#build a home for the frogs and they will come

[markscherz]

A friend of mine sent me a yt video of a guy who was relocating frog eggs (prolly a vernal pool) and showed 1000s of baby frogs coming out of the water in his backyard. she asked me how I felt about it as a ecologist. I felt like it was irresponsible to do, especially to post videos on it, but probably not "ecological terrorism" like people in the comments were saying, because I see baby frogs in nature come out of water in hoards sometimes too. Kind of a mixed bag.

But I wanted to ask you, since you're a herpetologist and waaay more experienced than me: how do you feel about the yt channel "frog army YouTube"?

Many frogs and toads are classical R-strategists. Some toads can lay 20+ THOUSAND eggs in a single clutch. The whole point of that strategy is that not all of the offspring survive. In fact, it would be really rather bad if all of the offspring were to survive, because (1) they wouldn't be feeding the predators and decomposers that live off of their noble sacrifice, and (2) they will require massively more resources than they otherwise would. It can have all kinds of detrimental down-stream effects.

This is the reason we often see swarms of tadpoles darkening some small pools (especially ones where there are no fish!), and later hoards of froglets (that's the technical term) emerging from pools at once. It's an evolutionary strategy, that only few individuals survive to achieve reproductive age.

Point 1: it is *fine* if not all the tadpoles survive to adulthood. That's how the system is supposed to work. You are not doing the system favours if you are changing tadpole survivorship to 100%.

Now, humans really are fucking things up in a lot of environments. Environmental pollutants, like heavy metals, can cause major issues for wildlife, and especially frogs, which (1) are not as vagile as e.g. birds and medium- to large-sized mammals and thus cannot escape the problem zone effectively, and (2) are EXTRA sensitive to the environment because of their permeable skin.

Point 2: we do have some responsibility to do something if we notice that there is a major problem emerging, which could dramatically alter the population dynamics for one or more generations of frogs.

However, *moving* clutches of eggs that are found in polluted pools is not the right move, especially for your average person. There are many reasons that it is not the right move, but chief among them are

(1) A lot of frogs that lay eggs in vernal pools have tadpoles that cannot survive being in larger ponds, and certainly cannot survive in streams or other bodies of flowing water.

(2) A lot of frogs that lay their eggs in vernal pools are already adapted to less than ideal conditions, and have excellent strategies to overcome those conditions, such as incredibly quick metamorphosis (sometimes just a few days!)

(3) By moving clutches of eggs, you could easily be moving the pathogens or pollutants that are causing the problem in the first place.

(4) If there is Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis fungus around, you are spreading chytrid, and that is VERY bad. Chytridiomycosis has already driven several frog species to extinction, and caused massive population collapse in several others.

(5) If you do not know the species, attempts to rescue them might be aiding the advance of an invasive species.

(6) It's often illegal to intervene! Many species are protected by law, and you are not allowed to remove them from the wild. Consult your local laws.

Point 3: the responsibility to do something does not include removing the frogs and raising a frog army.

So what should we do if we find a clutch of eggs in an oily pool? Or in a nearly dried out puddle?

First assess the nature of the problem. Is the pool just about to dry out? Then leave it alone. The tadpoles will probably be fine (and if they're not, they'll provide rich nutrients to predators and decomposers). But are there signs of pollution? Then assess: is the pollution covering a larger area? Or is it localised? If you find dead frogs or other amphibians is a major warning sign, and it needs to be brought to the relevant authorities. Contact your local environmental agency/department, and notify them of the precise location of the problem, and its extent. Document everything with photos and videos.

Point 4: there are organisations and agencies specifically tasked with intervening in cases of environmental damage. It is *your* job to bring it to their attention, but unless instructed by them, you need not take any further action. It is their job to know what to do, and to take appropriate action.

TL;DR: 'Raising a frog army' is for the likes, not the frogs, and is not environmentally responsible or ethically defensible. Build a home for the frogs, and they will come.

[natolesims]

WIP

I rarely share build pictures in the blog (I don't really know why?) but I got the sudden urge- no. The NEED to build Tiana's final home and I'm proud, your honor.

[evilgwrl]

Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Ten)

CW: PIV (no protection, use it irl), cream pies, angst, brief description of oral (f receiving), drama time!!!

P.S. this is kinda dooky my bad

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Everything was white-hot, a strum of fulfilment working through every muscle, scorching blood pumping through your veins, constricting your breath with every knock against your cervix. Teeth indented your neck, crescent moons scarring the flesh with every breath that rang against your throat.

Simon was everywhere.

Whether it was hands gripping at your ass, kneading the flesh between over-worked palms, or his tongue licking at your neck, cleaning the peppered wounds he flourished into your skin, he was there.

Black face paint stained your chest, stygian stains tearing down your breasts with every drop of water, his eyes seizing all colour as his pupils dilated, lapping in the sight of you with every dip of his crusted lashes. He was almost feral, grunting with every deep thrust, enjoying the way you drew him in with every suck of your creamy cunt, every stutter of a breath that whispered against his ear, every splutter of your lungs that filled with water as your mouth held open over the spurting faucet.

His chest was swollen with pride, a sick sense of satisfaction running through him at your expression, your body docile against his grip as your eyes squeezed into crinkled slits. You were utterly fucked on his sheath, his hips pistoling into yours like it was his duty to pleasure you, to bring you to that high he was desperately chasing to feel.

Dark curls brushed against your crotch with every drive of his cock, your tender nipples against his aggravated skin, the skin that was torn from his preposterous labour. His fingers were cruel, toying at your clit with ease as you dug your fingernails into the chisel of his back, coarse muscles reacting to the touch.

You felt fuzzy; your mouth jutted open with a whine as your body succumbed to him, torturous rolls of pressure building in your stomach.

“I’ve missed feeling you around me,” he rasped, his voice splintered with frustration. Frustration that he hadn’t had a proper release since his departure, frustration that he was away from you, frustration that the man was catching feelings faster than he believed he should.

“Missed you,” you mewled, squeezing him coherently with your words, a guttural groan sounding from the man.

Your bodies melted into the water, colliding with each other’s limbs as Simon came inside you, hot spurts of come plugging your cunt with a grunt as he pulled out, a stutter of a breath sounding from you as your legs wobbled onto the ground, muscles spasming in retaliation.

Simon’s fingers were gentle, working the loofah over your relaxed state as your neck cocked. You were so supine around him. Why? Don’t you know what kind of person he is? How many people he’s killed?

“Simon?”

The Lieutenant cleared his throat, staring at you as you pushed his hand away from the same spot he had been rubbing for the last minute.

“Sorry, got lost in thought.”

You offered him a polite smile, pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth before sudsing the sponge back up, your touch delicate as you ran over his bruises. Simon’s eyes slacked, consumed by nothing as he drifted into thought, enthralled in his work.

Gunpowder skinned his nose, staining his nostrils with the thickness of burnt flesh and stolen lives, the sound of begging and retaliation engorging his brain as he shoved you away, a harsh grunt leaving his lips as he shook off his head, stepping out of the steam.

“Simon? What – are you ok?”

“I have to go, Y/N.”

Autumn had consumed your garden, the green rotting into a moulded brown, a dead stream of leaves scattered like a path to your front door. The air was thick with wet dirt and burnt coffee, a flurry of frogs making a home in one of your unused watering cans. The sky was angrier, often lashing out on the planet in the form of rain and thunder.

Time was going by quicker, the end of September reaching up to you as you crossed an ‘X’ over your calendar. It had been almost 3 weeks since you had spoken to Simon.

You had tried.

It began as chasing him out of the shower in nothing but a towel, your head dripping wet, which turned to you knocking on his door a day later with cookies again, availed by no answer. That turned into you sitting outside the front more in hopes of seeing him.

You didn’t.

You were confused at first, your heart aching slightly at the sudden switch between the man. You had taken it out on your garden, aggravated fists pummelling at the soil like a child throwing a tantrum. It wasn’t long until you summed it down to him not wanting anything serious and left it at that.

You were disappointed, hushing yourself to sleep on your satin pillow as you attempted to listen to any sound of him on the other side. You were also a big girl.

If he was that easy to lose, you never had him in the first place.

The fall air was heavy with familiarity as you piled into the busy parking lot, a swarm of pine trees greeting you, their leaves a vibrant display of orange and yellow, pointed outwards with desperation.

It was a little tradition you had kept for yourself: carving pumpkins.

Everything was crisp. There was an over-ripe stench of cinnamon consuming you from passing cider stalls with the sound of families bustling around with candied apples and hot drinks.

You spotted Tamara in the distance, her boyfriend Max next to her, hugging himself in an attempt for warmth as she tapped him on the shoulder, her hand waving frantically at you.

“Hello!” She cooed, pulling you into a needed hug. She smelt like pumpkin and vanilla, almost gagging you at how much she had drowned herself in perfume. Her hair matched the Autumn air, an earthy red catching your attention as you ran your fingers through the heated curls.

“New hair?” You asked, smiling brightly as you adjusted the scarf around your neck.

“Needed a change,” she said, wrapping her arm into Max’s, who began rambling about how he was going to make the best Jack-o-Lantern.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you; Louis is coming. Is that ok?”

The pit in your stomach coiled for a minute, a remembrance of the last time you saw him in that café with Simon before you nodded.

“Of course!”

Louis stepped out of his car, the bristle of a chill in the air reminding him of where he grew up as he tugged at his cashmere jumper, the blue colour leading him to stand out like a sore thumb until he saw you, a familiar shade adorning you.

His voice was soft as he greeted you, Max and Tamara immediately walking off to pick out their pumpkins.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” you say, gazing at the row of orange surrounding you, children running in between passing couples as you pointed to the fattest vegetables surrounding you.

“I didn’t mean to intrude when you were out with your boyfriend-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct, taking in how harsh your tone was before placing your hand on his shoulder, “You didn’t intrude on anything. I would – I would love to go out with you.”

It felt wrong to get all dolled up for someone else. Red stained your lips, and your teeth, as you rubbed at them aggressively in the mirror, a black silk dress falling from your skin elegantly. Your eyes were shaded with a fine liner, a smoky hue of brown on your lash line as you spritz your more expensive perfume for the occasion.

Louis was different, fancier, you suppose. His Jaguar skidded against the gravel, an irritated scowl on his face before he watched you peek through the window, an amused look on your face as you opened the front door.

“You look beautiful,” the man said, holding a bouquet of red roses in his hand, tied with a pearl string. You shared dinner over a bottle of Cabernet and ended it with his hand on your thigh, his engine roaring down your cul-de-sac with glee as you kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you for tonight, I enjoyed it.”

It should have ended there. But it didn’t.

It felt wrong to get undressed for someone else. It felt wrong to feel someone else kiss against your pudgy clit and lap at your slick. It felt wrong to buck your hips to meet his, your chest groped with a layer of sweat from another man’s mouth.

Could he hear you? Did he care?

He did.

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just not home

words: 1k

warnings: rafe gets kicked out of his house, mentions of hooking up/friends with benefits but not explicit

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan and mentally curse whoever it is that is causing your phone to ring, waking you up from a pleasant dream. 

you grab it off the nightstand, briefly glancing at the contact name before answering, keeping your eyes partly closed as the screen causes you to squint, not adjusted to the light yet.

“rafe, it's late.” you say, not greeting him. “if you're calling to fuck, the answer is no. im too tired.”

rafe has a habit of hitting you up whenever he needs to release some tension. you were sort of friends, at least at first, but it all changed when you slept together once when drunk at a party, then repeatedly ended up in each other's beds until it became a regular thing.

“it's not that um… can i come over though?” rafes voice is softer than you're used to, and it causes you to shake off a bit more of the fog that the sleep has over your mind.

“what's wrong?” you question.

“nothing.” rafe says. you don't respond, waiting to see if he will volunteer more information, but it doesn't come.

“where are you?” you try instead.

“walking over to your house.” rafe says, and your ears then pick up the background noises, the cicadas and frogs in the distance. 

“why are you walking?” 

“my dad took the keys to my truck.” rafe explains. you sigh and switch the phone to speaker as you get out of bed, shivering when you throw back the covers and are exposed to the air. “he kicked me out.”

“ward did what?” you question, putting on a pair of crocs and heading out your bedroom door to find your purse and car keys.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “im sorry, y/n. i shouldn't have called, just go back to sleep.”

“hey, stop that.” you say, heading out the door once you have everything you need to drive. “im coming to pick you up right now, where are you?”

rafe responds with his location. you remain on the line as you drive, but stay quiet to focus on the road. even though there's no cars, you're not fully awake yet and need all of your brain power to focus on getting to rafe safely.

your heart breaks a little when you spot him, head hung low as he walks down the sidewalk. you pull your car to the side of the road, getting out and immediately pulling rafe into your arms, holding him close until he hugs you back.

“i didn't have anywhere else to go.” rafe whispers into your hair.

“it's okay.” you say, rubbing your hand over his back. “im glad you called.”

you pull away from the hug, seeing the look in rafes eye. above everything else, he looks tired, completely exhausted. you have never shared an kiss that didn't lead to or happen during sex, but you can't resist pressing your mouth against his pouty lips. rafe kisses back gently, and you can feel a bit of the tension leave his body as he does.

“come on, it's cold out here.” you tug at rafes hand, watching him sit down in your passenger seat as you round the car to drive you home.

you reach across the center console, linking your hands together. “do you wanna talk about what happened?” you ask.

rafe is quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand, keeping his eyes on the road out the front windscreen instead of looking at you. “can we talk in the morning? im just so tired right now.”

“yeah.” you nod. “thats fine, rafey.”

you fall into comfortable silence on the way back home, keeping your hand in rafes, your fingers intertwined. it dawns on you that this is probably the most intimate moment you've had with rafe, despite having sex with him multiple times, it's this moment of innocently holding hands, no build up to anything more, just rafe needing you, and you giving him a physical connection.

you pull right up to your door, not bothering to care about your shitty parking job as one of your tires sits off your driveway and in the grass. you just want to get back in bed.

“ill leave first thing in the morning, i just needed a place to sleep.” rafe says as you head inside, making you turn to look at him.

“rafe, don't be ridiculous.” you sigh, feeling sad that he ever thought you would kick him out. “you can stay as long as you need.”

“thank you, baby.” rafe says, following you up the stairs. he pauses at the top, looking at the multiple bedroom doors.

“i can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms if you want.” he offers, and you scoff.

“we've shared a bed before.”

“after we've had sex, yeah.” rafe shrugs. “i just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“i think you owe me some cuddles after waking me up in the middle of the night.” you say, and rafe nods with a small grin, glad that you agreed, not wanting to be alone tonight.

you head towards your bedroom, shutting the door behind you after rafe enters. you climb into bed, your legs giving out the second you're back on your mattress.

“i don't have… any pajamas.” rafe sighs, looking down at his jeans and polo shirt.

“just wear your underwear. i don't care, just get over here.” you pat the open spot on your bed, managing to keep your eyes open and on rafe as he strips down to his boxers before getting into bed with you.

you cement yourself to his side, sighing softly when he wraps an arm around you, letting you rest on his chest.

“thank you.” he whispers.

“of course, rafe.” you press your lips against his bare skin, the best kiss that he's going to get out of you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. you fall back into a deep slumber as rafe gently strokes over your back, feeling comfortable and safe with your legs tangled together with his.

[buck-star]

Fluffy Winter Event

Welcome to the “fluffy winter event”. A library filled with so much fluff that your tooth will be rooted after reading it all. So continue if you’re oke with the fluffiest time you can get.

If you decided to stay and let your heart be warmed with the cuteness and softness of our favorite characters, take a comfy seat and a book.

I know we all adore smut at some times but this event will be just the sweetness we all need. There is not enough appreciation when it comes to fluff (with or without angst).

Rules:

❄️ The event will run from the 16. November 2024 until the 31st January 2025.

❄️ FLUFF! With or without angst, porn without plot won’t be accepted.

❄️ You don’t need to claim any prompt, they are free to use.

❄️ Feel free to mix them as much as you want and however you want.

