes. Utterly fascinating that one so lovely and gentle could rip apart so many people. Despair really had power over others… an alluring, undeniable, sick and twisted power… all Servant wanted to do was be there to witness Hope shatter the monster before him that Despair had created.

But until that happened… oh, how thoughts of Junko Enoshima made the heat swell through every inch of his body…

As if craving her attention, Servant spoke to her again. She could practically feel the grin etched on his face. “Have you gotten so used to the stench of death, Chiaki? You’re actually letting the corpses decompose around you now…” He nodded his head to rotting cadavers left at the back of the room. Perhaps Chiaki had forgotten they were there?

Chiaki’s lips twitched into a small frown, more so from being interrupted. Servant was a strange one. He had something familiar about him, like someone she should remember but it simply did not occur to her to try and do so. If he caused no reaction in her, then that was all there was to it whether she recalled him or not. The pale-haired boy seemed to follow her about like a puppy-dog, sometimes aiding her in procuring or disposing of victims whenever they met up. Chiaki had considered simply killing him, but something in her intuition told her that playing a Killing Game with the likes of him simply wasn’t a wise choice. And straight up slaughtering him was too kind, too merciful. How was she to invoke Despair in the name of Junko Enoshima if she simply hacked up his body?

And so, Chiaki found herself lifting her head at the jostling of chains behind her, watching the metal links swing side to side from around the Servant’s neck. He had a large grin painted on his face as he always did, taking a seat across from her in her little chair. “I guess the smell of death caught me off guard last time,” she mused thoughtfully to him, uncaring if he was really here for conversation or not. He did as he pleased and proved to be quite the clingy individual. But so long as he did the dirty work, Chiaki didn’t mind occasionally indulging him.

“It made me sick... but... now I don’t smell anything. I wonder if I’ve destroyed my sense of smell. Or my brain simply cares less and less each time...” Chiaki said with sigh, curling up in her chair and reaching for her games again. “Why did you come back?” It was really annoying when Chiaki was content to be left alone with her games for the rest of eternity. Alas victims were hard to come by in the apocalypse. Something about people wanting to salvage their lives. She couldn’t understand that. People were going to be slaughtered en masse either way, so shouldn’t they be trying to find the best way to have fun?

That was what Ultimate Despair Gamer was for. To teach others that life was just one big game and if they weren’t having fun, well... their lives didn’t amount to much, did they?

Servant tilted his head at her, his green eyes holding her emotionless gaze for a moment. “Oh, yes! I actually brought you another gift. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but…” He gestured to the struggling brown sack beside him. “I think this may really be the one. If he can’t satisfy you a little more than your usual prey, then I’ll take full responsibility…”

“Hm?” Chiaki stood up and slowly drifted over to the squirming sack that the Servant had left in the middle of the room. A gift? For her? A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she approached the bag and knelt down to pull it back. As soon as she saw the victim awaiting her, a jolt of electric joy shot through her. She gasped lightly and watched as the person’s light chestnut hair spiked up into her view. This was... No... why was the sight of the person’s hair inspiring such a range of emotions on her face? Her eyes lit up and a shudder ran through her body. She wanted to pull the captive close to her already.

Lightly, she pulled the gag from his lips and let him cough and sputter. He wanted to scramble away from the bizarre Gamer, but she quickly grabbed ahold of his shoulders and urged him closer to her. Her breasts rested against his front and she nuzzled him almost affectionately. Startled by the cute girl’s sudden comforting presence, the man didn’t want to feel at ease, especially with her twisted smile flashing down upon him. But at the same time... she seemed harmless. Perhaps a little deranged? But soft and pretty enough... He shakily steadied her against him, wondering if she was the prisoner of this strange, messed up death chamber just like he was. He barely took notice of the boy behind her with the manic grin and kept his eyes trained on her.

“Wh-Where am I...?” The chestnut-haired student asked her. At least, he appeared to be a student with his plain white uniform and dark trousers. A pair of glasses rested askew on his nose. “Are you a prisoner too?! Did that guy kidnap you?”

Chiaki couldn’t help but to tense at the guy’s caring voice, the way he put concern for her before anything else. Even himself. It felt so familiar and she was melting on the inside. Her face became more twisted, more heated and aroused. This was the one! He had to be the one! He was going to play with her until she could finally lie down and let the cold grip of death eclipse her. A final game where she could be happy, fulfilled, complete—

“What’s your name?” Chiaki asked him lightly, trying to hide the frantic blush on her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her heart was fluttering for him.

“Ahhh? Oh... Um, Yusuke?” The man responded, looking around. “Look, why don’t we try to find a way out of here before that guy shows up again? That mastermind!”

“Hm?” Chiaki crossed her legs. “Oh... him. He doesn’t matter. What matters is... well... do you like games, Yusuke?” Her soft voice almost held a low purr to it.

Suddenly, there was a sense of unease in the air. Yusuke blinked and pushed up his glasses. “Um...games?”

—

A small tear trickled over the pale, dead face of her latest victim. After hours and hours and hours of gaming, Yusuke had simply crumpled over. All throughout the week, he had kept Chiaki occupied. Even when he sobbed to her and begged her to let him go, Chiaki was completely enthralled with him. Not a single one of her victims had been so satisfying. He must have truly adored her to keep up such a unique concentration to whatever game she picked out for them to play. He cared for her... he must have loved her to play with her all this time. But then... it was as though his body simply gave out.

Now Yusuke’s corpse decorated the floor of her room, his body still warm from how hard it had worked to bring her even an ounce of joy. Chiaki lingered beside him, her face twisted with what could truly be called Despair. It wasn’t fair. He loved her. Why did he break under all the gaming? She could go forever...

Servant watched her from the corner of the chambers, a small sigh leaving his lips. Something about her actions had slightly disturbed him. For close to a week, he had watched Chiaki become truly elated. It was like she was a different person. And now the young man he had offered up to her was nothing more than a body getting colder by the moment. She drained every last agonizing bit of life from him. It was so thoughtless, so empty…

“I wonder why you don’t just let them rest…” He said, stepping forward as if to pull Chiaki away from the body. “Oh well. I’ll find you a new toy. That will satisfy you!” What hollow words. There was nothing out there that could satisfy the monster before him. That was probably the most horrifying thing about her… but it made him utterly enthralled with her.

“...It’s never going to be enough...” Chiaki said solemnly as she heard the rustling of chains clinking in the background. She knew Servant was behind her, waiting for the body to be disposed of, but Chiaki didn’t want to let it go.

“This was the... the best one... and he wasn’t even enough. Nowhere close... He was like a barrel of love... and I need an ocean... I...I...” She trembled, stifling a sob. Even as a Remnant of Despair, it wasn’t like she lacked feelings... even if they were only centered on herself and self-preservation.

