#dh like i would never hurt you

[gemkun]

@oneireth said : ❛ I’d probably still adore you with your hand around my neck. ❜ dancae.... ↬ STARTERS FOR DARK & TOXIC SHIPS

      ⸻       a   perturbed   expression   winds   it   way   towards   the   stellaron   vessel   ,   bordering   a   frown   when   he   digests   the   statement   once   more.   why   would   caelus   insinuate   something   so   dire   ?   never   would   there   be   a   situation   where   the   archivist   would   fulfil   the   voiced   ideation.   or   at   least   ,   the   nameless   hoped   that   were   the   case.

  his   hand   lofts   ,   nestling   chin   between   an   index   and   a   hooked   thumb   ,   propping   his   head   towards   the   subject   of   his   current   dilemma.   mayhaps   ,   he   missed   an   entry   in   the   database   that   entailed   the   hidden   meaning   behind   caelus’   admission.

  hm.

  ❝   i   would   never   commit   such   a   vicious   act   ,   at   least   ,   not   towards   you.   ❞   genuine   ,   is   his   response   ,   though   he   seems   to   dwell   on   the   notion   still.   with   the   way   he   tilts   in   deliberation.   ❝   can   we   not   mutually   admire   each   other   without   the   violent   connotations   ?   ❞

[minnaci]

contents: established dan heng x gn!reader. reader is a member of the astral express crew, but is not the hsr mc. hurt/comfort, post-1.2 spoilers

a/n: a little bit of a longer one today! thanks to @itoshisoup, @/petrichorium, n @/kitsunefreak for answering my questions abt dh's reincarnation (ask here)! if u see this i hope u know it took everything in me not to call him daniel heng

you and dan heng have never needed words. why say "i love you" when you could just cut him a plate of fruit? why say "i need you" when you could press little, fluttering kisses to his spine, and watch the shiver of goosebumps spread over his skin?

your language has always been one of quiet actions, quiet loves, which is perhaps why he looks so surprised when you take one look and him and say, quite loudly, "what the fuck?"

because the dan heng standing before you isn't the dan heng you could recognize by touch alone. he's.... taller, somehow. broader. he carries himself with an ease that he hadn't before. and most importantly—

"are those horns?"

"yes," he says, with no further explanation.

"dan heng used to be a cool dragon warrior guy in his past life!" march 7th interjects, seemingly oblivious to your increasing upset. "he was super powerful and super important, too!"

you'd known about the whole... reincarnation thing. he'd explained it to you before, but from your understanding, his past lives weren't important. he'd told you that this life with you was the only one that mattered to him. so why hadn't he told you...?

"that's quite enough, march 7th," himeko takes one glance at your expression and cuts in as march 7th begins rambling about dan heng's... boyfriends? husbands? from his past lives and how handsome and cool and strong they all were, and how their story was so romantic—

dan heng says nothing.

"well," you say abruptly, forcing a smile, "i'm suddenly feeling a bit tired. i'm going to turn in. dan heng, you can sleep outside tonight."

you stand up and swiftly make your way to the passenger car. behind you, you hear march 7th ask, "did i say something wrong?"

you let it all fade into silence as you step into the archive room— you and dan heng's room. at least, it would be silence, if it wasn't for the faint footsteps behind you.

"you're upset with me." dan heng crosses the room to you in a few long strides. gently, carefully, he pulls you into his arms. you let him. despite all of the visual changes, he still smells the same. it's more comforting than you thought it would be. you take a few deep breaths, letting his familiar scent calm you down.

"i'm not angry," you say, voice a bit muffled as you bury your face in his chest.

"you're not," he agrees. "but you are upset."

silence falls upon you. you curl further into dan heng's embrace, and he welcomes you easily, drawing wide circles over your back. he's generous with his touch, his affection. it helps you begin to sort through the mess of feelings in your heart.

"you always told me that your past lives weren't important," you say. the words spill from you, a waterfall of hurt and insecurity. "but then you come back from the luofu looking like some— some celestial war dragon, and then i hear about your banishment for high treason and your two beautiful lovers who recognized you across lifetimes, and how it's so romantic because they're probably your soulmates—"

"i know you don't like when i interrupt," dan heng interrupts. "but i... i want to explain before you get more upset, as there are nuances to this situation that i do not think march 7th handled with enough care. you know how she can be when she's excited."

you nod. you do know. you take another deep breath— in through your nose, out slowly through your mouth. "okay, then. explain. please."

"i do not consider myself the same person as the version of me who lived in the past," dan heng says. "i am dan heng. the person that march 7th spoke of was called dan feng. his deeds and his lovers are not mine. i claim no ownership of nor association with them. thus, they are not important to me. dan feng is not important to me. does that make sense?"

"not really," you say. "you're literally him."

"i am not him," dan heng says. "we may share a soul, but i am not him. i do not remember his life, nor do i want to. i have everything i could ever want here and now, as dan heng."

"really?"

"yes," he says. there's a warm brush of lips against the crown of your head. "the astral express crew makes me happy. you make me happy. we may have our troubles, but there's nobody i would rather face them with than you."

warmth flushes through your body, and you hide your face again. it's rare that dan heng voices his emotions so clearly. his candor strips you raw, scraping at the inside of your chest. he's the one being vulnerable, so why are you the one feeling so seen?

"i mean it," dan heng says, taking your silence as disbelief. "i love you. nothing about my past reincarnation's life will change that."

"you're so ridiculous," you sniffle, willing your tears away. "i love you, too."

silence settles around your shoulders once more, comforting like a feather-filled duvet. dan heng rocks you gently— back and forth, back and forth. new clothes and new horns aside, he still smells the same. he speaks the same way. and when you press your ear to his chest, his heart beats the same, steady beat.

"were your— dan feng's— past lovers really that hot?" you break the silence, and dan heng lets out a rare laugh.

"of course you're curious about that," he says, with no small amount of fondness. "here— i'll let you form your own opinions."

he taps on his communicator a few times, pulling up a picture.

"no way," you do a double take, hands flying to your mouth, and you pull back to look at him, wide-eyed. "dan heng. no way."

"yes way," he says, and you can hear the little smug smirk in his voice. he loves you, you know he does, but you can't blame him for the bit of pride that shines through his tone. if you'd managed to pull not one, but two men that magnificent in your past life, your head would get so big that you'd explode.

"and you don't care about them at all?" you have to ask. dan feng was one lucky guy. it's hard not to feel insecure, just a little—

"why would i? they're strangers to me," dan heng blazes through your train of thought, tilting your chin to look you in the eyes. he sobers. something in his voice reaches into the soft, small animal of your heart, holding it steady as it flutters. "besides, i already have the most beautiful person in the universe in my arms."

extra:

"so does this mean i can sleep in the room again?"

"mrgh," you mumble. if your eyelids were any less heavy, you'd open your eyes to shoot him an incredulous look. your limbs are intwined with his like an octopus, and it's bedtime. surely, he's capable of extrapolating. as it is, you mouth sleepily at his collarbone, and hope he understands it as permission.

"okay. just checking. goodnight, dear."

[tonicandjins]

frequent flyers | lee donghyuck

CHARACTERS: haechan | lee donghyuck x fem reader

WORD COUNT: 13k

GENRE: angst, fluff, smut (non-linear) | best friends to strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: read with caution. this is written in a non-linear form, so you don't know when it's going to hurt ;) this is a dh x reader version of my markhyuck fic from ao3, but with a different ending

frequent flyers is the third installment from 23 moments with donghyuck

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: skin glowing under the dainty string lines and lined up lanterns hanging from the high ceilings, lips curled up to genuine smile instead of the usual teasing smirk plastered on his mouth, cheeks tainted in berry red—a single manifestation of the glasses of wine he’s had tonight, eyes round and sincere and everything you’ve ever known.

Zhong Chenle’s mellifluous voice echoes in the banquet, singing to the tune of lover as the newly weds take their first dance (third song in) in the middle of the floor, surrounded by couples and lovers swaying. From your peripheral view, you catch a glimpse of Park Jisung sneaking his phone out and recording the whole thing—after Chenle clearly mentioned no one else aside from the newlyweds’ assigned videographer is allowed to film him.

On other days, you’d love to listen to Chenle’s golden voice, and he knows this because from all the years you’ve known him, you’d supported his career and you’d spend many hours sitting in his studio, listening to him record, or sitting somewhere halfway across the world, watching him write his songs. I can listen to him sing all day, you’d say, but as the night jumps deeper into its darkness, you realize how excruciatingly long his 15-minute medley went by.

You look across the room.

Donghyuck looks enthralling like this: beautiful even after all these years, charming like he’s the day he turned 21, grown, earnest, and at ease. It’s agonizing to look at from where you sit across the room—hands wrapped around her waist, eyes closing as he leans in, drunk, drunk, drunk like the night you’d left him, heart void of you.

You begin to count.

At 27, you’re pretty much done with all kinds of romance the world could offer.

Unlike the person sitting next to you, you prefer to listen to Blushing Youth than watch some high-rated romantic comedy film during your 12-hour flight from Heathrow to Incheon, and while you’ve been moving around for most of your life (having earned your nickname as frequent flyer, credits to Jisung), flying is not one of the things you’re fond of. In fact, it’s not in the long list of strengths you brag about in your LinkedIn bio. You reckon it would truly be embarrassing, to say the least, to ask a stranger to distract you from the sound of the aircraft’s engine running at full power as it takes off from the runway, hence you opt to blast Ahn Jiyoung’s voice right in your eardrums.

It’s odd, people would say, for someone who’s supposedly mastered the art of moving from one country to another to be so terrified of flights, but if people want you to be completely honest, nothing sounds more horrifying than the thought of seeing Lee Donghyuck after years of radio silence.

As pathetic as it sounds, your heart still skips a beat—three, sometimes—at the thought of him.

Donghyuck, who used to be your sun, who had you orbiting around his gravitational pull for years, who used to be so close but not enough to have, who—if you think about it now—might have never been the center of your solar system after all, but maybe just a shooting star passing by.

The plane takes off, roughly and loud like you’d expected, and you catch a glimpse of a scene from Love, Rosie from the person sitting beside you and immediately regret going coach instead of flying business like how you would if your flights last more than ten hours. You hate this film; you hate it because Alex is to Rosie, like how Donghyuck is to you.

Alex and Rosie, like you and Donghyuck, are—were—long-time best friends who used to be inseparable until one day they’re not. Rosie misses her chance. Alex stops yearning, hoping, waiting, and finally decides to get on with his life. It’s a story of a bunch of tangled webs—a messy tumbleweed of missed calls and delayed flights, of long nights and short days, of forgotten promises and faded hope.

The film introduces new people, bids goodbye to old chapters, but in the end it’s Alex and Rosie.

And you wish that’s how your story went. You don’t end up kissing him in your very own hotel with an awe-striking view of the horizon right outside the window.

You bury the thought before you start missing him again. You run out of tracks from Blushing Youth’s discography like how you run dry from thinking about what happens next when your plane lands.

Might as well sleep it off.

A sharp, jabbing pain on your left leg wakes you up from your unscheduled sleep. Hissing, you find Donghyuck sitting on top of your legs.

“I swear to God,” you breathe, kicking your best friend’s weight off your limbs. “I will freaking kill you.”

“Dude, what’s wrong with saying fuck? You’re literally twenty,” Donghyuck replies, moving further so his entire body crushes yours, and you have to pretend that his warmth doesn’t make you feel some type of way, hence you push him as hard as you can until he falls onto the carpeted floor of your room.

He falls with a thump. “Screw you,” he mumbles, mouth forming a pout that you’d gladly smack out of his face—except you’d do it with your very own lips. “It’s almost one in the afternoon. Why are you napping?”

“Good question, Donghyuck,” you start, sitting up and rubbing your eyes while looking for the pair of specs that Donghyuck is already shoving towards your direction; you gladly take it. “Unlike you, I had to work in the café until one in the morning. I hate being rostered in the closing shift, but it pays damn well. Plus, I forgot to do my laundry so I had to throw my clothes in before I slept.

“Overworking again, I see,” he muses, sighing as he scoots to sit cross-legged across you on the bed too tiny for two people.

“The last week of the semester always sucks balls,” you answer, tilting your head in attempts to stretch your stiffened neck and get some kind of relief. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be out there doing something stupid with Na Jaemin?”

“There’s a music festival on Friday,” he starts right away. “Jaemin’s wondering if I’d be interested to go, says he could get us some free passes from the guy he’s hooking up with. Apparently, the guy is DJ-ing.”

You blink. “Which one? Lee Jeno? Or Yoon Sanha?” you ask, genuinely curious because Jaemin is Jaemin and he could never be caught exclusively hooking up with one person.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Does it matter? Is it a yes or a no? That’s the question.”

He begins to fiddle with his fingers, playing with the rings on his long, delicate digits, and you recognize it almost instantly. Donghyuck is nervous. You might have an idea why.

“Is this you finally asking me out, Lee Donghyuck?” you half-joke, scratching your head. Donghyuck looks anywhere but your face. A glimpse of his eyes is all you need, because if the eyes are the windows to one’s soul, then Donghyuck’s are wide open, with no curtains and bare from all layers—at least that’s how they are to you. His eyes are wavering, and though he’s mastered the ability to keep his face tough as steel, those orbs could only do so little when it comes to hiding from you.

So, you smile, reaching out and leaning closer, kneeling until you’re face to face with him. “Only kidding, Hyuck,” you say finally, taking it easy because this conversation is not for one who’s hazy from sleep and one who can’t even look at the other in the eyes. “Of course, I’ll come with you. Who else can you bring anyway?”

Donghyuck looks up, rolling his eyes; he’s back. “You’re not really irreplaceable,” he replies smugly. “Don’t think too highly of yourself.”

You poke your tongue out and reach over your night stand to check your phone; at the same time, Donghyuck starts biting his fingernails. You don’t think twice—like blinking, a habit, natural—and reach out to pull his hand away, mumbling about how he should start working on getting rid of this bad habit of his. Donghyuck’s hand is warmer compared to yours, and he lets out a whine, complaining about your freezing hands, but squeezes you hand back anyway.

You are content with this. You hope Donghyuck is, too.

The lingering touches. The stolen kisses. The piercing glances.

While they all seem fleeting and simple, they mean the most to you. You begin to think if Donghyuck feels the same as he pulls you closer until you’re both back lying on his bed, your cheek resting on top of Donghyuck’s warm, cloth-covered chest. You wonder if he means it, when he says you’re not irreplaceable and that maybe you’re a little too comfortable, a little too satisfied with whatever it is that you have.