❄️ You can participate as often as you want. One, two, three, four pieces… more than four? DO IT! Make it fluffy for us all!

❄️ Be respectful and nice

❄️ Support the writers with comments and reblogs! Show them all the love they deserve!

❄️ Please put a ‘read more’ if more than 500 Words

❄️ You can either write, make mood boards, gif sets, whatever you want to do, feel free!

❄️ Please tag me @buck-star and add #sydneysfluffywinter or #fluff-star winter event

(Thanks to @darsynia for the # idea, hope you don’t mind, hehe.)

❄️ Dividers are made by me, so please ask before using!

If you took a seat, feel free to look around. Hot chocolate? Tea? Cake? A warm blanket? Take whatever you need to feel comfy.

⛄️Tropes⛄️

❄️ Stranded/snowed in

❄️ Best Friends to lovers

❄️ Roommates

❄️Mob/Mafia

❄️Biker

❄️CEO

❄️Friends with benefits to lovers

❄️ Painter

❄️ Single parent

❄️Educator/Teacher

❄️Santa Claus/ Elves/…

❄️Royalty

❄️Cabin in the woods

❄️ Grumpy x Sunshine

❄️ Secret admirer

❄️ Saying “I love you” for the first time

❄️ arranged marriage

❄️ Bakery

❄️ Shop owner

❄️ Book shop/library owner

❄️ Meet cute

❄️ Mutual pining/idiots in love

❄️ Babysitter

❄️ Soon to be parents

❄️ Whatever else you would like to write about.

⛄️Activities⛄️

❄️ Christmas market

❄️ Ice skating

❄️ Building a snowman

❄️ Baking/Cooking

❄️ Gingerbread man/house/wahtever

❄️ Go on a sleigh ride/sledging

❄️ Skiing

❄️ Fireworks

❄️ Gift giving

❄️ Decorating together

❄️ Borrowing hoodies/clothes

❄️ Reindeer

❄️ Binge watching Christmas/winter movies

❄️ Sitting together in front of the fireplace

❄️ Drinking hot chocolate

❄️ Baking Contest

❄️ Dancing

❄️ Playing in the snow

❄️ Meeting family/friends

❄️ Book shops / library

❄️ Cafe / Bakery

❄️ Anything that you would love to do with your character.

⛄️Movies⛄️

❄️ The Grinch

❄️ Nightmare before Christmas

❄️ Klaus

❄️ Jingle Jangle

❄️ Home alone

❄️ The Santa Clause

❄️ Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer

❄️ A boy called Christmas

❄️ Spirited

❄️ The Noel diary

❄️ The Christmas chronicles

❄️ Single all the way

❄️ The Knight before Christmas

❄️ The princess switch

❄️ Christmas with you

❄️ Love actually

❄️ Falling for Christmas

❄️ The movie you love for Christmas season.

⛄️Songs⛄️

❄️ ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’ by Mariah Carey

❄️ ‘Feliz Navidad’ by José Feliciano

❄️ ‘Last Christmas’ by Wham!

❄️ ‘White Christmas’ by Bing Crosby

❄️ ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’ by the Jackson 5

❄️ ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ by Chris Rea

❄️ ‘Frosty the Snowman’ by Cocteau Twins

❄️ ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’ by John Lennon & Yoko Ono

❄️ ‘Santa Tell Me’ by Ariana Grande

❄️ 'Jingle Bell Rock' by Bobby Helms

❄️ Whatever song you love to hear during Christmas time.

⛄️Fairytales⛄️

❄️ Snow white and the seven dwarfs

❄️ Beauty and the beast

❄️ The Lion King

❄️ Cinderella

❄️ Little red riding hood

❄️ The little mermaid

❄️ The twelve dancing princesses

❄️ Ali Baba and the forty thieves

❄️ Hansel and Gretel

❄️ Snow white and rose red

❄️ The Snow Queen

❄️ Rumpelstiltskin

❄️ Jack and the beanstalk

❄️ Aladdin and the magic lamp

❄️ The golden goose

❄️ Goldilocks and the three bears

❄️ Rapunzel

❄️ The frog prince

❄️ The Princess and the pea

❄️ Whichever fairytale you want to write for

⛄️Quotes⛄️

❄️ “Is that my hoodie? Ah, ah, don’t tell me it looks pretty much alike, it’s mine, isn’t it?”

❄️ “You’re the sweetest Santa ever, even if it’s just a costume.”

❄️ “I want wrap you into blanket and never let you go.”

❄️ “Please, do it again. It’s so… cute.”

❄️ “Are you sure you don’t mind me kissing you every time you smile at me? Because you never stop smiling at me.”

❄️ “Your grumpiness makes you even sweeter.”

❄️ “You like them? They are my favorite.”

❄️ “I would even share the last piece of [whatever they love] with you. Just because I love seeing you happy.”

❄️ “Come here. I’m comfy.”

❄️ “Your lips will be red and sore if you allow me that. So better think about it again.”

❄️ “Home is not a place, at least not for me. You’re my home.”

❄️ “Didn’t think you would be that comfy. So strong and thick muscles but still so soft just like a big bear.”

❄️ “It will be fun at the market. There is… food!”

❄️ “You’re adorable when you giggle. You’re always adorable.”

❄️ “You’re the most precious thing ever. I will protect you with everything I have.”

❄️ “No! You think you can steal my chocolate without consequences, [petname]?”

❄️ “OHHHH, no! That’s my remote, and we are gonna watch that movie. It’s just a romance!”

❄️ “Don’t want popcorn. Your lips are the sweetest I ever tasted. Prefer those on mine.”

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Tags: @elixirfromthestars @holylulusworld @wildwestdean @elvenrin @steviebbboi @sergeantbarnessdoll @amathslutsguidetofandom @buckgasms @bisasterbuckley @buck-buck-buckaroo @brnesblogposts @bigtreefest @chase-your-dreams-away @flowersforbucky @heytheredelulu @jobean12-blog @krirebr @lives-in-midgard @little-miss-dilf-lover @multiversefanfics @mercurial-chuckles @navybrat817 @nickfowlerrr @veltana @whitexwolfxx310 @whatever-lmaoo @drabblesandsnippets @superdcchick @earlgreydream @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @laurfilijames @saiyanprincessswanie @fandomxo00 @embbarnes @brandycranby @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @pandapetals

[faun-the-fawn77]

"𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃"

Lucifer Morningstar x F!FallenAngel!Reader

Genre: SMUT

Word Count: 4.0k

Warnings: oral(m! receiving), creampie, breeding, mentions of having kids, clit play, overstimulation, squirting, brief fingering, whipped!Lucifer, Lucifer being a sweetheart, reader is horny 25/8

Desc: A one night stand is a one night stand... right? What happens when Lucifer keeps going back to the same fallen angel just for a taste of Heaven? Oh no... seems the Devil has caught feelings once again!

Note: Lucifer smut;) like there isn't enough already. Requests are open now! This is third and final fic of the votes. Don't worry to those who voted for others! I will be working on all those fics:) Next after this one is a part two to "Lips Of An Angel". Just have to...find a song that will match the part two:)

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Another shitty day in Hell. Sinners were offing each other in the streets of the Pride Ring. The angelic building in the middle of the city shone brightly in the red light, the clock on each side had big letters reading ‘36 DAYS’. 

Lucifer, King of Hell himself, wandered the streets of Cannibal town, a mission in his mind. He tried to avoid Rosie ‘cause she’s a talker and would only make him late for where he needed to go after getting the thing he came to this lovely town for. He scoured the shops looking for the one thing that stood out to him last time he was here. It reminded him so much of Her. Of the one person he couldn’t get out of his mind. 

“Well, hello to our dear king! How are you on this hellish evening?” Lucifer growled lowly at the sound of that radio prick's voice. He turned to the red deer demon and pulled him down by his collar.

“Listen, I don’t have time for your theatrics today. I have places to be and things to get and I don’t need some lowlife sinner messing that up for me,” Lucifer let go of the demon’s coat and strided off to the jewelry shop he spotted out of the corner of his eye, waving behind to the overlord, “Hope you have a bad day!”

Later that evening, Lucifer turned up at his daughter’s hotel. He always came under the guise of seeing his daughter but everyone knew he came for one particular guest of his daughters. Knocking on the giant doors, he waited ‘till either his daughter or the deer prick opened up. 

The doors opened a few minutes later and Lucifer was greeted by, thankfully, his daughter’s voice, “Oh! Back again, dad? But I jus-”

“Charlie! You know I’m always here to see you! I just missed you so much that I couldn’t wait a few days!” Lucifer walked in and hugged his daughter. Vaggie stood off to the side, peering out the door for any dangers. 

Charlie gasped before smiling nervously and patted her dad’s back. She pulled away and held him by the shoulders. 

“Dad, you know I love when you visit. We all do! But uh- Everyone, especially Angel, has noticed that you only come here for a certain someone…” Charlie trailed off. Lucifer stood there silently and blinked slowly, almost frog-like.

“Ah…” He didn’t know what to say. Was he that obvious? The weight in his suit pocket seemed to weigh down on him immensely. He gripped the apple on his cane tightly. 

“Is she here?” Charlie smiled. She wanted her dad to be happy. After her mom had left them, her dad was in a slump. She checked up on him as much as she could but she could tell he wasn’t getting any better. After finding Y/N, a fallen angel just like her father, Charlie brought her with to her family home in hopes of them becoming friends. After that, Lucifer has been stopping by more than he used to. Charlie thought it was because they were good friends but after what Angel told the group last time…Charlie knew her father had fallen once again and this time harder than he fell for Lilith. 

“She’s here. Last I spoke with her, she was working on a secret project. She wouldn’t tell me what it was.” Lucifer looked about ready to bounce off the walls of the hotel lobby. 

“Well I’ll just uh- yeah…” Lucifer ran off towards the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse at the top of the hotel. He rocked on his heels as the lift made its way up to the top. He stuck his clawed left hand into his suit pocket and clutched the velvet box.

“Well, hello there, handsome.” Y/N’s voice was like smooth silk. It calmed Lucifer’s nerves down, the breath stuck in his throat was exhaled as he stepped foot into his…friend’s penthouse. He wouldn’t call her friend with the amount of times they’ve gotten intimate but, he didn’t know what else to call it. 

“Hello, darling. How is your night going?” Lucifer plopped a seat on the sofa in her living room. He watched as she rounded the island in her kitchen, holding a cup of coffee and wearing nothing but a white silk robe. 

“I’m doing wonderfully, Luci. What prompted the visit?” She folded her legs as she sat on the other end of the sofa. Lucifer cleared his throat and shifted his legs. The robe was a bit see-through which made her breasts very noticeable to him.

“Just wanted to see you…” Y/N smiled cheekily. She knew what she was doing to him. With the way she sat to what she was wearing, Lucifer couldn’t believe he had this much self-control to not jump on her.

“Is that all?” Lucifer gulped. He shifted in his seat once again and gazed away from Y/N’s intense stare. Her eyes darkened with lust as she continued to stare right at him. 

“What do you actually want, Luci?” She placed her mug down, sliding her bottom over and closer to her partner. She watched him cross his legs and grip the arm of the sofa.

“Come on, Luci. Tell me what you desire~” She ran a hand up his arm and over his chest. Lucifer watched with bated breath as she undid his bowtie and slipped the first few buttons of his shirt undone. Her fingers snuck under the shirt and touched all over his pale chest.

“Luciiii~” Lucifer felt the last thin thread snap at the tone of her voice. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her down onto the couch. He roughly kissed her and made sure to slide his forked tongue between her lips and into her mouth. He heard her moan and felt her hands run up his arms and into his hair. 

Lucifer pulled away with a dazed look in his red eyes. He was straddling her lap, his erection pushing painfully against his suit pants. 

“Need help with that?” Lucifer sat back as Y/N leaned over him, running her hands from his hair, down his semi-exposed chest, and to his tightened pants. She undid his black belt and slipped it from his pants. She popped the button on his pants and unzipped the zipper. 

“Please…” Lucifer whined. Y/N looked up at him and smirked. She made sure to go slow when she pulled his pants down his legs. Her knees hit the carpeted floor when his pants did. Her soft hands slid from his ankles and all the way up to his boxers elastic. 

“Be patient, Luci.”

“God, I’m addicted…” Lucifer mumbled. He was very addicted to her. To all the things she does to him both in and out of the sheets.

Y/N hummed and brought her mouth closer towards his erection. Her breath fanned across the dampened tip and she quickly tore through his duck-printed boxers. The shreds of fabric fell to the carpet. 

“Oh, Luci…” She licked a stripe up from his balls to tip. Lucifer moaned loudly and rushed to cover his mouth. Y/N laughed, pulling his hand from his mouth.

“You can be as loud as you want, my dear. No one can hear us.” With that, she took the tip of his dick into her hot mouth. Lucifer gripped the sofa, tearing streaks into it with his claws. His breathing became laboured as Y/N made work on his cock. She swirled her tongue around the tip, her hand coming up and wrapping around the base. She wanted to antagonise him. Make him want her.

“Oh my Lord, please! Please do something…” Lucifer could feel his patience run thin. Patience was definitely not one of his virtues, if he had any left. 

Y/N hummed. She removed her hand and placed both of them on his thighs, bracing herself, before taking him whole. 

“OH, Y/N/N! Plea~ah,” Lucifer moaned. He bucked his hips up into her mouth and down her throat. He wanted to feel guilty but he was so into the pleasure that she was giving him. Her nails dug into his thighs, her moans vibrated down his length which caused him to gag her once again. 

“I-I’m sorry! You just-hah-you just are so good,” Lucifer praised. She may have been an angel but by God was her mouth sinful. 

Ohh, girl, let’s take it slow

So as for you, well, you know where to go

I wanna take my love and hate you ‘til the end

It’s not like you to turn away

From all the bullshit I can’t take

It’s not like me to walk away

It’s been a few days since Lucifer has been intimate with his partner. His friends with benefits as he has learned from Angel Dust. He was scared. Every time they’ve gotten intimate, Lucifer was on the verge of telling her he loves her. It took all it had in him to not shout it when he came. 

“Oh, Rosie. I don’t know what to do!” Lucifer plonked his head on the table face first. His glass of whiskey shook at the action. 

Rosie, the one who made sure the cannibals in her town stayed in check, patted her king on his head. She smiled down at the fallen angel and watched as he mumbled to himself.

“Honey, if you don’t tell her how you feel, then how is she supposed to know you feel this way? What if someone else sweeps her off her feet? She is nothing like that ex of yours, ya know.” Lucifer grumbled. He knew she wasn’t like Lilith. Lilith was a cold-hearted bitch who cared about no one but herself. 

“I’m trying to take it slow.”

“Is having a one night stand and then becoming friends with benefits ‘taking it slow’?” Lucifer glared at the smiling cannibal. She was right and he knew it. He sighed and dug into his pocket. He brought out the velvet box and slid it over to his friend. 

“I wanted to give her this when I confessed… I don’t know if it’s too much…” Rosie gently took the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw what it was. 

“Lucifer! This is gorgeous! I’m sure she’ll love it, honey.” Lucifer felt his shoulders sag with relief. The piece in the velvet box was beautiful. It was a silver ring detailed with leaves. Deer antlers were what held the moss agate stone in the middle. He learned from Husk and Angel that she only wore silver jewellery and that her favourite stone was moss agate. It may not have been the most expensive but he wanted it to come from the heart and not from his wealth. 

“I know she will. I just…I hate how much I love her. It’s suffocating with her not knowing.” Lucifer was still scared. Scared that she’d walk away and leave everything they’ve built behind. Just like Lilith. He knew it wasn’t like Y/N to turn away. He knew because he’d attend some of those silly exercises his daughter hosted. 

“Tell her. Let her know and don’t bullshit your way outta this.” Rosie slid the ring back to Lucifer. She watched as he breathed in deeply, pocketed the box, and made his way to the door to her shop. 

“I won’t walk away from her. Not like I did to Lilith.” With that, Lucifer exited the shop and made his way to the hotel.

