#there's incident one: dream cutting his hand open (they meet)

[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.

[meadowziplines]

Damsel in distress/ self rescuing princess ?caught my eyes👀

dream in a human au but still defining himself by stories and story tropes! it's basically a dreamling fic 4+1 of 4 times Hob rescued him (ranging from not too serious and/or amusing, to actual serious rescue/serious injury, and then one time he became a self-rescuing princess and saved himself)

snip:

(Dream … likes fairytales. The gilded kind, because the true stories are ugly and dark and bitter, and he is afraid of them; afraid of being nightmarish and cruel and unworthy of saving. It is not something he admits to many people, how desperately he wants someone to sweep him off his feet, carry him from the tower, save him from the dragon.)

(ONE)

"I'm fine," Dream starts to say automatically, and then sees his hand, bleeding profusely. The air shimmers. He clutches at his hand. Blood oozes around his other fingers, and nausea spools in his gut as his surroundings start spinning. His ears ring a little, spots floating in his vision.  He hears Desire say, "Dream?" in a tone that might indicate concern, and then everything goes dark.  He blinks, vision swimming back, to see a holy vision sinking to his knees above him. Well. The field medic isn't Jesus, but Dream does have a massive crush on him. Desire has teased him all afternoon, for they know what Dream looks like when he has a crush. "Hello," says the holy wonder, smiling. Dream simply stares, lost in his brown eyes, and then smiles like an idiot.   "Oh, you're kidding," Desire says, somewhere to his left. "Dream, really, this guy?"  Dream blinks. "Hello," he finally answers. A sharp pain in his hand caused him to wince, and he looks at it, at the blood, and winces. His vision blurs again.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Feral nights ~! (Woverine x bottom male reader) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

WC:. 2.7K

Tags: slight knife play(his claws) hair pulling, spit as lube, little to no prep(ass eating is the prep), cabin sex, slight A/B/O dynamics(Logan has ruts) scenting, marking, nesting, feral Logan, age gap (reader is twenty five and Logan is forty four), younger male reader, ass eating, and aftercare ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

A/N this was just a personal smutty one shot for my depraved self after seeing the Hugh Jackman wolverine movies<33

Just moving to a rundown cabin wasn’t your big dream after college to say the least, and here you were a twenty five year old man unpacking boxes from the back of your car and into the little cabin you had bought. Looking over your shoulder across the lake you see another cabin with a man standing outside. One of the main things that stuck out was his excessive body and facial hair, how his hair cut looked like two wolf ears of you squinted from afar, you heard that the cabin across from you was where the wolverine lived but you didn’t think much of it.

Looking away quickly as you scurry off into your cabin trying to not think nothing of the man while you settle into your cabin, the weeks to follow ever since the first glance of eye contact you can’t deny there is tension and what you’re reading as upset from the brooding man but was actually sexual but it’s not your fault he was a hard men to read.

Later that evening you just finished setting up your room, right as you were about to move onto the next part of the cabin to set up you see through your bedroom window Logan outside in his front yard chopping wood in his signature flannel. You stood paralyzed unable to do anything but watch how the older man’s biceps flex when he swings his axe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows giving a peak of his arm hair making you wonder about what the rest of his body must look like.

Chewing on your bottom lip until he looks up from what he was doing making your eyes meet. You soon close your curtains and get out of view of the window all embarrassed pushing it aside and moving on to the res of your cabin as you go and start setting up more.In the weeks you’ve been in your new cabin after that incident you’ve only ran into him a handful of times in the only grocery store around the small town or when you wave at him from across the lake only returning with a grunt and a little nod before he goes back to chopping wood.

The day went normal, long day and seeming longer nights in this area. That was until you seen from the bedroom window of the cabin, your Logan walking towards yours, confused how he even made it across the lake you walk towards the front door opening it up all confused wearing a random shirt you had designated to nightwear and a pair or pajama pants with a video game character from a random game you played on them.

“Can I help you sir?…” murmuring out as you look up at Logan “I see the way you’ve been lookin at me bub” he grumbles out nearly heaving all pressed to the door frame of your cabin doorway nearly towering you over.

“What?, I didn’t know I was looking at you any sorta way sir…” You speak out almost like you were teeth to convince yourself that, while you haven’t been admittedly looking at him you couldn’t deny you always thought he was attractive, he’ll he was the face that flashed in your head when you reached your climax and you were ashamed of that fact. “Don’t lie bub, I seen how ya look at me through yer window, eyin me up N’ down like that” he speaks unconvinced with his accent peeking through the words he spoke.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here this late sir?” You don’t bother denying further just giving a sigh as you look up at Logan although you never caught his name, you never really spoke enough to ask it. “Logan, just call me that, I’m not your ‘sir’” Logan huffs as you look down at him noticing a bulge throbbing between his muscular thighs making a sticky spot of pre cum in his sweat pants, despite the cold weather he wore a tank top half opened with a flannel jacket you thought only a lumberjack would wear.

“You never answered my question Logan?” You raise a brow trying to seem firmer than you really were when you spoke. His nostrils flare a little when he sees your neck craning up to him making a audible groan leave his lips not waiting any further “always teasin me with them little f’ckin smiles and waves actin like a slut round me” he grabs you up the door behind him in your apartment slammed shut as you feel his face in your neck with his canines nibbling at your Adam’s apple “I wasn’t teasing you I was being a good neighbor—“ your voice cut off by your hand gripping and pulling at his hair making him let out what you thought were growls?

Pulling you all the way through the cabin with him eager to get you in a bed, him in the middle of rut going nearly insane from the smell of you. When he lays you down in the bed you look up at him confused why he was using all the pillows and blankets to surround you like a bird in its nest. “What are you doing?” You manage to speak out looking up at him when you start pulling your pajama pants down kicking them off past your ankles trying not to focus too much on his hairy pecs when he gets undressed “boxers off face down and ass up bub”

“Fine, fine” you muffle out as you roll over onto your stomach planting your knees in the mattress not even bothering to take off your shirt as you shove your face in the pillows wracking one hand back to pull your boxers down for him, your asscheeks exposed with your hole hidden between them making you shiver a little when you feel a rough hand pressed to your ass cheek pulling them apart showing off your pink bud as it winks at him.

Your cheeks reddening when you feel him leaning down his breath hot agaisnt your sensitive furl “don’t go shy on me now bub” he heaves out a little hurrying his face between your cheeks using his tongue eating you out like a starved man moving his jaw with his hands kneeling your ass cheeks til red making your cock press to your lower abdomen making it leak precum.

“Fuck Logan—“ you groan biting agaisnt your pillow making your eye go wide when you feel a sharp sizzle on your hips feeling his claws poking from his knuckles from how tight he gripped hold of your ass not letting you move as his tongue pushes past your rim licking and lapping your inner walls as his canines pinch at your inner asscheeks. “Mh- tastes so f’ckin good bubs”

Logan keeps pinching your asscheeks like a cat pawing at its bed with his claws barely poking from his knuckles poking your hips making shallow scratches while his tongue fucks your hole giving your inner walls a harsh lick. “Lo-gan keep doing that~” a mewl leaves your lips trying to press your thighs together failing as his head keeps them open.

“Hold still f’me” murmuring as his tongue works against you rim having your cock all hard between the bed and your stomach as you bite into the pillows arching your back and pressing your ass further into his face while your hands tug the corner of the sheets. Your hips loosely dripping blood from where his claws cut you, “can’t take it any more bubs” a rigid grunt escapes Logan as his spit runs down your thighs from the way he sloppily ate your ass.

“Fck’me logan~” you whine laying now almost as desperate as he was easing your ass as much as you can arching your back like a cat not even thinking of the pain your tender hips and asscheeks feel “I plan on it..” his hands move off your ass cheeks after delivering each one a harsh slap gripping your hips as he flips you back over on your back pulling the pillow from your mouth “ain’t you so fck’n hard bubs?”he murmurs pulling his sweatpants off revealing no boxers with his cock hard covered in brown pubic hair leaking precum from his tip as he leans down between your thighs pressing his lips on yours practically eating your face off making you feel his beard scratching at your chin.