On a drunken night, Donghyuck may have asked you once. You remember it and think about it so much that sometimes it felt like a dream.

“How long, Y/N,” he had asked, his voice an octave deeper than usual, gaze a shade darker. “How long until you let yourself just lose it? For once, just—just please, let your feelings consume you.”

You didn’t want to—not then, not now—because it’s going to hurt.

It’s going to hurt because it’s Donghyuck.

It’s Donghyuck who feels like home, whose hands are warm enough for your cold ones, your own little sun. Losing him is the extinction of your solar system.

“Y/N,” he had whined when you didn’t reply, shaking you, pleading. “When are you going to want for more? I want you to ask me for more.”

But Donghyuck had passed out before you had the chance to think of an answer—time frame—and you wonder what your answer would have been if Donghyuck stayed awake for a couple more minutes.

“I guess napping at this time of the day doesn’t sound too bad,” Donghyuck murmurs against your hair, kissing it before relaxing. “Set an alarm for me. 3 pm.”

You hope Donghyuck asks you again, not this time, but you hope the question lingers in his mind a little longer.

He falls asleep to the sound of your breathing.

When the person sitting next to you finally wakes up, you could only sigh in relief.

The aircraft has landed a few minutes ago, and your flight seatmate slept so soundly that it took you a couple of minutes to shake her awake.

The 12-hour flight is a pain in the ass, and you wish you mean that figuratively. Waiting was something that you were once good at, and Renjun often told you he wished he had half the patience you had. If you think about it now and reflect whether you’re as patient and as willing to wait as before, you’d changed vastly. Ridiculous, how one could change so much in a lifetime.

Huang Renjun is standing behind a barricade when you finally reach the arrival area after going through immigration. He’s holding a piece of paper that says WELCOME HOME, Y/N! Renjun doesn’t give you the time to cross the boundary because he attacks you in bone-crushing hug the second he’s allowed to. You almost topple over him, your glasses at risk of either falling out of your face and into the cold, hard ground, or being crushed between your nose and Renjun’s shoulder.

Renjun chants your nickname over and over again, swaying both your bodies left and right as though you weighed nothing. “I’m literally about to combust. My chest has been pounding since I arrived here. You have no idea how much I missed you, and you were taking forever to go through immigration.”

“Oh, Huang Renjun,” you sigh, inhaling his scent and returning the hug. “Some things never change. You’re still the sweetest when you miss people. Absence really makes the heart grow fond.”

Renjun pulls away to get a good look on you. “Y/N, you’re all grown up. I can’t believe you resisted not seeing me in person for four years.”

“You’re just as grown up as I am,” you reply. “We Facetime each other every other day. What are you talking about?”

“It’s never the same,” he mumbles and helps you with your luggage despite it only being one small luggage, a small duffel bag, and your small backpack. He starts nagging as soon as he notices how small your baggage is.

“You were away for literally four years and you think packing three old shirts and a pair of jeans will be enough to get you through your entire trip here?” Renjun gasps. “You’re stupid if you think Chenle and Jisung are allowing you to leave after what we’re all here for. They have an entire month planned out the second you agreed to come home.”

“I didn’t bring only three shirts, for your information. And I did bring a few pairs of trousers and a coat, plus my dress for the wedding,” you defend. “And I can’t extend my trip here. I thought we’ve all got that one settled.”

Renjun laughs, as if what you said is some kind of joke, as he leads you towards the exit of the airport. “You know we would 100%, without hesitation, burn your passport if it means we could make you stay longer, don’t you? I hope you don’t underestimate us like that.”

You chuckle at his empty threat, your chest swelling at the thought of your long-time friends being thrilled of your arrival in Seoul. You wonder how much has changed in the last four years, and you reckon nothing much has when it comes to your friends. You’d left when most of you were twenty-three, and the only person you’d ever seen in person since then was Chenle, who at that time, had business in London so he stayed where you lived instead of a luxurious hotel he could afford.

“We’re heading to Chenle’s place,” Renjun announces as soon as you sit comfortably in the passenger seat of his car. “But he’s still in his studio recording something, so he won’t be around until maybe five.”

“Why are we going to Chenle’s place if he’s not there yet?” you ask. “He didn’t tell me he had work.”

“We’ve all worked around our schedules to meet you today,” Renjun explains as he turns the ignition on and starts backing up. “And everyone knows his home’s passcode. Remember back in college when his stupid fancy condo eventually became everyone’s? That’s still how it is now. Only this time, he owns a penthouse in Gangnam’s most expensive building. What a spoiled brat.”

“He earned it,” you comment.

Renjun hums. An old track from the local radio station plays just as the vehicle exits the airport’s parking area. You hadn’t heard this song in years, but your mouth sings the lyrics as though it’s only been yesterday.

Renjun is amused. “Some things never really change.”

Donghyuck suddenly changes his hair color on Sophomore year in college. You, on the other hand, are about to have an aneurysm.

Na Jaemin makes fun of you, laughs as if your reaction is the most hilarious thing he’s ever seen his entire life. He deems it as the best day of his life.

“Jaemin, am I a fucking joke to you?” you ask. Jaemin doesn’t even bother to answer. “You think this is funny?”

You almost choke on nothing when Donghyuck decides to walk towards the table you’re sharing with Jaemin inside the university’s very own cafeteria. He’s holding a tray of food for lunch. The man himself has a shy smile on his face, evidently aware of the attention that the people around are giving him because of his newly-dyed pink hair, and you can’t really blame anyone if they stared a little longer.

Because Donghyuck is already beautiful, with his shining eyes and glowing skin and a smile that could make the earth stop orbiting around the sun.

But this Donghyuck, Pink Sun as Jaemin had started calling him, he’s something else. You might pass out if you look at him a little longer.

“I told you pink looks amazing on you!” Jaemin exclaims as soon as Donghyuck is close enough.

Donghyuck instantly blushes, but covers it up with a smug smirk across his mouth.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. “I don’t want you getting hurt if I reject you.”

Jaemin gasps, “You would never!”

Donghyuck playfully sticks out his tongue on Jaemin and finally, finally, turns towards you. Your breath is caught in a hitch. Donghyuck tilts his head slightly and you’re about to punch himself in the face. 

“What do you think?” the man asks, smiling cheekily. “Do you think I look better blond or pink-haired?”

You swallow. It takes you great power not to pull Donghyuck and kiss him squarely on the mouth.

Blond Donghyuck was a menace in the society. Pink Sun is giving you a heart attack.

But you’re not about to make things too obvious, so you shrug and mutter a small “either is fine.” Jaemin kicks you under the table. Donghyuck sighs, taking out his phone to open its front camera, probably to check himself out as he brushes his fingertips in his hair. 

“You’re cheap, Y/N,” he says, putting his phone down. “I basically burn my scalp to get this hair color and pull it off better than Lee Taeyong ever will, and all I get from you is, ‘either is fine.’”

Jaemin laughs hysterically, taking his phone out as Donghyuck takes the empty seat beside you—like always, because seats beside you are always reserved for him. Donghyuck carefully places the tray of food he got, immediately, your eyes catch the extra drink he has and your heart somersaults because you know it’s for you.

And this is supposed to be normal. Your friends tell you it’s a routine—every day—and you and him do things for each other like second nature. So, why does it make your heart race like this?

Your phone chimes as Donghyuck starts eating.

“We really need to work on your communication skills,” the text message from Jaemin says.

Your comprehension in Korean went from bad to worse, if it’s even possible.

Renjun is currently roasting you for it, while Jisung and Kim Minjeong are arguing about what to eat. You tell them how small the Asian community in London is as compared to other countries. Jaemin announces that Mark Lee just boarded his flight from Vancouver, too, and you cheer, excited to see him as well after all these years. Yoo Jimin calls out Jisung and Minjeong’s bullshit and says she’d already ordered from the nearest restaurant.

How you all end up in Chenle’s penthouse before the owner himself is aware, you have no idea. All you know is that things have not really changed that much.

You feel a little disoriented, your mind still a little hazy from the 12-hour trip, and you hate that the jetlag is hitting you as early as now. You feel like you could fall asleep anytime soon.

Then you hear familiar voices faintly coming from the door, then the door itself being unlocked. You observe from the digital clock above Chenle’s fancy television that it’s only nearly two in the afternoon, so it’s not Chenle who’s coming in.

Donghyuck appears from the door before you realize it, and he takes your breath away before you could even look him in the eyes.

“Sorry, we’re late,” the dark-haired man says, his voice making you feel suffocated, stepping out of his boots because God forbid anyone who steps inside Zhong Chenle’s penthouse wearing the outdoor shoes.

Lee Jeno enters behind him, his eye smile ready to meet you, while Jaemin says they arrived just in time for lunch. All is a blur and everything sounds like white noise, because Donghyuck looks at you in the eyes with the softest gaze, the smallest smile, and suddenly it doesn’t feel so cold in Seoul.

Jeno walks past him and finds his space beside Jaemin. You hear Renjun and Jisung start arguing about another thing. All while Donghyuck stays still from where he stands, about ten feet away from your space, eyes still on you.

When they’re done dancing, Donghyuck walks with her, holding her hand and keeping her close.

He passes by, doesn’t even take a glance to your direction.

Donghyuck looks at you in amusement.

“It was terrible,” you grunt. “The worst day of my life.”

He giggles and pulls you in his arms, kissing the top of your head while you stand in the middle of the room. You’re still dressed in your warm clothes as you’d just arrived from the airport. You sigh in relief because you’ve been waiting for this all weekend.

“Don’t be too dramatic,” he mumbles. “Your cousin’s going to be ballistic if he learns that you called his wedding the worst day of your life.”

“You should’ve gone there with me,” you muse. “They were introducing me to so many people, and my uncle knows I’m shit at socializing, therefore forcing me to hang out with people I barely know is like stabbing me in the eye and asking me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

Donghyuck chuckles. “What could I have done if I were there?”

You smile, burying your face in his warm chest. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Then why’d you need me there?” Donghyuck asks again. You know he’s teasing you now, poking until he gets the answer he wants to hear. And you’re not about to deny Donghyuck of that. Besides, nothing is more satisfying than knowing you could make Donghyuck feel flustered despite of his strong, wild persona. So, you reach up and kiss him on the chin and hug him closer.

“Because nothing is as bad as it seems when you’re around, my love.”

Donghyuck begins to pull away, making you hold onto him tighter, as if your hands would grow cold without touching him. Donghyuck only laughs, allowing you to hug him longer, and you wonder if you could stretch this night out for as long as he can. 

The moment passes by quickly.

“Donghyuck, will you at least listen to me?”

“I’m done, Y/N.”

Renjun announces he’s done cleaning up.

Jaemin doesn’t waste a single second, getting up from his space on the other couch and announces it’s time they really catch up with everyone. It turns out that Jimin herself just got back from Germany yesterday as well, while Minjeong took a week off from work, and all had waited for you to come home before gathering in Chenle’s place.

“Mark’s a piece of shit, just like you,” Jeno comments when asked why the older didn’t take the earliest flight. Apparently, like yourself, Mark couldn’t get a couple of weeks off from work, hence he’d decided to travel a few days before the wedding, which is essentially why you all had a reason to gather once again after all these years.

“Why are you all harassing me and Mark for not being able to take a longer leave from work?” you whine, throwing a cushion towards where Jeno is seated, right beside Jimin. “It’s not like we can help it!”

Minjeong snorts, “You could’ve said you have COVID or something.”

You snicker. “Only you could think of that, Minjeong-ah.”

Jeno talks about his recent flight to Yonagunijima in Okinawa for a business trip. Renjun tells him he’s never gone that far in Japan, his farthest trip being in Osaka; Jeno says he can take him there anytime he gets some free time from work. Jaemin hypes up Jisung’s newly built dance studio and the contract he’d just signed with the biggest entertainment company in Asia, to which Jisung only downplays and says it’s not that big of deal.

You and Donghyuck stay quiet while everyone else talks over one another. He sits at the other end of the same couch you’re sitting on while Jisung occupies the space between you and him. Renjun probably feels the tension, so he cuts it.

“Donghyuck, what have you been up to?” Renjun asks, reaching over for a piece of chocolate you’d stolen from Chenle’s fridge.

Donghyuck shrugs. “Renjun-ah, don’t act like we don’t see each other every weekend.”

Renjun scoffs. “We’re here to catch up. Do you want me to tell them what you’ve been up to myself?”

Donghyuck throws a cushion and misses. “Nothing’s new about me, guys. Nothing that’s interesting enough.” Then, he leans forward and turns to you. “Maybe Y/N has anything to say. I mean, she’s the one who’s been away the longest.”

It takes you aback, the interaction unexpected, and gets you stuttering. “I’m—There’s really nothing, I mean.”

Donghyuck laughs lightly. “Loosen up. You look like you’d rather be elsewhere but here.”

“It’s not like that,” you defend. “It’s just—jetlag.”

“Of course,” Donghyuck nods. “How long was the flight?”

“Twelve hours,” you answer. Renjun does his best, distracting everyone else with a new conversation so you and Donghyuck, you assume, would feel more comfortable rather than have everyone listen to you talking with the person you used to know the best. Jisung tries to subtly leave, pretending like he needs to go to the restroom, and you know it’s a tactic because you also know Jisung like the back of your hand.

Donghyuck immediately moves closer, taking the space Jisung used to sit on, the distance pulling the air out of your lungs.

“And my flight was delayed for a couple of hours because of a storm,” you continue, clearing your voice. “So, fourteen hours in total, plus one hour from Incheon to Gangnam.”

Donghyuck nods. “Well, you fly frequently.”

You nod back. “Not that frequently anymore. Since the pandemic, I’ve been working from home a lot; there was no need to travel after all. Or move to a different country. It turns out we can do everything virtually.”

Donghyuck chuckles, almost sarcastically. “What a shame that the entire world realized suddenly that everything could work virtually.”

You smile, sadly almost. “Yeah. What a shame.”

“I didn’t get the whole thing,” Jisung sighs. “What a shame. The last parts were the best.”

“You know Chenle’s going to kill you if he finds out you took a video, right?”

Jisung nods proudly. “That was the point.”

“Lia, wait,” Donghyuck’s voice echoes—not loud enough to catch anyone else’s attention, but definitely enough for you. You watch him follow Lia out.