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do 

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite king! How are you today, my dear?” Lucifer had arrived at Y/N’s place in seconds flat after leaving Rosies. He had spider lilies in one hand and a stuffed black cat in the other. Both being her favourite things she’s seen in Hell. 

“Good! I just wanted to have a chat with you. Hangout for a bit after all the paperwork I did this morning.” Lucifer watched her eyes light up at the sight of the flowers and stuffie. She grabbed them from his hands and raced to get the flowers in some water. She placed the stuffed cat on her loveseat near her bookshelf. 

Lucifer stepped out of the lift and slowly walked towards the kitchen of her penthouse. Y/N was humming as she cut the bottoms of the flowers and placed them in the black vase. Her fingers were nimble and held the flowers delicately to ensure they didn't get damaged. 

“What did you want to talk about, sweetheart?” Lucifer took a seat at the island, snatching an apple from the basket of fruit in the centre. 

“Nothing important… uhm, how was your day?” Lucifer was nervous. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t drop the L-bomb on her. She was too important to him to lose. 

“It was amazing! Your daughter is such a sweetie! She’s helped me adjust to life in Hell wonderfully. I wish I could pay her back somehow…” Lucifer looked at the angel. This angel was of pure heart and faith. He knew Y/N was still struggling with being in Hell. He knew because he could see the way she hid behind his daughter when they went out or when she would quote from the bible only to grow embarrassed when the others looked at her in confusion. 

“She is a sweetie, isn’t she? I’m glad you’re adjusting to Hell. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable while you’re here.” Lucifer bit into the apple. Y/N watched as the juice dripped from his chin. She licked her lips, walking towards the island and having a seat on the stool near Lucifer. 

Lucifer continued to munch on the apple, not noticing Y/N’s hand creeping towards his thigh. When she made contact, Lucifer jumped and choked on a bit of the sweet fruit. 

“Surely you didn’t come here just to talk.” Lucifer felt flushed. He cleared his throat and set the apple core down. 

“I promise it was only just to talk. I know I said it was nothing important but-”

“Shh, Luci. I can see how tense your shoulders are. Why don’t I-”

Lucifer stood up abruptly causing Y/N’s hand to fall from his lap. He stepped back and sucked in a breath. He reached into his pocket and produced the black velvet box for Y/N to see. He could see the confusion in her eyes. 

“Y/N, I love you. I love you so much that the thought of you not knowing was suffocating me. I know it only started out as us being friends and delving into a one night stand that then turned us into friends with benefits. After a while, it wasn’t just the sex for me. I wanted all of you. Heart, body, mind, and soul. I wanted to feel what it was like for you to love me for me and not for my body. I hope this doesn’t scare you off but I wanted you to know how I feel about you.” Lucifer finished up and placed the small box in front of her. He was sweating profusely and his hands gripped the apple on his cane tightly. He watched as Y/N lifted the box up gently and opened it. Her eyes glittered and he swore he saw tears in her eyes.

“Luci…” Her breath was airy. Like he took her breath away.

“Luci, thank you. No one has done this much for me since I’ve been created. You don’t have to be scared ‘cause I love you just as much.” Lucifer could cry. She felt the same! He smiled brightly and bounded up to the tall angel and hugged her tightly. 

“Oh my Hell! I could bounce off these walls in happiness! Oh, I love you so much, my angel!” Lucifer could feel the vibrations of her laugh. She hugged him back just as tightly, the ring he gave her glittering on her right hand. 

“Thank you for accepting me, Y/N/N,” Lucifer mumbled into her breasts. He felt her fingers run through his golden locks as she hummed.

“No need to thank me, honey. I love you so very much.”

…

“Let’s head to the bedroom. I need to get this energy out~”

And I know when it’s getting rough

All the times we spend

Trying to make this love something better than

Just making up again

It’s not like you to turn away

All the bullshit I can’t take

Just when I think I can walk away

They’ve only had a few fights but they were only about Lucifer's work. He was the king and every time he went to sign off on a meeting paper to say he wouldn’t be able to make it, Y/N scolded him and told him he needed to go or the residents of the seven rings of hell won’t take him seriously anymore. 

She was right. Every time they went out on a date, Lucifer could hear the whispers and snickering. He was gone for years when Lilith left and everyone had assumed that he was gone. Now that he’s back and appearing more in the public eye, the sinners in Pride casted snide remarks his way. 

“Honey, a letter just came in from Ozzie. Have you always had a family dinner every month with the seven sins and Charlie?” Lucifer paled at the mention of the dinner. He hasn’t been to one since Lilith left him. Charlie had tried to get him to go a couple times only for him to turn her down and go back to wallowing in his sadness. 

“Uh- yes… yes we do. Ozzie was the one that actually wanted it to happen.” Lucifer bounced his knee nervously. Y/N hummed and made his way into the study and up to his desk. She set down the letter and looked down at him.

“How about we go? Ozzie seems to want to meet me and to introduce us to that little imp of his. This’ll be good for you! We can see family and maybe we could invite the residents of the hotel? Have the sins come from their rings and hang out in Pride?” Y/N has been encouraging him to get back into contact with his family since they’ve gotten together. Seemed she was very family oriented. I mean, she had always had him finish inside her whenever they were intimate. He had a sense that she wanted kids but she hasn’t said anything to him yet. 

“Fine. How about you write the letter back to Ozzie. Have him send out a message to the others that we’ll be having the dinner at our place. I’ll fly over to the hotel and inform Charlie.” Y/N squeaked and pulled a blank paper from her lover’s pile of papers on the desk. She produced a quill with the snap of her fingers and wrote out the letter. Lucifer was happy that she was excited to meet his family. Every time they had the petty arguments about his work and paperwork, she would ignore him ‘til she got too horny and then seduced him into bed. He didn’t want this love to be about fighting and making up with sex. He wanted it to be more than that,

“I told him that we’ll have the dinner this Friday! Make sure you mention to Charlie that I invited everyone from the hotel to be there!” Lucifer smiled as she leaned down to kiss his rosy cheek. She bounced off to who-knows-where while Lucifer sat back in his desk chair and sighed. He had to talk to her. 

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

The things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

When you’re loving me

Yeah

When you’re loving me

“Oh fuck! Lucifer, right there!” The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and ragged breathing. Lucifer was pounding mercilessly into his lover’s pussy. He watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head as his dick hit just the right spot inside her. Her moans echoed off the walls, her hands clenching the silk sheets beneath her. 

“Come on, baby. You have one more in you, don’t ya?” Lucifer groaned out into her ear. His stomach tightened when he felt her clench at his words. He smirked and brought a clawed hand to her pussy. His pointer and middle finger rubbing circles on her clit. She moaned loudly at the contact before she started to shake as her orgasm crashed through her. Juices squirted from her dripping pussy and coated his lower abdomen and thighs. 

“Oh fucking hell…” Lucifer moaned. His dick throbbed and he finally came into her clenching hole. His seed spilled out while he was still in her and when he pulled out he made sure to take his fingers, scoop up the mess, and push it back into her. Y/N moaned and tried to push his hand away only for him to grab it and shush her.

“It’s okay, honey. Just wanna make sure it takes…” Lucifer held still inside of her and when she calmed her breathing down, he made ‘come hither’ motions. She squeaked out and tried to squirm away only for Lucifer to pin her down. 

“One more. One more time, sweetheart. I need to make sure it takes,” Lucifer whispered. He leaned up and over her, pulling his fingers from her pussy and replacing it with his hardened dick. He saw her eyes tear up from overstimulation. He kissed her lips, holding onto her hips and slowly drove his hips into hers. 

“That’s it, sweetie. You can take it. I got you.” Lucifer whispered sweet nothings into her ear as he began to pick up his pace. His grip tightened on her hips when her pussy clenched around him. He moaned out, dropping his head onto her breasts. 

“I’m c-close, Luci! Please!” Lucifer thrusted his hips faster, making sure to hit the spot that made her see stars. Her eyes clenched shut and her hips moved to meet his hips. Her moans grew louder as her orgasm grew closer. 

“Oh, Hell…” Lucifer almost whined when Y/N tightened around his length, her moans loud as she shuddered. Her orgasm hit her full force, her pussy squirting out juices once again. Lucifer sped up until he finally released another load into her abused hole. 

“I want you to be a mama. Charlie already loves you, why not have another?” Lucifer mumbled. He dropped down on top of her, his dick still in her to keep his load inside to make sure it takes. 

Y/N ran her fingers through his messy hair and smiled down at him. He was such a softie for kids. Whenever they would visit the other rings, Y/N made sure they at least went to the circuses that were held that day to support the kids. 

“I love you, Luci.” 

Lucifer snuggled into her more and murmured out tiredly, “I love you most.”

How can I make it through

All the things you do

There’s just gotta be more to you and me

I’m so addicted to 

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

In between the sheets

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to

All the things you do

When you’re going down on me

Oh, the sounds you make

With every breath you take

It’s unlike anything

I’m so addicted to you

Addicted to you

WOOOO SECOND LUCI FIC!!! Hope I did him justice:')

Enjoy!!

And check out the new poll!

Upcoming fics!

[tinydefector]

Did my fever brain just hit me with another great idea, yes it did so enjoy.

Domestic Cybertron

Imagine another Au where humans take refugees on cybertron. They build a pretty decided coexistence. They have jobs and houses. The only difference is they don't have transport outside of the large public transport systems. Can you imagine running out of your house in a panic after just locking it, basically weaving through your cybertronian neighbours as they cheer you on for your first day in a new job. Bolting down the street in a rush, narrowly missing colliding with another mechs leg as you jump over their pede. Them calling out "Oi watch it !" They getting breathless as they run only for a mech to pull up beside them keeping pace, the mech being a friend of some sort trying to chat them up. "Can't talk! I'm going to be late!" They state only for the bot to let out a rumble. "Jump on I'll get you there quicker than your legs will" winding their window down so you can grab the scare bar as they get you the 3 blocks over much quicker than your legs would have. As they get closer, the bot is still eagerly chatting them up, trying to ask them out for drinks even as they jump off his side and bolt towards the doors to the building. "I'll take you out for Energon after work! Thank you!" They call out as they disappear inside. It makes the mech buzz with delight of finally getting that date with the human before heading off to wherever they were heading.

There's so much potential here. Give me humans living on cybertron with the bots in coexistence, shared work places, jobs. Coming home from work to see the local kids and minibots and cassette playing basketball or street cricket, bots having one of the car nut bros doing their detalinging due to their talent and skill. Mechs car pulling their friend or neighbour to work because they work in the same area. Mechs who have such a hobby collecting human things like shoes as decorations, and humans doing the same with things from Cybertron. Both earth and Cybertron having decent trade.

So yea, another idea I might put into writies in the future. because this is something that my fever brain has demanded

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

Taglist

@angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

@kgonbeiden

@murkyponds

@autobot79

@buddee

@bubblyjoonjoon

@chaihena

@pyreemo

@lovenotcomputed

@mskenway97

@delectableworm

@cheesecaketyrant

@ladyofnegativity

@desertrosesmetaldune

@stellasfallow

@coffee-or-hot-cocoa

@shinseiokami

@tea-loving-frog

@aquaioart

@daniel-meyer-03

@pupap123

@dannyaleksis

[beansprean]

My entry for What We Create In The Shadows vol 4! @wwcitszine

It was a privilege to be able to contribute to this zine among such creative, talented, and fun artist and writers! The mods truly did an incredible job and the zine is BEAUTIFUL! Highly recommend getting a physical copy if you can. :)

You can still get WWCITS until July 28th! All proceeds to to PFLAG!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: Detailed drawing of a city street at night; Nandor, Laszlo, Nadja, and Colin Robinson are in the foreground, running for their lives towards the viewer. Chasing them (having caught up to them, really) is vampire Guillermo flying through the air on bat wings, silhouetted by the glowing full moon behind him. He is grinning maniacally with his clawed hands curled upward in triumph, eyes glowing a burning orange as he poses mid-flight, chest puffed out with his newfound power. Nandor is in the front, arms pumping, eyes wide with fear as he looks straight ahead. At his elbow is Laszlo, looking over his shoulder in alarm, one hand clamped around Nadja's wrist to drag her on behind him. Nadja's other hand is holding up her skirts and cradling Nadja doll potato-sack style in her elbow as she rushes along. She looks upward with a snarl, distracted, as Guillermo looms above her. Lagging behind is Colin Robinson, huffing and puffing as he tries to keep up.

The city street behind them is full of easter eggs. A kiosk on the left behind Laszlo is covered in flyers: fundraiser to cover medical bills for Toby, a recruitment poster for the Mosquito Club, an add for reanimations for $350 cash, a Go Flip Yourself ad, a comptroller campaign poster for Sean covered up by one for Colin covered up by one for Evie, a newspaper article about Morrigan Manor, a Wicked poster, a flyer for the familiar mixer, a missing poster for Jenna, a Found poster for Guillermo's bicycle, a handwritten ad that says "Djinn to good home, call Gyermo" with a photo of the djinn lamp, and several stickers including one that says 'werewolves not swearwolves, a Palestinian flag, and the s5 moon promo shot. Sitting atop the kiosk is a frog with curly brown hair - la Guillerana, and above it on the brick wall is a black poster featuring a hooded figure with round glowing eyes that says "The Night Market: if you know, you know." The roof of the building has a clothesline stretched across it where the Cloak of Duplication is hanging. The next building has glass doors and windows across the first floor with soft ambient lighting coming from within. A foldable chalkboard outside says 'closed for privat pardy'. The name of the restaurant is printed above the door: 'love at first bite'. The second floor is a grid of square windows with the blinds drawn, a single ad for Rapula Realty in an upper window. A single anonymous finger parts the blinds on a lower window to peek out. The third floor has three windows and fairy lights draped across the front. A purple flag that says 'human wellness inquire within' hangs from the first window, and the second has one foggy pane with the word 'help' written on it backwards. Black Peter the goat is on the roof, front hooves planted on the ledge to look out at the running vampires in the street. The following building has a grid of windows and a temporary vinyl sign stretched across it that says 'Urgent Care'. More buildings stretch out behind to the horizon.

On the right, there is a small newspaper vending machine with the headlines 'Flying Man Spotted' and 'Strange meteor lands in New Brighton'. The adjacent building has four stories, the only entrance a set of stairs going straight down. Neon pink lights pour from the doorway and lowermost windows. Above the doorway with an arrow pointing down is a neon sign for Nadja's. Below it, a poster exclaiming 'Baby Colin Live!' One of the middle windows has a sign that says 'Nadja and Laszlo Human Music Group performing Thursday nights'. Hanging from the roof precariously by both hands and looking towards the ground in terror is Patton Oswalt. One of the Baron's mutant children is sitting happily on the ledge nearby. A tree is on the roof and has some kind of net hanging from it. The next building is corporate and mostly windows, the bottommost portion open and flanked by yellow poles, a yellow and black divider blocking the entrance. An awning above it says 'Jesk Parking'. Inside, there is what looks to be a pile of rats. Two bats fly past. A vinyl sign stretched over the building front is an ad showing a man hugging a pillow that says "Get the Guy Pillow! Buy 100 get 1 free! Guys only!" The roof turns suddenly to greco-roman architecture, a row of stone columns lining the edge. Sitting at the very top are the two gargoyles having a riveting conversation. The next building is 3 stories and has a trans flag hanging from one corner and a progress flat from the other. The first floor has an alcove with a door flanked by two windows, one featuring shelves with jars of white liquid, the other a palmistry poster that reads 'free palm reading with every ejaculation'. The store name above reads 'Satchel Serafina' More text on the second floor reads 'Home of Memo's Man Milk, gathered lovingly by hand.' Beyond this building is a small grassy area behind a fence with a dead old tree and some graffiti that says 'Simon the Devious' with a crown. There is a nearby sewer drain under the sidewalk where a hand is reaching out. More buildings stretch out behind to the horizon. /end ID

[lemoncrushh]

Her Album

Summary: Harry has finished recording his album, and he wants her to hear it.