Your cocks pressed together between both of your stomachs rubbing as he rocks his hips forward in a humping motion kissing you between grunts holding hold of your hips where his claws broke skin “ready fer me?” He huffs out moving his hand down further to your thigh while he lifts one of them up on his hip before hoisting it up on his shoulder making his cock snake between your cheeks nudging your rim teasingly but never pushing in.

“I’m- ready Logan” you nod hazily batting your lashes up at him nosing a little too eagerly hook your other leg around his hip while he slides his hand down your thigh rubbing your ankle with his other hand placed firm on your hip “fck—yer so tight bubs” a pant leaves his lip when he pushes his cock into you with it resting heavy agaisnt your prostate making you arch your back biting on your lip looking up at him “oh—hm!” A moan escaped your throat as you feel his hairy stomach pressed down on your cock while he lays on top of you bending your body in half using his hands to hoist up your other thigh for a better shot at your prostate.

“Fuuck” a long groan escapes Logan’s mouth as he grunts shoveling his face in the side of your neck using his canines to bite at it holding your ankles tightly as he starts to circle his hips fucking you into the sheets making your hand move from the bedsheets to his hair “m—more Logan” you spoke right in his ear all whiny and high pitched with your bud trying to clench tighter around him harshly as your gummy walls heat like a vice around the mutants dick, his teeth marking your skin showing his rut as he grounds his hips into you harshly “like that bub? Hm? Fck’n tell me how my dick feels” he huffs out all animalistic starting to pick his pace up making you dig your nails into his back with your legs bent over his shoulders bouncing and swaying back and forth with the force of his thrusts.

“Feels good Logan!—oh god~” you gasp beneath him your body bent in half under the older mutants weight with the bed in your cabin creaking filling the room with the sound of skin on skin as your ass cheeks get all rosy from the constant abuse his hips give them. “Tight bub, so fck’n tight” he growls right into your neck making your eyes roll back not minding the feral man on top of you as you use one hand clawing his back and the other in his hair feeling his beard in the crook of your neck while he makes out with it messily snapping his hips stretching you open over and over with his cock head assaulting your prostate surely bruising your sensitive bundle of nerves

He reaches his hand off your thighs moving around between them as he holds them around his hips and pulls up your t shirt just watching your pecs bouncing back and forth with his thrusts before he just shoves his face in them and starts sucking at your right nipple groping your left pec as he rapidly thrusts his hips “Fuck look at those tits bubs, so fuckin pretty~”. Logan heaves out rubbing his now sweaty body to yours like a wolf trying to rub its scent on its mate, You have no time to protest his choice of words feeling your thighs tremble and a loud mewl leave your lips when his cock hits your sweet spot straight on making a coil of heat radiate in your stomach straight to your cock as it pulses.

“I’m cl—ose Logan!” You choke out your eyes glossing up as you hold his hair tighter gripping hold of his back for dear life with your thighs now wrapped fully around his hips holding him deep inside yourself as you stare up at the Celine in your cabin feeling his mouth biting at your nipple his large hand groping at the other “cum, cum for me bubs” a rumble falls from his throat pulling his cock fully put before slamming back into you making his claws come out of his knuckles breaking skin on your left pec making a hot sting break through your body pushing you over your edge.

“Hng~! Haah—“ your hand loosens in his hair and on his back losing your grip going totally limp under him letting your vision blur with your tears and bliss as your cock squirts hot semen on Logan’s stomach with a harsh spasm emptying yourself out as the cock inside your ass keeps moving and violating your insides rearranging your guts. Your thighs quivering around him feeling the Wolverine groaning against your chest leaving it as sore as your clawed up hips.

“Right there with ya bub..” panting on top of you with his full bod weight between your thighs while your inner walls clench and unclench around him over and over in aftershock from your own high as he starts thrusting out of pace collapsing on top of you trembling “ga’dd amm baby” he groans not even bothering to pull out wanting you filled up with every essence of him as he lets the molten liquid paint your prostrate “mh so warm-!” A pout coming from you as you reach your hand back down weakly petting at his head feeling your stomach grow all warm from his cum.

“..thanks Fer that bub..” he murmurs out planting a few soft kisses on your swollen nipples then one on the cut his claw like blades made in your skin. “No problem Logan, although I’ll be expecting a date before you fuck me next time” you hazily speak looking down at his face in your chest watching him before you feel him rusting around in the sheets with the best he made earlier half fallen apart from the sex. “I think I can manage that, now where are the rags we needa get’cha you cleaned up” he cracks a rare grin showing off those pearly canines to you making a slight pout when his cock slides out of you leaving your walls trying to clamp around the air, your rim as red as your cheeks all puffy leaking his seed into your sheets.

“Top drawer to the left Logan…” you muffle out trying to adjust yourself in the now empty bed rolling over on your stomach laying with your arms folded under your chin looking as Logan walks still naked grabbing a rag from the bathroom cabinet as you stare the best you can at his muscular thighs and happy trail. “Stop eye fucking me you litter whore” he grumbles out walking back into the room with the wet towel sitting down on the edge of the bed using the damp wash clothe to wipe off the cum from around your rim as it leaked making you shiver at the feeling, his hands working and wiping off the dried droplets of blood from the cuts on your hips.

“Right sorry” You mumble out as you crawl over to him after he throws the rag to your floor discarding it for the night as he grabs you pulling you closer under his arm not mind his underarm hair while you lean your head down into his hairy chest grabbing one of the blankets from his makeshift nest as you curl up in it snuggling with the older mutant while he presses his chin to the top of your head “think we should do this a’gain bubs” he hums with a gravely voice.

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.��

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[deadbydad-writes]

"Ex-Boyfriends Dad"

This is a request from @miguelspookiebear. Sorry it's super late, but I do hope you enjoy it!

You thought that maybe this guy was the one, that he was the man of your dreams, that he would be the one to make the future you had dreamed about since you were twenty a reality.

For three years you had told yourself that and you believed it, until you saw him hooking up with your sister of all people.

You were heartbroken. You felt betrayed and broken. You had blocked him and broke up with him the next day after the incident, and you wouldn't even talk to your own sister.

You thought that life was over, that you would never find the guy that would be your knight in shining armor.

But maybe life would change, and you would meet the man that you so desperately dreamed of.

A few months after you had broken up with that bastard, you were in your kitchen making a cup of coffee, a frown on your face and dried tears on your cheeks as you stared at the mug in front of you until you heard a knock at your front door.

"Not him again," you groaned to yourself as you walked over to the door and opened it, expecting your ex-boyfriend to be begging for forgiveness and to take him back.

What you didn't expect was to see his father, Miguel O'Hara, to be standing there with a bouquet of roses in his hand and a small smile on his face.

"Mr. O'Hara," you said with a smile and leaned against the frame of your door. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Miguel let out a small chuckle. "Sorry I didn't warn you," he replied. "I just wanted to come over to-"

"Pick up your sons shit because he's too much of a pussy to do it himself?" You cut him off with a frown and a raised brow.

"Yes, and other things," the older male stated.

You hummed in response and looked at the box of his sons stuff and clothes, nibbling on your bottom lip as you thought about it.

"How about you come inside and I'll make you a cup of coffee," you suggested with a smile and offered him inside with a wave of your hand, which he gladly and nervously followed. Walking to the kitchen you grabbed another mug and poured coffee into it.

"I wanted to tell you that my son, the fucking estupido of a kid he is," he muttered under his breath as he took the mug with a small 'thank you'. "I kicked him out of the house until he gets his shit together."

You looked over at him and stood at the other side of the counter, looking at him and let out a sigh.

"Why'd you do that?" you asked, not making eye contact with him. "He's your kid."

Hearing the older man set his mug down and walk over to you, you felt his hand touch your shoulder and squeeze it gently.

"Because I did not raise him to treat women like that, let alone break their trust and sleep with another girl," Miguel said and put a finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

"Especially to not cheat on a girl that's as beautiful as you." You felt your cheeks heat up and a blush spread across your face at his words and the feeling of his hands holding your face like you were the most important person in his life.

Your eyes widened in shock when he had pressed his lips against yours in a gentle yet small kiss but you quickly gripped the fabric of his shirt and closed your eyes and kissed back.