You decide you’ve had enough. The wedding’s done now, anyway. There’s nothing left for you here.

Jisung looks at you. “Y/N.”

“Just need some space, Jisung,” you say. “I’m okay.”

“You’re lying,” You gasp, almost dropping your iPad upon Donghyuck’s revelation. “Holy shit, Donghyuck, that’s huge!”

“Never thought I’d hear that in another context but thanks, my love,” Donghyuck replies, a proud smile etched on his mouth. He reaches over and shows you a piece of paper, the confirmation of his participation in a convention in Shanghai a couple of weeks from now. 

“Wait until Jaemin hears this,” You ramble, already on his phone to text said friend about the good news. “He’s going to throw a party for you.”

“You guys are too proud of me,” Donghyuck whines. “What if I end up being such a flop outside my comfort zone? There are going to be so many amazing artists out there. I heard some vocal majors from Konkuk are attending the conference with me, and I am already terrified of them. I can't imagine myself once I'm surrounded by even more talented and more intimidating singers."

You put down your tablet on your desk, sighing as you step closer towards Donghyuck. You’re in the apartment you share with Jimin, and Donghyuck called in earlier to tell you he’s got some great news. Neither of you really have much time to meet these days, with your internship at Seoul's biggest web developer company and the drastic changes in Donghyuck's schedule, it's a little too difficult to hang out in the safety of your apartment.

Donghyuck is evidently taken aback when you suddenly wrap an arm around his neck, tumbling when you pull him closer and kisses the air out of his lungs. You regret closing your eyes when your lips touch, thinking about the way Donghyuck looks like whenever you kiss him like this. Like Donghyuck's all you’ve ever needed. Like all the years of pining and hurting are expressed in a single kiss. Like it's everything you’ve always wanted and more.  

It's not the first time you kiss—you’ve lost count you made out in the back of Jeno’s car two months ago while all your friends are drunk and out of their minds—but it always feels like it is.

Donghyuck's lips are soft, soft, soft, and you can never get enough of the kissing him. The first, featherlight, a little hesitant touch of your lips would be your second favorite part (the favorite is when Donghyuck's licking your mouth and nibbles on your lower lip), and his hands, his delicate hands would always be in your hair, pulling and pressing and touching.

It's perfect. Donghyuck pulls you down with him on your very own bed, letting you sit on his lap.                   

He's kissing you everywhere, your lips, your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jaw, but he stops when you begin to unbutton his shirt. You look down on him, confused and eager and dazed, and usually, Donghyuck would give in without a single fight, but this time he stops you. 

"What are we doing, Y/N?" Donghyuck lets out, like he's been holding this breath forever and now he's finally exhaling it.

"We're," you start, confused why he’s asking all of a sudden, but you don’t really have an answer to that. "We're—”

"Messing around. Having fun while we can," Donghyuck finishes, quoting your own words the first time you hooked up. "I know. But that was before, right? What about now? What are we doing now?"

Your hands drop on Donghyuck's side. Donghyuck quickly takes both of them in his, giving you a comforting squeeze, as if he's encouraging you to say something. To be brave. To let go. 

"We can't go on like this if you don't answer me, Y/N," Donghyuck says softly. "I know what I want, and you know that it's you. Just you. From the beginning. As long as I live. And you are making me happy right now. But I need to know if this is what you want, too."

"Love, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want you," you explain, eyes wavering.

"Y/N, listen to me," Donghyuck urges, letting go of one of your hands to hold your face so you could look into each other's eyes. "Tell me now. Tell me now, honestly, if this is something you would want in the long run."

"Donghyuck," You sigh, like you’re begging for Donghyuck to stop asking. But Donghyuck doesn't let his guard down. He keeps his hands on you, waiting.

You want nobody else but Donghyuck, too. From the beginning. For as long as you live. And Donghyuck is making you happy, and you know well that Donghyuck will make you happy in the long run. The last two months of whatever game you’re playing had been fun. There was no agreement on being exclusive, no rules of some sort, and it all fell into place like you and him are supposed to end up like this. You hadn’t put a label on it, but you and Donghyuck are best friends for many years now. You went through growing pains together, survived each one of the flights you frequently took around the world, went to the same college together, and you don’t really see the point of rushing for a label now.

Because you have other things in mind other than what you feel right now. You have codes to master and board directors to impress. Donghyuck has auditions to pass and flights to catch as well, and now, an opportunity in Shanghai. Not to mention you’re both cramming to have the best credentials to get you the best job after graduation. Now is not really the best time.

So, just like many happenstances in your life, you come up with a stupid, stupid answer.

"I—I don't know, Donghyuck," you say nervously. "I mean, you're clearly making me happy. And I don't plan on seeing anyone else, but I haven't really gotten around to think about it."

Donghyuck takes his touch away all of a sudden. You reach out to hold his hands in place back to your face, but he lets go.

"Think about it?" Donghyuck asks, voice shaking. "What is there to think about? It's a simple question, Y/N. Do you want me for a long time or am I just some good fuck for you?"

"Donghyuck, why are you saying that?" you retort, angry now. "I just said you make me happy. And I'm not playing with you. I just—it's—with all the things going on in my life and yours, a relationship is not something I can maintain right now."

"Maintain?" Donghyuck chuckles, pulling his hands away, gently pushing you off his lap and standing away from your bed to put some space between you and him. "Y/N, we've been best friends since we were in high school. Literally nothing has changed for us except we kiss and fuck now. What is there to think about? I really do not understand."

You sigh. The sound of it makes Donghyuck pull away further until he’s picking up his backpack. 

"Donghyuck, wait," You say, but Donghyuck is already out of his room, barefoot, his shoes in his hands.

Barefoot, his shoes in one hand, two bottles of beer on the other, Donghyuck finds you by the pool outside the wedding reception. He sits beside you and mimics the way you rolled the bottom of your dress up to your thighs so it doesn’t get wet and does the same with his expensive trousers.

“What are you doing out here?” you muse, eyes staring blankly at the way your feet look blurred out underwater. “Shouldn’t you be inside getting drunk and having the time of your life?”

Donghyuck chuckles, his cheeks painted like cherries, mouth glazed like strawberries, and hands you the cold bottle of beer. “I’m already drunk. Do you think I’d have the courage to come find you here if I was sober?”

You nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Good point. Fun party?”

“Jaemin and Jeno never fail to organize the best party,” he stammers. “They used to invite everyone in their shared apartment to play the American games they learned from Johnny-hyung. I can’t believe they’re married now.”

Jaemin and Jeno, the very reason why all of you gathered after all these years, have always been destined for each other, and you know this because you’d seen them start off as nothing and watched them turn to everything. Their wedding had been the sole reason why you’d returned to Seoul.

“I always knew they’d end up together,” you mutter, drinking from the cold bottle. “I used to manifest it. I said it all the time I saw them together.”

Donghyuck giggles. “You used to believe in the law of attraction so much. You manifested everything that’s happened in your life.”

“I did, didn’t I?” you reply, tasting the bitterness coming from the drink, a reminder why you prefer any other drink aside from beer.

It’s quite for a minute until Donghyuck talks.

“Why didn’t you manifest us?” he says suddenly, words a little grumbled. He’s probably had too much to drink already. You hold onto him naturally as his head starts swaying until his head is leaning against your shoulder, close enough to hear each other breathing. “Y/N, why did you never say we’d end up together like this, too? You were so damn good with this law of attraction bullshit. You could’ve manifested our wedding, too.”

Donghyuck is drunk, and drunk Donghyuck is always vulnerable. His tone of voice is enough for you to decide to cut this trip shorter than it already is. A week, you had promised Jeno and Jaemin, you’d leave two days after the wedding. But at this moment, when you’re frozen in place, Donghyuck’s warmth touching your coldness, you begin to ponder if it had been a good idea to come back in Seoul at all.

You love Jeno and Jaemin and would do anything for them in a heartbeat. Therefore, when the couple announced their engagement two months ago, it had been a quick, solid yes, of course, I’ll be there because you wouldn’t miss their wedding for the world, even if it had been exactly four years and two months since the last time you’d breathed the air of Seoul and that you’d rather die than be in a 12-hour flight, you swore you’d be with your friends during such a huge chapter of their lives.

Your schedules were immediately reconstructed, a ticket to Seoul safely tucked in the files in your desk’s drawer, and all your friends from London were already asking you to bring something back from Seoul when your trip is over. It was all set, with the promise of checking in with your teammates from work during your one-week leave, and it was the easiest itinerary you’d ever made. What you failed to prepare, truly, is yourself.

Somehow, you knew this would happen. You knew coming back would mean seeing Donghyuck. And seeing Donghyuck means opening wounds you’re not certain have healed and resuming conversations you’d never wanted to go back to. And this means, at any given time Donghyuck is within your space, you’d be a goner.

Because four years, it turns out, isn’t enough to get over him.

Quite funny, if you think about it now, how after all these years, you’re still orbiting around him.

You clear your throat, no words coming out, and Donghyuck starts to fall asleep against your shoulder.

Your right shoulder feels sore after falling asleep on your side on Chenle’s couch the morning after Jaemin and Jeno’s bachelor party. It was crazy, to say the least, and you’d decided to drink your guts to in hopes of not remembering anything in the morning. It sucks because you’re stupidly hungover and you remember everything.

The group was divided into two. You, Renjun, Donghyuck, and Minjeong were in charge of Jaemin in the other side of the city, courtesy of Jung Jaehyun for sponsoring and personally planning the grand party for his favorite dongsaeng. Meanwhile, Jisung, Chenle, Mark, and Jimin had planned Jeno’s very own party, along with Lee Taeyong who funded the event.

If you’re being completely honest, you’d think that after college, your friends would lose their sparks in setting up amazing parties, but last night proved you wrong.

The alcohol was disgusting, but you like that it made Renjun do things he wouldn’t do sober. Jaemin refused to get shit-faced drunk because his wedding is in two days, his hangovers usually last an entire day—he doesn’t want to show up at his own wedding looking like a zombie. Minjeong, well, she’s Minjeong, so she was just all over the place, nagging and getting drunk. She’s also a snob who thinks so highly of herself despite being the youngest in the group and liked to look down on her older friends all while attempting to stand upright after downing five shots of tequila.

Donghyuck, however, decided to bring his new girlfriend. Her name is Lia. And the only goal last night was to stay as far away as possible.

You knew that the relationship was new because Jisung filled you in before you had all parted ways for the parties, said that Donghyuck started dating her two months ago right around the time Jaemin and Jeno got engaged, Jimin being their bridge because Lia and Jimin have been friends since last year. Apparently, Lia’s been interested with him for years now; she just never had the chance because like you, Donghyuck also disappeared in and out from Seoul for a couple of years until he’d decided to stay here for good two years ago.

You can’t remember how many shots you had and how many cocktails were handed to you last night, but you wish you had more because it was evidently not enough to erase the scenarios from last night. It wasn’t enough to blur out the memories of Donghyuck holding her, kissing her, dancing with her, and just all out being a lovey-dovey boyfriend.

It’s a relief that you got home safely. There was no designated driver because the plan was to really get drunk, so Jaehyun had one of his employees drive everyone to Chenle’s penthouse because it’s the closest. You hope the others returned to Jeno’s place safely, too.

You stay still from where you’re lying down, eyes up on the ceiling, wondering what time it is. There was no plan for today aside from wedding rehearsal at six in the evening to make sure everything’s all set for tomorrow, so you reckon you have the entire day to get rid of your hangover.

You roll over to your side, facing the television, and the clock tells you it’s eleven in the morning. Renjun is snoring away from the other couch, and you remember letting Minjeong sleep on your bed for the night. You’re staring at Renjun’s sleeping form when someone on the carpeted floor suddenly rolls over, allowing you to see their face.

Donghyuck’s sleeping on the floor beside the couch, body parallel to yours so you can see his peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly agape. He’s now sleeping on his back, head supported by one of the cushions, body covered with his jacket from last night. You remember parting ways with him with him last night. He’d taken a taxi with Lia back to her place while the rest of you went home in Jaehyun’s SUV. You don’t remember him coming back here.

You stare at him for as long as you can, because in the last three days in Seoul, you’d never really gotten the chance to get a good look on him. You and him don’t follow each other from any social media, so the last four years had truly been radio silence from both sides. Donghyuck, at 27, doesn’t look like he’s aged that much, albeit his round cheeks being gone, replaced by prominent cheekbones. It looks like he never bothered to get rid of the constellations forming on his face and neck, too, because they’re still here, just like many things that haven’t changed. Donghyuck used to love dyeing his hair crazy colors, now his hair is just colored naturally. His lips, wonder if they still taste the same.

“He’s going to melt,” Renjun says suddenly, you plop your head back to the couch, guilty for staring too long. Renjun sits up, stretching and laughing at your misery. “And you’re going to have a heart attack if you keep sneaking glances and getting caught. How many times has Jisung caught you in the last 72 hours?”

“Shut up,” you mumble, getting up and stretching as well. “What do you want to eat for breakfast?”

You carefully get off from the couch, making sure you don’t topple on Donghyuck’s sleeping body, draping the blanket over his body, walking towards Chenle’s fancy kitchen. Renjun helps you, rummaging through the fridge, and comes up with a breakfast menu with whatever you had in the kitchen.

Donghyuck wakes up before you and Renjun could finish cooking everything. He’s quiet when he approaches you in the kitchen, softly asking if you could make coffee for him. You don’t say no, of course.

“This is the most disgusting cup of coffee, I’ve had my entire life,” Donghyuck complains, leaning over the counter where you’re working on the opposite side of. “Stop jeopardizing the café’s reputation. You’re not some scientist so stop mixing concoctions from hell just to brag that you’re a part-time barista and a full-time college student. You make me sick. Literally.”

You ignore all of it, of course, eyebrows furrowed as you take another sip of the quote and quote disgusting coffee, trying to figure out what went wrong this time.

“I think it needs a bit more vanilla,” you think out loud.

“I will not join you in this stupid crusade of making your own “Barista’s Special” recipe,” he continues. “And I will tell your manager you’re wasting coffee!”

“Aha!” you exclaim when you think you got it right. “Maybe I need to level the grounds better and add another pump of vanilla. Let me try that. It should taste better.”

Donghyuck chuckles as you move around and attempt to make another cup. “You’ve been saying it should taste better since last week.”

He keeps complaining, but takes the new cup of coffee as soon as you’re done.