She sighed a hollow bitter sigh and stood up, giving Yusuke’s body a savage kick with her boots. After watching the dirt from her shoes smear his cheek, she turned around and walked past Servant.

“The person you’re searching for… he doesn’t exist anymore…”

Chiaki suddenly clutched her chest tightly as though she were in pain. There was an unbearable pounding in her head. Make it stop… it had to stop… why couldn’t she ignore it?

“I’m not staying here. I’m... I’m going to leave. I want to find something else...something I lost.” The words left her lips before she even realized it. She could almost envision that person with the same chestnut hair and soft, sincere smile. But she didn’t remember his name... not a bit…

Just as she headed to the entrance of the chamber that Servant was leaning against, a foot suddenly kicked up to block her exit. She stepped back and looked at Servant, a frown working onto her gentle features.

“Ah… I thought we may hit this little snag,” Servant said, his smile fading slightly. “You’ve lost a lot of things. It won’t help you to search for all of them! More than likely, you’ll never find anything!” He put his hands together, pleading. “Let me find you another toy! The next one will satisfy you for sure.”

“What..? I…” Chiaki blinked and rubbed her eyes. Those words were making her feel just a tad woozy.

“There, there,” Servant cooed, entwining his arm with hers to lead her away from the door. “Won’t you stay here with me, Chiaki? Just for today… don’t look for what you can’t find. Just stay here today.” Forever. He intended to keep her as long as he could. Hope had to be protected.

And the person she wanted… that same person lit up his entire world as well. The thoughts of that person…

“Chiaki, just stay here… ah, I know,” said Servant behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “let’s play a game together. You and me. If you win—“

“Then I leave,” muttered Chiaki. Then she blinked again in realization.

The smell of this chamber was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was because the last toy truly was something she did like. She couldn’t stop playing with him until he broke. But Chiaki wasn’t looking at the remnants of her beloved toy anymore. Instead, she peered at the filthy walls and floors of her game chamber. Decayed bits of body parts were strewn about across the floor and the stench was starting to become invasive again.

How long had she been in these chambers? She couldn’t remember when she had first entered, only that soon after, the Servant had appeared. He would scavenge for food and toys for her, to keep her occupied and “satisfied” with any new playthings he happened to procure. Chiaki groaned, her head feeling a bit heavy. “Ungh...” She clutched her face, trying to ignore the stench of death wafting in the air. Something about the charming spell of this place was starting to wear off fast and she quite despised it.

Chiaki shook her head, trying to brush off the sickening realization that she just didn’t know how long she had been in a chamber like this, playing games with toy after toy after toy. How many had she killed? Well... they existed to please her, so it didn’t matter. But... when had she last stepped outside? When had she tried to leave? Every time she had risen from her chair to peer out into the world, the Servant would give her a friendly wave and insist that he would go out to bring her food or more toys. It was all just too irksome.

She turned back to Servant. “I want to leave.”

“Of course. If you’re ready, you’ll win,” said Servant cheerfully, waving his obscured hand. “But if I win… hmm… how about this? For every game you lose against me, I’ll alter your appearance just a little…”

“Alter my appearance…?”

Servant nodded, motioning for her to take a seat back in her Gamer chair.

“That’s right. For every game you fail,” he said, letting his voice trail off just a bit, “I’ll remodel you to look a bit more like Lady Junko Enoshima each time.”

“Of course, are you really sure you want to play?”

[sixeyesgojo]

Hey, i was wondering if you would want to do some headcanons of IBYE!reader x gojos reletionship? Like for how long do they know eachother?? Stuff like that! I THINK IT WILL BE SOOO CUTE IF THEY(is the readers pronouns they/them??) WERE FRIENDS WITH GOJO WHEN HE WAS A STUDENT AND THEY WOULD LIKE BE AN IDIOTIC TRINITY WITH GOJO AND GETOU!!! only if you like the idea!! Have a good day!!

Summary: HCs regarding my IBYE series!

Characters: Gojo x IBYE!Reader

Content warning: mentions of self-harm, mental breakdowns

A/N: Hellooo! First of all, thank you so much for liking IBYE!

It really means a lot to me because this one is my baby (along with muse), personal favorite.

As for IBYE!Reader’s pronouns, I tend to she/her and they/them but maybe that’s just me projecting loool (I'll use she/her here so I don't confuse anyone) but feel free to

You’re free to let your imagination roam and I’ll also be here to listen to your thoughts (I find it very interesting when someone shares thoughts about IBYE)!

Yes, they actually know each other from high school days (or even longer)! I think it takes Gojo a fairly long time to grow that close to someone.

And if they do know each other from high school days... oh boy, do I even want to know about the shenanigans they pulled with Geto?

At first Gojo made her join in by charming her or just whining...

Reader was too timid or too "mind your own business"-like (choose your fighter) to join on her own

Eventually, she has no qualms about joining harmless pranks from time to time anymore. Why not? Have some fun in life!

Somehow, Shoko turned out to be the... most obedient kiddo in the squad

Geto x Gojo x Reader, pulling pranks? God save the world.

Mess, mess, mess... but fun.

Reader was pretty close to Geto too!

Yaga with 4 untameable kids!!! His hair is falling out.

She sticks with Gojo and also became a teacher... she's a better and kinder teacher lmfao

Reader is always there for Gojo whenever he needs it but it's also the other way round (if you haven't noticed hehe)

He regularly gives her a fright because he thinks it's amusing

also regularly drops by unannounced because why not

that's why he has his own slippers in her apartment

At this point, he practically lives there as well

Besties who share their food with each other, hmmmhmhmmm yess

Reader scolds Gojo for eating too many sweets, "THE TEETH ARE IMPORTANT!!!"

Lots of skinship... because it's comforting to both

Reader resting her head on Gojo's shoulder while they're sitting, oh my God, NOBODY TOUCH ME

He sometimes tries to embarrass her in public...

And yes, it works.

Did I mention how Gojo often crashes at her place after missions or when he feels lonely at the Gojo mansion? Yeah, he does it without announcing it beforehand.

"Are you home?" he texts her while standing in front of the door lol but reader might be asleep already??

Either sleeps on the couch or when he's feeling like it, he'll wake her up to ask if he can sleep in her big bed as well

Most likely, will end up cuddling with her anyway (platonic or not is up to you)

One time, he fell asleep while sitting at the table in the kitchen, Reader was surprised at first

They sometimes do movie nights together

If it's a movie where people die, they will place bets lol

Gojo has... some experience in calming her down like in IBYE1. He can be an ass sometimes, so this was something he had to learn how to do properly.

It was definitely not the first time for him and it probably won't be the last time either but it's fine with him! They are important to each other after all.

He read a lot about mental health and how to treat people who self-harm, in case she is spiralling

She's also his rock in tough times or the voice of reason when he needs it

They are each other's ride or die.