Miguel growled against your lips and ran his large but gentle hands down your body and gripped your hips, allowing you to wrap your arms around his shoulder and moan into the kiss when he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

"Can't believe he would ever hurt a women like you," he growled as he pulled away from the kiss to press his lips against the skin of your neck, his teeth threatening to bite into the softness of your skin, causing you to let out a small moan and tilt your head to the side to give him more access.

This was wrong. The fact that you were making out with the father of your ex-boyfriend was something that shouldn't have turned you on as much as it did. But you couldn't bring yourself to give a shit, not when Miguel was biting and sucking marks onto your neck.

"Miguel," you whined.

"Tell me what you want, princesa," he whispered in your ear. "Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you."

You closed your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck, biting your lip in thought.

"I..I want you to touch me," you said. "Please."

Miguel growled and lifted you up so you were laying on the counter, the cool surface making you shiver lightly.

"Look at you," the older male said with a grin, his hand moving up your leg and squeezing your thigh. "Is it bad that I'm glad you're no longer with my son?"

You bit your lip as you felt his fingertips dipped under the skirt of your dress and press against your folds through your soaked panties making you let out a gasp at the feeling. He leaned down and started to kiss down your neck again, his tongue soothing the bite marks he left.

"Gonna make you feel so good, mi amor," he promised with a smile and slipped your panties down your legs and dropped them onto the kitchen floor. "Gonna make you feel better than my son ever did.

The older male rubbed your clit with the tip of his thumb and slid two fingers into your dripping cunt, making you grip the fabric of his shirt and moan against his shoulder, closing your eyes as you grinded down onto his fingers.

Miguel growled against your throat and started to thrust his fingers in and out of your cunt, his fingers pressing against the spot inside of you that made your back arch off the counter with a moan.

You knew you weren't gonna last long, not when his fingers fill you up better than anyone else has, not when he made you forget your own name with the way he whispered praises in promises into your ears.

"Miguel," you gasped out. "I...I'm not gonna last long..." The older male rubbed your clit faster and reached his free hand up to squeeze one of your breasts through the fabric of your dress.

"I want you to come for me," he said and kissed you again, this one sloppier and more messy than the first one as you moaned into the kiss. "C'mon mi vida, wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.

Just hearing his words made you come with a moan, your walls gripping his fingers as you squirted all over his hand.

Miguel pulled out his fingers and licked off your juices, moaning at the taste before pulling you back in for a messy make out session. You closed your eyes as your tongue tangled with his, groaning as you tasted yourself in his mouth.

"Such a good girl for me," Miguel whispered against your lips with a smile. "But we're not done yet." You felt a shiver run down your spine as he picked you up and carried you to your bedroom.

You thought that you were never going to meet your knight in shining armor after you broke up with your ex, but you did, and it was with someone way better than him.

And you couldn't be more happy that it was his father that made you feel more loved and cared for.

This is probably the longest thing I have ever written, when it comes to requests, but hey I enjoyed writing this and it could be better but I am just getting over being sick and I'm a little dry with the smut! But it's okay!

[talesfromawannabejournalist]

Demon in Disguise

Here it is @kittenfangirl20, hope you enjoy part 1

Adam sighed as he waited for Lilith to make her appearance in the embassy. Adam was summoned by a letter from the Queen herself requesting an audience with the first man himself. Though Sera, the woman he looked at as a mother as she looked at him as her son, warned him against this meeting. However, Adam's will be strong, and he wishes to know what the snake wants. It didn't help that tensions were rising what with the sinners starting to rise. Adam's knee slightly bounced from underneath the table as he crossed his arms over his chest. Though he'd never admit it to anyone other than himself it always sent a shiver down his side whenever it was only just the two of them. Suddenly the doors opened and in walked Lilith all with the grace of a queen, and the slithering motions of a serpent. Her amethyst pierced Adam's soul as they locked onto him.

Lilith: Ah Adam just the man, or first man, I've been meaning to see, how are you? Doing good? Heaven sure does seem to be treating you good.

Lilith stated while her gaze turned directly on Adam's chubby belly. Adam scowled already wanting this meeting to end.

Adam: Cut the crap and just say what you want Lilith

Lilith: Very well, I've come here for a proposal. I understand that Heaven is getting quite antsy as of late due to my people beginning to rise up. I also understand that they are looking for solutions, well I have one that will solve everything.

Adam: And that is?

Lilith: I remove myself from my title as queen, Hell's military, leave Hell, and be given a spot in Heaven.

Adam was silent for a moment until he laughed out loud even banging his fist against the table.

Adam: Ok, and what makes you think that anyone in their right mind would allow you to stay? Not to mention me ever giving you free range of upstairs.

Lilith: You are still close with Sera, correct? Then she can help forward this deal. I also have something that you want more than anything

Adam: And what might that be?

Lilith: Lucifer's child

Adam: ...what?

Lilith: I'm sure that your little...birth defect is still present even as an angel, yes?

Adam glared at her wording but slowly nodded. Not long after Adam's creation his creator, God helped shift his body so that he then had both parts of a man and a woman. Though he didn't know why he did it, he didn't hate his body in any way, despite Lilith doing her hardest to make him back in the garden.

Lilith: I'll collect Lucifer's seed and have it implanted in your womb then you'll finally have the precious baby that you always wanted with your dear guardian angel.

Adam: ...Lucifer is alright with all of, this? You leaving him and me being impregnated with his sperm?

Lilith: But of course, after all, he does want what's best for our subjects, not to mention that if there is less interaction in Heaven ten the less, he'll have to see you. Plus, with you not only in Heaven but also supported by

Adam didn't know what to say, on the one hand, he'd finally get his dream of being a mother. He loved all his children when they were on Earth and loved being their father even when...the incident occurred and afterward. However, ever since Eden, he wanted to be with Lucifer, his Luci, his sweet angel, and have a family with him. On the other hand, it hurt him to his core that this was the only way. But...the pros outweighed the cons and on the plus side not only would he get his dream, but he'd also finally be putting a stop to any uprising from the denizens of Hell since the fire was only filled with Lilith there leading the charge.

It seemed Lilith could tell what his decision was and smirked.

Adam: alright Lilith, I accept your deal.

[rikisniffles]

chapter four [西村力] my first love was a boy ✧ NISHIMURA RIKI (NI-KI) X M!READER

SYNOPSIS — l/n y/n is a member of boynextdoor under hybe/koz. being an idol has always been y/n's dream, and ever since it became true he has been more than happy. despite being an idol, he doesn't know many other idols outside his group. when he runs into his seniors, a seemingly never-ending spiral of embarrassing moments occurs.

disclaimer !! : every idol in my stories is a character and does not always reflect the actual person (i do my best but for entertainment purposes, it may be off)

— fic masterlist / info

chapter four - the ice cream shop incident

warning : written part halfway through

The ice cream shop was small, and luckily unpacked. You and Woonhak wore matching black masks, keeping your hoods up to avoid unwanted attention.

“Should we get something for the rest of our hyungs?” Woonhak asks after placing his order, looking down at the glass container.

“I got Riwoo hyung something, but I don’t know what the rest would like.” You say, scanning the flavors.

“I think Leehan would like this one.” Woonhak points, leaving a fingerprint on the glass. Real professional. “I’ll text them, hold onー” He pulls out his phone and types away.

While you wait for your cups of ice cream, and for Woonhak to receive a message, the store door chimes. In walks three other men, similarly to you, they wore their hoods up. You recognize them immediately. You pull down your mask and wave to them. The blond one flashes you a cute smile, while the taller one takes a step behind his hyung. Woonhak doesn’t notice yet, too engrossed in his phone. He looks up for a second at you, “Jaehyun says he wantsー What are youー?”

“Nice to see you again.” Woonhak greets, bowing his head. You follow suit. The both of you are too shy for this. Woonhak goes back to order for your hyungs, leaving you with the three members of enhypen.

“I don’t know if you know me, but I’m Sunoo!” The blonde greets. He was adorable.