Donghyuck drinks.

You wait.

It still tastes disgusting.

“It’s sweet,” Donghyuck comments when he drinks it. You tilt your head. Renjun is finishing up on the scrambled eggs. You hear Minjeong come out of your room.

“Is that a bad thing?” you ask, hopeful.

Donghyuck shakes his head, chuckling. “Better than the ones you made when we were in university.”

“Hey!” you laugh. “I was awarded employee of the month once!”

“That doesn’t erase the fact that you forced me to drink your disgusting concoctions for three weeks straight,” he states, making you laugh even more. “I guess, all these years you’d learned what you were missing.”

“I’ll miss you,” you mumble against Donghyuck’s chest. “The internship will just be for a few months. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Donghyuck kisses the top of your head. “When you come back,” he mutters. “When you come back, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You freeze.

“And you’ll say yes. And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

You pull away a little so that you’re looking at him face to face. Donghyuck has tears threatening to fall from his eyes. You wipe it off with the sleeves of his jacket you’re wearing.

“I’ll say yes,” you promise. “And we’ll graduate together and make a life for both of us.”

A woman’s voice announces your flight number once again and says the gates are closing in five minutes. Donghyuck kisses you in the mouth—a promise—and tells you he loves you.

“Oh, Donghyuck,” you say. “I love you, too.”

“Come back home to me, yeah?”

“I will.”

Yours and Donghyuck’s favorite restaurant was located two blocks away from his parents’ home. It closed a few years ago when its owner passed away and his children were too heartbroken to keep the business running. It was a staple from your entire high school life, and if you could say it, it defined your standards when it comes to food.

You’d just gotten a call from home that your childhood pet had to be put down because of old age and many diseases, and you called in sick for work—thank God, Johnny was willing to cover for you otherwise the manager would’ve rejected your request to stay at home for the day—and you’re truly not in the mood for anything at all.

You haven’t been home for quite sometime now, the last time being the holidays and you normally just spend a couple of days before heading back to the campus, so everything really sucks. You didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.

Donghyuck hears this from Jimin, of course, because your roommate called him as soon as she heard you crying from your room. He literally carries you out of your room, says grieving is better when there’s food.

As soon as you see the person standing behind the counter, you recognize the place right away. Although located in a different street now, nearby where you are, the place looks exactly the same from when it did years ago.

“Y/N! Donghyuckie!” the lady behind the counter greets.

“Oh my,” you squeal. “Auntie, I didn’t know you’re back in business! How long has it been?”

The new owner, the late owner’s eldest daughter, smiles at you and tells you they re-opened sometime this year. She tells you to find a seat and confirms she knew your order by heart.

Donghyuck sits across you. “You like it?”

“Why did you not take me here sooner?”

He smiles. “Supposedly on your birthday a couple of weeks from now. But with what happened today, I guess this is the best time.”

“You’re the best.”

It’s Jisung and Chenle who find you and Donghyuck by the pool area hours later. Donghyuck had completely fallen asleep on your shoulder. The younger ones help you and practically carry Donghyuck towards the car.

Jaemin and Jeno have left the venue so they could prepare for their flight the next day. You hadn’t paid much attention to the time when Donghyuck drunkenly approached you. Jisung tells you it’s already two in the morning.

Chenle tells you Donghyuck had broken up with Lia—the reason, he’s uncertain—which is why she stormed off from the reception and Donghyuck decided to drink his ass off while you were wandering around the place. You shrug, acknowledging the news like it doesn’t make your heart race, like it doesn’t give you some sort of hope you didn’t know you had stored, and tell them they should take him home.

Jisung says Donghyuck lives on the other side of the city, so it’s best you all head back to Chenle’s.

Jisung and Chenle share the latter’s bed, and you’re not going to let Donghyuck sleep on the couch after he had complained about his back hurting when he’d fallen asleep on the floor the other day, so it’s only right that you let Jisung and Chenle carry him to your bed.

When you wake up on the couch the next day, Donghyuck’s shoes are no longer by the doorsteps.

His footsteps are loud.

“Donghyuck, this isn’t going to work if you don’t fucking give me a chance to explain!” You scream a few feet behind Donghyuck. 

Donghyuck is running away, and you’re beginning to think that convincing him to go to the gym might not have been the greatest decision because Donghyuck is literally sprinting, like he’s being chased by something so terrifying.

You almost stop. Donghyuck, who always called him home, never ran away from you all these years. Not, it looks like he’d rather be anywhere but where you. Nothing feels worse than that. 

You’d just gotten back from your internship in the US, one more term and you’re graduating. The internship was easily the best thing that’s happened to you this year. They were already thinking of offering you a contract as soon as you graduate. They let you go back home, of course, to complete your degree, and said they’d be willing to keep training you in the states and have you relocate to Europe once you graduate because they’ll be expanding their business out there.

It's also the night of Donghyuck's first showcase, the first show he's headlining along with musicians and artists from different universities. You had promised Donghyuck you’d watch and support him, but things doesn't always go on your favor, because as soon as you’d landed, you were needed back to the campus for an interview for the university’s publishing team because they wanted you to talk about your experience alongside the others who went to the states to complete their internship. It was supposed to be an hour session, but you and everyone in the panel liked the questions they were asking, and somehow you felt like this was a sign that the company in the US could lead to better, brighter things for you.

Hence, you were late. Halfway through the show. Donghyuck got mad, but promised he understood. He asked for some space, at least for the rest of the night. But you wanted to apologize properly, to take him out for dinner even if it's already past midnight, and insisted that you should talk about it. Donghyuck refused, you kept insisting, until the former said something about you being a shitty girlfriend.

It’s a shitty excuse, but you were absolutely fucking tired. You’re still jetlagged from the 16-hour difference, and the entire session with your fellow interns took two hours of your day.

What you had left for the day was so little, and you chose to spend it with Donghyuck, but he decided to be an ass about it.

"I never said anything about being your girlfriend," was your dumb reply, which is why you’re now running after him from the building of Chenle’s condominium.

You pull Donghyuck with force as soon as you catch up with him, and you’re faced with your worst fear.

Donghyuck is crying. He’s never cried before, not because of you. A deep painful breath comes out of your mouth, and it hurts when you breathe, like inhaling a cloud of smoke or being hit by a ball in the back. Donghyuck keeps crying, doesn’t even hide it. He sobs and heaves and he doesn’t wipe his tears.

"Donghyuck, can you just—”

“I’m tired,” Donghyuck sobs. “Y/N, I’m so tired. I sound pathetic and I’m not sure if I’m exhausted from the performance or I’m just done with you.”

“I’m sorry,” is all what you could come up with. 

“This,” Donghyuck says, gesturing the small space between you. “I don’t think it’s worth all of the pain I am feeling right now, Y/N. You’re my best friend. I—I, fuck, I used to think that maybe someday this will all be worth it, but I am tired of waiting for that day. I am drained and you have consumed all of me. I waited for you, and I keep waiting until you finally just—let go and decide you want to be with me and stop playing this never-ending game of friends with benefits bullshit we started. I’m done. What else do you want from me?”

“I—I… Donghyuck,” you stutter. I want you to give me a chance. I want you to give me more time to figure some things out myself. I want you to wait a little longer.

"I rejected Ryujin a week before you came home,” Donghyuck confesses. "When you were in the states, and you suddenly changed your mind about being my girlfriend and told me I should go out and date other people and that I shouldn’t hold myself back, I was angry. I didn’t understand why you were pushing me away so much when I’m here!”

You stay still, crying.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here and I love you, and I’ve never asked anything in return. And you tell me you love me, but you do things that—that hurt me. Every time I think we’re finally going somewhere, you—you push back and I’m just—I’m sick of it. And Jaemin said I should just move on if you can’t make up your mind because I don’t know if you haven’t realized it but Y/N, we’ve been at it for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Jeno and Jaemin set me up with Ryujin,” he continues. “We went to a couple of dates. And then you called me saying you’re coming back home. So, I broke it off before we even got started. I told her it would be unfair if I kept leading her on when I know that I am still ridiculously in love with you. She said it would be alright and that she's giving me all the time and space I need to think about things."

Donghyuck curses and continues, "But I didn't need time and space, Y/N. Because I already knew that all I've ever wanted was you. I didn't need to think. I only needed you."

You don’t know what to say. You’re still holding him by his arm.

“If you're not going to say anything, let me go,” Donghyuck sternly says. You have a feeling it’s not the grip on his arm that Donghyuck is talking about. “Please.”

The single biggest mistake of your life happened on the third street from Chenle’s place, under the broken streetlight, across the ice cream parlor Donghyuck used to work at when he was seventeen. 

You let him go. Donghyuck stops waiting.

The wait from the audience was long enough.

They say your graduation day is going to be one of the happiest moments in your life. It’s not. Not at all.

Not when you’d gotten your diploma on stage and Donghyuck shows you he doesn’t give a fuck by looking everywhere else. Not when it’s picture taking time with your friends and families and he decides to stand on the other side, far, far away from you. Not when his parents ask him to take a picture with you and he shrugs it off and says he’s hungry and that he’s meeting everyone at the restaurant, leaving with his entire family.

Renjun whispers, “Does he even know you’re leaving first thing in the morning?”

You shrug it off, too. “Looks like he has other things to care about.”

Jaemin sighs. “You’re not serious about this, are you? You and Donghyuck better pull your shit together. Both of you already ruined the moment for everyone.”

Renjun eyes him. “It’s not your fault, Y/N. If Donghyuck doesn’t want to listen, then so be it.”

“It’s not Donghyuck’s fault either,” Jaemin defends. “Because he’s been trying to get answers and you wouldn’t give it to him. So, I don’t think it’s his fault that he’s done.”

“We’re not picking sides here, Jaemin,” Jeno says. “Let’s go.”

Jeno and Jaemin sandwiches you in a tight hug.

The next day after the wedding, in the afternoon, the newlyweds are bound to France for their honeymoon. They’re traveling the continent for two weeks (unfortunately, London excluded from their itinerary), and all of you decided to drop them off as if they’re leaving for years. In your case, this may be the last time you’re seeing them for a long time.

“I love you,” Jaemin says as the two very strong and buff men hug you. “I know things have been tough and coming back here took a lot from you, but thank you for making sure you were present during the wedding.”

“I hope this isn’t the last time in another four years that we’d see you in person,” Jeno adds. “We miss you, you know? Please come visit us when you have time.”

“I love you two so much,” you cry, emotional with the way they’re holding you. “Go have fun.”

They bid their goodbyes to everyone else and enter the airport.

“If I don’t get the same treatment when I leave, I’m ghosting everyone,” Mark announces. Jisung laughs. “What? You all acted like they’re going away for two years. They’re coming back in literally and exactly two weeks!”

“Go be unhappy somewhere, hyung,” Donghyuck teases, making everyone laugh as you all walk back to where their cars are parked.

Chenle needs to go back to work, so did Jimin and Jisung, hence they ride all together. Minjeong’s visiting a friend, so she’s riding with Mark and Renjun because they’re all going to the same side of the city. Which means, Donghyuck is driving you back to Chenle’s place.

“Your flight is tomorrow, too, right?” Mark asks. You hum, nodding. “Come visit me in Vancouver sometime soon, too. Or I’ll fly to London.”

“Wow, you have a lot of money to spend on flying around the world multiple times, huh?” you tease.

“Hey, you’re the frequent flyer here,” he comments. “Wonder how many miles you’ve earned and redeemed from all this flying you’ve done in this lifetime.”

You laugh. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mark.”

Renjun and the others bid you goodbye. You’re not really certain why you and Donghyuck silently agreed to watch your friends leave, you and him standing a foot away from each other as they all drive away. For some reason, it feels like the last time.

The first time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s an accident.

You were drunk, and it had been a while for the two of you considering how busy you both have been because of finals coming up. It was convenient, if you say so yourself, to have your best friend right beside you when you were feeling hot and horny. The morning after was settled with a kiss on your forehead—no apologies as discussed, because neither you nor him regretted it anyway, but there’s a promise that nothing changes.

The second time it happened, you and Donghyuck decide it’s not going to be a one-time thing.

“So, to make it clear,” you huff as you quickly get rid of your pants while Donghyuck pulls his shirt off. “This isn’t a one-time thing.”

“I don’t see an issue if it’s not,” he replies, unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, pushing you against the wall and kissing you down your neck. “Besides, we’re best friends.”

You lean your head against the wall, thinking if it’s too late to back out, but Donghyuck’s already has his hands all over you—one on your breast and the other on your waist. It’s not really that bad of an idea. Donghyuck is your best friend, and your friendship has withstood time, distance, growing pains, and mostly everything. And perhaps it’s the way you haven’t stopped thinking about your first time together that’s making you feel so, so vulnerable under his touch, but it’s not like anything’s changed since that night. In fact, if you’re being completely honest, it made you feel like you and Donghyuck know each other better now—in ways that other pairs like you don’t.

Hence, whatever thought you had a minute ago, you throw it down the drain and you let Donghyuck (messily, heartedly giggling) carry you by hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and bring you back to his unmade bed.

Donghyuck knows how to use his tongue, and you’ve kind of always known because all the girls he’s ever slept with talk about him like he’s a god of tongue or something. Donghyuck licks your lips before diving in, as if he’s giving you a taste of what you’re about to have, and he pushes his tongue in, massaging it with yours, and it almost feels like he’s teaching you how to use the muscle in your mouth. You realize how much he likes kissing, because he kisses more than he touches. He kisses you for what felt like hours, and you’re not about to complain about it.

You let him gently drop you on his bed. His warm palms caressing its way from your waist down to the side of your thighs where he knows you like being touched the most (and you’re not certain whether he’d learned this from stories or from the time you and him had sex); Donghyuck keeps his mouth on you as he rubs circles against your hot skin.

The finger he slips between your underwear and right above your clit sends you shivers down your spine. He allows you to catch your breath for a second, moving his mouth from your lips down to your neck, but doesn’t give you enough time to recover because he rubs your clit oh, so gently.

“We’re best friends,” he repeats, murmuring the words against the skin on your neck. “Nothing changes, except now I know where to touch you.”

He does. He touches you everywhere and slips his middle finger in your hole, sighing against your skin when he feels how wet you’ve gotten simply from kissing.

“You’ve always been such a good girl for me,” he whispers, keeping his finger inside, his palm pressed against your clit. “Such a good girl. Wet and ready for me. You really are my best friend.”