[itsapapisongo]

Soul Nemeses! | WINWIN

Starring: Winwin ft. Hendery

Genre: Comedy | Superhero

Concept: Supervillain!Winwin (The Lobe) | Superhero!Hendery (Freakazoid)

Word Count: 2,786

Prompts: “Stop screaming, it’s just me.” + “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

Notes: The following is (1) an absurd short-story for the @ficscafe’s dialogue prompt event and (2) a writing exercise to get into a headspace where I can be as silly as possible. Freak Out! is a story I’m very excited for and this was a way to explore the characters and their dynamic. So, without further ado, I genuinely hope you enjoy this VERY SPECIAL EPISODE of Freak Out!

Taglist: @stayinzencity @mother-hyucker @lebrookestore @doievoir @du0tine @naptaemed

All is well in Way City.

Which is to say it’s really not and something is about to happen to disrupt that all-is-well feeling across town. Because a day can’t go by without some burglar, mad scientist, or supervillain indulging in their burglary, mad science, or super-evil shenanigans.

Thus we turn our attention to a deserted, discolored, and depressing city landmark: The Daebak Fair. Once it used to be the kind of place that burst with laughter and excitement, where money flowed every weekend and kept the owners’ pockets heavy and full. People couldn’t get enough of it until, well, they got enough of it.

So much so that it became free real estate for any villain that felt like using the abandoned fair as their lair. This changed, however, when Winwin decided he didn’t feel like sharing. He bought the place, and officially made it his holiday lair. And it’s here that our story takes place.

What once used to be a house of mirrors is now a workplace where a plethora of patented inventions specifically designed for destruction are built, reserved-engineered, dismantled, and kept out of his rivals’ hands.

With all the bells and whistles removed, the lair is quite spacious. Having decorated the place himself, Winwin has hung stolen paintings all over the walls and set tables for dissection, welding, engineering, and even, if he was ever in the mood, arts and crafts. The whole thing has Mad Scientist meets Bob Ross vibes and it’s both odd and endearing.

Winwin is currently dismantling his latest invention—a large crane-looking thingie fitted on the roof a modified golf-cart—out of boredom and frustration after being foiled once again by that red-wearing, annoying, ne’er-do-well freak of a nemesis.

“I can’t believe him,” Winwin grumbles, shaking his head for the nth time. Seeing as he’s alone, he says this to no one in particular. “I craft the perfect plan and he finds a way to thwart it!”

Who would have thought that Freakazoid would have convinced him that creating a gas capable of turning people into clown zombies to do his bidding would be the stupidest  masterplan ever? Winwin felt like he was failing as a villain, not challenging his nemesis enough. He had wondered then and still wonders now if he’s losing it, if he’s gone soft yet he knows he’s not, knows he hasn’t.

So why does this recent defeat grind his gears? Why has Freakazoid gotten to him? Though Winwin knew not to take their rivalry seriously, he sometimes did. It’s standard hero-villain stuff—to hurl insults and humiliate one another—yet something felt off.

He stops working and thinks back to their encounter.

CUT TO: HOURS AGO, IN A COLD, TALL, AND VAGUELY EUROPEAN MOUNTAIN

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Freakazoid had said, hanging off the side of a snowy cliff, for their confrontation had taken place in a cold, tall, and vaguely European mountain. With an impressive leap and a landing, he stood in front of Winwin and pointed a finger at him. “That’s the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of! People don’t like clowns, dummy! People are terrified of clowns! Ever heard of It?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—’tis a good plan!”

Freakazoid rolled his eyes, scoffing.“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh,” Winwin replied, feeling instant regret for lowering himself to his nemesis’ childish argumentative skills. “It’s a brilliant plan!”

“No, it’s dumb, dumb, dumb!”

And then they debated like adults for a minute or two—

(“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-huh.”)

—until Freakazoid clicked his tongue and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Pack it up, big brain,” he told him, not unkindly but definitely disappointed.

“Why should I? I already have a small zombie army at my disposal.”

“Small clown zombie army at your disposal.”

Winwin groaned in exasperation. “Yes, yes, that.”

“You’re doing this out here in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even that many people around so I wouldn’t call it an army. I’d call it a small terrifying crowd.”

“Oh.”

Freakazoid nodded and crossed his arms, tilting his head to the side. “Did you even think this through?”

Winwin suddenly found himself speechless. Genuinely and anxiously speechless. He didn’t have an answer other than “I don’t know” and he hated resorting to admitting he didn’t know anything. He was the most brilliant supervillain in all of Way City—the Lobe, some called him—and admitting ignorance was (1) not on brand for him and (2) his worst nightmare.

“I don’t—I’m not sure—I—”

“Alright, you.” Freakazoid shook his head and gently guided him away by his elbow. “Pack it up. Get out of here.”

“But—”

“No butts, not tiddies, not ding-a-lings,” said the hero, his pout a judgemental feature in his face. “I expected a lot more from you. Clown zombies? Aiya.”

“I—” Winwin’s eyes widened and he felt them welling up with tears. “You’re right. I think I’m overdoing it. I might be overtired. It’s the best I could do on such short notice.”

“Turn off the cloud.”

And so he did. Winwin turned to see Freakazoid—lean, clad in red, black domino mask concealing his identity, his insignia that of F and an exclamation point on his chest, his black hair, slicked back as always, haswhite streak in the shape of a bolt across it—grimacing back at him. For a second, Winwin thought he could hear the world’s tiniest violin play a sad tune for himself as he pouted and got on the modified golf-cart he’d driven around the mountain to spread the gas around.

“Hey, big brain,” he heard Freakazoid call after him, the hero’s voice distant. He noticed it had softened somewhat. “It’s a dumb plan but I know you can do better.”

“Thanks, Freakazoid,” Winwin mumbled as his nemesis gave him a thumbs-up.

The moment was ruined the moment the idiot in red opened his mouth again—

“Now, git!”

CUT TO: NOW, BACK TO WINWIN’S LAIR

“Can’t believe I cried in front of him,” Winwin says, cringing.

“Yeah, me neither,” says a familiar voice.

Startled, Winwin squeals then yelps. A wrench flies off his hand as he falls off four feet to the ground and lands squarely on his bottom. He groans, and feels the back of his head throbbing. Opening his eyes, he blinks once, twice, thrice until he makes out the unmistakable silhouette of his nemesis looking down at him. Freakazoid couches and leans in so close, Winwin can feel his breath against his forehead.

“Stop screaming,” the hero says, “it’s just me.”

“Stop scream—are you serious? You nearly gave me a heart attack, you imbecile!”

“I know but that’s no reason to scream your lungs out.” Freakazoid offers his right hand and a half-smile. “Time to go upsies, big brain.”