You nod, “Yeah, we haven’t met but I’ve heard of you!” You sound like a creep. “I’m Y/n and that’s Woonhak.” You point.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiles again, pulling out his phone to write a text message. He looked up at the menu, then back at his phone to take a picture of it. He must be getting someone’s order.

You turn to the one you know as Jake, who stands in front of Ni-ki. You met Jake once, but it was brief before you all were shoved into making videos for your TikToks.

“Congrats on the new comeback,” Jake nods, “I meant to say that last time we met, but I didn’t get to talk to you long.”

“Oh, thanks!” Your recent comeback has been quite a hit recently, you just hope that it was good enough to win some awards. Your group mates deserve a win. You open your mouth to continue small talk but your order was placed on the counter, distracting you. A brown paper bag held the small cups of ice cream, one for each of your members.

Woonhak grabs the bag, handing it to you to carry, “Thanks for working with us, you guys definitely helped us get out there a little more.” He smiles, putting his card away. You hadn’t realized he paid for it already, otherwise you would’ve offered. You all would pay each other back later anyway.

Ni-ki shuffles behind Jake, looking around awkwardly as Sunoo starts his order. Woonhak and Jake keep up the conversation, leaving you and Ni-ki to look around the room.

You meet eyes at some point, and you smile politely. His face twitches and his mouth forms a quick awkward smile before looking away from you quickly.

Did you do something wrong? Maybe he didn’t like you. Or the trending video made him uncomfortable. Or maybe because you hit him with that door…

“Hey,” You’re not usually confrontational like this, but you didn’t want your seniors to dislike you. “Soー”

“Do you want to order next Ni-ki?” Sunoo cuts you off unknowingly, creating a stiff air between you and Ni-ki. Kill me now.

“Uh, Yeah okay.” He pushes past you and begins ordering what he wants.

You curse yourself silently, pulling up your mask to cover your red face. You just wanted one interaction with your seniors that wasn’t painfully awkward. Maybe it was your fault.

previous | next | home

— koki's note ★ ; i missed two days of posting oopsies, I graduated highschool 👍👍 and I have been really busy. i opened a taglist for this work too since some people asked (to those who asked I already tagged you, just lmk if u wanna be taken off).

taglist (OPEN) : @conwunder @sol3chu @bubblztaro

[cinderace231]

Some doodles of Archer, and I wanted to share some of the second part of the story of Archer and some trivia about him too.

Well I wanted to about his scar. How he obtained? Who did it? Well the answer is...... one of the greatest villains of all in Final Fantasy in my opinion, Sephiroth *gasp* Yes I decided to bring back the big bad and he wants revenge to Cloud and well to make the planet his own precisely he needs a Cetra to do the latter. That's where comes Liana, she is the daughter of Aerith and Zack ( I don't know how I will explain how they were able to have a child. So bare with it please). Aerith comunicate with Archer in dreams where she tries to guide him to her daughter and to protect her. Upon meeting Archer and Liana encounter Sephiroth which led to a fight where Archer is badly injured, and Sephiroth just leaves before Denzel comes to where Archer went, the Sector 5 church.

Sephiroth said this to Archer " You're just lucky, little Cloud. But next you'll feel my sword will feel your blood while your father will only see, how his offspring loses the fire of life!"

After that incident Archer became scare towards Sephiroth having nightmares and doubts through out the story.

Now on to the trivia.

1. Archer is obsessed with wolves. He loves them so much that some of his clothes or accesories has a wolf motif even he wants a wolf as a pet.

2. Archer has dual battling style, being combining his father swordmanship with his mother martial art skills. But that depends on how the area is either open or closed. Open areas is where the sword is handy but not in closed areas, where hand to hand combat is useful.

3. About Archer hair grown different is due to cut it way to short, literally a buzz cut, because he doesn't like to be called Chocobo Hair but that doesn't mean that he dislikes them on the contrary, Archer loves them.

4. His second name, Zachary, is in honor of Zack Fair, and its was given by Cloud.

5. He was born with the mako enhancements of Cloud but not the Jenova Cells. But he is not at risk of cell degredation.

I hope you like it and wish me luck to try to do this fic because right now I'm on the character designing but when its all done I'll start writing the story and I really hope you give it the oportunity when the firts chapter is out.

Have a either Good morning,Good evening or Good Night and May God bless you all

Bye😊✌

[popcorn-plots]

Febuwhump day 25: Waterboarding

Title: daydreams and destinies

Words: 1110

Summary: Stephen Strange is part of the .1% of the world's population that can see their soulmate's experiences. Great for Tony Stark, not so great for Stephen when his soulmate gets waterboarded in the middle of Stephen's shift.

~~~

Soulmates had many different ways to show themselves. 40% of the population had a mark on their skin that glows when you meet your soulmate. 10% had marks that burned. 28% shared scars or writing -- if your soulmate cut themselves, you would get your own matching cut. 2% felt their soulmate's pain. 19.9% had the first words their soulmate etched on their skin. Point 1 percent of the population shared experiences.

Stephen Strange just happened to fall into that category. His earliest memory was looking up at a man he didn't know, small, olive-toned hands holding up a toy. There were glimpses of a boy in the mirror, about 5 years old, his dark brown hair tousled, brown doe eyes sad. His second memory was a flash of pain as the man hit him. Stephen wasn't old enough to understand why.

Throughout his childhood, he was constantly bombarded by visions of a different life. When he was 11, he learned about soulmates. He stopped telling people that he was part of the .1 percent that witnessed their soulmate's life firsthand when they would either idolize him for being rare or bully him for being different.

When he was 16, he said goodbye to his soulmate's parents and watched as his soulmate drank himself half to death. Stephen tried to ignore the memories when he could. He figured his soulmate, whoever he was (names, dates, ages, and places were omitted from the visions... somehow) had much more pleasant experiences as Stephen grew up on his family's farm. 

Soon after Donna's death, Stephen pushed away the visions. He taught himself how to meditate, how to focus on getting through high school and eventually college. Before he knew it, the visions were a thing of the past. They popped up occasionally, mostly in dreams or when Stephen let his mind wander. With his rigorous schedule as a med-student, he hardly had time to eat, let alone let his mind drift.

~~~~

Stephen was thirty three, a year from finishing his residency, when his illusion shattered. He was performing surgery with a senior doctor when a picture of a bomb pushed itself into Stephen's mind. He paused, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pushing the image away. There was a sense of an explosion, searing heat in his chest, and the image was gone.

Stephen's heart didn't go cold, so he knew his soulmate was alive. That made it easier to return to his task.

"Doctor, are you okay?" One of Stephen's fellow residents asked, noting the pause.

Stephen let out the breath he'd been holding. "I'm fine. Soulmate's up to stuff."

"Ah." They went back to work. The other resident had words on his wrist, hidden by a glove. They glowed a few weeks ago, when he met a patient's son.

The surgery continued. It wasn't hard, just long. Before he knew it, Stephen was threading the last of the stitches and the surgeon complimented his handiwork. Stephen grinned, and left to wash up. It was over the sink when he saw a flash of light and a searing pain. It almost felt like his sternum was being ripped open. Someone screamed. In between flashes of light, a half dozen men in a dimly lit room, and red-hot pain, Stephen realized it was his voice calling out for relief.

He passed out the same time his soulmate did. Yet the bond remained unbroken.

~

Stephen was told to go home and recover after his incident. Some poor intern had found him on the ground, concussed and bleeding from a deep head wound. Stephen begrudgingly agreed.

He fell asleep that night, hoping his soulmate was alright, and disgusted with the idea that he was concerned for the well-being of some rando he'd likely never meet.

~

The visions stopped altogether after that. Stephen knew that his soulmate wasn't dead, and he knew that extreme stress and fear could cut off a mental link for a few hours. A few hours turned to a few days, then a few weeks.

Stephen hated himself for caring, but a month into the vision-less life was making Stephen wish he could see something. Anything.

He got his wish a few days later. He was in the middle of surgery again, but this time, it wasn't a bomb. It was a bucket of water and the sensation of someone forcing him onto his knees.

Stephen tried to push it away. He tried, but the vision kept coming. The water came closer and closer, he kept struggling. No- Please--

He couldn't breathe. There was water on his face, in his mouth, soaking his hair. He was pulled out, his scalp stinging from the hair pulled.