Warnings: Angst, lots of feelings

Word Count: 2.9k+

A/N: A short one-shot written in 2019 in first person from Harry's POV. While this is not necessarily a reader fic, the woman's name is never mentioned. This was written before Fine Line was out, so it's pretty wild to think about it now.

The album was done. I’d made a visit to the studio to hear the final mix and then had lunch with Jeffrey and Glenne. As I drove home, I listened to the songs again in the car, deciding not to stop at my house when I got there, but instead to keep going so I could give one last listen straight through.

I’m not sure how I ended up on her street. It used to be automatic, like taking my shoes off before my trousers, or putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I’d driven down her block so many times before, I probably knew it better than my own neighbourhood.

I sat in the car for a long time, staring up at her window. I wasn’t even sure if she was home. I couldn’t tell if a light was on, but it was the middle of the day and that window was her bedroom, so she could’ve been anywhere else inside. I let the album loop around to the first track again, the opening chords hitting me in the chest just like the first time I’d heard them.

I wanted her to hear them too. I wanted her to listen to the melodies and have them bring back the memories that had inspired me to write them. I wanted her to listen to my lyrics and know they were all about her, even the ones that weren’t as obvious. Songs about love and loss. Songs about sex and lust and forbidden fruit. Songs that sounded like they were about something completely different, hidden behind loose meanings and innuendos.

But they were all about her.

I scrolled through my phone and opened the contacts to her name. We hadn’t spoken in weeks, maybe even months. I’d lost count. Being in the studio had helped to heal my broken heart, and my pride, but it certainly hadn’t erased her memory. She was with me every single day, every moment that I worked on a song.

I almost tapped on her name, my thumb grazing over it. But I stopped myself, turning off my phone, and then my engine. Climbing out of the car, I walked around it to the pavement in front of her building, once again looking up at her window. For a second I considered being like John Cusack in Say Anything, holding up an 80s boom box and serenading her with my music so she’d notice. But I reckoned that was borderline stalking, not to mention disturbing the neighbours, so I made my way to the stairs and climbed them to the second floor.

I stopped in front of her door, staring at it for a good two to three minutes before I even lifted my hand. I took several breaths, wondering if I was making a mistake. She probably didn’t wanna see me, let alone talk to me. She didn’t give a shit about my album. She had moved on.

But I was there. I felt like something had brought me there for a reason, and that reason was to play her my music. Let her know exactly how I felt about her - how she drove me crazy and how she’d hurt me and how I’d hurt her. How in love with her I’d been. How I still…

Finally, I knocked, a little too softly at first, but I didn’t want to startle her. At least that’s what I told myself. When no one responded, however, I knocked again, much louder and with determination.

“Jesus, I’m coming!” I heard her yell from inside. “Hold your-”

She stood before me with a half-eaten apple in her hand, her mouth open and her eyes wide. She wore a t-shirt and shorts, her hair pulled back in a loose bun and no makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hey,” I said, my voice not quite cooperating so I sounded like a frog.

“Harry.” She said my name in almost a question, though she knew it was me. She just wondered why it was me.

When she didn’t say anything else, I shifted my eyes up and down the hall and shrugged.

“Can I come in?”

I admit, I expected her to nod and step back to let me inside her apartment. But when she shook her head, my face fell.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she remarked.

“Um...why not?”

“Because…” she began, her tone hard as steel, “I just got over you.”

“Over me?” I gulped.

“Yeah. It’s taken me a while, but I finally am,” she explained, placing the apple on the table by the door. Then wiping her hands on her shorts, she leaned against the door frame. “You haven’t shown your face here in nearly three months. I can’t just let you waltz on in here and undo everything.”

“‘m not…” I stumbled, “‘m not undoing anything.”

“Then why are you here?”

Her gorgeous but stern eyes glared at me, piercing through my heart. I looked down at my feet, thinking I’d made a mistake by coming. She didn’t want any more to do with me. I’d waited too long and missed the window. Maybe there hadn’t even been one.

Lifting my head, I looked at her beautiful face again. It was then that I recognized the shirt she was wearing - my old AC/DC t-shirt.

“Looks like you’re not completely over me,” I pointed. I dunno why I said it. It was petty and juvenile.

“What?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re wearing my shirt.”

She looked down at the emblem on her chest, seemingly just realizing what she had on. With a sigh, she dropped her arms.

“I just like it,” she said, her head held high. “And you basically gave it to me anyway.”

“No, I didn’t.” Shut up, H, you’re making it worse, I thought to myself.

“Well, you left it here. And I ended up sleeping in it. And you never came back, so…” She crossed her arms again in defense.

She was right. The last time I’d been in her apartment, we’d had a massive fight, and I’d told her it was over and stormed out. She’d tried calling and texting me for a couple days, but I’d ignored her, stubborn with pride. When I’d finally agreed to talk to her again, I was only being a right twat, unable to see or accept her side. So, we only ended up fighting again until she said she needed some space.

“I was giving you your space,” I muttered, knowing damn well I sounded like a wanker.

“For six weeks?” she snorted and shook her head. “You have some nerve, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“What was that?” she stepped closer to me, her brows furrowed. “Did you really just say you’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Sorry for what? For breaking my heart? For being a dickhead? For not calling or texting or even saying one word to me for freaking ever? For telling me it was over in the first place? Or for showing up here now when I’m finally over you?”

I blinked. “All of it,” I admitted.

Her lips twitched, and for a second I thought she was going to smile.

“Fuck you, Harry!” she exclaimed.

Stepping back, she grabbed the door, ready to slam it. But I brought my hand up and stopped it.

“I want you to listen to it,” I said, remembering why I’d come.

“Why should I listen to you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

“Not to me. To the album. It’s finished, and I want you to hear it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You can’t be serious. You came here so I’d listen to your new music? You really are a douchebag.”

“No, you don’t understand, I-“

“You’re right, I don’t,” she interrupted. “But seems to me you had weeks to explain yourself, Harry. I’m done crying over you.”

She was about to shut the door again when I called out, “I’ve been crying over you, too!”

She stood still, her hand on the door that was opened only a crack. Leaning her forehead against it, I could tell she was holding back tears. I didn’t want her to cry now, at least not over this.

“Liar,” she croaked.

“It’s not a lie, ba-” I almost called her baby, but I knew she wouldn’t like that. Not yet. “Please. Let me in. You don’t even have to talk. Just listen to the album.”

I stood silent for a moment, watching her eyelashes flutter against her pink cheeks. Finally, she let out a sigh and stepped back, opening the door to allow me to step inside.

“Thanks,” I muttered low as she closed the door behind me.

She didn’t reply. In fact, she didn’t even look at me as she grabbed her half eaten apple and went into the kitchen. I stood in the middle of the living room, waiting for her return.

“Okay,” she gestured toward me as she plopped onto the couch. “Go ahead.”

Spotting her laptop on the coffee table, I pointed. “Do you mind?”

She merely nodded and I sat down next to her and opened it. Then sliding my hand into my pocket, I pulled out the USB drive and plugged it in, bringing up the files I’d saved in the studio. With a click of the mouse, the first track began to play, those familiar chords ringing once again. I sat back and watched her, waiting for some kind of reaction on her face.

But none came.

Not when the first track ended, nor when the second song started, the first lyric blatantly about her. I started to get restless, rubbing my palms on my knees and bouncing my leg. I ran my fingers through my hair, a habit she used to tell me was endearing, only now she didn’t give any indication that she even noticed.

Finally, during the third song, I saw her make the slightest move, leaning against the arm of the sofa and resting her head in her hand. We made eye contact for a second before she quickly looked away, her eyes hazy. I wondered what she was thinking. I wanted so badly to ask, to pry it out of her, but I’d promised she needn’t talk.

We were halfway through the album when I caught more movement out of the corner of my eye. I’d been sat with my head down, unable to look at her during track seven, the most intimate and personal song I’d written. My gaze lifted to her, and I noticed her shoulders were shaking. Her head was still in her hand, her cheeks now wet with tears.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her in my arms. God, I wanted that so bad. But I let her be. I knew she needed to cry without me giving false promises that everything was okay. None of this was okay.

I’d cried when I’d written that song. I’d broken down in the recording booth when I’d sung the chorus for the first time. I only just realized as I watched her body shake with sobs that I’d been an idiot for not telling her how I’d felt. But maybe...just maybe she could finally hear me through my songs.

By the time that track ended, I was in tears too. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffling as I tried to compose myself. I sat back on the couch again, my head leant back. I shut my eyes and listened to the next song, one a little more uptempo. I tapped my fingertips on the cushion at my sides, humming softly. This song was about happy memories, when we’d laid on the beach or beside my pool last summer. When we’d been so in love and hadn’t a care in the world. Before all the fighting and jealousy and…

I almost didn’t feel it at first, her hand brushing mine. It was such a light touch, I thought perhaps I was imagining it, lost in the song. But my eyelids fluttered open when I felt it again. I stared at my right hand on the cushion, her slim fingers over mine. She used to like to do that, when we’d be sat together watching a movie, or lying in bed reading. She’d trace my hand and knuckles with her fingertips, her delicate hand dancing over mine before I’d smile and thread our fingers together. It was an unspoken gesture of affection we’d had. I missed it.

God, I missed her.

I raised my head to look at her. I half expected her to be looking at me too, but she was focused on our hands. Her expression wasn’t one I’d hoped either. She looked sad, her cheeks still tear-stained. I wanted to kiss them, make it all better.

I opened my mouth to say her name, but nothing came out. I cleared my throat and she looked at me. I turned my hand over then like I used to, wanting to thread our fingers together. But she pulled away, her jaw set.

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, my voice a deep rasp.

They were the first words either of us had spoken since the music started, and I instantly regretted it, knowing I’d meant to stay silent until the end. We were on track nine now, a couple more songs to go. I still wanted her to hear all of it. I wanted her to know I still felt the same, even though I wasn’t completely over the anger, over the heartbreak. But I’d spilled my guts out in my songs. I was shit at communication, I knew that. I hoped that she could understand it all in my music.

“I...I don’t know,” she whispered.

She crossed her legs then, sat in the corner of the couch. She reached behind her head and pulled at her bun, letting her hair fall freely down her shoulders. She seemed comfortable, at least less resistant than she had when I’d knocked on her door. I could tell she wanted to talk, but she kept her mouth shut because I’d told her she could. I also felt like she was really listening though. And that was really all I wanted.

“That was a really good song,” she surprised me after track ten. But she didn’t say anything more.

Clearing my throat again, I sucked in my lips when the final song started. If track seven had been the most personal, this was the companion to it. This was me giving my heart, me asking forgiveness and giving it back. This was me wanting another chance to prove how I felt about her. I’d known as I was writing and recording it that the possibility of that happening was slim to none. But I had to take a chance. I was tired of keeping it bottled up, being a stubborn prat because I’d wanted my way and had to be right. I was all kinds of wrong. I knew I wasn’t fully to blame for our break-up, but I was taking responsibility and owning up to my part in it. I hoped she could hear that in my voice.

By the time the song was over, my head was in my hands. I perched on the edge of the sofa shaking. I’d already listened to it a handful of times in the studio and in my car, but it hadn’t had the effect it had now, sat in her living room with her beside me. I was sobbing like a baby.

“Harry…” I heard her whisper.

When I lifted my head this time, she was right beside me, her face so close it startled me. Her hands were in her lap, and she wrung them like she was either nervous or was trying to keep herself from touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried. “For everything.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I heard.”

“Will you forgive me?” I asked, turning to face her. I wanted to lift my hand to touch her face but thought better of it. Instead, I hesitantly reached for her hand. I was pleasantly surprised when she let me take it.

“Only if you forgive me, too,” she said.

I let out a deep breath and leant forward. I wanted to kiss her but wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. Lifting my hand this time, I grazed her cheek and wiped a tear away with my thumb.

“I still love you,” I admitted. “I never stopped. I’m just so sorry I waited this long.”

She bit her perfect bottom lip, her big eyes blinking fast.

“I thought I was over you,” she said. “I thought you were over me.”

“Guess we were both wrong.”

She leant into me then, and I took it as my cue. I took her into my arms and kissed her, like I’d wanted to kiss her for months. She felt so good against me, and I quickly found myself shedding more tears.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she whispered when I released her lips.

“I know,” I agreed. “I promise I’m not walking out this time.”

“Good,” she nodded before kissing me again.

We ended up listening to the album again together while we prepared and ate dinner. There were more tears, but also lots of conversation. We had a long way to go, but I was hopeful.

Something had made me drive down her street. I guess it was me.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika and reader being grumbly whiskey aunts together!!!

They just want to sit on their porch together. <3

this is EVERYTHING to me

men and minors dni

you spend your evenings on your screened-in front porch, passing a smoke back and forth, one of you occasionally getting up to grab fresh drinks and snacks from the house.

you're both total grumps, but the kids (vander and silco's ofc) know that if they're ever in trouble, the first house to call is their aunts'.

lmaoooo now i'm imagining jinx calling you for a ride home from a party she shouldn't be at-- and you and sevika showing up to pick her up-- grinding and making out in front of all her friends just so she learns her lesson adkfj;laskjd

over the years, you've hosted the kids in your house for all kinds of reasons. claggor spent a month living with you guys when the three little kids were bogged down with a flu they kept passing around. in a rebellion against his dads' video games ban on him after they caught him smoking weed at fourteen, mylo and his xbox moved in with the two of you. jinx and vi come over for 'girl nights' all the time when they're growing up, and when violet gets laid off from her first job, she crashes with the two of you until she can get back on her feet.

they're the only kids you tolerate though. neighborhood kids are terrified of you and sevika-- both of you are total grumps, and little slayer and sugar are the exact same.

(but you make up for your bad reputation in the neighborhood on halloween-- you're always the house that gives out full sized candy bars.)

your elderly neighbors though? they love you and sevika.

they appreciate that you're just as grumpy as them. they always wave to you from their porches, where they sit every evening along with you guys. they like that you don't give a shit about the home owners association, and that sevika sometimes even does shit just to piss them off. (she painted your fence hot pink after being told by the HOA that the natural wood needed to be painted white. she earned the hearts of all your grumpy old neighbors with that move.)

as a result, you're always being given plates of cookies and pans of casseroles by the old ladies in the neighborhood, the old men are always coming over to share a smoke with sevika and exchange books, gardening tips, and garage tools. (you and sevika repay their hospitality by shoveling their sidewalks and raking their leaves for them in the shitty weather.)

you're constantly being told by old folks that you're 'the nicest lesbians we've ever met.'

sevika always laughs at this, then asks how many lesbians they have met. the answer is always just the two of you.

(one time, though, a little old lady informs you that her granddaughter is a lesbian 'just like you two,' and that she was so happy when she came out to her because 'you'll be just like my lovely neighbors!' this one makes you cry... and even sevika tears up a bit.)

in the summer, you've got a big fan you can flick on to keep you cool on your porch.

in the winter, you've got a little space heater you can pull closer to your matching rocking chairs.

after a few years, sevika even builds you an outside bed, so that after an evening of drinking whiskey and sharing a joint you can cuddle in each other's arms outside and listen to the crickets and frogs chirping before heading in for the evening.

your porch is your favorite little spot in the whole wide world. sevika's planted a jungle of plants surrounding it, and it's like your little oasis from the real world. you've got christmas lights strung around the ceiling that stay up all year long, lighting the porch when the sun finally sets. you've got dog and cat beds scattered everywhere so your animals can join you. there's ash trays, pipes, books, and bottles littered everywhere, and there's always at least a dozen potted plants scattered around inside your little sanctuary.

it's heaven.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

[redrose10]

hii for the prompt game thing: how about 5, 5, and 55 or 60 with Yoongi! I just love how you write Yoongi, but it's up to you if you want to change the member!

I hope this is what you were looking for! I’m so sorry if it isn’t.

< Beauty and the Frog >

CEO Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, very slightly suggestive, Yoongi is pretty mean in this one

CEO, Unrequited love

#55 “That’s not very nice.”