Winwin glares, refusing the offer for help. “I don’t need your—” he begins but is cut off when he’s lifted off the floor. It’s both rough and gentle, in that he feels he’s taken several tight turns in a roller coaster without whiplash and is suddenly standing upright without imbalance. “Thank you.”

Freakazoid waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“I won’t.” Winwin scoffs then wags a firm finger in a gesture of warning. “Nor shall you mention that I cried all the way up there in those cold, tall, and vaguely European mountains.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Freakazoid raises a hand, making a gesture that’s supposed to imply his discretion. He frowns then tilts his head with a shrug. “I mean I would dream of it so I might come up. Like, cards on the table, I might tell some of my dream friends about it.”

A beat as Winwin glares, turns to a camera that’s not there, and rolls his eyes.

“Are you quite finished?”

“No, not really—”

Winwin sighs and turns, picking up the wrench he dropped and returning to his work. “Why are you here, Freakazoid?” he asks, his voice laced with despondency.

“Oh,” is all Freakazoid manages to say. Winwin hears him clear his throat and take a step forward. “About that. I came to apologize, big brain. Didn’t mean to be, well, mean to you. It’s just that—” he pauses and the villain can practically see him shrugging. “—I think I’ve been a bit overworked too.”

“Was it your idea to apologize or was it Sgt. Qian’s?”

“That’s neither near or far.”

Winwin groans, doing his best to not roll his eyes or rub his face. “Neither here or there,” he corrects him.

“Exactamundo!”

“Did you come here to aggravate me?”

Freakazoid deflates, looking forlorn for a second before he clears his throat and the usual and insufferable aura of confidence that encompasses his very being returns. He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

“Come on, big brain, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. It’s just that—” Freakazoid groans, throwing his head back like a teeanger not wanting to admit he’s responsible for some wrongdoing. “—it was such a good plan!”

Winwin’s eyes widen as he takes a step forward and squeezes Freakazoid’s shoulders. “Come again?” he queries. “It was a good plan?”

“I mean—duh!—zombies I can handle but clowns? Geez. Ugh. No. Nightmare fuel.”

“So you did like it?”

“Like it? No, bud, I absolutely, definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, love it. Let me tell you, Lobe, it’s—” Freakazoid motions he’s kissing his fingers then wiggles his left hand as if to say mamma mia. “— diabolical.”

Winwin feels warmth spread across his cheeks and immediately clears his throat, looking away to avoid giving Freakazoid any satisfaction or a glimpse at his embarrassment. He laser-focuses on taking apart a component from the machine, cautious not to tinker much with the cylinder that contains the clown zombie gas, and pretends he’s not giddy with excitement and validation.

Then, just as he’s going to turn and give him his thanks, Freakazoid open his mouth and yet again ruins the moment—

“It’s diabolical, but stupid.”

Winwin mutters angrily under his breath, every fiber of his being urging him to reach for that knock-out gas he’d been working on for the past few days—or, perhaps, that disintegrating rifle that has been gathering dust for God knows how long—yet relents when he sees the look of concentration in Freakazoid’s face. The hero looks like he’s seriously considering why he feels Winwin’s plan was, in his words, diabolical but stupid.

And the villain, overwhelmed with both anger and vile curiosity, crosses his arms, taps his foot, and grits his teeth.

“Go on . . .”

“It’s—how to put this lightly?—immensely stupid yet awesomely evil in that you didn’t think it through but it has potential to really ruin my day if done correctly.” Freakazoid throws his arm around Winwin’s shoulder, pulling him close. “See what I mean, old chump?”

“You and I are not chumps.”

Freakazoid gasps and pouts, dramatically putting a hand on his chest. “And here I was thinking you were my nemesis,” he whispers in a low, wheezing voice. “I thought we were soul-nemeses.”

“I mean—” Winwin blushes again and his eyes widen the second he realizes Freakazoid notices his blushing. “We are nemeses, yes, but we are definitely not chumps.”

“Could we ever be chumps?”

Winwin sighs, rolling his eyes. “I believe so.”

“Ah, big brain, I knew you cared!”

“Yes, yes, caring.” The villain nods and pushes his nemesis off himself, “You’ve apologized, insulted me yet again, and tried to be my, as you say, chump. I believe that’s enough banter for a day.”

“Touché.” Freakazoid smiles. “I’ve made plenty of shameless jokes at your expense today.”

“And I’m certain they won’t be the last.”

“You know me,” the hero blinks, pointing a thumb at himself. He glances at the contraption built on the roof of the modified golf-cart and a glint of curiosity and mischief appears in his eyes. Despite wearing a domino mask, Freakazoid could be inexplicably expressive. “Whatcha up to?”

“Dismantling this heap of scrap metal.” Winwin turns so fast that it’s impossible for Freakazoid not to notice the frustration apparent in his face. He smacks the wrench against the roof of the cart and winces when it slips out of his hand. “Damn it.”

“Here, let me help,” Freakazoid offers, guiding Winwin away from the cart. “I need some space.”

Before Winwin can protest, a gust of wind pushes him back. He blinks to see nothing but a blur of motion and a shower of white sparks moving around the golf cart. It’s so fast that he glimpses at Freakazoid’s silhouette twice before the hero stands next to him, wiping his hands with a dirty rag. It reminds Winwin of a mechanic finishing up a check-up on a car in desperate need of maintenance.

“There.” The hero throws the rag over his shoulder. “Doneso.”

“How did you—” Winwin blabbers, flabbergasted at how thorough Freakazoid had been. Every piece is laid on a table that hadn’t previously been there, each component perfectly classified, and all the parts that were supposed to be tossed away neatly put on a trash bag. “How’s that possible?”

“Come on, brainy,” Freakzaoid scoffs, clapping Winwin in the back and making him yelp and glare at him. “We’ve been at this for a while now. If I can think of it, I can do it.”

“That’s not a very reassuring thought.”

For a second, Freakazoid’s smile disappears and a haunted look passes through his eyes. “I know,” he whispers ominously. Then he’s flashing that bright and infuriating smile of his as nothing has happened. “Anyways, I gots to get going.”

That stops Winwin dead on his tracks. Usually, after some crime-spree or being foiled and getting away, Freakazoid would burst in wherever Winwin was currently laying low on, say his cheesy heroic lines, and promptly deliver him to the authorities—which was always, without fail, to Sgt. Qian—and they would call it a night.

Here he is, apologizing, acting like Winwin hadn’t enacted yet another brilliant and evil plan—even though he had deemed it dumb—and being overall far more obnoxious than usual. Yeah, something’s definitely off tonight.

“Whoa, whoa, aren’t you going to take me in?” Winwin protests and instantly groans when he notices his hand on Freakazoid’s forearm, like a lover begging their other half not to leave. He lets go and sheepishly clears his throat. “You might have thwarted me today but I still turned a couple of people into clown zombies. That has to be a crime somewhere.”