He sucked in a deep breath, spluttering, and was back in the water.

He couldn't breathe.

At some point, he stumbled backwards, dropping his tool. He couldn't even remember what he was holding -- all he could do was hold his breath and pray he didn't drown.

His soulmate screamed and Stephen was thrown back to his childhood farm, Donna shouting for help as the ice cracked.

A tray clattered behind him and spun off in some direction as Stephen fell to the floor, gasping for air. He knew that he was fine. He knew that this was his soulmate's experience, not his, but the reaction was real. In a moment of clarity, Stephen compared it to PTSD flashbacks. The danger is all in your head, but your body doesn't know that.

Someone was rushing towards him, blue scrubs bloody. There was a hand on his shoulder and the ghost of a hand on his back, grabbing his shirt, pulling him out of the water.

He gasped, eyes wide. A bag was shoved over his head, smelling of sweat and sand and something metallic. The vision faded when the man was forced into another room, large and echoing another's frantic words.

Stephen was left in the dust, panting on the cold, metal floor of the operating room. The patient had been wheeled out --Stephen was almost done, anyways-- and the other men and women in the room stood in a lopsided half-circle. Billy, Stephen's new friend, leaned over him. "You good, doc?" Stephen liked Billy, he was possibly the only other person he had met that lived his soulmate’s experiences.

Stephen swallowed and nodded shakily. Billy tilted his head, obviously wanting to ask more but not knowing how. Stephen let go of the table he was clutching, leaning back until his head hit the floor as he caught his breath. "I think my soulmate just got waterboarded." Was all he said before his world went black.

Ao3

[thatcrazyshaman]

Had a dream today that I was playing a demo made out of cut content from Half Life

It was

Bizarre

The premise of said content was that there was a hidden medical ward in Black Mesa that had been added at some point years prior to the resonance cascade during a rash of accidents that occurred, that was maintained by one guy who had experience as a surgeon of some sort, referred to as Dr. --- from here on out, as I have no memory of his name

During the resonance cascade, he had gathered as many personnel there as he could, as the ward had everything they would need and was essentially a glorified bunker - unfortunately for everyone involved, the incident made this guy go straight off the deep end

In a misguided attempt to keep everyone alive and well, he enforced an involuntary lockdown, recruiting the security guards whom were present to help him prevent any escape attempts, and that's where the demo picked up

Gordon was swapped out with an unnamed PC, who had stumbled across the ward while trying to find a safe place to hide out, immediately being "welcomed" in (it was more like they acted as if he should have been there the whole time), and was directed to go to Dr. ---'s meeting - this meeting, held in a cramped side room set up in a manner vaguely reminiscent of a classroom, was filled with all of the personnel he'd taken hostage, who sat at rows of desks just listening to him talk in an almost belligerent tone

What he was talking about I've no idea, because his speech in this portion was represented by jibberish with an occasional audible word here and there that gave no context whatsoever, as if it was meant to play through different lines of speech and placeholders had been used instead

He stood at the front of the room behind a podium as if he was doing a scientific presentation to his peers, in front of a terracotta-colored chalkboard that had various odd symbols drawn on it that I didn't recognize

I walked up to him to get a better look at his model, which was unique and mildly uncanny - he looked a tad like a low-poly Magnusson in overall appearance, with wide eyes that had barely discernable pinprick pupils and rolled up sleeves

It seemed to be implied that he had attempted at one point to saw his left hand off, as he had jagged reddish scars around his wrist like he had tried to go at it from multiple angles but gave up (the demo itself never confirmed this, but the dream presented the idea omnisciently as a potential fact)

He stared directly at the PC the whole time I was present, turning to keep his gaze locked on him as he moved

That detail wasn't particularly weird until I figured I'd go look around the ward to figure out my next objective

As soon as I exited the room, his formerly belligerent jibberish talk became belligerent jibberish shrieking, which caught me off guard and I ran into the next room to find a place to lay low for a moment just in case

The room was spacious, but seemingly not by design - it appeared to have originally been two rooms, a bathroom with stalls on one side and the actual ward itself opposite, but they had torn down the wall separating them and left the stalls standing across from the rows of beds, which was an interesting choice

I ducked into the middle stall, thinking that was a decent place to hide, just for Dr. --- to come storming over seconds afterwards AND KICK THE DOOR SO HARD THAT THE LOCK FAILED AND THE DOOR FLEW OPEN, BEFORE PROCEEDING TO PUNCH THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME, which resulted in a game over

This is where the demo took a turn from the way HL was structured, confusing me even further

Going back in led to the sequence restarting, except this time I realized suddenly (via omniscent dream mechanics) that I had the option to 'apologize' via keybind and it was spammable - this had the effect of calming Dr. --- down in increments, which led to him not punching me to death, but very animatedly moving about as if he was talking, though no audio accompanied it seemingly due to the lack of actual voicelines or filler noise being present, though he did utter an occasional word like before that still provided 0 context for what he was actually trying to communicate

In the process of trying to figure out what was happening, I accidentally took a swing at him at one point, which immediately led to him starting to punch me again at the same time that literally everyone else present in the room put their fists up and ran towards the stall to join in, but this time I made the PC crouch in some half-assed attempt to dodge a killing blow from the doc himself and started spamming the apologies again, to which he responded by crouching himself to forcibly keep eye contact and went back to animatedly talking while everyone else went back to idling until the lights suddenly went out and an announcement was made that it was time to sleep - Dr. --- backed off and went to patrolling the room, while I made an attempt to walk around a bit more

Bad idea - the moment I moved anywhere that wasn't in the direction of the beds, the security guards would immediately bumrush me from wherever they were in the room, ready to deck me (everyone here really likes punching people, I guess), but I managed to find a spot to hide behind a desk until they de-aggro'd

I lost track of what happened immediately after this, as I was on the cusp of waking up and the dream's continuity started to fall apart, but it ended with the PC and another resident of the ward slipping into a nearby side room together where the npc offered to fill him in on everything, but they got distracted momentarily looking around the mostly dark room and finding an implication that the ward had once had a pair of animals present as pets, due to crates with bedding and water dishes being there - no animals were to be seen, but on approaching the crates curiously, something unseen growled from inside

And then I woke up

[eulcgizeme]

OPEN TO: @stayliquid's muse MUSE: willow "will" adler, twenty-four. witch & university student for reconstructive studies. thomas doherty fc. PLOT: supernatural au — after a fire incident in the chemistry lab, willow and his lab partner were faced with repercussions for not following protocol when in reality, willow can typically maintain a fire but it was challenged by her species. they meet at a party later that night.

Delight is consumed quickly and its ashen on Willow's tongue every time he takes a swig of the cup in hand. No matter how many times he tries to wash it down, it remains. The only way to find resolve is to let it burn, but he'll pretend he can drown it. In the end, he'll have to give in and at the very least his explosion will be confined to a hangover fever dream that runs hot only to him. Stepping out into the back yard, he collides with a figure and the contents of his drink nearly spill over. He shifts his balance to keep his gasoline to himself, and his apology is cut short with a click of his tongue when he looks down at just who's made an appearance. "Hmm, if it isn't my twin flame," He greets her. "If you're here for another round, make the end of it a self deprecating chapter to send one of those lit majors my way. I've heard they go feral over damaged goods."

[silntfangs]

                    Dwayne Drabble 2/? (non-mutuals DO NOT interact)

He remembered meeting David one night in 1909. 

Him sitting on the cold ground, Melissa sleeping soundly with her head in his lap. They were a ragged pair. Despite his clear sign of needing to sleep, the young man kept his eyes open, looking, making sure no one tried anything. He had looked up at the blond when he saw his approach. He saw the smile creep on his face. It was warm, so kind that Dwayne felt relaxed. 

“I’m David.”

It was his greeting, so simple it took Dwayne off guard. The man about his age stayed a comfortable distance back, and asked questions. They spoke for an hour or two as Melissa lay sleeping. It was then agreed that Dwayne and Melissa would go with him to his home— and there he had met him. A tall, well dressed man, Maxwell Lawrence. It was then his turn to speak with the older man alone. A trust was made as he handed off Melissa to David to show her around the house. 