#60 “I fail to see how that is my problem.”

*******************************************************

You had known Yoongi since you were in elementary school. You had seen him around the building but the first time you really interacted with him was when you were partnered up together in your 8th grade biology class. You refused to dissect a frog and even after the teacher threatened you with an F and a trip to the principal’s office you stood your ground. Yoongi admired that and followed suit earning you both after school detentions. It brought you guys together and you were best friends from that moment on.

Freshman year was intense. Lots of changes and new stressful situations but you had Yoongi by your side so it made everything a little easier.

Tenth grade was better. You had gotten the hang of things and were able to navigate life. You and Yoongi were still best friends and stuck mostly to yourselves. Many rumors went around the school about you two but you always ignored them.

You were in the eleventh grade when you realized your crush on Yoongi. You hadn’t seen him for much of the summer because he went to stay with his grandparents in the countryside. When he walked into the school on the first day your mouth dropped open. He had grown a few inches taller. Most of the baby fat in his face had disappeared leaving him with a chiseled jawline. He had let his hair grow out and he seemed to have bought some new clothes with the money he had earned at his part time job. The first thing he did was walk towards you and wrap you in a hug giving you the first feeling of how much more muscular he had become while working on his grandparents farm. When he said your name his voice was considerably deeper than you remembered. You locked away your secret crush for the whole year not wanting to ruin anything between you two. The thought of loosing him forget was too much to handle.

Senior year of high school was flying by. Yoongi was captain of the basketball team. You took a position as the teams water girl after he begged you too just so guys could get to spend a little more time together. You had decided that after the final game of the season you were going to ask him to Prom. Your nerves were out of control as you waited for Yoongi to come out of the locker room but minutes and minutes went by. Every other member of the team had already left leaving you wondering what was going on. As you exited the school there were mumblings and whispers about two people hooking up in the parking lot. You felt a knot in your stomach as you walked outside only to see exactly what you had feared. Yoongi exiting the backseat of his car with his zipper down and his belt still undone and the head cheerleader following behind while still pulling her skirt back down. When Yoongi came walking over to you asking if you were ready to hit up your usual after game pizza place you declined telling him you weren’t feeling well. He offered to take you home and hang out there but you shook your head accepting a ride from Hoseok instead much to Yoongi’s disappointment. Yoongi went to prom with the cheerleader while you skipped it all together deciding to never let him know about your crush.

College was much of the same only you didn’t feel a soul crushing sense of sadness whenever Yoongi would bring a random woman back to your shared apartment. You had learned to accept it for what it was. The ones he actually dated hurt a little more than the one night stands but you got through it, even having a few romantic adventures of your own.

Graduation came and went and Yoongi started his own record label with some money he and received as an inheritance. You were so incredibly proud of him and excited to see him succeed as the CEO and Owner of his own business.

It took a few years but DTown Records slowly became one of the hottest companies in music while producing nearly every hit on the radio.

When things got too crazy Yoongi offered you a job. He wanted you to become be his Chief Operating Officer. At first you declined saying you didn’t know much about the music industry but Yoongi knew you had a degree in business and he trusted you. So eventually you gave in and became his partner.

It was a lot like the old times. The two of you spent countless hours together all the while your old crush was blossoming more and now to the point you started feeling like you loved him.

Then Yoongi introduced you to Mia, an up and coming artist he had met at some big industry event he had gone too. Immediately you didn’t like her. It wasn’t all jealousy. She just gave you bad vibes. She was a little too quick to use Yoongi’s credit card any time she wanted to purchase something. She was constantly flirting with other men when he wasn’t around. And she definitely did not like you. She had one too many glasses of wine or coffee “accidentally” spilled on you by her way more times than could happen accidentally. She was always conveniently having emergencies any time you and Yoongi tried hanging out. You also heard from Jin, Yoongi’s assistant, that one morning she was giving Yoongi reason after reason to fire you.

You tried to talk to Yoongi but he was having no part of it even going as far as you call you jealous and told you to grow up. A little crack formed in your relationship for a while until he announced his engagement to Mia. He looked so happy and so in love that you put on your best act and pretended to be happy for him even though you were devastated.

The night before the wedding you were laying in bed trying to mentally and emotionally prepare yourself to watch the love of your life marry someone else when there was a knock at your door.

Since it was 3am you were nervous to answer it until you heard Yoongi on the other side. He greeted you with red eyes and sniffles before he broke down in your arms and sobbed.

Through his distress you learned that Mia was in her suite at the hotel so that they wouldn’t see each other the night before the wedding. He had snuck over to her with flowers and a song he’d written wanting to be romantic and surprise her. Only he was the one that was surprised when he found her naked riding some wannabe rapper as she moaned his name loudly into the air. The wedding was called off and Yoongi was devastated. You did your best to comfort him while forcing yourself not tell him you told him so.

Yoongi took a few weeks off to recover so you were in charge and things went smoothly. You were excited for his return only to be horrified at what you were met with.

The once happy and full of motivation Yoongi was replaced with the shell of man who was spiteful and outright mean. His heart melting gummy smile was replaced with a nonstop scowl. He fired people left and right and talked down to his employees. He wasn’t the Yoongi you’d known all these years. His broken heart had changed him to an unrecognizable person. But you still knew deep down that the Yoongi you knew was in there so you stuck around.

Bit by bit you snipped away at the barbed wire that surround him. His favorite coffee, lunch from his favorite Thai Restaurant. Tickets to see his favorite basketball team. Your secret fresh baked cookies that he had always loved.

One morning he came into work to find a brown stuffed poodle that looked exactly like the dog he had when he was in middle school. You saw the faintest hint of a smile at that one and you thought maybe you had finally got to him but then he took the toy and stuffed into the bottom drawer of his desk to be forgotten and started barking out orders to people in the office.

Then one morning Yoongi called you into his office, something he didn’t do much of any more.

“Y/N, I’m moving the headquarters for the label to LA.”, he said after you took a seat.

“Wh-What? You can’t do that.”

He scoffed, “It’s my company. I can and I am. I need to get out of this city and start new. I can’t stay here any more.”

“What about the employees here? What about me?”, you questioned.

“We’ll keep a small team here the rest we’ll have to let go and as for you…I want you to move to LA with me.”

Your mouth dropped open, “Yoongi that’s the other side of the world. I have family and friends here. My whole life is here. I can’t just pack up and move.”

“I understand Y/N. I can’t force you to go but I really want you to. I need you to come with me.”, he said barely above a whisper.

So you agreed. And within a couple weeks you were packed up and goodbyes were said and you were moved to Los Angeles. It was a difficult decision but you would do anything that Yoongi needed and/or wanted.

The company was doing incredibly well while making record profits. Things were also going great between you and Yoongi. You were closer than you had been in a while. Your feelings began blossoming fuller and fuller as time went on now that things didn’t seem so tense.

One afternoon you walked into Yoongi’s office. He was on the phone with someone so you took a seat to politely wait.

“Mmhm I’ll be there.

I know I know it’s been a while.

Yeah my flight leaves at noon.

I know babe I’m excited.”

You rolled your eyes hearing him use the pet name. He smiled when he noticed your reaction before quickly hanging up the phone.

“Going on a trip?”, you asked.

He looked nervous as he fidgeted with a pen, “Actually Y/N, that is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

You nodded letting him know you were listening.

He took a deep breath, “I’m moving back to Seoul.”

“What?!”, your mouth dropped open.”

He nodded, “I’ve been talking to someone, her name is Mae. We met at the Valentino show a couple months ago. She’s a model based out of Seoul so I’m going to move back there.”

You shook your head, “Yoongi I…you can’t move back. I gave up everything. I moved all the way to the other side of the world to follow you.”

He scoffed, “I didn’t force you to move here. You came here on your own Y/N. Just move back with me.”

“Yoongi I can’t just keep moving around the world whenever you have a new fuck buddy.”

He looked offended, “Mae is not a fuck buddy. I love her.”

You could feel tears begin to form, “You don’t love her Yoongi. You love that she puts out whenever you demand it. If she loved you she would come to you, not the other way around. Like I do. I’m always here for you. I do everything for you. I love you Yoongi.“

He stared at you for what felt like forever. Finally he slammed his laptop down, “I fail to see how that is my problem.“

His coldness shocked you. He had never spoken directly to you in that way. “That’s not very nice.”, you whispered through sniffles.

Yoongi softened at the sight of you realizing just how harsh he had been. He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Y/N. I’m sorry for speaking to you that way. I’m also sorry that I don’t feel the same way about you.”, he packed up his things and headed towards the door, “I’m leaving for Seoul tomorrow. You can stay here and run this sector of the company or come back to Seoul. It’s up to you. I don’t really care.”

He walked through the door letting it close behind him.

He moved back to Seoul as he had said. Him and Mae got engaged three months later. They were married the following year and divorced by the next one.

You remained in your position as the COO through all of it, mostly because of the pay and travel perks, because your relationship with Yoongi had become strictly business after you confessed. You stayed in Seoul to run that location while he moved back to LA. It hurt for a while and it took a lot for you to move on from him.

But eventually you did.

And when Jungkook got down on one knee and proposed the first person you called was Yoongi. He didn’t answer. He never responded to the text either. He didn’t come to your engagement party. He declined the wedding invite. All you got was a generic card in the mail that you could tell had been filled out by Jin. Eventually you gave up and decided to put in your resignation because you and Jungkook were moving to New York. He didn’t contact you even then.

It wasn’t until almost three years later that you heard from him again. There was a package that arrived for you.

A card read, “Congratulations on the birth of your daughter. I wish you all nothing but happiness... I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one.- Min Yoongi.”

In the box was a stuffed animal. A wide smile formed on your face as you took the bright green frog with a pink bow on its head and placed it in the crib next to your sleeping daughter before joining Jungkook in the kitchen to finish up dinner.

[mylonelydreaming]

All Co-Habitation Evidence *TotK Spoilers*

I'm going to hide all of this behind a read-more if you would like to remain unspoiled on everything like npc interactions, towns, quests, etc. Which I do have to talk about when it comes to this topic. Now, without further ado:

The bed in the house is the exact same as BotW, and unlike other beds in the world, you can freely sleep in it. If we open up both botw and totk, the bed is the exact same one from botw. Meaning that at the absolute minimum, Zelda has been sleeping in Link's bed. However, if you go up to the bed, Link can still sleep in it. There are very few beds that are free in this game, and the only other beds you can sleep in is obviously communal beds, such as those at lookout landing for those who are sick, injured, etc. You cannot normally sleep in another person's bed.

2. Link's hair-tie, Zelda's diary and the Champion's photo.

If you have completed The Champion's Ballad DLC, and correctly transferred your save, then the photo will still be there. But more importantly, the house has a new addition. Behind the house is "Zelda's secret well" that functions as her new study. In that well, you will find one of the volumes of her diary, hot-footed frogs splashing around, and Link's hair-tie in the corner of the room. Link never took that hair-tie off in botw (only when wearing the ancient helm), so it's a bit suspicious that it's down here of all places.

Not only this, but if you read the volumes of her diary, both the one in the well and on the desk near the bed, there are a couple of things that stick out:

Firstly, Zelda had Bolson build the well because she needed somewhere to focus alone. If she was living by herself, this makes no sense (and, in japanese, rather than "my house" it's simply "the house" here).

Secondly, Zelda states that Link is always by her side. To the point his clothes have become worn. So as a gift she made him a new tunic (and she "can't wait to see the look on his face" when he gets it, just saying).

and third, she had to hide said gift in the castle, otherwise he would find it in the house.

3. The School and Symin

During the time-skip, Zelda founded a new school in Hateno, where she became a teacher. Due to this, a child who misses her visits the house at around 12-2pm and calls it "Ms Zelda's house".

However, if you talk to Symin, he has this to say:

So, clearly, this is not Link's first time here (which should be obvious, how exactly did Zelda get to Hateno and the house in the first place after botw's ending? Link brought her there). He even asks Link why he came back to the village alone without Zelda. Additionally, if you go upstairs and read the "School Notes" it says this:

It talks about the opening expedition under the castle happening soon, and reiterates Link being by Zelda's side. Interestingly, in that opening sequence Zelda says she is glad she didn't leave the Purah Pad behind. Meaning she's glad she didn't leave it at home.

But wait, there's more

There is a side-quest at the school where Link becomes a teacher / substitute teacher. When you finish the quest, one of the children says this:

They say they already thought of Link as a teacher figure even before this quest. To add onto this, there is another child who wants to become a hero and is "always on the lookout for baddies".

4. Manny

Manny is an interesting case. At first, like some other npcs, he seems to have been entirely memory-wiped to be approachable for brand-new players who didn't play botw, but then he has the following to say:

So, first of all, he doesn't call the house "Zelda's house" and instead calls it "the house the princess was staying at"

Secondly, he asks Link to "keep the naive, new-in-town act" to a minimum.

Third, Manny has another dialogue, he wants to "check every well" in town to find frogs for Ivee (because, similar to his quest with Prima in botw, he thinks that's what she likes). But after he says this, he seems to realize he should not have said that in front of Link, saying "Uh oh, no coming back from that one" in the smaller text as though he knows Zelda's well is off-limits. Combined with him calling the house "the house the princess was staying at" he seems to know something.

5. Two Place settings, etc

The house has two places set, two towels, etc. And just in general a lot of things for supposedly one person. There is also a bigger kitchen, and let's be honest with ourselves here, who is more about cooking and actually good at it, Zelda or Link?

Under the stairs in totk

VS botw:

Now, for this next section, I have to talk about things regarding another town in the game, a quest and a mechanic many have not unlocked yet. Continue to read at your own peril (I would hide it under another read more if I could)

.

.

.

.

.

The Tarrey Town House

During TotK, after we wake up and leave the sky islands, we can complete a quest to unlock the ability to build a brand-new "Dream Home" in Akkala, close to Tarrey Town.

The quest involves baby-sitting Hudson and Rhondson's child, Mattison, who, if you'll recall, did not exist yet in botw. In totk, she is starting to gain independence and appears to be around 5 or 6 years old:

I doubt Link was sleeping rough for several years (and Zelda would never be okay with that). Anyway, Link babysits her, goes up into a hot-air balloon with the family, and then has to watch a tear-jerking scene between Mattison and her parents as she has come of the age young gerudo girls have to go to Gerudo Town and stay there until they get older and are ready to venture the world.

It is only after completing this quest, a quest completely about parenthood, that you are offered the "Dream Home" by Rhondson.

Additionally, an npc at the nearby stable has this to say:

So, the in-universe implications of the dream home is that it is a family home, something you only buy when you plan to marry someone or start a family.

Adding onto this, the dining table in the dream home has four seats instead of two. But there's also an interesting comparison to make with the Hateno house. The Hateno house had two seats and two places set, this house has four seats, but is clearly only being used by one person:

In other words, Link is living by himself in a house meant for a family. Which is depressing to think about, but in the context of the game makes sense.

But there's something else. In the new house pieces (including a study you cannot use yourself), all the photos on the wall are of Hateno Village:

Why would Link hang photos of Hateno in his new home, if it was not important or nostalgic to him? (and, as a minor detail, the same yellow flower is in both houses, presumably Link's favorite flower)

In conclusion, it's clear from all the evidence that not only were they living together in Hateno, but the brand-new house actually has it's own implications behind it (and further proves that Hateno was and is important to Link).

Oh, and there is also one last thing, in the japanese version of the game, but I can't mention it here because it is an even bigger spoiler than all of this combined. It'll be an addition to this post later

[allwaswell16]

[4 pics, 4 quotes, 4 iconic 1D fics]

Iconic fics by ...

- disgruntledkittenface -

[1]

“So,” he says casually, looking from Nick back to Louis, “you and Nick didn’t come back to the bar last night.”

And the sentence just hangs in the air between them, like an accusation. Louis can practically see the effort Harry’s putting in to keep his face neutral, but the intense frog expression creeps its way back in. And suddenly Louis get it.

Harry is jealous.