“Donghyuck,” you whine. He starts rubbing from inside, moving a single finger in an upward motion, eliciting a moan from you.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You are. You are my best friend. I don’t think everyone can say they let their best friends fuck them when they’re horny. Which makes me the best best friend, too. Because I fuck the brains out of you when you’re horny. Aren’t we the best team the world has ever seen?”

Donghyuck slips another finger in—easily, because nothing can describe how we you are now. He tongues the skin on your collarbone, licking and tasting and smirking all throughout, then he fingers you properly. At this point, your underwear’s stretched from one thigh to the other.

Donghyuck likes to tease you, and you know this because he massages the inside of your hole in a swift upward motion before pulling his fingers out and slowly filling you again. He does this slowly, then fast, then slowly once again. The explicit sound of your wetness makes him chuckle, leaving your collarbones and using his other hand to pull the left cup of your bra down and goes in. He bites and nips and licks and sucks your breast while he fingers you stupid—legs apart, shamelessly wet and fucking ready for him—and you take everything he gives you.

He doesn’t make you cum though, because Donghyuck is Donghyuck. Nobody is more cunning than him.

But he doesn’t make you wait. As soon as he feels you’re about to cum, he slips his fingers out and rids himself off his own underwear, then slipping the last two pieces barely hanging on your body.

He fucks you dumb. Raw. All his glory and skin. You have no other words aside from that.

He doesn’t wait because there’s truly no need to adjust with how wet and ready you fucking are. He’s big, but Donghyuck knows how to fuck well. He knows how to prevent discomfort and he’s done a very good job at proving that to you.

He fucks you missionary, and usually, this isn’t something you’d opt for. You like being fucked hard with no sense of affection and all that bullshit when you’re stressed and in need of some kind of relief. But with Donghyuck, it’s heavenly despite how sinful his hips snap.

He fucks you. Again and again. He makes you cum twice before he pulls out and spills himself on your stomach.

He kisses you, giggles at the way you’re dumbfounded, cleans you up, and lets you sleep on his bed as though nothing has changed.

Because nothing did. Nothing ever will.

“Funny how things have changed so much in the last four years, huh?” Donghyuck asks, eyes on the road.

Donghyuck’s said he’s driving you home. You haven’t been in Seoul in four years, but the route he’s taking is definitely not the way to Chenle’s.

“We’re taking the long way home,” he interjects when he realizes you’re looking at the GPS on his car’s tablet. “There’s, uh, heavy traffic on the usual way because of some road construction. And you’re going back tomorrow. You haven’t really gone around the city, so I figured it’d be a good time.”

You hum, looking at him with a small smile.

“Sure,” you buy. “It feels like only yesterday you were driving a beat-up Hyundai. Now, you’re all fancy.”

He chuckles, turning as his car speeds through the bridge. “Well, many things have changed since you left.”

Donghyuck looks beautiful like this: Seoul’s horizon running like a movie as he drives, smile soft, eyes bright.

“I’m sorry,” you brave up.

It takes you great courage to say it out loud. As best friends, you and Donghyuck had always said “thank you,” and “I love you” openly, and in countless of occasions, these words have healed scratches made around your friendship. Rarely you and him would ever say you’re sorry. The only time you can remember apologizing to him was the night, a few weeks before graduation when you’d just returned from the States after your internship. That sorry barely made up the wounds you’d caused.

At this age, you understand why saying sorry wasn’t normal for you and Donghyuck. You and him were inseparable. You were soulmates—are if you can bravely say it out loud. Your bond is stronger with him than anyone else, and you’d always believed that nothing could ever come between you and him. Like the decisions you’d made, nothing changed until something did. And when things changed, you and him had no idea what to do. Because as far as you can remember, you and Donghyuck remained constant, like a routine, a bible with a comprehensive and cohesive series of stories that’s never changed. So, when feelings got in between—denial and pining and confusion—neither of you had any idea how to handle it.

Donghyuck was bold and brave. You, on the other hand, had no ounce of courage to give it a try.

He only smiles. “A few years too late, don’t you think?”

You nod. “I know. Do you accept my apology?”

“If you buy me ice cream,” he answers.

“Done,” you say, smiling back at him. “I was scared.”

Donghyuck keeps his eyes on the road. “Of?”

“That I’d come back to Seoul and see you married with kids and all.”

“And what’s so scary about that?”

“Because it would mean I’d thrown away all the chances the universe has given me.”

Donghyuck looks ethereal like this: in a suit, smiling as he watches his bride walk down the aisle.

“Take care, yeah?” Renjun whispers as he hugs you.

Mark’s Dad and Mark himself are waiting for you outside. As most of your friends have gone home to their families after graduation, with the exception of Renjun and Jisung who spared some time today just to see you off, Mark volunteered (his dad) to drop you off the airport.

“I will,” you say, burying your face into his chest. “Any word from Donghyuck?”

Renjun pulls away and looks down. You know the answer.

“It’s okay,” you answer, mostly to yourself. “He’ll call me back soon. I’m sure.”

“I hope so,” Renjun mumbles.

The only call you get before you enter the gates is a drunken one. It’s Donghyuck.

“I hate you,” he grits through the device. “And I never want to see you again.”

“I didn’t want to come back,” you confess. Donghyuck keeps his hands on the steering wheel. “Because you’d said you never wanted to see me again.”

“And I sent you messages you never received,” Donghyuck says. It surprises you. “Because your Korean number was no longer active and you’d blocked me from everything at that time.”

You smile, wondering if you had a little bit more understanding—if you had waited a little before deactivating your old number, if you had given it some time—would you and Donghyuck end up together in the end? If Donghyuck hadn’t been drunk the night you left Seoul—if he’d taken a taxi before you boarded the plane, if he’d just said sorry back—would you and him have gotten into a relationship right away?

Regret, just like grief, makes you feel things like this. They make you wonder what could have happened, if it would’ve given you the same, awful outcome, or if it would take you to the happy ending you keep dreaming about.

“Funny how we had many things we couldn’t say despite us being best friends,” he comments. “And you agree that many things have changed in the last four years, right?”

You hum, looking out your window, watching the horizon blur in motion.

“Donghyuck-ah,” you whisper, eyes still on the moving horizon. “The only thing that hasn’t changed for me.”

“What?” he asks.

“You,” you say. “You’re the only one that hasn’t changed for me. You’re still sharp when you need to be, but gentle where people you love need you to be. You’re still beautiful like the day I had realized I loved you. It wasn’t shocking, though. That day. I wasn’t all too shocked that your newly-dyed pink hair was the eureka moment for me. Because I knew all along. It was more like a flick on the wrist rather than a surprise. Like it’s always been there. The pink hair was just a reminder.”

Donghyuck stays quiet.

“And I say this like I’m hoping I could go back to four years ago and try harder to apologize,” you continue, tears already brimming your eyes. “But I guess we needed this, Donghyuck. We needed to grow—sadly—apart. And I feel like, no, I know that I wouldn’t have gotten to know myself better if we didn’t grow apart.”

“Yeah,” he speaks for what seems like a long time. “We were—you were right all along. We couldn’t just risk it all for a relationship. I had offers left and right even before we’d graduated, and you.”

You look at him. Donghyuck’s eyes are carefully still on the road, but his gaze is soft, eyes shining from the tears welling up.

“You were made to see the world,” he says, and it breaks you like glass. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I were the reason why you don’t have the life you have now. Because it wouldn’t have worked. I love you, and I just know that at that time, when we were young and all, I wouldn’t have let you go work abroad. The few months you spent in the state for a mere internship already shook our friendship in ways we didn’t expect. What more if we had been in a relationship?”

“Donghyuck,” you sniffle. “I love you. And it hurt. And I’m sorry it us this long. I’m sorry it took me this long.”

“Stop apologizing. Y/N, I would’ve let you go eventually,” he confesses. “Because I love you so much that I’d be willing to let you go if it meant you could soar.”

The sun sets in the horizon the next time you look out your window.

Donghyuck keeps one hand on the wheel and shows you the other, palm up.

You take it with courage.

And you. You look beautiful like this: dressed in white, smiling as you walk towards your groom. You best friend. Donghyuck.

[ghouljams]

Baseball au???? Would love to know more about your thoughts because the worms are starting to take over my brain

Like personally I think Ghost is either catcher (towers over the opposing batter when he stands up to throw the ball back, terrifying energy behind their back) or the pitcher (intimidating energy still but now the opposing batter has to make eye contact with them I’m thinking Max Scherzer vibes refusing to leave the pitchers mound when Price wants to call him in). I think Soap would be either the catcher to Ghost’s pitcher or an outfielder heckling from far away (or maybe a closer who sits in the bullpen and heckles the opposing outfielders? Idk he just seems like he would want to goad the opponents into a bench brawl all the time) I’m not sure about Gaz though, I could see him in pretty much any position. Maybe an infielder, but I mostly say that because of how he’s built, it makes me think of a shortstop

….anyways as I said the worms are taking over my brain

Ghost is so fucking big and I love when players are so big. I want him as the pitcher, but I want him in the national league pre-DH because I just know that man would be smacking balls so hard it makes it hurt to catch them. Like his batting average wouldn't be above a .200 but if he hits something you know it's going, going, gone. He's a huge fan favorite because he's got those 100mph fast balls and just strikes. people. out. He can barely get 100 pitches into a game though before he has to be switched out. He also will not leave the pitcher's mound and he doesn't care about running out the pitch clock because he's throwing as soon as the batter hits the plate. You get 5 seconds before you're cooked.

Soap has center field energy. The arm on that man. He's getting the ball to base, he's jumping for those pop-flies, he's slamming into the back wall to make sure you don't hit a homer. He's the one that fans love to have mic-ed up because his commentary in the field is so funny. He's constantly cracking jokes and insulting batters. Good on base percentage but you're not going to get many homers out of him. I see him as a man who solidly doubles and folks are pretty happy with that. Chronic base stealer. Do not walk this man.

Gaz is the pinch hitter. He's got a .35^ batting average and is aiming to beat Ty Cobb's record. Price brings him in every time the bases are loaded because again he puts all his eggs in Gaz's basket and expects a grand slam. Gaz has first base energy. All he has to do is catch when Ghost throws to him. He's got a good build for first base, and I think he'd do best as a pinch hitter because he's got a good eye and he's not afraid to take a chance on a pitch.

Price is the coach and the fans fucking hate him so much because he is neglecting the bull-pen for his favorite boys. You're never gonna win a series like this man, none of your other batters are about a .232.

[fxlling13]

Because Of You

Part 2.

Dh!Master x fem reader

Part 1

Synopsis: you finally get away from the doctor.

Warning: bad language. Blood. Pain

(A/N: so I decided to write part 2 haha. And in a different pov. Just ahead of this weekend obviously)

After another harrowing adventure, it was safe to say you were exhausted. And now the master was banned from tagging along. Apparently he’d become dangerous again. In reality, you knew the doctor was still bitter over your bond. Plus, it gave him alone time to plot an escape. He knew where his tardis was, it was just getting there. Before you had chance to find him, the doc stopped you and announced she had somewhere else to take the two of you. Yaz was thrilled, smiling as the blonde began to ramble.

“I’m tired.” You spoke softly, hoping for some understanding. At that moment, all you wanted was your bed. After spending the past five hours constantly running, that’s exactly what you needed. That and a bath. Instead, the doctor rolled her eyes and scoffed.

“I’m not stupid (y/n). I know that you’re just going to find the master.” You sighed tiredly, rubbing your eyes. Not having the energy to argue, you just shrugged.

“I wasn’t but never mind. Let’s go.”

Oh how you wished you could have stood up for yourself more. As you were hiding behind a large stack of crates, your heart was pounding and your ears ringing. The doctor and yaz were nowhere in sight. They had fled without a second thought. So here you were, listening as heavy footsteps grew louder and you knew you had to get out. Pulling yourself up, you dashed for the door and found a padlock. Great.

“Human life sign detected.” A robotic voice echoed around the metallic room and your blood ran cold. Having no other choice, you smashed the lock with your fists and ran through the door. Sadly, there were armed guards ready which meant your legs carried on. On the other hand, their weapons were knives so easier to evade. Saying that, one managed to snag your shoulder as you rounded a sharp corner. Quite literally. Seeing the tardis, you threw yourself inside with urgency and slammed the door.

“There you are!” Yaz yelled, but not with relief. Turning round, you gaped for air as your lungs were burning.

“The hell did you go! We’ve been waiting here like idiots. Couldn’t you keep up?” The doctor was almost screaming, storming over to you with purpose. Now confused, you rested against the wooden doors to steady yourself.

“We had the right to just fly off and leave you there!”

“Then why didn’t you? It’s not my fault, you abandoned me. I told you I was tired.” You spoke through heavy breathing, adrenaline wearing off. Once again, the doctor rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“You love to make excuses up huh? I hate liars.” Everything caught up to you, your anger becoming too much. Harshly, you shoved the blonde back.

“You think I’m lying? Look at me!” Yaz was quick to go to the doctor, holding her close.

“I’m covered in blood! Because you left me alone with a set of killer robots!” You shouted in a fit of rage. And you were right. Your hand was balled up, each knuckle wounded. Your shoulder had a large gash to go with this, the pain becoming more apparent each second. Huffing, you pushed past them weakly and began to walk up the stairs before stopping. Turning back to the two women, you pressed your lips together before speaking.

“He would never let me get hurt.” Your words hit the doctor hard and Yaz had to keep her restrained as you left. Once around the corner and down the corridor, your lip began to tremble and your body grew weaker. Suddenly, you felt hands land on your shoulders and gazed up only to instantly relax. The master peered down at you with worry. You succumbed to your needs and fell into his chest with ease. Your body wracked with sobs and the man holding you tightened his grip.

“Hey hey. It’s okay sweets.” Hooking his hands under your arms, he picked you up effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you clung on weakly.

“I’ve got you now.” The masters voice was low and gentle, his hand running along your back. You faintly heard him mutter ‘hold on’ before your head began to spin. More than it already was. Everything was hazy, falling in and out of consciousness. You barely registered what your body was feeling. But you could make out the press of the masters lips to your temple. Then everything went black.

The doctor stood in the console room, messing around with the controls. She could feel eyes boring into the back of her head and sighed.

“What do you want?” She sounded bored, turning to face the master. He strolled over, jacket long gone and hands tucked into his pockets.

“You haven’t noticed.” Was all he said, standing right in front of her. The doctor furrowed her brows, casting her eyes around.