So, they talked. They talked about Dwayne. The young man spoke of his parents dying, his home overrun, and he and Melissa have been traveling in search for a better life. Dwayne knew he wasn’t very educated, nor was his sister, but he had some mechanical skills under him. It was all Max needed to know. He then promised him personal education, a home, food, and warmth. Dwayne agreed to it. 

For a full year he and his sister had lived with Max and David. Dwayne was easily picking up the education Max taught him, Melissa still struggled with concepts. He was cleaned up, dressed well, and had everything promised to him and his sister. The stressful weight of providing for so long was taken from him. He could breathe. A dream that was too good to be true… came true. 

On the anniversary of the night he came to Max, the older man had a proposition for him. His words were so sweet and convincing as he stood with a glass of some red liquid. David was also there, standing off to the side. So, how could he not listen? How could he not listen to the man that gave him everything he needed? 

“I can help you. You both can be together, forever, with me and my son. You can be part of the family.”

A chill was all it took for Dwayne to decline the offer, unsure of why the words bothered him so much. There was something there, something dark under it all. He had needed time to think about it, and that’s exactly what Max gave him. It was silly to think that there was something darker under that tone. After all, this was Max.

It had been a month after they had spoken when his sister got injured. She had gotten injured often, doing little tasks around the house. She got cut by the dishes while washing them in the sink, but soon her incidents became far too noticeable. One had made a doctor come out and visit them, tending to her broken bone from an accident with the car. Melissa had never been so clumsy in her life, and it worried Dwayne greatly. What if something worse happened? What if he couldn’t protect her in time?

Once more he found himself speaking with Max. David was nearby like always, just coming down the steps from checking in on Melissa. The man’s words spoken dangerously sweet, “I know it's a scary thing to lose someone. You don't have to, the offer's still on the table. You can join our family and I can give you the power to keep it safe.”

It was all the convincing he needed. No questions asked— he agreed. He took the offered drink, and drained it down. It was rich, thick, sweet yet bitter going down his throat. It was also then that Max let him know exactly what he indulged in.

And it was now that he realized he wished he hadn’t agreed to anything. 

                                         A few days later:

“Would you just listen to me, Dwayne? You’re ignoring my words as I’m trying to help you.” Melissa spoke, following after Dwayne as they rounded into the living room of their home. Thorn lay off to the side, a little area just for him.

Dwayne shook his head, “I don’t want you to say it again. I’m not in the mood for this conversation. I already told you…” he shook his head, feeling the pang in his stomach, the twist and pull of hunger. His heartbeat began to quicken. No regular food satisfied him for long, “It’s stupid, Melissa. Besides, you should be in bed.”

His younger sister sighed, her black locks lifted up at the sudden puff of hair, “I’m being stupid? You are! It can help with your torment, Dwayne. I hate seeing you like this. Let me help you just this once. Please. I beg of you. I don’t see the harm in it.”

His teeth gritted as he turned from Melissa. He felt as though his heart was going to explode. He had to get away from her, and had to stop this argument. The pain, the hunger, was getting too much. She had no fear for him after he had told her what he was becoming, but he feared himself. He feared for her. He had no idea what he could and couldn’t do. David warned him about starving himself like this, but he didn’t think anything of it. However, now though, he was understanding what he meant. His head was pounding, felt his teeth grow…

“Would you stop being so stubborn and just drink some of my—”

It happened so suddenly. He didn’t hear Melissa’s gasp of shock from his appearance, and definitely didn’t hear David coming through the door. He didn’t hear Melissa cry out in pain, hadn’t noticed he tackled her to the floor— all he did know in that split second was the warmth that spilled down his throat, his teeth sinking deeper into a warm neck. His hunger was satisfied.

He drank, drank, drank, and ignored the fists pounding on his shoulder. He ignored her strangled cries, her weakening pushes, and pleading eyes that soon glossed over. He ignored it all, a sensation so primal he didn’t know existed. Yet the adrenaline started to slow, his eyes falling back to a normal dark brown, and fangs unlatched themselves from flesh. His fingers unclenched around his sister… his sister. 

Something hits hard in his chest, a coldness that drains all color from him. It was a sickening fear and realization that brought him back to the now. His eyes dropped to the body in his lap, and he felt it all.

“No… I-I…” he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

Tears had already started flow down his face as he looked at the husk that was his sister. Her body was pale, far too thin than she had been before. Her lifeless eyes gazed beyond him, as if pleading for help. His hands trembled as he lifted them up. They were drenched. His vision blurred even more, body shaking violently as he let out sobs. They choked in his throat, balling his hands into fists as he slammed them into his thighs. There was anger and a great deal of sorrow within him. He let it all out in a scream. Raw, burning his throat as he turned from Melissa’s body. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her any longer. 

What sort of monster does this? What sort of monster was he?

A whine filled the space, and his eyes darted to Thorn. He was now sitting beside a figure. Dwayne lifted his gaze to find Max looking down at him. There was a disappointing look on his face, as if scolding a child. 

“This is very unexpected.”

[ardenssolis]

@hembralfa said (inbox):

you need to wait! his majesty is busy! without an ounce of care for the one telling her to halt, loni barges into the king's quarters. it doesn't faze her, not one ounce, as to whatever was going on. "IS IT TRUE?" her sources couldn't be right, could they? leanne was mobilizing her army, and for what? to come after ramses and his kingdom? all because of that incident with her? "fuck!" she doesn't need him to reply. she already knows the answer.

hands rake through hair as she paces back and forth with the gusto of a wild animal stuck in a cage. "I knew this would fucking happen! I knew it!" she played around too long and now things were no longer going according to plan. "we aren't ready yet, but... but...!" in her frenzy she has a single moment of clarity. in that instance she stops and looks him directly in the eye. "I quit." she didn't think it would end like this, but if it means keeping him safe and his people it was well worth it. she'd be able to get word back to leanne that she'd left. she'd give them a trail to follow. while she did that she'd tell ivan to gather up their forces. it was time to take york back. "goodbye ramses. maybe one day we'll meet again, and if we do... I hope you'll forgive me for all the secrets I kept from you. please just know... I never meant to hurt you. I-..." she pauses and bites her lip. "tch."

before she could say anymore she turned and bolted. I need to leave now. if I say anymore I might waver, and I refuse to give up on my dream. soon she found herself in the stable after having gotten her gear and gathered her wolves. with one final glance as they took off she felt her eyes heat and her throat tighten. "falling in love was never what I wanted... such a fool I was. be safe, my dear king. my only hope is that I can face you in the way you deserve should I survive this..."

     TEARING HIS GAZE AWAY from the letter in his hand, he frowned as his gaze came to linger upon his closed door. What in the world was all that racket? Curious, he was half-tempted to make his way over and take a peek, but that thought evaporated as soon as it appeared when his door was promptly thrown open without so much as a warning. ❝I can see your manners are atrocious today,❞ he replied with a near lazy drawl, his golden eyes shifting back to what he had been reading without so much as skipping a beat. Ah…it had only been a matter of time before word of all this made its way back to Loni. He had tried to keep her from getting too involved in this mess – primarily because it seemed to distress her a great deal. Such was understandable, though, considering her being here in his kingdom, in his palace was what caused the commotion to begin with. At first, he could not comprehend why a queen in another nation would make such a big deal out of capturing one mercenary…but in time, he came to realize that there was more behind his favored mercenary than met the eye.

     Far more.

     Letter finally placed to the side, it was then that he was able to put his full attention on her. ❝You need not blame yourself for anything. That queen has no idea how to properly rule.❞ She was playing some thug rather than someone with finesse in politics, and so it was a small wonder to him she hadn’t stepped on another’s toes while throwing her weight around as if she knew how this ‘game’ all worked far better than those immersed in it. ❝Actually, there is something I wished to…❞ His words cut off instantly at what was said, his mouth partially open, and eyes widened with unhindered surprise. ❝You…w-what?❞ Did she just proclaim that she quit? Just like that? And without warning? Well…this was…not planned. He knew that it was a possibility; however, he hadn’t expected things to just up and end like this. It all threw him for a loop and left his mind reeling; synapses stuttering as if trying to find ways to figure out this bizarre string of words she had uttered without pause.