“Definitely a crime somewhere, but they’re all good now. All they needed was some fresh-air. No harm, no foul.” Freakazoid shrugs then grimaces. “Although, no, not really. A couple of people were traumatized so there was some harm involved.”

“You see?” Winwin cackles and offers his hand, waiting to be handcuffed. “Take me in!”

“Not tonight, brainy. I’m all tuckered out and Kun invented me out for ice-cream. We can do that tomorrow, though.”

Winwin opens his mouth then closes it, narrowing his eyes in disbelief. “That seems awfully irresponsible.”

“Oh, it is.” Freakazoid snorts, turning to leave. “But I’m getting some ice-cream and Kun’s paying.”

“If you don’t take me in now, Freakazoid, I’ll come up with a worse plan tomorrow and enact it without mercy.” Winwin poses, raising his hands above to display his collection of inventions and devices solely designed for destruction and chaos. “For I live to oppose you. So it is written. So it shall be done.”

The hero blinks, holds his chin, looking pensive for a second, hums, then shrugs with an impassive expression. “I don’t think that’s legal, but we can work around it.”

“I—” Winwin raises and lowers a finger, deflated.

He could reschedule, postpone some things, advance others before he unleashed absolute chaos on the city. He knows can make it work. It would be business as usual.

With a mental note to not start his rampage before dinner time, he slowly and painfully rolls his eyes and huffs, “Fine. We’ll do it tomorrow then.”

“Goodie!” Freakazoid claps, pulling Winwin close for a hug. “Ice cream today. Possible disaster tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Winwin replies through gritted teeth.

“Okey-doke, brainy. See you tomorrow.”

One second, Freakazoid is there. The other, he’s gone in a blinding flash of light and a gust of wind that vaguely smells of chocolate. Winwin is left alone, despondent, and secretly impressed. He sighs and rubs the back of his head, feeling the area bruised and sensitive to touch.

Giving his lair the once-over, he slumps on a chair and pops his lips.

“This is my most humiliating defeat,” he grumbles.

A minute later, he decides to call it a night.

And, for the first time this week, all remains well in Way City.

itspapisongo | © 2020-2021 | All Rights Reserved

Freakazoid! is a Warner Bros. property, all rights reserved to them and the show's creators (Paul Dini & Bruce Timm).

[buriedbybooks]

WIP Game

Rules: Posting a list of current writing works in progress. Feel free to ask me for info on any of them, whether snippets of writing, plot details, main characters, etc. Send me a title listed below and I’ll share something related to it. ;)

I'm going to keep this down to pieces that at least have an outline :)

Guardian:

Zhao Yunlan’s Manual for Care (and Use (¬‿¬) ) of one Heipaoshi: This fic kinda got away from me, it was originally going to be a 5+1 of 5 ways Zhao Yunlan takes care of Shen Wei and then the +1 being Shen Wei's list for taking care of Zhao Yunlan. Now it is 5+1 5+1s with different characters' lists for how to handle Shen Wei. Shen Wei still gets the +1 though :)

Ye Zun and Shen Wei 5+1: This is in outline form and I'm working from some ideas that I got from the list of headcanons that @whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst shared.

Mind reading: This was an alternate idea to To Drag a Troll, which was all the times that Zhao Yunlan thinks that Shen Wei really can read his mind.

Meanings of Touch: This was a fic that I started planning for the Guardian Wishlist event, but didn't get around to writing (just outlined) focusing on the different ways that Chu Shuzhi interacts physically with members of SID.

Crack Twins fic: Basic premise: Zhao Yunlan is resurrected and Zhang Shi is still running around in his old body resulting in multiple cases of mistaken identity. Shenanigans ensue.

Leverage/Warehouse 13 Crossovers:

Parker vs. Mrs. Frederick: When I wrote the first crossover fic, I was asked to let Parker get the drop on Artie. This idea has been stewing for a long time.

Sophie and Saint Germain: I just needed my three S es: Sophie, Saint Germain... and Sterling. Let there be chaos.

Leverage:

5+1 drunk proposals: It is now canon that Hardison is a lightweight!!! I've been wanting to write an OT3 proposal scene for a while and then I saw this gem of a prompt :D

Now, for folks who know me and my writing. Guess how many of the above are not 5+1s!

Tagging @piyo-13, @irolltwenties, @hils79 if you would like :)

[runningtwiceasfast]

I wrote a thing for the Harry and Ginny discord Incognito elf story exchange. I haven’t decided if I am going to publish it anywhere but thought I would post it here in the meantime. Thank you so much to @thedistantdusk for organizing. Hopefully someone enjoys! 

All the Difference

“If you are going to lay around here all day then you can at least make yourself useful.”

Harry looked up sharply, having been jarred rather unceremoniously from where he had been staring at the door to the shop, as if he could will his girlfriend into existence.

He gave a scowl at George, tapping his fingers idly on the counter. “Why did she have to call an emergency quidditch practice anyway right during the first Hogsmeade visit of the term?” He mumbled mostly to himself. He hadn’t seen his girlfriend in months and the one time they finally were both free something inevitably had come up.

Ginny was a prolific and entertaining correspondent and she had been able to sneak into various fires for rendezvous with her boyfriend but he longed to see her in the flesh. Some alone time wouldn’t hurt either.

Harry stared moodily once again at the door.

George came to stand by him and they both stared silently in their vigil. Eventually George grew tired of Harry’s nonsense and gave him a hearty whack on the shoulder.

“Alright no more of this sad mooning. You are the boy who lived! The man who defeated Voldemort! Witch Weekly’s most charming smile or whatever,” George gave him a sidelong glance. “Although how they even managed to catch you smiling is beyond me. Tell me, do you think those smiles will run out and you’ve been saving them all for darling Gin-gin?”

Harry gave George what he hoped was a menacing look. “Fine, if you don’t want me mooning about your store then I will just leave. I’m sure Ron and Hermione won’t mind me showing up to their date,” Harry said sarcastically remembering Ron’s warning to stay far away from him and Hermione for the next hour. While he was happy for his mates it was slightly annoying to be third wheel to their fights and subsequent makeups which now included way more tongue than they used to.

“I thought having you around might draw in more customers. You know like…’come shop where the boy who lived shops, come buy puking pastilles where Harry Potter does’ but honestly mate, you are now scaring off the customers.”

Glancing around, Harry did notice that the shop was rather empty for a Hogsmeade weekend. Feeling even worse than before, Harry hopped off the stool and shrugged on his robes. “I’ll get out of your way,” he mumbled, resigning himself to heading back to his flat alone and maybe doing some paperwork.

“Not so fast Chosen One!” George called and Harry looked back around to where George was waving a finger at him. “Come back here.”

Not having anything else to do, Harry approached George cautiously, having seen too many first years turn into canaries to feel altogether secure in whatever shenanigans George had planned.