“What?” He just chuckled at her not knowing and aimlessly walked around the console.

“You and (y/n) had a pretty heated fight I see.”

“Only because you have corrupted her.” Scoffing, the male leant against a pillar and tilted his head.

“No I haven’t. And you know I haven’t. That’s what’s driving you mad.” He slowly took a step towards the blonde with a smile on his lips.

“You can’t stand that she chose me over you.” He chuckled, running his tongue along his teeth. Pulling his hand out, he twirled it round in the air with expression.

“And to make things worse for your overworked brain, it kills you that she loves me. Doesn’t it?” The doctors nostrils flared with rage, nails digging into her palm as the master continued on.

“And I love her. The one human you can’t have. Because she’s mine.” He finished, smiling smugly.

The Doctor went to slap him but he grabbed her wrist with force. They stared each other down, him finding intense joy at her upset. Laughing, the master moved away and head up the steps.

“What is it then? What haven’t I noticed?” The doctor spat, halting the man. Smirking, he turned and looked at her with pity.

“We’ve been gone three days.” He whispered patronisingly, waving at her before pulling out his TCE and disappearing. Leaving the doctor to wallow in her own feelings.

When you awoke, you found yourself in a room you didn’t recognise. What you did know, was you were lying in the most comfortable bed you had ever been in. Purple silk sheets surrounded your body, your head resting on two perfectly fluffed pillows. Gazing around the room, you saw how nicely it was decorated. In front of the newly found four poster bed, was a cracking fire. A beautiful grey tiled mantelpiece encased it with intricate galifreyan carvings. The wall to your left was lined with dark book shelves with the most luxurious books imaginable. There was also a desk slotted between. Slowly, you sat up and looked down at your hands. They were neatly wrapped up, as was your shoulder. Then you realised you were wearing only your bra and a pair of very loose pyjama pants.

“You’re finally awake.” The masters voice greeted you warmly, the door clicking shut behind him. Coming to your side, he perched on the edge of the bed.

“Where am I?” You asked, voice horse. Smiling, he placed his hand in yours and you relaxed immediately.

“On my tardis. In my room to be more specific.” He told you, happy to see the relief on your face.

“You got us out?”

“Of course I did, love. I couldn’t let her treat you like that any more.” Gently, he reached up and stroked your cheek, thumbing the skin with care. His eyes raked over your figure, fingers tracing the bandages.

“I hope you don’t mind your attire. I wanted to make sure I could clean everything.” Blushing, you shivered under his touch but shook your head.

“I don’t mind. How long was I out?”

“Three days, I put your mind in a deep state of rest.” The master moved closer, almost caging you against the pillows. But you didn’t complain, instead you felt comfort. He rested his hand by your waist, your own hand came to hold his arm securely. Almost hugging it.

“I went back to the doctor. Gave it to her straight. I should have hurt her but, I couldn’t leave you for that long.” Smiling at his words, you rested your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“How about my room? Do you like it? It’s much better than the doctor’s tardis right?” You almost giggled at his need of approval.

“I love it. It’s a lot nicer so far. Plus your bed is so comfy.” Leaning back against the pillows, the master helped you to sit straight and get comfortable. Inching closer, the man was still facing you but practically sat on the bed beside you. His hand landed on your clothed thigh, smoothing over the fabric tentatively.

“She hadn’t noticed, by the way. We’ve been gone for three whole days. And the doctor didn’t notice a thing.” He laughed, simpering as he lined the pattern on your pants with his finger.

“Why would she? I’m not important. You on the other hand-“

“Don’t say that ever again.” He spoke sternly, eyes looking straight into your own. Frowning, you cast your gaze down to his hand on your thigh.

“But I’m not important to her. And I don’t care.”

“Well you’re important to me. And I’ll destroy whole galaxies to prove that.” Your heart sped up, swallowing thickly and hoping he couldn’t tell how flustered he was making you.

“Really?” You questioned, causing him to hum in confirmation. Sucking in a breath, the master trailed his hand along your inner thigh and up to your waist.

“Yes. I will burn heaven and earth for you.” His eyes flicked down to your lips briefly, the blush on your face spreading to your ears. You looked up at him shyly, lashes fluttering.

“Stop looking at me like that, (y/n).” The master groaned, leaving you confused.

“Why?” Smirking a little, he cupped your jaw with intention. Without saying another word, he leant forward and pressed his lips to yours. Heat filled your body. You kissed back instantly, ignoring the initial shock. Your arms wrapped around his neck to tug him in closer, the male practically hovering over you by then. He pulled back with caution, smiling down at you.

“That’s why.” Gleefully, you rolled over, successfully pinning him beneath you. The master grinned, holding your waist. He looked proud at your tactical move.

“Hah. Got you.” You giggled playfully, resting your elbow down to get closer to him.

“Only you can get away with man handling me, dear.”

Delicately, he traced along your face before trailing down and leaving his hand to cup the side of your neck. Placing your own free hand on his chest, you sighed.

“How do we get back at the doctor? You must have a trick up your sleeve?” You wondered out loud, hearing him cackle slightly.

“Oh of course I do. And with you by my side? It’ll be easier than ever to get her exactly where she deserves to be.”

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Any thoughts on The trio of Lily, Petunia and Sev's life in industrial cokeworth? Like right up until Lily and Sev's graduation from Hogwarts?

I have seen so many takes on Lily being a doormat in just taking the abuse from Petunia but... I don't know.

Well, they weren't exactly a trio from what little we see of them in the Prince's Tale. There are the sisters Lily and Petunia and their dynamic and then there are Lily and Severus and their dynamic. Severus and Petunia just seem to dislike each other.

Severus drops a branch on Petunia and clearly looks down on her calling her in his head: "just a muggle" as he almost slipped and said that to Lily. Petunia views Severus in contempt, she thinks of him as a freak and makes fun of his second-hand clothes and poor background:

Then a small rustling noise behind Harry made him turn: Petunia, hiding behind a tree, had lost her footing. “Tuney!” said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet.

(DH, 564)

Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. “What is that you’re wearing, anyway?” she said, pointing at Snape’s chest. “Your mum’s blouse?” There was a crack. A branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Lily screamed. The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears.

(DH, 564)

And Lily is kinda stuck between them calling out both of them when they're being mean. Lily is trying to play peacekeeper between Severus and Petunia and while she isn't as aggressive as Severus or Petunia, she's far from being a doormat. Lily loves both Severus and Petunia and wants the people closest to her to get along, but she doesn't allow herself to be treated badly. When Petunia really hurts her, Lily swings back with venom with something she knows would bother Petunia:

“—you think I want to be a—a freak?” Lily’s eyes filled with tears as Petunia succeeded in tugging her hand away. “I’m not a freak,” said Lily. “That’s a horrible thing to say.” “That’s where you’re going,” said Petunia with relish. [...] “You didn’t think it was such a freak’s school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you.” Petunia turned scarlet. “Beg? I didn’t beg!”

(DH, 565-566)

And she calls Severus out for his treatment of Petunia:

But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. “Did you make that happen?” “No.” He looked both defiant and scared. “You did!” She was backing away from him. “You did! You hurt her!”

(DH, 564)

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said in a constricted voice. “Why not?” “Tuney h-hates me. Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore.” “So what?” She threw him a look of deep dislike. “So she’s my sister!”

(DH, 566-567)

In the memories we see of the young Lily, Petunia, and Severus it's very clear Lily just wants everyone to get along. This doesn't seem to work for her.

I mentioned here how I think Severus stayed with the Evans family during the summer, like during the day, he went back home in the evening. This is how he probably had the chance to retrieve Petunia's letter to Dumbledore mentioned above. But again, they weren't a trio. They were two duos that Lily tried to marge into a trio but Severus and Petunia never got along.

Also, after Lily starts her first year, I think her relationship with Petunia gets much worse. The scene I quoted with Petunia calling her a freak in the train station is just the beginning. Petunia is clearly bitter and jealous even years later:

“Knew!” shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. “Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that — that school — and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was — a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!”

(PS, 41)

So, I think after Lily started Hogwarts her relationship with Petunia just soured. She still loved her sister, but the relationship was strained. I think during these vacations after 1st year but before 5th year, Lily actually spent more time with Severus than Petunia, Petunia was never really part of it.

Lily tends to leave situations she doesn't like, she doesn't stick around to hang out with people who upset her — she cuts them out of her life like she did with Snape after SWM.

With Petunia, it was different. She was her older sister, whom she loved, and Petunia loved Lily too. I think a lot of her initial antagonism of Snape and telling Lily she shouldn't do magic before they knew what it was comes from a protective place. Petunia is the older sister and she is protecting Lily in the way she knows how. But then she becomes jealous and bitter over all the attention Lily gets, all the wonders of magic she could never have...

As I mentioned, I think Lily gave Petunia more chances than she gave Snape after SWM. I think Lily kept trying to reach out to fail every time before she gave up. It doesn't make her a doormat, it makes her someone who cares about her sister. But even then, at some point, she probably didn't make as much effort as before and drew back as that seems to be how Lily handles these things.

We know Lily and James were present at Petunia and Vernon's wedding, so it seems Lily never fully gave up on her sister. The same can't be said for Petunia who refused to attend James and Lily's wedding. Lily was noted as upset over Petunia not wanting her as a bridesmaid. So, even after Hogwarts Lily still made an effort to have a relationship with Petunia, but Petunia didn't let her. Again, it's not that Lily's a doormat, she just cares and is trying to reach out to her sister whom she used to love as a kid and doesn't want to lose. I think that's completely reasonable behavior, and it's clear from what we see of them as kids and from how Pottermore words their interactions in the wedding:

The evening ended with Vernon and Petunia storming out of the restaurant, while Lily burst into tears and James (a little ashamed of himself) promised to make things up with Vernon at the earliest opportunity. This never happened. Petunia did not want Lily as a bridesmaid, because she was tired of being overshadowed; Lily was hurt.

(From pottermore)

That Lily never just "took abuse", she made sure her displeasure was known, but she loved her sister and wanted to get along with her, and for Petunia to get along with the other important people in her life, whether that be Severus when younger or James when she was older.

[ashesandhackles]

what are your thoughts on the Harry/Dumbledore relationship?

hello! so most of my feelings about harry-dumbledore equation are captured in these metas:

A cold blooded walk to destruction

the lightning struck tower

my favourite moment of Harry and Dumbledore's relationship though is captured in the Life and Lies chapter in Deathly Hallows. I am obsessed with that chapter and obsessed with Harry's feelings in those chapters:

here are my notes from the chapter, cutting it down to Harry-Dumbledore stuff:

The chapter opens with the smallness of Harry against the vast sky, a bird's eye view shot to really highlight how vulnerable he feels. On the heels of the chapters where he sees himself and his family immortalised in statues and have their old home preserved, it feels so stark.

The throughline of connection Harry makes from "People don't like being locked up! You did it to me last summer" to Dumbledore's apparent confinement of Ariana. Unresolved abandonment issues from OOTP, Sirius grief all coming to the surface here.

I am especially struck by the image of Harry's angry shouting making blackbirds fly into the pearly sky, and spiral over him. Blackbirds are associated with mystery, secrets and are seen as messengers to netherworld - this combined with the image of pearly white sky (heavens/God) seems intentional.

Harry and Hermione throughout Dh have oppositional positions: faith vs rationalist (hallows vs horcruxes), acceptance vs fear of death, and here Rita's book lies between them, a line on the ground.

"Look at what he has asked from me!: :The image of Harry, arms flung over his head - "trying to hold in his anger" or "protect himself from the weight of his disillusionment" is the thing that stays with me from this chapter. (it is reminiscent of Snape's "you have used me! I have spied for you, lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you" - basically, "why have you forsaken me?" moment. The chapter being set in whiteness and emptiness, reminiscent of King's Cross chapter where Harry does get his answers from Dumbledore is very striking)

Hermione, who has modified her parents memories, can confidently assert that "He loved you, I know he loved you", because her love for her parents, for Ron can also be sacrificed at the altar of greater good, even if it means doing things that would hurt them and dismiss their agency (as is with her parents). It doesn't mean she doesn't love them. Harry dropping his arms when she says this - he wants to believe it, he hopes to believe it but doesn't. But with Ron's return in Silver Doe, Harry will be on his path to be Dumbledore's man again.

From the Silver doe chapter: The discussion on Dumbledore with Ron shows the nature of faith Harry has in the moment: "Dumbledore's dead. He's definitely gone" vs in Chamber of Secrets where he says, "he will only be gone from the school when none here are loyal to him". With the faith in Cos, he was rewarded with Fawkes and Sorting Hat. Further illustration of where Harry is - Ron not thinking the Grindelwald stuff was a big deal ("he was really young") vs Harry ("he was our age").

Malfoy Manor chapters: In keeping with the faith aspect of the book, when Harry is at his most helpless- he asks the shard of mirror, where he kept thinking he is seeing Dumbledore's eye -for help. Dobby comes through.

Shell Cottage chapters: Harry understands the path Dumbledore laid out for him, but wishes he could understand Dumbledore himself. ( Ron and Harry's conversation about Voldemort - "You really understand him." "Bits of him -- I wish I understood Dumbledore as much.")

By the chapters where Harry meets Aberforth, Harry gains an understanding of Dumbledore's emotionality - "He was never free... never. The night your brother died - he took a potion that drove him mad. 'Don't hurt them-please, hurt me instead' " Harry points out how watching Aberforth and Ariana being hurt was torture to him, and emphasises his commitment to Dumbledore's cause, "Because sometimes you've got to think of the Greater Good! This is war!"

King's Cross chapter - Harry gets his answers. :)

Harry's journey to understand Dumbledore is extremely profound, and Harry's forgiveness of what Dumbledore put him through (with regards to his agency - which is Harry's main issue) comes from a very reflective, thoughtful space. Therefore, he names his second son after the two men riddled by guilt, seeking to atone for the harmful things they had done by committing to a greater cause.

[sofoulandfairaday]

for @monicafave who asked me about my opinions on Lucius Malfoy.

TW: very brief mention of sexual assault (DE crimes).

Honestly, one of the (few) improvements the movies made on the books. Jason Isaacs is hot. And has so much charisma when playing the villain I cannot see anyone else doing the character justice in the remake. Also, Lucius doesn't have long hair in the books, but it's the only way I imagine him (my headcanon is that Draco grew his hair out eventually too). Also, the choice to make him unshaven in the last movies? Gold. 10/10.