     ❝Loni---❞ Nothing he planned on saying met her ears, for the ‘wolf’ mercenary had already fled the scene with such speed that one would almost think she had committed a crime. Silence was all that was left in her wake before a guard stood in the doorway with hand upon their chest, quickly and profusely uttering their apologies for all that had transpired under their watch. He heard them but didn’t really listen to anything that left their mouth. It was hard to do so considering all that had just happened in a span of a what felt like a few seconds. ❝I already knew everything…❞

[shadowofthelamp]

🫶A bio for Bea?

Ended up long so under the cut!

Name: Beatrice "Bea" Marie Pines

Age: 30, 12, 6. All technically true, but mostly acts and looks 12 so let's go with that.

History: Created through impregnating Ford through magic whipped up by Bill a mere few weeks before the portal test incident that severed their 'working relationship'. Ford was left pregnant for nearly 25 years on the other side of the portal as Bill had manipulated the gestation time as a threat, on top of the baby being half Euclidian so it was unpredictable- but wasn't able to change it when the connection between them was lost through dimensions. She was born through an emergency c-section during an attempted heist to get parts for the Destabilizer. Raised on the run, her aging seemed to be doubled, so by one year old she looked and acted like she was two, by two she looked and acted four, ect. Whether it was due to being half an energy being, a side effect of the extended pregnancy, or even something to do with jumping dimensions, no one can really say, but it seemed to stabilize when she was around other children in Gravity Falls when they were pulled back 'home'.

Personality: Highly intelligent and endlessly creative but with a habit of laser-focusing on whatever she's thinking of. Growing up as the 'sidekick' to Ford led her to extremely gung-ho when it came to adventuring, as well as somewhat socially awkward as she's never really interacted with anybody her own age on a regular basis- or had any friends other than her father. She often bites off more than she can chew, sometimes forgetting which memories are hers and which were Ford's as her abilities allowed her an open door to his head. (Although he does quickly learn how to build walls she can't get around, it's an unconscious instinct for her to 'share' even before birth, and she's more than once realized that the experience she thought she had wasn't actually hers, and she has to wing it.) Still, she'll always be in the thick of solving it and her somewhat reckless bravery can come in handy.

She keeps the fact that her other parent was Bill a secret, leaving her goggles on even when she sleeps until Dipper and Mabel find out soon after the events of Last Mabelcon when the goggles are torn off when she's trying to protect them. She feels deep-down guilt and fear at the idea she might be like Bill and might hurt people, and tries her best to be 'good' and 'the hero' in hopes that it'll stave off any 'Bill-ness' in her actions, although she only has secondhand accounts and memories of him, most of which Ford tries to keep locked away. (Even deeper down, she wonders if Bill ever actually wanted her as a daughter or just as a tool to manipulate Ford. She first meets him during Weirdmageddon, and then decides that even if he did, it doesn't really matter, because he hurt her family.)

Powers: Ability to shift into a small triangle form, can float in said form but can only hold up herself or very small objects that she's carrying. Her 'mind' powers are mostly centered around Ford at first as the pregnancy gave her a direct connection, but with time she's able to enter other people's dreams and give them 'suggestions' that they tend to follow once they wake up. Can turn food or even garbage into fuel for herself as her insides are essentially a giant furnace, which isn't really a power but is kinda cool. Can use a gun/knife/practiced in hand-to-hand combat.

Future: After Weirdmageddon is reversed, she ends up staying in the Shack with Soos and his grandma for a while after Stan and Ford go out sailing together, as she wants (and needs) to learn who she is outside of him and to get the chance to be a 'normal' kid. When The Book of Bill shows up as what appears to be a scrapbook of the three of them (Bill, her, and Ford) as a happy family and promises of making it happen, she's incredibly suspicious but she decides to go and visit him in Theraprism anyway, for closure if nothing else. He's a pathetic mess that's pretending not to be, but there's a nagging at her like pressing at a loose tooth and she returns every once in a while as he seems to be attempting to improve, and remembers things about her she's mentioned from visit to visit in the process.

She remains suspicious at first but slowly builds a relationship with him, discovering that time works strangely there and decades are passing for Bill in between each visit of hers. Eventually, he's allowed to be given a human form and taken into the care of the family, with warning buttons given to everyone to alert the Theraprism if he needs to be brought back into custody. The rest of the family is still understandably very wary, but by that point she's come around to him.

When she grows up, she becomes a traveling anthropologist and cryptozoologist, comparing human cultures and often finding local cryptids in each location.

[hollowfaith]

🧍

Send 🧍 + A Muse* To Meet A NPC Connected To The Muse

Princess Laetitia Poppaea Genevieve Eryngium II - Human

"A king of the monkeys? I've never heard of that before!"

"So if he's your uhm, teacher, does that make you a Monkey Prince?"

Halfway through leading her new friend into the palace's flower gardens, the young princess stops at the revelation to look at Qi Xiaotian with fresh new eyes.

"Hm, it seems to fit! You're taller than me for one, and you're strong enough to scare off those bad doggies that were bothering me before. But do you know how to dance?"

Before the other can answer, she's already pulling him towards the plaza in front of the fountain.

"I'll teach you the steps of the Erygnium Waltz! Then we can surprise mother and father and Mr. Angel at my birthday ball tonight! Oh, did I tell you about Mr. Angel yet? He saved my life too! And um, did you say your name was Shaoten? Mine's too long, so just call me Poppy, okay? It's what my favorite nursemaid uses!"

—

On the eve of her 11th birthday, Princess Laetitia of the Erygnium Kingdom was attacked by a demon. Fortunately, she was saved in time by Aurelius, who was passing by on a whim to look at the nation's beloved star holly flowers. The grateful king and queen, who had only heard of angels but rarely saw one in the flesh, managed to express their thanks and convince him to stay for their daughter's special birthday ball the next evening.

There, Laetitia (more commonly known as "Poppy" by her family) got to dance her first dance with the angel who saved her life. He was the most perfect being she'd ever seen; certainly none of the princes from the other kingdoms could compare. Aurelius left after the ball that night, but even his departure was a splendid sight: flying away on golden wings to a realm beyond the silvery moon in the sky.

The memory of that evening stuck with Laetitia as she grew up. Eventually she was old enough to accept suitors of her own, but none of them could quite reach the standards of the angel from her childhood. Neither did the angel show his face after that incident, and the thought of living her life without ever seeing him again made her despair.

But then a new demon war broke out.

As was tradition with human kingdoms, the king and queen led their people in prayer to support the angels fighting for their sake. In the midst of her own, Laetitia allowed a single selfish wish to blossom: that she might see Aurelius again. Although it was an innocent enough thought, the desire behind it was so strong that it attracted the attention of demons who preyed on her weakness. They succeeded in luring the princess out of the castle with an illusion of her angel telling her to meet him, and very well might've tricked her off a cliff if it wasn't for Aurelius coming by to catch her as she fell. Coincidence or not, the rift to the demon world had opened up on the very border of Eryngium lands.

Seven years had passed since their last meeting—what felt like a lifetime to her but a blink of an eye to him. In fact, Aurelius didn't even remember her as the little princess he'd indulged as a child. Wanting to make sure this wasn't a dream, Laetitia reached out to cup Aurelius' face—

—and promptly got her hand cut off.

She had been holding hands with the demon who tricked her to the cliff, and its essence had rotted through her fingers so that the flesh had started to decay. There was no pain when the limb was severed, and in fact Aurelius regenerated her a very nice new hand as soon as he was done, but it was still a jarring experience. Having returned her to her parents, Aurelius left again to fight the demons without ever giving her a chance to speak.

She had seen him like she desired, but it only made her want to see him more.

A week later, the hand he healed began to lose feeling in its fingers. Skin flaked off in patches, the nails darkened, and slowly, it began to rot again. Alarmed, Laetitia tried to hide the changes with gloves, then with feigning an injury, but was eventually found out. Her horrified parents appealed to the healers, then the angels for help (fortunately, it was easier to encounter them during a war) and eventually, called Aurelius back again.