George produced a small vial from his pocket. The contents were a glittery pink and Harry frowned. “What is that? Something that will turn me into a turkey?”

Barking out a laugh George shook his head before turning thoughtful. “No, but now that you mention it that might be a good idea. We can call it, “Turkey Tonic.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “What do you want? Have you found something that will summon Ginny here from quidditch practice?” Harry whined.

“No loverboy but I do have the next best thing. It is a new thing I invented based on the Patented Daydream Charm.” George shook the vial and then produced it again with a flourish. “Harry Potter, meet the Patented ‘What If’ Charm.”

Harry took the small capsule and looked at it critically, eyebrows furrowed. “What if charm?”

“It lets you go back to a time in your life where you made a different decision, took a different path. It lets you see what life would be like if one thing was different.” George made a motion like a butterfly flapping its wings. “You know, like the butterfly effect or whatever.”

“So like, what if my parents didn’t die? What if Voldemort picked Neville as the chosen one?” Harry asked wryly. George scoffed.

“As if Neville would have been the chosen one. No nothing that big. But…what if Fred and I hadn’t left school the way we did? What if I wore a red shirt today instead of this spiffing purple one.”

Harry looked again at the small vial in his hand. “Ok what do you want me to do with this?”

“Don’t be daft. I want you to take it and tell me what you think.”

“But what would I even say?” He felt rather flummoxed. So much of his life had been dictated by other people, set on a certain path. Was there a mundane thing that had happened in his life that could have made a difference?

“Ok, well, what is one thing that you wish had been different other than you know…that whole Voldemort business.”

Harry thought back. What was one thing he wished had been different? Then it hit him. “I wish I had gotten close to Ginny earlier.” He said, remembering back to their conversation at Dumbledore’s funeral. How they could have had so much more time if he hadn’t been such a plonker.

George made a slight gagging noise. “Alright, well that is incredibly gross and all but I appreciate the sentiment. What about… if you had gotten your head out of your arse and taken Ginny to the Yule Ball?”

Harry scowled at the memory, of asking Cho, of taking Parvati. Of the disaster of a Yule Ball. “Alright fine, I would have had a better time at least.”

George clapped his hands together. “There you go! Now hurry up and take the charm and I’ll see you on the other side.”

Harry uncorked the vial, but before he raised it to his lips he sent George another look. “Wait a minute, who else has tested this? Should I be worried?”

“Young Harry I am offended. How could you think so little of me?” George placed a hand over his heart and gave him a wounded look that did nothing to make Harry feel assured.

“Alright well if anything happens to me I’m sending Ginny to beat you up,” he said before raising the vial at George. “Cheers.”

The liquid burned slightly going down Harry’s throat but the taste was pleasing. A hint of cherry. And then as sudden as he was in George’s shop he was in Hogwarts. He was much shorter, much skinner and he was feeling sad for some reason.

Oh yeah…Cho…Yule ball…tournament…

Completely forgetting about dinner, he walked slowly back up to Gryffindor Tower. Cho’s voice echoing in his ears with every step he took. “Cedric — Cedric Diggory.”

So consumed in his misery, he almost tripped over a windswept looking Ginny Weasley.

“Watch where you’re going Potter,” she laughed until she got a good look at him, the smile dying on her face. She gave him a frown, head cocked to the side. “Did something happen?”

Harry shook his head, knowing she was assuming it was something Voldemort related and not some typical teenage boy angst. “Nothing like that. I just asked Cho to the ball but she’s going with someone else.” He gave an awkward shrug, unsure of why he was even telling her this. Perhaps it was too raw and he needed to share it with a friendly face.

Ginny’s frown deepened. “I’m sorry Harry. I’m sure any other girl would be happy to go with you,” she said, blushing red and they both got quiet.

“Where are you coming from?” He asked her, taking in her appearance for the first time and noticing that she wasn’t in robes but instead in some sort of athletic wear.

She blushed again, placing a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “I just went for a quick fly. Trying to sneak back into the common room now.”

Harry momentarily forgot his ball induced depression. “You fly?” He asked her incredulously. She had never participated in the Weasley family quidditch over the summer. Harry tried to think if he had ever seen her in the air.

She only smiled in response, something mischievous and proud in her eyes. “I’ve been stealing the twins’ brooms at night and teaching myself to fly for years.” Harry looked at her again as if for the first time. It shouldn’t be such a shock to him that she had grown. They all were older and changing and Ginny Weasley wasn’t an exception. She was still short, barely coming up to his shoulders. Her red hair came all the way down her back in waves and she was beginning to fill out and look more like…well, more like a girl.

“Are you going to the ball with anyone?” He blurted out. Her eyes widened in response and she was silent for awhile.

“I-I…no I’m not. I’m a third year so I can’t go unless someone older invites me,” she explained, her face now so red he could barely make out her freckles.

Harry let out a breath, well aware that if she turned him down he would have likely broken some world record of rejections in the shortest amount of time.

“Would you go with me? To the ball?” He cringed at the clarification. Ginny was speechless for a moment before opening and closing her mouth a couple times. Eventually she nodded.

“Yes Harry, that sounds nice,” she said hoarsely. Harry gave her a small smile before both their attentions were drawn to a loud commotion down the hall. Ginny seemed to notice the source of it immediately.

“Ron? Ron!” Ginny called out jarring Harry into action as well as they caught up with a dazed looking Ron.

Ron was pale, his freckles standing out like pocks on his blood drained skin. Harry was instantly alarmed. “What happened?” He asked, immediately thinking the worst. Ron just groaned in response and Ginny sent Harry a frantic look. The two of them shrugged off all the snickering onlookers and dragged him to the common room where they plopped him unceremoniously on a couch in a distant corner.

Ron kept shaking his head and moaning and it was a full three minutes before they were able to understand what happened.

“Oh Ron,” Ginny was clearly struggling to keep the smile off her face. “You didn’t.”

Ron had his face in his hands and continued to mutter “Why did I do it,” over and over again, the words muffled through his hands.

As Harry comforted his best mate he exchanged looks with Ginny and gave a sigh in relief. At least he had gotten a date to the ball. He watched as Ginny pushed an errant strand of hair away from her face as she patted her brother’s arm sympathetically. Perhaps he might even have a good time.

_____________________

Harry saw Ginny very little in the days leading up to the ball. The professors piled on the homework for the fourth years and Harry was determined to take advantage of the excitement leading up to Christmas. In between impromptu snowball fights and letters from Sirius he had almost forgotten about the egg and the fact that he would be dancing in front of not only the entire school but two other schools as well.

Professor McGonagall gave him this unhappy reminder at the end of the last transfiguration class of the year where she insisted on corralling the Gryffindor students that would be attending the ball into an empty classroom.