He wore his hair a little shorter in the First War, but still long enough it could be tied back with a ribbon.

Is a victim to one of the worst takes in the entirety of the Harry Potter fandom of all time, which is of course abused!Draco. It angers me more than abused!Black Sisters, or abused!Remus... grrrr, it makes me so mad. If there is one (1) character in the entirety of the Harry Potter fandom, only ONE that we can be sure wasn't abused by his parents, that was Draco. Where - where? - do people get the absurd idea that Lucius was a cruel father and husband, who routinely cheated on his wife and beat her and their son?

(Also, imagine beating/cursing Narcissa Black, who was not only vicious herself, but also the beloved only sister of Bellatrix Black Lestrange. Like. Who would do that? Madmen wouldn't do that.)

Abusive Lucius for the sake of being cruel makes me laugh. It makes me giggle. The man wouldn't be able to correctly use a Stinging Jinx, never mind the fucking Cruciatus Curse, on either of them if Lord Voldemort was pointing his wand directly between his eyes. Although-

Yes, he is a coward. Which, by the way, there is a big difference between being unable to actively hurt your family members and passively standing by when they are threatened/tortured. The big, realistic failure of Lucius, the one that would sour his image in both Draco & Narcissa's minds by the end of DH, is not that he hurts them directly, it's that he says nothing, does nothing, when his son is branded by the Dark Lord and sent on a suicide mission, is that he says nothing, does nothing, when his wife and son are openly mocked by the Death Eaters, who do as they please in his own home. If Voldemort threatened to torture either of them, Lucius would probably fall to his knees, beg for mercy, but he would not, could not bring himself to stand up and dive in front of the curse. He would watch, horrified, as they are tortured- that is what spoils their view of him in the end.

As the author herself has said, the Malfoys' saving grace is that they love each other.

His fault is cowardice, not cruelty (to family at least) and that's the hill I'll die on.

Lucius, as a character, represents the banality of evil. Indifference. Cowardice. Casual cruelty. Upholding of unjust systems. Not sadism. If you don't understand the difference, you're a bad writer.

Moving on.

He was highly competent in the First War. And by competent I mean competent. There is no way this guy was Voldemort's... second in command (?) or at least one of his top-ranking Death Eaters if he acted anything like he did post-Voldemort's rebirth.

I don't know whether to cry or laugh at his character, actually. He's so petty (he tries to ban The Fountain of Magical Fortune from the Hogwarts Library because it depicts the relationship between a witch and a Muggle, which he deems obscene, and when Dumbledore replies “Nu-uh, suck it, I know about all the Half-bloods in your family tree you hide”, the response prompted several further letters from Lucius, consisting of "opprobrious remarks" on Dumbledore's sanity, parentage, and hygiene).

He's a simp for his wife, whom he loves more than anything in the world (except maybe for Draco). He tries to send Draco to Durmstrang, where Karkaroff is headmaster and no Muggleborns are allowed, and Narcissa says “No, I want my son close to home” and that's the end of that. He puts up with having Bellatrix in his house (she really doesn't like him), and the two of them don't kill each other merely for Cissa's sake.

In my headcanons, they didn't hate each other in the First War. They weren't best friends by any means but they respected each other well enough and had a somewhat cordial if a bit prickly relationship (although, I love fics that get their bickering right). But then Halloween 1981 happens. I have a lot of headcanons for that night and I don't think I've ever really detailed them, so I will now.

They have an early dinner all together - Lucius, Narcissa, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan - and then the Lestranges leave. After the clock strikes ten, they feel a searing pain in their forearms. The Mark is gone. There are a few minutes of what the fuck do we do now and two very distinct ideas pop up. Bellatrix would rather die than forsake Voldemort, she's willing to battle every soul in Britain if it means finding him. He is not dead, he is not. He is immortal. They have him, they've captured him with some weird trick and are holding him hostage. Lucius, on the other hand, takes a good, hard look at his left forearm and decides well, this fucking sucks but at least we had a good run. He is not about to risk his family name by picking duels with the Aurors. The second after he's waltzing in the Ministry, telling everyone who'll listen that he's just woken up from the Imperius Curse, and blackmailing/bribing/threatening his way out of Azkaban. You must do the same!, Lucius and Narcissa tell Bellatrix. Traitors, backstabbers, vermin, is the reply. She is truly, seriously, hurt and furious that they would denounce the Dark Lord. To her, it's the most horrid of betrayals.

This is when she loses her second sister. It's the moment Narcissa makes it clear that not only she will denounce Voldemort with every breath, but she will stop Lucius from going after a dead master. We have a son, Bella, he is our priority. We have a son, and you do not. You don't know what it means. It's a nice little parallel to the end of Deathly Hallows - I cannot stress this enough: Narcissa's lie to save her son causes her sister's death. Narcissa indirectly kills her. Bellatrix and Narcissa's relationship is never the same after that.

On a lighter note. It's canon that Lucius has little hobbies: peacocks and collecting Dark artefacts!

Also, he has a sick interior designer because the secret chamber beneath their living room is a marvellous idea, I need one of those.

A bit of a germophobe.

Cruel, but again: casual cruelty. Yes, he enjoys tormenting Muggles because they are less than human to him; no, he does not enjoy watching little Mudblood children get bitten by Greyback or Muggle women being raped (and no, before you ask, he would never lower himself to something like that, even if Narcissa wasn't in the picture).

Inspired by the movies, of course, but he has great fashion sense.

He was nice looking, definitely not incredibly handsome (unlike my boy Rodolphus who is hot) but he was very charismatic, so much so that Narcissa Black fell desperately for him, much to Andromeda's dismay and Bellatrix's perplexity.

Elaborate courting ritual (peacock-like, get it? ah ah).

The second most extravagant wedding of the century (Bella & Rod take the cake on that, you have no idea).

I am fascinated by his relationship with Voldemort. By the end of the second war, the two pretty much despise each other (and if Cursed Child is to be believed - which I don't - Lucius had a Time Turner tucked away and never once tried to use it to bring Vold back). But what about during the first war? Lucius' loyalties were always to the Cause more than to the man, and yet he is given the Diary. First War Lucius must have been fascinated by Voldemort - we see a hint of this in GoF when he asks Voldemort to tell them how he managed to survive the Killing Curse.

I think Voldemort saw this fascination and somehow, in his usual arrogance, misunderstood it. You see, the way I think of (and write) the Death Eaters is very Succession-y: everyone wants to be Voldemort's favourite, the one to sit to his right, the closest to him. During the First War, Lucius would have sold his mother to be closest to Voldemort. His entire worldview shifts when Draco is born, and as Lucius grows to love him. The same went for everyone else, including Snape. This is why, to me, Voldemort doesn't see their betrayals years later: he is used to thinking that they would do anything, sacrifice anyone, for him. He doesn't see that the love they feel for others is stronger than whatever fucked-up bond is there.

And, if you think about it, the two Death Eaters that are truly, fanatically, loyal above everything else are the two that are in love with/love him. Bellatrix and Barty.

Stopping now because my head is falling on my keyboard from sleepiness. Hope you enjoyed! I probably have more somewhere.

[paleyouthdragon]

Yup, exactly! And trust, there is no way Harry puts anybody before Ginny. It is very clear in the books that she is the most important person to him. In HBP when Ron is hanging out with them Harry wants Ron to go away and leave them alone. In DH he is with R/Hr 24/7 and pines for Ginny and yearns to talk to Ginny.

I guarantee when GINNY is by his side he is never pining for Ron or Hermione's presence lmao. Ginny is his favorite, it's clear.

The only reason she doesn't know anything about the horcruxes or the prophecy is because Harry wasn't allowed to tell anyone else. It was legit part of the plot that he couldn't tell anyone else and its brought up over and over in the last book. He says he's not allowed to tell anyone else. Dumbledore's orders!

Ron!stans just don't want to admit it because they want to live inside Ron's ass. Also, Ron!stans think Ron favors Harry over Ginny when that isn't true either. It's actually very clear in the last two books how much Ron loves and cares for Ginny. Ron turns on Harry and gets angry at him for exactly TWO people: Hermione and Ginny. Both are more important to him than Harry (but he still loves Harry).

ALSO - Ron never lets anyone disrespect or insult Hermione....except Ginny lol.

In HBP Ginny calls out Hermione and makes fun of her for not understanding Quidditch and Ron is right there and says nothing. THAT is so telling to me. If ANYONE else insulted Hermione (and Harry even comments that Hermione looked hurt and stung), Ron would have shouted them down or hexed them. Ginny insulted Hermione in front of Ron and Ron was totally quiet lmao. That is the only time in the books Hermione gets insulted and Ron is quiet! That shows so much loyalty to Ginny! Because at the end of the day? If his sibling fights with someone else, he is not going to get in the middle. EVEN IF THEY FIGHT WITH HERMIONE.

TL:DR Ron and Harry both care about Ginny more than they care about each other. Hermione is the love of Ron's life yes, but his sister is still very important to him and Ron shows loyalty to Ginny even when she fights with Hermione.

This is so true. I never thought about ginny and hermione' fight in HPB w.r.t. ron but this makes so much sense.

I absolutely agree some ron stans are so annoying esp. on quora. I know hermione had flaws (and Ginny too)but some people just put all the blame on Girls and Harry and behave like ron can never do anything wrong.

Ron is very relatable flawed character( that's why i love him) rather than acknowledging it, they just like to pretend he is perfect. And they can't understand a simple fact siblings can be jerk to each other, it does not mean they hate one another.

The way some fic writers writes "after war" stories is just weird like not acknowledging Ginny's trauma and her role in war.

Ginny running after harry and harry just ignoring her and only hanging out with ron and Hermione. Harry ignoring and treating ginny like a shit is justified because "he is been through alot" and ginny is selfish for demanding anything from harry.

If ginny ever complains her whole family will tell her to stop being childish. Also, molly who has just lost her son will be back and call of harry after the war.

Harry is my favorite character in the series but still isn't this too much?

There is also lots of mysogynistic undertone like molly and hermione manipulating ginny to have a baby because harry wants kids.

Sorry, for the long rant. These are just my pet peeves with fandom. Thank you so much for being so kind.

[mlmxreader]

He's Still Haunting Me | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "I can take on anything, everything"+"Don't tell me you love me"

[Can this one also be angst? Idk if you want to put it in war time. Maybe Alfie reminiscing on a love he lost in the trenches??] ❞

: ̗̀➛ Goliath stumbles upon some old photographs in his uncle's attic, and has some questions about the man in them.

: ̗̀➛ War, blood and gore, death, trauma, grief

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

It had been years since Alfie had even seen your face; the photographs taken years ago were now collecting dust in the attic. He never thought that his nephew, Goliath, would find them; let alone throw them onto his desk and stare at his uncle with a morose, remorseful gaze.

Goliath was a good man, although his youth made him naive as to what had happened during the war; Alfie never liked to talk about it much with family, but he knew he couldn't excuse himself from it as he picked up one of the photographs with a trembling hand. He sniffled, shaking his head.

"Where'd you find these?"

"Your attic," Goliath replied, "who is he?"

Alfie sighed, dropping the photograph and running his hand down his face; already his vision was going blurry, and words seemed to fail as he struggled to regain his words properly enough to speak.

"He was the only fuckin' one who did me any good."

"Who is he?" Goliath pressed. "A friend?"

"Bit more 'an that," Alfie chuckled bitterly, sniffling as he cleared his throat and picked the photograph back up. "Remember how your mum always said that you was meant to have two uncles?"

The nephew nodded.

"He was meant to be the other one," Alfie whispered, "my mum... my mum loved him to bits..."

"Gran knew?" Goliath whispered.

Alfie nodded. "So did your mum... they knew what we was... didn't mind unlike some cunts..."

"Alfie..." Goliath frowned, furrowing his brows.

"It's alright, boy-o," Alfie held up his hand for a moment as he coughed, shaking his head. "He were my left hand, look. My fuckin' Lieutenant... went to war the very fuckin' second he found out I got conscripted... wouldn't fuckin' let me to without him... he were gonna be my husband... anywhere I went, he was fuckin' adamant he had to go, too... always fuckin' hauntin' me, that beautiful bastard."

Goliath stood up, gathering the photographs in his shaking, large hands. "I'm sorry for upsettin' you, Uncle, I just thought-"

"Sit down!" Alfie snapped, waiting for his nephew to obey before he continued, "you ought to fuckin' know about him, anyway. I was a selfish cunt for not tellin' you - that was always his thing, y'know."

"What was?"

"We was there when you was born," Alfie chuckled. "He held you when your mum slept and I... I always knew he'd have been a good dad - had the temper for it better than I ever fuckin' will."

"Mum never mentioned him."

"No," he sighed. "No one would... it still hurts..."

Alfie could still picture it even now, the sounds of the shells and the grenades roaring and spitting out flames; the feeling of the deep and wet mud vibrating and wobbling with the rumble of tanks. He could remember the white flash as Fokker DR.1 planes hunted down Airco DH.9s.

He could remember how he held you against his chest with his lips pressed to your forehead; able to feel your limp hand against his forearm. He was on his knees, eyes wide and wild and full of unshed tears; one hand cradled the side of your head, the other at your middle.

From the waist down, you were on your side, your free hand pressed against the ground as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You weren't even looking at him, the unwounded side of your head pressed against his chest while the blood on the other side seeped through his fingers.

Alfie knew.

He had killed you the second that he had allowed you to go to war with him. He had killed you, and all of his woe and his remorse could never be washed away.

He killed you.

His eyes, he could never close them the same way again; staring into nothing as he realised that he had become a monster. He had become evil; his brows were slightly scrunched together as if he were about to howl with loud sobs.

His mouth was agape as he kept rocking back and forth with your corpse, muttering under his breath.

"I can take on anything, everything, but I need you with me," he would say. "Please. Please. Don't tell me you love me, don't say anything, just don't leave me. Don't fucking leave me."

"Alfie?" Goliath cleared his throat as he swallowed thickly. "You good?"

Alfie shook his head. "I killed him."

"No."

"I let him go to the trenches," Alfie confessed, "if I'd have told him to stay with Gran and your mum... he would still be here... you'd know your other uncle..."

"How was you to know?"

"He was the smart one," Alfie huffed. "He'd have known... you would'a fuckin' loved him, can tell you that... he loved goin' up fuckin' mountains... never was a better lieutenant. Never was a better man..."