He wants to laugh. It’s preposterous to think of, being jealous of Nick of all people. Nick who can see Louis’ feelings for Harry written all over his face and in everything he does.

“Yeah, after we went for a smoke, I just felt like going home,” Louis explains, biting back a smile. Knowing he’s not being clear enough, he continues, “Nick just walked with me, stretching those ridiculous legs of his, I guess, but Liam picked him up as soon as we got back to my apartment building.”

Harry is still glowering. It’s ridiculous. It’s so fucking cute. Louis is so fucked.

[2]

“I do! We do,” Harry says, looking at Louis, who smiles warmly at him. “I just always thought I would adopt, but I guess I see the issues here for, like… succession?”

“Yes, my successor has to be a biological relative,” Louis says gently. “Lottie wants no part of it, that’s why she was so eager to donate eggs. And I’m not sure if she’ll have children of her own.”

“It is actually a matter of state,” Hervé adds, not unkindly. “Securing the line of succession secures Monaco’s status as an independent principality. If there is no biological heir, upon the prince’s passing then the state would be absorbed by France.”

“Oh, fuck,” Nick mutters, summing up how Harry feels. Well, he wasn’t wrong when he tried to tell Harry what a big fucking deal all of this would be. 

[3]

“Sorry to bother,” he says lowly, dripping sarcasm. “But would you mind shutting the fuck up? You’re ruining the show for the rest of us with your passive-aggressive bullshit.”  

Harry automatically twists around to see the couple’s response; it looks like husband is gearing up for a retort, but there are quiet murmurs of agreement from the people around them, and the man on his seatmate’s other side even claps him on the back in thanks. Chagrined, the couple slump down in their seats, their lips unhappily sealed.

Harry turns to the man next to him, who’s already looking at him from under the smudge of long, dark lashes that frame his blue eyes. A slow grin overtakes Harry’s face as he meets the man’s steady gaze. For once his words don’t fail him, and he leans in just close enough so the man will be able to hear him as he whispers “thank you.”

[4]

“Is that another new tattoo, Z?” she asks, reaching out and gently turning Zayn’s arm to get a better look. “Oh, yin yang, right?”

Louis immediately squeezes Harry’s thigh, turning to her with wide eyes, but Harry’s too busy fishing for a thin slice of cucumber at the bottom of her glass to register what’s happening. Zayn is still holding her arm out so Liam can see the tattoo when she glances up and Louis pointedly looks from her to the tattoo and back again. Harry’s confused face is adorable, she looks like a disgruntled kitten trying to surmise what Louis is attempting to silently communicate. It takes a minute, but understanding finally dawns in her eyes and she claps her large hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

“What?” Zayn asks, throwing a dirty look at them.

“Nothing,” Louis manages in a strangled voice. “Nothing! Great tattoo. Harry? Shall we?”

- Answers Below -

[1] you came into my life

They stand around talking for a minute and then Jonathan starts to ramble, “Has there ever been, like, an unrequited gay love story in here? Like a Brokeback Mountain moment where, like, someone just fell in love and they didn’t mean to?”

Louis feels bile rise in his throat as Jonathan’s eyes sparkle, pleading for a yes. He manages to look around and see thoughtful looks on his coworkers’ faces before their heads shake no.

“Not here,” Liam says finally.

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

[2] Darling, so it goes

Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. He doesn’t think they’ll ever see each other again, but after striking up a correspondence, it turns out they have more in common than he thought. Then they start to fall for each other. Louis is different from anyone Harry has dated before and their relationship moves fast as Harry realizes he’s ready for a change. Soon Harry finds himself adapting to an entirely new life, in a country where he doesn’t know the rules, the customs, even the language. Harry is used to people underestimating him, and he’s more determined than ever to prove them wrong.

He just needs Louis to meet him halfway.

Grace Kelly AU.

[3] just one look (and i fell so hard)

Louis takes a small step back, breaking the moment first. “Well, I should–” 

“Do you want to come up?” 

The words are out of Harry’s mouth before he’d even planned them, and he bites his lip.  

���Oh, thank god,” Louis laughs, stepping back into Harry’s space. “I wasn’t, um…” 

“Wasn’t ready to let go of you yet,” Harry finishes quietly, glancing up at Louis. 

“Yeah,” Louis nods, reaching up and twirling one of Harry’s curls in his fingers. “Yeah, exactly.”

Harry has wanted to go to the Shubert Theatre ever since he moved to New York and lucked into a rent-controlled apartment just outside of the Theatre District. When he finally gets his chance, he hopes the night can meet his sky-high expectations. But the last thing he could have expected was the man seated next to him.

[4] i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine

Louis fell apart when her ex broke up with her and moved across the country. Just as she’s starting to move on, Zayn comes back to town for their mutual friends’ wedding – with a new girlfriend as her plus one.

Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. Their arrangement makes Louis feel pathetic and embarrassed, but it’s only going to last a few weeks. She just has to get through the wedding – what could happen?

[caldwellwrites]

Things to Consider When Writing Setting

As a writer who has been coming up with a specific story concept for the past nine and a half years, I have a lot of trouble when it comes to writing and, oftentimes, imagining the setting of particular scenes. I almost always one detail in my head, but struggle to come up with any other features. Anyone can think, "Okay, my character is in a parking lot". But we, need to think beyond that.

Okay, first things first, decide a few things before we start consulting the big(ish) list.

-Where does this scene take place? (Pt. 1) That means the type of location. Are they in a forest? At home? In a Starbucks? There are a near-endless list of places for your character to be, but it's crucial to make sure you know where this person is before building from there. In my opinion, this is probably the most important aspect to know before attempting to write about the setting. Know. Where. They. Are.

-Where does this scene take place? (Pt. 2) This means the country or province. Consider every aspect of this place (I'll be making a post about world-building soon for those who need it). What are the geographical, cultural, and climate-related features. Think about how would these features impact the way your character experiences their environment.

-When does this scene take place? I'm talking about the time period, time of day, and time of the year. All of these factors will change what your character sees, hears, smells, everything.

Now that you've (hopefully) answered the three questions above, let's look at the big list of ideas. These are just some ideas I thought of while writing and editing this list, there are so many more ideas that are not on here. Try not do get overwhelmed by the list, and just look at it one section at a time. Play with some of these ideas in your head, on paper, a doc, whatever, and decide what feels write (get it?) for your project!

Sky, Weather, and Temperature

Sky Objects: Sun, Moon, Planets, Stars (Constellations), Meteors, Clouds (look up the different types), Rainbow, Flying Craft (Planes, Blimps, Drones, Helicopters), Balloons, Confetti, Kites, Bubbles

Weather: Sunny, Cloudy, Rainy, Stormy, Snowy, Hail, Foggy, Windy

Temperature: Sweltering, Hot, Warm, Comfortable, Chilly, Cold, Freezing

Nature and Natural Elements

Plants: Trees, Flowers, Grasses, Herbs, Mushrooms, Weeds, Bushes

Domestic Animals: Dogs, Cats, Horses

Wild Animals: Wolves, Coyotes, Bears, Wild Cats, Raccoons

Water Sources: Unmoving, Slow / Gentle, Rapid, Rough

Objects and People

Vehicles

Houses

Shops, Kiosks, Stalls

Schools & Other Buildings

Garbage

Fences, Walls, and Other Barricades

Parades, Parties, Festivals

Random Citizens / Passerby's

Higher-Ups (Royalty, Government Officials, etc)

Workers (Gardeners, Dog Walkers, Street Performers, etc.)

Furniture or Decor

Smells

Urine or Feces

Death / Blood

Cigarette / Cigar / Marijuana Smoke

Car Smog

Flowers

Fresh Cut Grass

Garbage

Food and Drink

Rain

Smoke / Fire

Pine

Sounds

Animal Sounds (Birds, Dogs, Insects, Frogs, etc. )

People Being Loud (Screaming, Playing, Cheering, Laughing, etc.)

Wind (Wind Chimes, Howling Wind, Blowing through plants, etc.)

Water

Machinery (Lawn Mower, Leaf Blower, etc.)

Transport (Carriages, Cars, Buses, Boats, Trains, Emergency Vehicles)

Weather Sounds (Rain, Thunder, Hail)

Fire Crackling

Music

[lemoncherrypop]

To Build A Home

seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader

summary:  The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit. 

notes: finally! a delicious backstory for our two main characters. let's get FUCKED UP, shall we? length: 8.7k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three | Four | Five | Six l coming soon...

Chapter Six

//

Year One

The first thing you noticed was his crooked smile.

Then his messy, unkempt bangs falling over his heavy-lidded eyes and the long lashes that almost brushed his cheeks everytime he blinked. Then came the almost cruel twinkle in his eyes as he shouldered a freckled boy aside to push his way to the front.

He swung his arms around two other boys— a quiet-looking one with circular glasses and another with a chipped, toothy grin— laughing uproariously at some joke you couldn’t hear over the nervous chatter of the other students around you. You clenched the sleeves of your brand new cloak into fists, feeling just as nervous as the rest.

Two months ago, you didn't even know magic existed— until an owl flew in through your open kitchen window, dropped a thick letter in the middle of your family breakfast. Before anyone could even scream in surprise, the doorbell rang. Your father, wide-eyed and frightened, slowly walked to the door. After a short, muffled conversation, he returned with a woman in a long emerald green dress, a black cloak and a dramatically pointed hat. She took the empty chair next to you, and in a calm, polite voice, explained everything.

She seemed to know about every unexplainable incident that has happened to your life: how the bullies at school tripped into puddles that strangely appeared out of nowhere, how your hair grew to your desired length whenever your mother cut it too short, and how, whenever your parents steered you away from the candy aisle at the grocery store, a handful of your favourite toffees mysteriously appeared in your right pocket.

“There’s magic in you,” she said warmly, placing her soft hands on yours. “At Hogwarts, we will teach you everything about magic and how to use it. You’re a witch, little one.”

You couldn't fully understand it then, even if you wanted to, but it thrilled you nonetheless. It was like your favourite fantasy book had come to life. At eleven years old, the world was full of wonders, and fear didn’t yet exist in your mind. From shopping in Diagon Alley to running through the bricked wall at Platform 9 ¾ , to unwrapping your first chocolate frog on the Hogwarts Express, you were brimming with excitement.

It all felt like a dream.

But then, the double doors swung open, and reality struck. The Great Hall, as the headmistress called it, was simply breathtaking. Four identical long tables overflowed with glistening food. Towering windows lined the room, and the ceiling reflected the jaw-dropping beauty of the night sky, shimmering with the starry constellations that were illuminated alongside countless dripping wax candles.

Now, it all felt real.

The noise around you faded, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat. Every first-year student was herded down the centre, made to stand before the Sorting Hat. The boy with the crooked smile stood beside you, and your heart raced even faster. His hand brushed yours as he looked down at you with curiosity, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. Just as he was about to say something, the Headmistress called your name.

Swallowing nervously, you looked at the hat, then glanced back at him.

“Good luck,” he whispered, his crooked smile somehow making your heart skip a beat.

It didn’t take much for the Sorting Hat to place you into your new home. Instantly shouting “Gryffindor!” with such a conviction that pride bloomed in your chest. Grinning, you nearly tripped as you ran over to your new family, who welcomed you with open arms.

A dozen students later, his name was called. You watched as he confidently strode up the steps, secretly hoping he'd join your house. But as soon as the hat touched his head, it declared, “Slytherin!” and his crooked smile stretched into a look of complete satisfaction.

It didn’t take long to figure out what kind of person he was: loudmouthed, arrogant and spoiled.

Your first class together was Potions, and you clenched your fists as he bragged about his family’s legacy— his father, who held a high position in the Ministry (whatever that was), was presumably best friends with anyone of any importance. That was apparently the only credentials he needed to boast about being the best in his house, nay— the whole year.

You wanted to swipe that smug smile off his face, so you made a bet: whoever brewed the best potion would win, and the loser would have to lick the dungeon floor after class.

For the first time in your life, you tasted defeat, and lost, monumentally, and unfortunately, the boy with the crooked smile had won, magnificently so.

The taste of it was bitter and gritty on your tongue, but you swallowed it down with dumb pride.

That night, you spent your first of many nights, in the infirmary. Licking up the crusty remnants of decades-old potions in the dungeon probably wasn’t your brightest idea.

Class after class, month after month, the rivalry intensified, fights broke out, detentions were made, and bets were gambled amongst classmates. He had an ego that you were determined to quash, while your unbreakable pride was a challenge he seemed set on ruining.

There was an unspoken, mutually understood plan for destruction— and this was just the beginning.

//

Year Two

One day, after a particularly satisfying victory over escaping a bludger in Flying Class, you jokingly called yourself the Queen of Gryffindor, seeing as how you managed to get your house the most points in your class the year before. It was only a matter of time, you figured— everyone could see just how valuable you were to the best house at Hogwarts.

Sneering from the loser’s side, the boy with his crooked grimace slammed his textbook shut. It was unfortunate that he overheard your joke, because at that moment, he thought it was more appropriate to call you the “Princess of Gryffindor” instead— someone naive, weak, spoiled, and disgustingly adored by everyone around her.

Somehow, the nickname stuck. That was the kind of influence he had, and the most you resisted, the harder he clung to your new “title”. Soon, even the older students from other houses were calling you “Princess” without bothering to learn your real name.

But despite the teasing and the jokes, you had no trouble making friends. Friendly and bubbly, you were always ready to help out a classmate or sneak off to the kitchens with friends for a snack. Within the first week back, you had made a new friend in Charms class, and he came with the face of an angel. Jeonghan was wicked good at the levitating charm, and when you caught him using the charm to swap his worn dragon-hide gloves for newer ones in Herbology, you knew you had to be friends.

With a flick of his long hair behind his ears, he placed his hand on yours to help you practise the charm during lunch in the Great Hall. All around you, students were busy scribbling homework into their scrolls and practising spells, cheeks stuffed with food.

“Hold it steady,” he said, “It’s LeviOsa, not LeviosA.”

When the half eaten scone successfully floated from your plate to his, you reached over and clapped your hands with his in victory. Just as you were about to float a glass of pumpkin ale into your hands, the boy with his crooked smile sauntered over and plopped down right next to your new friend.

As friendly and helpful as you were, this boy was charming. Even as a bully, he somehow managed to win others over with his words and his smile. He knew exactly what to say in order to get the things he wanted, and despite being notorious for his antics even as a second year, people loved him. And your new friend, like everyone else, fell for his wicked smile, and not even a week later, they practically became attached at the hip despite him not even being in Slytherin.

It was clear he’d come over to ruin something you enjoyed—whether it was spellwork, class, or even friendships, he delighted in getting in your way. And although he usually didn’t take it too seriously, somehow, his friendship with Jeonghan stuck. It stung. Jeonghan was supposed to be your friend, yet here he was, swept away by the boy with the crooked smile, like so many other things he wanted from your life.

A month later, you challenged him to a duel after Potions class. Quick on your feet and fast with your temper, the boy lost, embarrassingly, and this had marked your historic first win in duelling.

During breakfast the next morning, still bitter from his loss, he saw you talking to Seokmin, another muggle-born like you. Fuelled by resentment from his loss the night before, he thought it was only fair to bully the pair of you together.

“Filthy Mudblood,” he called you.

A word you were completely unfamiliar with. It wasn’t until an older housemate had intervened and threatened to call a professor on him that you realised the gravity of the word.

There was a stubbornness in how he wanted to stand his ground, but the Headmaster was slowly making his way down the aisle to his seat at the Professor’s table, and the fear of being caught made him slink back to his table. Right them, you swore to defeat him in every way imaginable. Be it in class, in pride, or reputation.

And so, the childish pranks began at this time.

“Wingadium leviosa.”

A discreet flick of your wand, and a vial of Hair-Raising Potion slipped into his soup. Watching every hair on his body, from even his brows to his lashes, stand on end was almost too delightful. He looked as if he got electrocuted, the shock in his eyes even adding to the charm of the potion.