For Laetitia, it was a secret thrill just to see him for the third time. After all, he hadn't aged an iota since they first met, and looked even more dazzling with his battle spear and battle regalia. He examined her hand, healed her injuries, and said that nothing was wrong on his part since the initial cure. The king and queen hardly believed it, but didn't dare refute him. They saw him off quietly.

Three days later, Laetitia's hand began to show signs of abnormality again. This time she was caught instantly, her parents having kept an eye on her the first time. When they began to fret, she only smiled at them and said not to worry, because Aurelius could cut off this hand if it turned too bad and grow her another one again. Her flippancy, however, only horrified them more.

Although their daughter had been seduced by a demon before, they only knew this based on Aurelius' words. Now they were starting to wonder whether the angel himself was suspect. If he was as holy as he claimed, then why couldn't he heal something as simple as a curse or injury?

Laetitia disagreed. She insisted on calling for her angel again, and the queen and king once again passed on the message through the celestial ranks until it reached their general at the front.

Aurelius was noticeably less patient when he showed up for the fourth time. It was no joke to deal with demons and their battle was reaching the crucial point—how dare they summon him on a whim using the ancient agreement between kings and Heaven? In response, the king and queen demanded he fix Laetitia's hand for good. She was wearing it in bandages, but as soon as she caught the angel's eye, she eagerly undid them to show him her disfigured limb.

But Aurelius' gaze swept past her to her parents, unimpressed. "Your daughter has lost herself to delusions and is feeding those desires herself. Even if I eliminated the demon for her the first three times, what is the use if she hasn't killed the demon in her heart? This will be the last time." With that ominous sentence, he cured her once more and left.

Alas, his actual warning fell on deaf ears. For the king and queen only heard him accuse their daughter of hosting a demon without wondering what sort of thoughts could have taken root in her heart in the first place. They treated Aurelius coldly and apologized for taking up his time, then asked him politely to leave. The queen, a sensitive soul, did pause to ask her daughter that evening, but what do you think of that angel's words?

To which Laetitia replied with a smile, "I didn't hear what he said because I was too fixated on his face. Oh mother, I think I love him. I wish I could marry him and stay with him forever."

"You can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"You cannot take a blessing Heaven has granted the world as something only for yourself!"

"But all I want to do is love him. Is it a crime to adore the man who saved you four times?"

"He is no man—"

"Then why did Heaven make him in the image of one? The handsomest man in the world, no less."

Distressed by her daughter's blasphemous words, the queen could only excuse herself to pray for guidance. Meanwhile, Laetitia's condition continued to worsen. Her hand was all black again by next morning, but the princess only viewed the terrifying scene with a soft, fond, smile.

"If he has to heal me himself every time, then doesn't this mean I won't be able to leave his side? We can stay together until the end of our days..."

This time the king and queen simply brought in a different angel healer to look at her ailment. But although the angel's treatment was effective, it hardly last an hour before the effects reversed. As Laetitia's delusion progressed, so did her ailment, extending to her arms, her shoulders, and then slowly the rest of her body. Though her mind remained self-aware, the princess of the Eryngium Kingdom slowly but sure transformed into a monster as her wild thoughts ran rampant. Her parents had to lock her up to hide the truth, and tried all sorts of methods to cure her, but to no avail. They pleaded with the angels for help, but all had been called for the final battle and had no time to spare for a simple princess's injury (to say nothing of the fact that she'd already delayed their leader so many times). Moreover, it was clear to them that the folly laid so clearly within Laetitia herself. Instead, they entreated the king and queen to tell the girl to reflect, and to give up the desire that was consuming her—but again, the words fell on deaf ears.

It wasn’t long before the queen fell prey to demons of her own in a mixture of anxiety and guilt. Step by step, the kingdom followed in her wake, all affected in part by the doomed princess. Ironically, she was the least concerned of all. Lying on her bed in her room as still as dust, she was even grateful: the bigger the ruckus made by her kingdom, the more likely Aurelius and his angels would come to investigate. They were charged with protecting the world and all its kingdoms, after all.

Unfortunately, when Aurelius did show up at last, it was to stab her through the head with his spear.

News had spread fast: Eryngium had fallen prey to a demon behind the front lines and most of its people were lost. When nearly everything about it was rotten, there simply wasn’t any merit to saving what was left. It was better to save everyone the trouble and start over from scratch after a thorough cleansing. Perched on the headboard with wings glittering gold, Aurelius had never looked as beautiful to Laetitia as he did in her moment of death.

He returned to his duties in Heaven after that, but the legend of Eryngium and its “demon princess” lived on for the next hundred or so years. It was a lesson to every human kingdom: covet not what you worship, lest you consumed all you loved in pursuit of an empty dream.

Faceclaims: - Blanche Friedkin, I'm Only a Stepmother But My Daughter is Just so Cute! - Karina Leopold, The Time of the Terminally Ill Extra.

[slaughterlocked]

[ tag drop 1: CANON VERSES. descriptions under cut. ]

( weaned on poison: default i. )

The making of a man. Spanning twenty two years from birth to college graduation, William’s childhood verse finds him resentful, ambitious, and uncertain about the kind of man he wants to be. While prickly and eccentric, William doesn’t hide his insecurity or true self as much as he wishes he could: the people that meet him in college see him transform into someone who has perfected the delicately crafted persona he begins creating during this time.

( hungry dog’s logic: default ii. )

The happiest years of William’s life, from the opening of the diner to the birthday party where it all goes wrong. MORE TBA.

( house haunted by shame: default iii. )

After Evan’s death and the incident with Suzie, it’s safe to say William spirals, just a little. From the bite of ‘83 to Elizabeth’s death (in ‘90 — though this is dependent obviously on who I’m writing with too!). William at his most unstable. MORE TBA.

( still left with his hands: default iv. )

Elizabeth’s death leaves William stricken with grief and the crumbling discovery that he can’t outrun the misfortune that is plaguing his family (mostly at his own hands). Left only with Michael, his need to fix everything, and the crippling loss of his family, it wouldn’t be entirely accurate to say William is MORE stable: but perhaps less likely to murder. Between ‘90 and ‘92 (or whenever Michael ‘dies’: again dependent on writing). MORE TBA.

( just to be alive: default v. )

Entirely alone, this last human verse spans the two years between Michael’s ‘death’ and William’s own springlock incident in ‘94. MORE TBA.

( first clear thought in years: default vi. )

Get springlocked idiot! Takes place any time in the thirty years before Springtrap is discovered (1994–2024). William’s memory and sense of. well, being ‘William’ drifts further and further as time progresses as his fury and agony grows. MORE TBA.

( tomb that won’t close: default vii. )

F.NAF 3 to F.NAF 6! More monster than man but still unbearably human, it has enough of itself left to recognise its son & old friend. That doesn’t stop it wanting to ruin everything in its path. MORE TBA.

( what is the difference between science and god?: default viii. )

Sometime before Elizabeth’s death, William infuses his remnant with a computer in another effort to prolong his lifespan. It results in Glitchtrap: a virus that both is and isn’t William. Glitchtrap, emerging thanks to the game it infuses with, has only one goal — revive himself properly to continue the work he started decades ago. See this post (link tba) for more Glitchtrap information. MORE TBA.

( obsessive replay: default ix. )

Ultimate Custom Night time!! After the events of F.NAF 6, William actually dies, and his soul is transported elsewhere. Turns out, hell is the neverending nightmare that a little kid dreams up for you. William suffers, screams, schemes, and looks for salvation at every corner. It never seems to come. More TBA.

( alive while a name is spoken: default x. )

Glitchtrap’s goal succeeds, and William is back in the land of the living! Trouble is, the virus hadn’t predicted its true self facing decades of torture at Cassidy’s hands… or its true self’s inability to fully adapt to the modern world. Torn between an inability to move forward and a desperate need to not look back, William is finally honest with himself, and tries to run from things one last time. Adopting a role at the Pizzaplex unassumingly and trying to live out the rest of his life in (relative peace), he naively hopes that everything is over. Of course, he's never been more sorely mistaken. MORE TBA.