“You will be representing the great house of Godric Gryffindor as well as your school and I feel I must do my duty to make sure none of you embarrass me,” she sniffed, her eyes glancing over to the Weasley twins before landing on Harry. He swallowed roughly, the image of him falling rather spectacularly on his bum in front of everyone while in his dress robes flashing across his eyes.

McGonagall began to play some music, grabbing Ron in the process and forcing him to lead her about the room. Harry was thankful he wasn’t so caught up in his misery that he was unable to enjoy the spectacle.

“They make a rather fine couple don’t they?” A cheerful voice said behind him and he couldn’t resist smiling back at Ginny as her beaming face came into view.

“He isn’t completely embarrassing himself is he?” Harry mused, looking back to the makeshift dance floor where Ron and the professor were now moving in time with the music, Fred and George looking on and throwing conjured rose petals on them and clapping loudly.

“No more than he did when mum tried to teach him to dance,” Ginny said under her breath and Harry snorted, picturing young Ron waltzing with his mother in the Burrow. The laughter died in his throat as the scene in his mind turned quickly from Ron and his mum to Harry and his own mother, his father laughing as they spun each other in circles.

Perhaps sensing his change of mood, Ginny stayed close but said no more as they watched Ron take a turn about the room with their professor.

Christmas arrived rather suddenly and Harry, despite consistently receiving Christmas gifts since he had come to Hogwarts, was still rather surprised to find gifts at the foot of his bed. After dealing with Dobby and finishing opening up the rest of his gifts, it was suddenly time to get ready for the dance.

Ron, who was still trying in vain to find out who Hermione was going with, had tried to enlist Ginny who had vehemently refused.

“Ron if you ask me one more time who Hermione is going with I am going to hex you so bad you can’t use the toilet for a month,” Ginny had finally threatened and Ron had mostly ceased his fruitless task. Still, though, he grumbled when Hermione had left them three hours before the dance to get ready. Harry saw Ginny follow shortly and figured it was time for him to start getting ready as well.

Harry and Ron, who was taking Parvati, had agreed to meet their dates in the common room and eventually Harry was able to drag a very reluctant Ron to leave the dormitory. Harry had reassured him multiple times that his robes were fine and definitely did not look like a dress but he feared he hadn’t been very convincing.

Harry saw Parvati first in her robes of shocking pink. He watched her glance over at Ron, her eyes running over the frayed edges of his robes before taking the arm offered. It was then that Harry noticed Ginny.

She was standing a little behind them, staring at him a little shyly. Her robes were white and floated prettily around her and Harry thought rather irrationally of an angel. Her red hair was down, having been pinned half up with a golden barrette that Harry realized upon further notice was a little snitch. She had done something with her eyes to make them slightly bigger and Harry took a dry swallow.

He had thought by going with Ginny he wouldn’t have to have been nervous. They would have had a good time and enjoyed a laugh. But it must not have registered to him that Ginny was a girl and a pretty one at that.

Offering up his arm like he was supposed to, he felt her grip him lightly. Again he looked over at her as they followed Ron and Parvati out of the common room. It was then that he realized that he had yet to actually say anything to her. Cursing his stupidity he cleared his throat rather unsuccessfully.

“You—er—look nice,” he said awkwardly.

Ginny blushed. “Thank you Harry. You clean up rather nice as well.” She smiled at him and he felt himself inexplicably relax.

“Wait until you see Hermione,” Ginny whispered in his ear and Harry caught a whiff of something lovely and flowery and he wondered if it was possible a smell could make you drunk.

Shaking the thought out of his head he looked over at her curiously but she mimed zipping her lips with her free hand, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

The entrance hall was packed and they mindlessly followed Ron who was being led by Parvati to where her sister was standing with another Ravenclaw boy Harry didn’t know.

“Where is Hermione?” Ron asked, eyes darting over to Ginny as if she was going to attack him.

Ginny smoothed her dress and smiled. “Really Ron why are you so concerned?” Harry stifled a laugh in his own shoulder. They watched their fellow students milling around with some interest before Professor McGonagall called the Champions over. Harry sighed and reached again for Ginny.

“Good luck, mate,” he said before taking Ginny forward, letting the crowd part for them. They joined Fleur in her pretty silver robes and Roger Davies who Harry thought was perhaps looking a little dazed. Harry avoided looking at Cho and Cedric a little too well that he missed Ginny jabbing him in the ribs as he looked up at the girl who was with Krum. His jaw dropped.

It was Hermione.

Once Harry was over the shock of a Hermione who didn’t look like Hermione at all he felt tugged along by Ginny as she pulled him over to Hermione, chattering to her in fast paced squeals.

“Hi Harry!” Hermione finally greeted him and Professor McGonagall came over and told them all to get in line in pairs and to follow her. They then walked into the Great Hall to applause. Harry felt his face burn at the attention. A small squeeze on his arm centered him and he looked gratefully at Ginny who was gliding confidently next to him. She gave him a wink and he relaxed, able to make it to the head table without tripping over his feet.

“Ron looks like someone took his prize niffler,” Ginny whispered to Harry, drawing his attention more fully to her and not the gaping occupants of the Great Hall. Harry looked over to where his friend was staring at Hermione with narrowed eyes.

As they approached the table Harry felt Ginny tense and he realized that she wouldn’t be the only Weasley at the table. Instead of Mr. Crouch the fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy who made it very clear to Harry that he had to sit next to him.

Percy’s smug face was replaced by a look of astonishment as he noticed who Harry’s date was.

“Ginny, what are you doing here?” He asked as they all sat down. Ginny frowned and Harry had to bite his tongue in order to not answer for her. She could handle her own brother. Still, Harry didn’t like the look Percy had on his face.

“Harry asked me,” she said simply. “What are you doing here?” She asked and Harry nodded, aware that this was the much better question.

The two of them endured Percy’s sycophantic monologue about Mr. Crouch and how he had been promoted. Harry barely resisted snorting into his water goblet when Ginny asked with a straight face whether Crouch had stopped calling him “Weatherby” yet.

They both tucked into their dinner eagerly, eavesdropping on the conversations of the other occupants of the table. Harry found that his sides were hurting from laughter mostly from Ginny’s impersonations of Roger Davies dazed look on his face as he listened to Fleur complain about the decorations.

“At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we would never sit in chairs! We would be carried to eat on clouds made of silk and serenaded as we ate,” Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear, effecting Fleur’s accent in an exaggerated way that had him pushing away his plate of goulash.

Eventually they finished dinner and the Weird Sisters began playing. Ginny nudged Harry. “I think we are supposed to dance now,” she said somewhat shyly. Ginny stood up gracefully, holding out her hand for him. He managed to stand up without completely tripping over his robes, taking her smaller hand within his.