He knew it was you. Even with your laughter getting lost in the bustle of the Great Hall, he knew because it would only ever be you.

This catapulted your feud in full force. The pranks were constant, riotous, and sometimes downright diabolical.

He retaliated by dropping a dungbomb on your head before Quidditch practice, forcing you to leave a trail of stink in your wake. In turn, you hit him with a Tickling Charm during History of Magic, making him laugh so hysterically he had to spend two weeks mopping the floor as punishment. He mixed up a rather potent batch of Swelling Solution into your lotion, causing your entire face to balloon, and you got back at him by slipping a few Hiccough Sweets into a Nose-Biting Teacup, so that once he sipped his tea, his nose was attacked by sharp ceramic as he hiccuped uncontrollably. 

But even these pranks weren’t enough. Both young, proud, fiery and dumb, you fought each other in duels as often as you could get away with. Things escalated until the Herbology professor finally had to inform the Headmaster, resulting in a strict duelling ban.

Yet stubbornness and insolent behaviour fueled the two of you to sneak out after bedtime hours for secret duels, and the caretaker had caught you both wand-handed.

The rest of the school year was spent in detention, making sandwiches alongside the house elves in the kitchen.

//

Year Three

Your dorm mate had somehow fallen for the boy with the crooked smile’s evil deception.

“I’m in love!” she declared, spreading her arms wide before falling onto her four-poster bed. You stuck a finger down your throat and pretended to gag. The thought of anyone finding him attractive seemed only possible through the use of Amortencia.

Yet, not even a week later, you were on your way to the library when you saw him leaning in, eyes closed and lips puckered, toward the very same girl— the one who’d vow to marry him after Hogwarts. Your stomach soured at the sight, and a flash of anger went through you that he was showing anyone else but you his attention.

This feeling didn’t make any sense to you. So, you decided to hex him.

“Locomotor Mortis.”

All four of his limbs snapped together, pressing against his body as he stiffened and toppled forward—straight into your dorm mate’s chest. She shrieked in embarrassment, shoving him off before fleeing, leaving him rigid and crooked-smiled as he fell onto the cold, marble floor.

Howls of laughter rang from a large tapestry just paces away, and the heads of Mingyu and Minghao were peeking out from the embroidered drapery of Hogwarts’ very first Potions professor. Undoubtedly, the pair of them hid in the back to watch and see how their friend’s first kiss would go. Calm and steady, Wonwoo approached, kneeling to work the counterspell.

“You should have listened to Jeonghan,” he murmured, “He told you to go somewhere more private.”

As the spell melted off his body, he slowly got back up onto his feet, his face the colour of an unforgivable scarlet. Not even two steps towards you (because somehow, he always knew where you were), Minghao hooked his arm around his neck and held him back.

He unleashed a spiel of curses as Mingyu joined in with Minghao,wiping away tears from laughter. “You better run, Princess!” he shouted at you, wrapping his lanky arm around his shoulders and holding him back as well. “We’re only helping you this one time for giving us such a good laugh!”

For a moment, you locked eyes with him. You’ve never seen such humiliation in his eyes before, and a sinking feeling in your chest told you that you didn’t enjoy it.

“Why aren’t you running?” Mingyu questioned, still laughing. “Or have you got another trick up your sleeve?”

Minghao leans down to whisper something into the boy’s ear and he rips his gaze away from you, burning even brighter still.

“He would have done the same,” you stubbornly say, trying to mask a strange nervousness. “Worse even, probably.”

His gaze found yours again with a ferocity that burned so heavily, it was only ever made for you.

So you run. The laughter of the other boys still ringing down the corridor as your heart began to beat erratically in your chest. He was your enemy, and you were his, and that was all you ever knew of each other. Yet, in that instant, you couldn’t shake the thought: what if things had been different? What if, on that very first day at Hogwarts, he’d walked beside you towards the Sorting Hat, leaning in just a little closer?

Running up moving staircases and through endless doors, and past old classrooms and abandoned bathrooms, you wondered what it would have been like if he had closed his eyes and leaned toward you instead.

Your heart continued to beat wildly in your chest, even as you crawled under your covers and tried to shut the sight of his wrathful eyes away from your mind. You were a Gryffindor and he was a Slytherin, and being natural enemies, this feud between the two of you was just how the world was supposed to work. He had no interest in you, he made it more than clear when he called you a Mudblood for the first time. You needed to feel the same about him.

So you pushed those inane thoughts away, the thoughts of him leaning in close, his breath mingling with yours, and the look in his eyes softened with anything other than hate. You pushed them down to the deepest parts of your soul, and locked them away. You knew better than letting them see the light.

The rest of the year was relentless. You hexed and pranked him viciously, hoping he’d rack up enough detentions or lose enough points to sabotage Slytherin’s standing, but he came at you with a different, crueler kind of fury.

He sabotaged any boy who tried to get close to you. How he always seemed to know who was interested in you, you’d never understand. But each time, you’d find out the hard way. You would peel back your bed sheets to the sight of shredded flower petals, ripped up letters of confessions, or shards of broken glasses of your favourite fizzy drinks. His “gifts” were a painful reminder of what you had cost him.

It became harder for you to make friends after this. Nights in the dining hall grew more lonely. You had lost your friendship with Jeonghan, Vernon averted his gaze in class, Seungkwan stopped sneaking into the kitchens with you, and Soonyoung once fled at the sight of you approaching in the hallway.

There was only one person who would wish such unhappiness upon you— and it was all because you’d ruined his first kiss.

How you would ever get back at him for this, you did not know.

You weren’t ever sure if you wanted to.

//

Year Four

It was a miserably cold and wet day, and Gryffindor had lost against Hufflepuff in the first match of the Quidditch season. Seokmin found you sulking just outside the Quidditch changing room and pulled you back inside the empty tent to apologise.

“Apologise for what?” You frowned, the frustration of losing clearly bringing tears to the edge of your eyes. “You guys won fair and square.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less bad,” he replied, guilt written all over his face. “You played so well today too! You could have won if—”

“Except we didn’t,” you interrupted. “We lost. Everyone was witness to it.”

“They also saw how brilliantly you dove to get the quaffle after it dropped. It was like you disappeared in front of me and reappeared within a blink of an eye.”

Blinking back the tears, you try not to let his compliment overwhelm you. “Thanks,” you muttered.

“We got a rematch in a couple months,” he offered with a hopeful smile. “Hope it’ll be another great game.”

A deep sigh came out of you, trying to blow the disappointment out of your mind in one big breath. “We’ll just kick your ass next time,” you replied, forcing a smile.

Seokmin grinned back, his smile so bright it seemed to light up the tent.

You were about to head back out when he gently caught your arm.

“Actually, I came back here because… well…” Seokmin’s face had suddenly changed into a bashfulness you’ve never seen on him. “I wanted to tell you s-something,” he stammered, the tips of ears looking bright red.

Looking up at him curiously, you nodded. “Yeah?”

“I— I just wanted to tell you… that I— “

You chuckled at how flustered he got all of a sudden. “Well? Out with it.”

“I like you,” he confesses. “I like you, please, go out with me.”

It was shocking just how quickly your face matched the colour of his.

And then he kissed you.

And you kissed him back.

And he was your first kiss.

And you were his.

And it felt so right.

Seokmin was always so sweet to you.

There were always whispers amongst the upperclassmen, saying that the fourth year at Hogwarts will be the first real year for students. You never understood it until now, because now, you finally had a boyfriend. Walking hand in hand with Seokmin down the hallways felt like someone had pulled back a curtain, revealing a new world of couples sneaking off into alcoves, whispering sweet nothings, or snogging openly against the windows.

Then, down the hall, you saw him— the boy with his hair as tousled as ever, his grin as maddeningly crooked. Leaning casually against a closed door, he whispered something to Ravenclaw’s Seeker, who giggled, her long black hair swaying as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. He pressed her body close against his and your steps quickened, unwilling to witness what was undeniably about to happen. At the sound of your footsteps, he glanced up and saw it was you. He grinned wickedly before leaning in and pressing his lips to the Seeker’s neck.

Without thinking, you tighten your grip on Seokmin’s hand, pulling him behind a giant tapestry of two snakes battling a boar. Before he could ask what was happening, you pulled him down for a kiss. Hastily, Seokmin wrapped his arms around you without hesitation; his love for you was clear in every touch.

This was the year of the Winter Ball, and you were finally at the age to join the school’s most spectacular event of the year.

Countless hours were spent on getting ready for this grandiose party. Pieces of the finest cloth you could afford were pulled together into drapes that would flatter your body. Multicorfor being cast every ten minutes to change your gown to the most magnificent shade of ruby-red, so it looked like you were walking through flames itself. You twisted and twirled your hair until it cascaded down your open back, and the rouge on your lips and cheeks was done just enough to make you glow.

There was a sparkle in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear as you descended the stairways to meet your partner.

But there, at the bottom of the stairs, stood the boy with the crooked smile. In the finest of silks and velvet, he was dressed in obsidian black, matching his glowering eyes. 

Almost like he was anticipating you, your footsteps gave you away again, and he snapped his head up, truly looking at you for the first time since that night you ruined his first kiss. You don’t miss the way his eyes look at you, wandering down to your dress and then back up at your eyes. They contort into something completely unreadable, and when his crooked smile vanishes, his eyes seem to hold a hatred you’ve never seen in him before.

It almost seemed like he was angry with himself.

“What a pity,” you said flatly, tilting your head as you reached up to pluck a petal from the rose on his lapel.

“I don’t need your fucking pity,” he seethed through his teeth.

“You tried to scare everyone away from me,” you whispered so no one else could hear. “But it didn’t work.”

He blinked, and then his grin returned, sadistic and crooked. “There’s still time, Princess.”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you walked past him and into the Great Hall with just your silence as response.

With his shiny eyes and impeccably ironed plum coloured suit, Seokmin stood at the entrance, waiting for you. He pinned a red rose into the curls of your hair, and when you were smiling again, he took your hand and the small of your back, and danced in joyful circles around the open floor. His practised steps made you spin and twirl with ease, his whispered confessions melting into your skin.

The night wore on, the candlelights dimmed and the music softened into gentler streams of violin. Seokmin held you close, his lips brushing your cheek as he whispered softly about how much he adored you. His faze flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes— his telltale sign before a kiss, and you closed your eyes. Gentle as ever, that was always in his nature.

It didn’t take long for the fire to overcome you both. It greedily licked up the delicate layers of your dress, and as you spun around in fright, it caught onto Seokmin’s plum coloured robes and the both of you were set aflame.

“Aguamenti!”

Seokmin had quickly doused the fire, but left both of you drenched. Your beautiful curls wet against your cheeks, the flower in your hair crushed under your own heels, and your beautiful dress, left to almost nothing but burnt tatters. That was how quickly the fire had spread. Seokmin stood there, gasping to catch his own breath, still in shock of his own.

There’s a bark of laughter, and you look up to see the boy with his damned crooked smile. The mocking cackle wasn’t even coming from him, but Mingyu and Minghao who stood on either side, trying their hardest not to draw attention to the violation he’s committed against you.

His grin is wicked as ever, but there is no laughter in his eyes when he stares you down. His wand is hastily shoved into the pockets of his robes, and you can see Wonwoo pulling him back with urgency. His burning gaze never leaves yours as he’s pulled back into the growing crowd, unflinching as tears start blooming in your eyes.

This had cost the two of you dearly. Jean was witness to him setting your dress on fire, and told on the Headmaster, which resulted in his most severe punishment yet. Ruining what was meant to be your most magical night at Hogwarts had cost him three straight months of detention, but it wasn’t enough. Not for you. His act of cruelty on you had cost you Seokmin.

Seokmin ended it with you after that night. Not out of fear, but because he knew being with you would only bring more acts of wickedness. It broke your heart, but you knew he was right. Truth be told, the relationship lasted far longer than you thought possible. You reached up on the tips of your toes to give him one final kiss.

And then it was back. The rageful fire that burned between you and the boy with the crooked smile roared back to life. You watched him reject girls, just as you did with boys. He risked further detentions by tampering with your schoolwork and disrupting your Quidditch practices. You spiked his food with Puking Potions and set his prized books ablaze, a reminder of what he’d done to you.

You knew the year would end as it always did, with both of you serving detention.

This school would never be a safe space for you. Not as long as he was there with you.

//

Year Five

Oddly, to everyone’s dismay, the energy has shifted this year. The dreaded year of the OWLs has finally arrived.

From the very beginning, there was a mad rush to the libraries to get a head start on classwork and studies. Even you and your worst enemy couldn’t deny the importance of these exams. Countless nights were spent on the opposite ends of the long tables in the library. Heads both buried deeply into every book you could grab, quills were being used up left and right, scrawling away furiously into your scrolls.

There was no time for tomfoolery, and yet, you and the boy with the crooked smile— to the surprise of absolutely no one—still managed to find time to wreck absolute havoc.

He was always top of the class in Potions. Five years into Hogwarts, and this much you could admit out loud, even if it was begrudgingly so. However, no one could deny that you were the best in Charms.

During the History of Magic exam, you shot a finger-removing jinx at him multiple times in rapid succession. Minutes in, he was scrambling to pick up his quill with just his two nubs for hands, having lost all ten fingers. He tried to make a scene, but luckily for you, your ghostly Professor stayed soundly asleep, and all your other classmates— tired of your endless rivalry—just shushed him so they could concentrate on their own exam.

It took at least half an hour before his fingers finally grew back, and he managed to write about six inches of essay in his largest handwriting ever before the hourglass ran out.

He got back at you during Potions, like the fucking devil he was, and ruined you more than you could have ever imagined in your worst subject. Your face erupted into an absolute chaos of cystic acne, and the boy’s crooked smile spread so wide at the success of his furnunculus charm. Absolutely livid, your cheeks flushed hotly with a rush of rage until the freshly sprouted boiled burst, splattering messily into your Befuddlement Draught.

Your cauldron bubbled tenfold, spilling and gurgling into your classmate’s cauldrons, and caused a chain reaction of ruined potions. Befuddlement had run amok that day, and clearly from the Professor’s disappointment, it was not from the intended use of the required potion.

You fought back during the Herbology exam. You’d read about a fun new jinx while studying for the OWLs, and who better to test it on than on your worst enemy?

The students were tasked with taming Chinese Chomping Cabbages, Screech Snaps and Fanged Geraniums, and the entire greenhouse was filled with wails from both plants and students alike. He was wrestling a particularly feisty Fanged Geranium when you discreetly snapped your wand in his direction. Bunches of leeks sprouted from his ears, effectively pushing off the precious earmuffs that were crucial for today’s exams, and he clapped his hands over them in pure shock and screamed.

You swallowed down your laughter the best you could, and watched as he ran towards the Professor for help, crying treason as he pointed his wicked finger directly towards you. You mocked surprise as you continued to handle a pair of Chomping Cabbages on your table.

The two of you have always tried your best to not involve anyone else outside of your rivalry, but this year was different. With the relentless onslaught of petty hexes and pranks against each other being performed specifically during the exams, it was impossible to not get your other classmates involved.

Chan was so distracted by the loss of his ten fingers, he wrote the wrong dates down for all four historic battles during the Great Goblin War. Jeonghan’s potion was one of many that also got ruined by the explosion of boils on your face, an incident that he thoroughly berated the both of you for. Vernon and Seungkwan are both certain that they will receive a Dreadful in Herbology because the sudden disturbance of leeks had made them drop their Screech Saps, accidentally crushing them under the soles of their boots.

In the end, both of you lost your houses one hundred and fifty points, and earned a full month in detention.

Knees pebbled with grime and broken bits of stone and wood, you spent hours every night, sweeping away decades long cobwebs and wiping at the grimey corners of every unused room in the castle. And there, right by your side, was him.

Every year that you have spent at Hogwarts, and all those long weeks and months you’ve had detention for, was thankfully on your own. But for some cruel reason, the Headmaster thought it was only fitting that you shared detention this year with him. You believed that he thought the forced proximity between you two will someday create a more cordial relationship.

If only he knew better.

At first, the boy whined and complained the whole time, and you with your impatience and rage, threw buckets full of muddy soapy waters and brooms against the wall in defiance, trying your best to ignore him. If he made one wrong move, said one wrong word, you would have pulled on his hair and collar, and bitten his face clean off.

But the other professors very quickly had threatened for your punishment to go past the school year and into the summer months if anything else went wrong, so the two of you stayed silent. He stopped his grumbling and got to work, and you did your best to scrub, mop, and clean.

Then, on your last week at Hogwarts, he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be in here,” he ground out. “Not with you of all people.”

Rolling your eyes, you don’t even entertain him by responding.

“This is all so beneath me,” he continues, aggravation clear in his tone. “I’d be better off making sandwiches in the kitchen with the elves.”

Still, you stay silent.

And so does he, for only a moment. All you could hear was the angry scrubbing of a decades old mop against the stained marble floor that you knew would never get cleaned.

Then, he breaks open the window out of frustration, throwing the mop onto the floor, and stands there, unmoving.

“If only you hadn’t— if you had just—” he breaks off, unable to finish his sentence. You stop what you're doing now, brows furrowed with annoyance when you sit up from your knees to look at him. He is gazing out the open window, the cool night air swirling in and blowing his hair back, the stars already twinkling out in the night sky.

“If only I hadn’t what?”

His gaze turns towards you. He blinks slowly, his expression vacant. The silence hangs thick between you, only the cool breeze whispering through the cracked window as the castle settles into its nightly stillness. For a moment, you wonder if he’s going to say anything at all. He tears his eyes from you and back out the window. Then, in a voice so soft that it almost seems lost in the wind, he mutters, “If only it had never been you.”

Unsure whether to be offended or intrigued. “Been me?” you repeat, your voice edged with disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He grips the edge of the window tightly, the white of his knuckles showing. “If you hadn’t been so… stubborn. So fucking infuriating. Maybe…  we never would have gotten to this point.”

You let out a dry laugh. “So it’s my fault we’re both scrubbing the floor at midnight? And here I thought it was because you couldn’t keep yourself from casting boils on my face.”

A ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Maybe,” he says, his voice low and soft. “But you never made it easy for me, did you?”

The question catches you off guard, and in that moment, you recall the years you’ve spent at Hogwarts — the bitter rivalry, the countless hexes and jinxes, the sleepless nights in stubborn competition, and the complete and utter disdain you held for each other. But now, all you can see is the quiet vulnerability that peeks through in his gaze, the lingering traces of something almost… uncertain. You clench your jaws, wanting to break through the strange haze that’s settled over the room, but no words come out.

He stares, expecting you to retort back at him, like you always do. But all you can do is stare back, lips still sealed.

“Forget it,” he murmurs, breaking the silence and picks up his mop.

You swallow down whatever strange feeling has started to well up and return to scrubbing the floor, willing the silence back into the room. But it doesn’t last long. You can feel his glare turn back on you, and before you know it, he’s muttering under his breath again. 

“Maybe,” he says, voice low and cold, “maybe if you didn’t act like you were better than everyone else, we wouldn’t be in his mess every damn year.”

You snap up, tightening your grip on the dirty rag. “Better than everyone?” You echoed disbelievingly. “This is coming out of your mouth?”

He scoffs, giving you a scathing look. “You’ve been going around and acting like you belong with the rest of us. It’s pathetic.”

The word hits you like a slap. The muscle in your jaw ticks, but you force yourself to stay composed. “Is that why you hate me? Because I’m a fucking Mudblood that beats you in duels and charms, and you can’t stand the sight of someone so beneath you winning?”

A dark flush creeps up his neck. “Don’t flatter yourself. Like you’d hold that much importance in my life.” his voice drips with disdain, and for a split second, you can see something flicker in his eyes— a bitterness that goes deeper than the usual rivalry.

Laughter bubbles out despite the tension. “Then why do you keep going out of your way to make my life miserable? Why do you spend all your time finding ways to get under my skin rather than studying for your own exams?”

His face twists, frustration beginning to boil over. “Because you make me—” He stops himself, words hanging in the air, heavy and unfinished. His fists clench, and he looks away, the veins in his neck pulsating. “Forget it.”

But you’re done with his unfinished sentences now. Your patience has worn out. “No, go on,” you say, standing up to face him. “Tell me. Tell me why you hate me so much.”

He glares at you, and before you can blink, he’s stepping forward, practically nose-to-nose with you. “You really want to know?” He snarls. You could smell the sage and rosewood from his collar.

“I do.” You cracked a smile. “Maybe then we could finally end our fighting.”

“Fine,” he snarls, “because every time I see you, every damn time I even think about you, it’s like I’m being reminded of every single thing I can’t stand about myself.”

You take in a sharp breath. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughs, a harsh, bitter sound. “You don’t get it, you never will.” His lips are curled, the smell of his cologne getting stronger. “You’re so repulsively stubborn, so fucking persistent, always fighting for something. It’s like—” His hands are shaking at his sides. “You don’t know when to quit, the worst of all these fucking Gryffindors, and every time you don’t, it just… it reminds me that I’m the same and— you make me feel so fucking insane, that I could ever possibly be someone like you—”

The words cut off abruptly, and in that silence, something shifts. Neither of you know what to do with it.

Then, before you can stop yourself, you reach out and grab his collar, pulling him close until the fabric is bunched up in your fists. “Maybe,” you hissed. “Maybe if you stopped blaming me for your problems, you could actually get somewhere in life, instead of living in your family’s shadows.”

Shock flickers across his face before he, too, grabs hold of your collar, pulling you in even tighter. “Let go,” he says, his voice laced with warning. But neither of you releases, fingers digging into the fabric and skin, pushing and pulling, each trying to prove a point you can’t put into words.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” you spit out, the words trembling with frustration.

He growls, his hand slipping up to the back of your neck, fingers coiling up in your hair. He pulls sharply, enough to make you yelp, and you retaliate, your own hand quickly reaching up to do the same, fingers threading into his hair, tugging hard.

Before you know it, your foot catches on the leg of an old chair, and you’re stumbling backwards. When the chair topples with a loud crash, he steps, catching on the bottom of your robe, and loses his balance. You are roughly pulled down with him, limbs tangling up in each other. The two of you hit the floor hard, the impact jarring as you crash into a worn desk. A pile of ancient scrolls are flying, dusty potion bottles are rolling off and breaking, and the crack of wood echoes as the desk splinters beneath your combined weight.

Still, neither of you loosen your hold. Your bare knees scrape against the rough stone, and you can feel the skin breaking. Pinned awkwardly on the ground, he twists to the side, his shoulder slamming into yours and you go tumbling over one another, rolling on the shattered glass that shimmer in the moonlight. There is a thin line of blood bleeding on his brow, and you can feel a warm, wet sting along your own cheekbone. You’re both gasping now, faces inches apart, skin scraped and already swelling.

“Just let go,” he says again, his voice still low with a tremor you don’t recognize. You stay where you are, arms and legs locked uncomfortably, face tilted up and eyes fixed on him.

“No,” you grit back, refusing to move. “Not until you do.”

The tension is like a live wire, sparking and searing in the air between you as you glare at each other, chests heaving, bruised and wounded from your clumsy fall. He searches for something in your eyes, a sort of desperation that you don’t want to answer.

Then, slowly, he lets go. Fingers loosening, his hand slides away from your hair, leaving it dishevelled. You both sit up, still breathing heavily, staring at each other in the dim light.

“You are my fucking nightmare, Princess,” he finally says, voice hoarse. It’s a broken sound, like a confession he never wanted to say out loud.

You laugh, soulless and heartless. Your skirt is bunched up to your thighs as you shift your legs, robes falling off your shoulders as you turn towards him.

You stab a finger to his chest. “And you,” you seethe, pressing hard against him. “You are the bane of my existence. Everything— everything that is wrong in my life is caused by you.”

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he reaches up, wrapping his fingers around yours, holding you firmly to his chest, right over his heart. His pulse is heavy under your touch, and his eyes don’t leave yours, his gaze almost daring you to pull away.

“Everything I ever did to you,” he says slowly, his voice almost a whisper, “was to make you feel as miserable as I did.”

His face is so close to yours, close enough that you can see the faint bruises blooming on his cheeks. Close enough to see the small scratch just below his brow trickle blood. Close enough for his hair to brush your forehead as it falls into his eyes.

For the first time that night, you don’t question him. You didn’t want to know what made him want to fight you, make you cry, or lose your friends. You didn’t want to know what made him so miserable that he wanted to cause you just as much pain that he was in. You didn’t want to understand him. If you knew, you felt as if the resentment you’ve held for years would simply crumble under the weight of his confession.

Your hand remained trapped under his, his chest rises and falls, and his hold on you is surprisingly gentle now. The echo of his confession fades into the silence of this decrepit room, and you realise— this fight, this bitter rivalry— it’s just as much a part of him as it was to you. And even in this messy, bruised, and bloody silence, neither of you are ready to let it go.

When you break apart, you slowly lay down on the floor and rub the palms of your hands firmly into your eyes. You were so tired. So tired of fighting, getting put into detention, cleaning floors, studying for exams, and always trying your best to survive. The exhaustion soon takes over, and you pass out.

He watches you the whole time. The way you grit your teeth in exasperation and groan, the way your chest is heaving in frustrated huffs before slowing down into deeper, slower breaths. He watches you until you fall asleep, and then, right by your side, he lays down and closes his eyes, joining you in sleep with beaten limbs and bloodied skin. 

The caretaker walks in when the sun begins to rise. The damage to the room was undeniable. The windows were still grimy, the cobwebs still hanging, and the floor littered with broken glass, ripped scrolls with boot prints, and two students, laying side by side, barely touching.

You guess it was inevitable for the both of you to get summer detention.

//

Year Six

The first day back at Hogwarts, you saw it immediately— something was terribly wrong with him.

His hair was longer, tangled and messier, and the shadows under his eyes were darker and bruised, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. His face, once sharp with wit, looked gaunt, looking almost sickly. Something had changed over the scorching hot summer, like it had hollowed him out and left only a ghostly echo of the person you once knew.

And yet, he still greeted you, like he always did, almost endearingly so. “Mudblood,” he drawled. “Hope your summer was terrible.”

Your mouth opened, but the words snagged inside you, heavy and sour. It should’ve sparked that familiar flame between you, but you stopped yourself. His tone, his expression— all the life, the spark, the sickening thrill that always animated him when he saw you, it was gone. There was an uncomfortable ache in your chest, heavy and acidic. You almost couldn’t even recognize him.

For months, this feeling never went away. You never saw him around anymore.

In class, he isolated himself, working alone with his usual friends away at a distance. His head always kept down as he poured into his books in silence. Outside of class, he was nowhere to be seen. It became a whispered mystery in the hallways, one that no one seemed able to answer. You caught glimpses of his snake friends tucking wrapped bundles of food  into their pockets, likely sneaking him meals because he’s never seen in the Great Hall anymore.

Even Jeonghan didn’t know what was going on with him. They had barely spoken more anymore than you did with him.

He became a complete stranger to you, his silence louder than any taunt he’d ever thrown your way. When you tried to challenge him, sometimes even uncharacteristically in a playful way, he didn’t even acknowledge you. He would only look at you with a strange, vacant expression, as if you were miles away.

Every time he looked at you with those empty eyes, that strange feeling in your chest turned into a gnawing ache that only grew. Your curiosity on what happened to him over the summer was insistent, like a parasite digging deeper with each passing day. But it was impossible for you to ask, because to do so would break the unspoken, hateful relationship you’d build together after all these years. How could you reach out to him when all you’d ever known was fire and fury?

Then, one late Saturday afternoon, you were passing by the abandoned classroom near the Bell Tower when you heard something— a sound that stopped you cold. A low, guttural sob, the kind of anguish that would make your heart drop into your stomach.

You could have turned your cheek. You could have pretended as if you hadn’t heard anything. You could have walked away.

But the sobbing continued, those agonising, wrenching sounds so raw, so hauntingly familiar. You couldn’t stop yourself, you stepped closer, heart hammering as you pushed open the cracked door to peek inside.

There, huddled on the cold floor, was the boy you knew— the boy who taunted and tormented you, who laughed as he goaded you into every petty fight. He was now slumped forward, fingers clawing at the stone floor as his shoulder shook from the weight of all his miserable tears. Broken glass lay all around him— vials from this week’s Charms lesson, meant to turn water into wine, and his robes soaked with it had turned the air heavy and sour in the small room. The knuckles on his hand were blood, cut and stained, red streaks running down his fingers.

You stood frozen, your heart lodged painfully in your throat. You were never meant to see this. He was unravelling before you, stripped bare of all the pride and scorn he used to wear like a badge. But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

You wanted to run to him, and grab him by his shoulders. Come back. You wanted to yell at him. Come back to me and fight me. Come yell curses at me, jinx all the hair off my head, or poison my drinks. Just come back.

But he never saw you. His eyes were as vacant as ever, the light in them extinguished. The boy with the crooked smile, the one who used to take so much pleasure in all your misery, was gone. He blinked once, swayed on his knees, and then, without warning, fell forward and collapsed.

You pulled away from the door, heart racing. You couldn’t bear to see him like this anymore. You just ran. You needed to find someone, anyone, that could help him.

You tore down the North Hall, your footsteps echoing off the stone walls, until you crashed headfirst into Wonwoo, almost knocking him over. He caught you, his fingers digging into your shoulders, eyes wide and frantic.

“Did you see him?” he demanded, his voice breaking, scared and desperate. You’ve never heard him this hysterical before.

Trembling, you lifted a shaky finger, your own voice sounding terrified. “The old room for Arithmancy… down the hall.”

Wonwoo ran.

It was the final week of Hogwarts. 

It was past curfew, and you were running, practically flying through the empty corridors as you tried to reach your Common Room. The halls were dark, steeped in an eerie silence, and you tried your best to be as silent as possible because it was three hours past curfew, and you could not risk another night in detention again— not now, not with exams pressing down on you. 

It’s been weeks since you last saw him. Classmates gossiped amongst each other that he had disappeared since that night you saw him in the abandoned classroom, and with how hectic the end of the year terms were, you woefully wondered if the exam season was a helpful distraction to what you had witnessed that night.

You kept close to the shadows, stepping as quickly and quietly as possible, you tried to reach the suspension bridge when suddenly, a sickening crack echoed through the air. A sound that was so unnatural in the usual stillness of the night, it made you stumble, gripping on the wall to steady yourself.

Dread twisted up in your stomach. That was the sound of something breaking— no, something falling.

You turned a corner, breath hitching as you reached the open space by the bridge. There, sprawled out on the cobblestone courtyard, lay a figure— a mess of long, white hair spread out like a gruesome halo, blood already seeping into the cracks between the stones. Grey eyes, which were normally so vibrant and bright, were glazed over as they stared straight up into the night sky.

The headmaster lay dead in front of you.

A scream tore out into the cold, dark night. Your throat was raw and broken, the sound of your cry ringing off the stone walls, piercing into the silence of the night. Your knees buckled, and when you fell, you pressed a shaking hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sob that clawed its way out your mouth. Your whole body was trembling, heart beating so fast, your vision blurred as you desperately scanned the darkness of any sign, any glimpse of whoever had done this.

Your breath came up in shallow gasps, looking everywhere until finally, you looked up.

There he was.

He was standing on the stoned dome above, looking down at you. His figure was draped in shadow, illuminated only by the faint silver glow of the moon. Your heart clenched, a sad comfort that he was finally looking at you in what felt like the first time in forever. But there was something terribly wrong. His eyes— his normally heavily, hooded dark eyes, were deliriously manic. The whites of them showing an intensity that you’ve never seen on him.

A chill seeped into your bones as he watched you, and when you stood back up on shaky limbs, your eyes never leaving him, you wondered if the boy you once knew had been replaced by someone else entirely. 

His face had changed so much.

You almost missed his crooked smile.

//

Year Seven

He never came back to Hogwarts.