He followed her to the dance floor, eyes locked on her form, shutting out everything else. All of his senses felt dulled, the music a faint hum in the background, the spotlighting centering him blocking out everything else except Ginny. Seamlessly Ginny placed one of his hands on her waist, holding out his other hand in an approximation of what the other couple’s were doing.

Her hand was light in his but also strong. He worried for a second that his hand would be sweaty but Ginny didn’t seem to indicate there was anything particularly off with his hands. Instead, she gave him a reassuring smile as she steered him in a circle on the dance floor.

As they turned to the music Harry avoided catching anyone’s smirking eyes by staring at Ginny. He wasn’t sure he had ever really looked at her. She had a faint dusting of freckles on her face and full red lips that shimmered slightly. Her robes felt slippery in the hand on her waist and he gripped more thoroughly causing her to squeak slightly.

“You are a good dancer,” he told her, and even though they were in the middle of a giant crowd he had the fanciful thought that it was just them alone. She blushed.

“Thank you. Mum taught us at an early age.”

They were quiet the rest of the dance, Harry noticing that they were thankfully no longer the center of attention, the rest of the couples having joined them on the dance floor.

The song ended and they both let go of each other, standing in the dance floor staring at each other as another, faster song was struck up.

“Come on,” Ginny pulled at his arm to where Ron and Parvati were sitting, Ron shooting daggers at Krum with his eyes. Ginny took one look at her brother and grabbed his arms, pulling him up.

“Oy! Ginny what are you doing?” Ron asked, shoving off Ginny’s hands.

“You are looking entirely too much like a prat Ron! You have a lovely date, you’ve eaten a good meal. Let’s go out there and have fun! Look at Harry’s socks Ron. Those are socks that are meant for dancing.”

Harry laughed and watched as Ron reluctantly followed his younger sister to the dance floor. Harry offered his arm to Parvati and the four of them made their way over to where Fred and Angelina were dancing exuberantly in the center of the dance floor.

A few moments later Hermione and Viktor joined them, Ron avoiding Hermione but reluctantly letting Ginny pull hm along.

Eventually they stopped to get butterbeers. Parvati had been asked to dance by one of the boys from Beauxbatons and Hermione was still dancing with Viktor so it was just Ginny, Ron and Harry. They grabbed drinks, escaping outside to the warming charmed air. Ron was still put out and kept grumbling under his breath, the words “Hermione” and “Vicky” alternating coherency. The three of them sidestepped an angry looking Snape who seemed to be discussing something rather nasty with Karkaroff who looked anxious.

They reached a fountain, Harry now greatly entertained by the story Ginny was recounting that seemed to center on the twins having turned all of Ron’s Martin Miggs comics into more suggestive materials. Ron seemed more like himself at that point and they were all surprised to encounter Hagrid and Madame Maxime having a quiet conversation.

“It was my mother,” said Hagrid quietly. “She was one o’ the las’ ones in Britain….” Hagrid’s voice trailed off as Harry’s attention was drawn to Ginny who was swatting at a rather large beetle that had fallen on her arm.

“Yuck!” She hissed, swatting at it and giving it a little kick. “Creepy bugger.” She shuddered slightly and Harry had an irrational thought that he should offer her his cloak before realizing that he wasn’t wearing one.

They returned to the dance floor just as the Weird Sister’s began playing one of their more popular dancing songs. Ginny’s face lit up and Harry followed her to the center of the room, shrugging apologetically at Ron who had resumed his grouchy mumblings.

“I love this song!” Ginny called to him and he watched as she closed her eyes, moving her body to the beat, long since having abandoned her shoes. Her enthusiasm was contagious and he did his best to approximate her movements finding himself smiling widely wondering if this was fun, if this was what having fun felt like.

The song ended, a slower tempo one taking its place. Ginny made a motion to leave the dance floor but Harry pulled her to him.

“This was fun. Thank you for coming with me Ginny,” he told her sincerely. She gave him a wide smile.

“It was fun! Thank you for inviting me. It isn’t every day a girl gets invited to the biggest event of the season and with a champion no less,” she teased him.

The last song ended to a loud round of applause and everyone began heading back to the entrance hall. Ginny let out a sigh. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this night to end but I’m also exhausted. I’m hoping Colin was able to get some ice cream from the kitchens. He told me the first through third years were allowed to have some late snacks to make up for not being invited to the ball,” Ginny explained as they made their way out.

“What’s your favorite ice cream?” Harry asked, suddenly realizing that he didn’t know that much about the youngest Weasley. She gave him another one of her wide smiles, eyes flashing conspiratorially.

“Mint chip!” She told him happily. A part of his brain registered that for later. As if he knew there would be a moment when he would need to know what kind of ice cream Ginny liked. What her favorite color was, what she liked to do when she was bored and whether she preferred that first rain of spring or the first snow of winter.

Harry felt himself getting dizzy, a tug behind his navel making him slightly nauseous. The edges of his vision grew hazy and Ginny flashed in and out of view.

“Harry?” Ginny was asking….”Harry?”

“Harry!”

Harry jerked awake, the splash of cold water in his face an unwelcome jolt of icy reality. It took him a moment to realize he was not in the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Instead he was in George’s shop. He was no longer fourteen, no longer stumbling awkwardly behind his date, ready for Cedric to tell him about the egg…Ron’s fight with Hermione.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, reality seeping in.

“Sorry mate, you only get half an hour no matter how good the fake memory,” George gave him a hearty thump on the back and the visions of Ginny looking lovely on his arm, of laughing with her, taking the mickey on Ron were gradually replaced by those of Parvati sitting miserably next to him, Ron not talking to anyone…reality settling in.

“That’s some powerful magic, George,” Harry said finally. The ‘what if’ charm had indeed let him experience what life had been like when he was shy, awkward, Cho obsessed and completely unworthy of what life with Ginny would be. It had been nice to experience a Hogwarts with her but he smiled realizing that, while he may have messed it up before, he had gotten a second…well third really, chance.

Both George and Harry looked up as the bell to the store jingled and a windswept Ginny entered the store. For a moment Harry thought he was still under the influence of the charm and hallucinating.

“You shouldn’t be here…you told me you wouldn’t be here,” he said finally, stumbling over the words. Ginny gave a laugh, reaching out to give him a hug.

“I snuck away. Don’t tell the Head Girl,” she whispered into his ear and Harry was overwhelmed by the comforting smell of flowers.

“Seeing as she likely has her tongue down Ron’s throat I doubt she will care,” Harry said, pulling back so he could look at her fully.

The Ginny before him was no blushing third year. Still in Hogwarts robes but much more filled out and beautiful, looking at him with love and trust in his eyes. He felt that familiar warmth collect inside him as he gazed at her.

“Come on, let’s go get some ice cream,” he told her, waving goodbye to George and pulling her into his side.

“Ohhh you know I love ice cream,” she said brightly, snuggling into him.

“Mint chip?” He asked.

“Mint chip.”