Goliath reached over as he frowned, holding his uncle's hand. "He's still here, y'know. He ain't left you."

Alfie laughed softly. "No, he ain't. He's fuckin' hauntin' me - why'd you think I'm always gettin' fuckin' daffodils in me garden? It's him! He's hauntin' me!"

Goliath laughed for a moment. "What if we puts up a memorial for him? Y'know, just for you, Mum and Gran?"

"He would've hated that," Alfie pointed out. "He never wanted nothin' more than to get me home... he didn't even see fuckin' armistice."

Goliath swallowed thickly as he let go of his uncle's hand and leaned back in his seat. "I... I'm sorry, Alfie... he meant a lot to you... and I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Alfie shook his head as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "Now, g'wan. Go put they back... we'll talk more about it later, yeah? I'll tell... I'll tell you all the things that my Lieutenant would've shot me for fuckin' sayin'."

Goliath smiled as he gathered up the photographs. He still couldn't quite believe that no one had told him about his uncle by marriage before, but he could understand why; Alfie was haunted by the war more than anyone else in the family, it made sense he didn't want to speak about losing the man he loved to it.

[cardinalone-ao3]

June 20 - discover

@hinnymicrofic

A/N: So uhhh, this was new for me. Another scene I’ve always pictured for them in the summer after the war. I think it would be extremely difficult for both Harry and Ginny to actually talk for a while, which would lead to other issues. I think the vision of Harry dead, on top of everything else, would haunt her quite a bit. She was mentally prepared for the possibility/likelihood of it happening following their DH kiss, but facing the reality (and then him coming back) would make it hard for her to reconcile him being alive.

Content warnings: mature/nsfw themes; referencing (consensual) sexual activity; underage

Under the cut because of the tags:

_____________________________________________

He slept in the Burrow’s attic a lot that first summer after the war, usually when staying at Hogwarts was too much for him. Plus, Ron insisted they be together as much as possible - he supposed months on the run together and everything that happened during the Battle made him want to keep an eye on everyone. He didn’t blame him.

He found out rather quickly that “together” certainly had its limits. For example, he definitely didn’t want to stay together in Ron’s room, what with the sound of Ron and Hermione doing that. No amount of privacy charms could make him forget those noises.

So, the thankfully now ghoul-free attic it was. Which was how he found himself one early July evening, staring out the small half-moon window watching the thunderstorm. The loud bangs of thunder and lightning were less scary than what awaited him once he closed his eyes.

A small noise alerted him and Ginny poked her head inside the room, then upon seeing him, she entered and closed the door softly behind her. They hadn’t talked much, not really. Not about the important stuff he said he would, like horcruxes and pensieve memories. It was still too hard, too guilt-ridden.

She was wearing a soft, oversized Harpies shirt and short cotton shorts, her hair tied up in some loose bun. In a word: beautiful. Captivating would have also been appropriate.

Her face was set, determined, eyes blazing. Whatever she intended, he knew he didn’t stand a chance. She slowly walked over and sat on the bed.

Vaguely realizing he hadn’t said anything yet, he attempted to say something, but she quickly shushed him with a finger to his lips. His skin tingled underneath.

Another flash of lightning lit up her face and he caught the hint of fear and grief behind her eyes. It hurt every time he saw the grief there, knowing his part in it. He reached a hand to hers and she caught it and clung onto it.

“You’re alive,” she breathed softly. A fresh wave of guilt for the things he’d done and still couldn’t talk about washed over him. He rubbed a small circle across her hand with his thumb and nodded.

She gave a brief jerk of her head more in affirmation to herself, and he wasn’t sure she believed him. Her face set again and the determined look was back. “I need you to show me.”

“What?” He asked, utterly confused for a moment. He studied her face, the flicker of nervous uncertainty masked by resolve and a flash of something that looked like desire made her meaning clear. His stomach dropped. What she was suggesting was preposterous, potentially disastrous.

“Show me,” she insisted, bringing his hand to her chest, settling it over her heart. He could feel the beating of it and his stomach calmed, then he felt the swell of her breasts and his mind short-circuited. Her eyes were almost pleading, and he knew there was no miscommunication about what she was implying.

She didn’t wait for him to respond as she snaked her hand around the back of his head and pulled him to her, their lips crashing together. It was the tonic he somehow forgot he lived on.

He’d never quite appreciated just how soft her lips were before, and how wonderful it felt to kiss her. His other hand snaked up to her hair and it took everything he had to not succumb willingly and completely to her.

He begrudgingly broke off to make sure, but her look silenced him.

“Every…,” she sniffed and took a deep breath to try and compose herself, “every time I close my eyes you’re dead. And I…I need to know that this you …the one I can touch…isn’t. I need you to show me, Harry.”

He looked in her eyes, studying the golden flecks in her chocolate brown for any sign of doubt, but found none. He understood it deeply, the need to discern nightmares from reality.

“I’m not…I haven’t,” he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “I’ve never done this before…”

She gave a small smile. “Me either.” She then rested her forehead against his, like she always used to do after a particularly enjoyable snog, and he surrendered.

Their lips were on each other again quickly. Strikes of lightning and thunder continued, masking their first time together. Time full of reverence and proof. Time spent together wholly - to drive away ghosts, to discover who they were now and who they could possibly be again.

[neverenoughmarauders]

Prongsfoot headcanons?

​I am going to be so disappointing! 

Also, why answer in two sentences when I can answer WITH AN ESSAY?! Headlines provided to at least make some sense of my ramblings!

Canon [books]

Sirius and James are SUPER close; they are being described as inseparable. Sirius is never shown to have any interest in girls despite it being very clear that he's spoilt for choices. 

All we learn about his life post-Hogwarts pre-Potters' deaths are that he was James' best man, James' son's godfather, that he was in the Order with James (and his other friends), that James wanted him to be secret keeper and that James trusted Sirius to use Peter as secret keeper (and even just writing that breaks my heart). Upon finding out James is dead, Sirius' first reaction is to try to take care of James' son, and the second is to go after the man that betrayed James (and Lily, Harry and Sirius).

He spent 12 years in Azkaban, blaming himself and escapes once he's worried for James' son's safety. The rest of his life is dedicated pretty much to keep James' son as safe as possible, and he dies protecting James' son. I will note though that he speaks more about Lily than say Remus speaks about Lily, and there's that letter in DH. It's fair to call it canon that the two of them cared about each other.

You know this... I just feel like it needs saying over and over because there's so much love there without any interpretation! <3

Headcanon

My headcanon has never been particularly creative. I've just always imagined that Sirius was in love with James (James was aware), and while James couldn't return those feelings, James obviously loved Sirius to pieces. Just as James accepted Sirius' feelings, Sirius accepted James'. I believe that if Sirius and Lily hadn't gotten along, James would never have married Lily, but I also believe Sirius mourned Lily too and cared about her deeply, obviously driven by how happy she made James.

Anyways, that's why I suck at writing ACTUAL Prongsfoot (apparently I can't write things that break my own headcanon except to write stricter canon stuff), but I love reading about it and seeing fan art because I just want my boys to have a good time.

Some Headcanons/moments

I've heard people say Sirius couldn't cast a Patronus because of Azkaban. My headcanon is that it was because he lost James - the light of his life.

Ignoring (1) I believe that if Sirius had been able to cast a Patronus after 1981, it would have been a stag and I even have a one-shot about that called: I can't love you back to life but I can live your love (even though the one-shot is a bit less headcanon in that Sirius describes James as a brother)

James and Sirius went to the 1974 Quidditch World Cup together with James' family. When Sirius opened his letter from Harry in the summer of 1994, which obviously did have some concerning news about Harry's scar hurting, he couldn't help but smile nonetheless at the hurriedly scribbled addition that Ron's family was taking Harry to see the World Cup.

Speaking of letters, Sirius re-read and re-read and re-read (...) Harry's letter where Harry provided a 'blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled and dodged the Horntail', all the while thinking back to the many occasions James would sit in the common room providing similar accounts of his own flying (which he didn't need to, Sirius had it all memorised already).

[jiamour]

💿 now playing: pushin’ n pullin’

povs: 💗-yn, 🖤-js, 💛-rj, 💙-jn, 🧡-mk, 💜-dh, ❤️-jm, 💚-cl

track 21: literally just a rensung fight

guitarist!jisung x reader

album tracklist

a/n: i’m procrastinating here’s whatever this is

tw: past emotional abuse mentioned, cheating, etc. all that kinda stuff, emotional breakdowns, dissociation x 2

word count: 2.8k

-

-

music: norman fucking rockwell x 10

all renjun wants is a spark. he wants fireworks to go off when he kisses someone. he wants to open his eyes after and see unadulterated fondness directed back at him. and all he gets is jisung.

jisung’s complicated. no matter how close they are, he’s a million miles away. he’s inconsiderate, detached, a certified deadbeat in the works. but, sometimes he’s so warm. sometimes, he’ll know just what to say, just where to touch, just what to do to make renjun feel wanted. it’ll grab him by the heart strings and pull him along and he can’t help but willing chase after fleeting moments of hope.

love hasn’t been very kind and yet he falls head first too quickly and too strongly without heeding the cautions of unreciprocity. he’s strung along because he cares and he listens and he loves and people like to use and drain and discard. but despite everything, he knows the love he’s looking for is out there. so he still holds hope that some of that love will be directed at him .

just recently, jeno had told him that the first time they kissed mark, marks heart raced so fast he had to sit down on the floor to catch his breath. he got so embarrassed his whole body was hot to the touch and he refused to look at jeno for the rest of the night in the fear he would die of infatuation.

renjun longs for that. he wants someone to love him so much they start to deteriorate physiologically. or maybe just a skip of a heartbeat, he’ll take any amount, he’s never been very picky.

at the moment, his mental ‘love me’ messages are on overdrive. he’s firing them in every direction but somehow they’re managing to swerve around the boy who’s tongue is down his throat.

he’s in jisung’s bed, the comforter tossed messily to the side, jisungs hands running down his body, and he feels gross. he doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to do this. he knows he can just get up and leave any time he wants to but he also doesn’t exactly want it to stop.

it started off good. jisung was more attentive than usual, probably due to the outburst earlier. he wanted to believe it was because he cares but he knew it was just a strategy to avoid talking through any kind of emotional baggage.

the buzz of jisungs phone rings in his ears and he can’t get past the brutal irony that it’s the same as his ex’s. jisung pulls a hand away and renjun watches as he puts in his passcode to unlock his phone for the nth time that night. jisung smiles in a way he’s never smiled at renjun as he types back a response and renjun feels sick. the night started off so well but now he just wants to shower and wash this day off.

“who are you talking to?” renjun asks as nonchalant as he can manage.

“hmm?” jisung bites his bottom lip trying to suppress his smile as he answers, “it’s no one. don’t worry about it.”

alarm bells ring in renjuns head he can hear those exact words in an all to familiar tone “it’s no one.” “you sound crazy.” “stop over reacting.”

jisung drops his phone face down back on the bed and leans back in to kiss renjun. renjun cant even close his eyes, feeling a daze over take him. jisungs phone buzzes once, then twice.

renjuns chest squeezes, he can’t breathe, it hurts, it hurts so bad. he needs this over.

“stop,” renjun mumbles against jisungs lips and when he doesn’t get an immediate reaction he pushes against jisungs chest weakly.

“stop,” he says louder, his breath heavy and uneven. jisung pulls back with a look mixed with concern and confusion.

“you okay?” jisung asks and renjun flops flat on his back so he doesn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“yeah i-“ his voice cracks and he clears his throat, “no. sorry, i just needed to stop.”

“that’s okay,” jisung hums softly like he cares but the continuous buzz of his phone keeps renjun from believing that, “don’t apologize, do you want to talk about it?”

“i just- i don’t know- i feel lightheaded,” renjun says, it’s only partially a lie. he can’t tell the full truth without sounding possessive and crazy, “is it okay if we don’t do anything else tonight?

“yes, of course it is. whatever you want,” jisung answers immediately and moves further away from renjun on the bed, reaching down to the ground to pick up his shirt and pull it over his head, “do you want me to go get you some water? it might help.”

“yes please,” renjun answers, hoping he’s able to sneak in a quick few tears without jisung noticing.

he takes a few deep breathes once jisung leaves the room and stares at the door. he wants to leave but at the same time he doesn’t and it’s all so fucking confusing.

jisungs phone lays face down on the bed beside him. always, always, face down. it annoys the hell of renjun, it’s like a reminder that something is being hidden from him.

he can’t get the picture of a phone being slammed down as soon as he enters a room out of his head. the overtly suspicious “you’re home early”’s. the roll over in bed to grab at a phone as soon as renjun closed his eyes to sleep.

“it’s no one renjun, you’re being crazy,” he can practically hear, his ex’s annoyance pictured behind his eyelids everytime he blinked. “he’s no one, can you even hear yourself right now? do i ever comment on your friendship with chenle? when you’re literally letting him live with you. am i not allowed to have friends now?”

renjun wants to scream, he needs these thoughts out of his head, he needs to stop reliving the same memories over and over again. he needs to see what jisung was laughing about on his phone.

he picks it up and stares at the lock screen that lights up as soon as it registers his face. if he does this, there’s no going back, he’ll be the crazy one again. he’ll be the problem. the phone buzzes with a text notification. renjun takes a deep breath and swipes.

he puts in the passcode he watched jisung use earlier, ‘66666666’. the passcode alone messes with renjuns head, sending too many mixed messages. the length was suspicious but the string of repeating numbers made it seem like he had nothing to hide, or maybe he was just an idiot.

it doesn’t take renjun very long to find exactly what he didn’t want to see.

‘we’re in this together,” fucking bullshit. he feels like an idiot for falling for any of it. it’s embarrassing the way his hands shake and his vision blurs with tears over something that had been so obvious.

renjun takes a deep breath. he wants to smash the screen of the phone on the corner of jisungs bed side table, his knuckles turn white with restraint. he can’t do that. then he’d be the crazy one again, then he’d be the problem. too overbearing, too emotional, too needy, too invasive.

‘jesus fucking christ you’re so fucking needy, do you know how exhausting it is to be with you?’

his chest feels heavy but he can’t stop scrolling through conversations that make him sick to his stomach.

‘i wouldn’t do that to you. you think so little of me. i don’t get it, if i’m so fucking horrible why are you even still here?’

‘you sound so insane right now. genuinely, i think you need to get some help. i’m worried about you.’

‘baby come on you know i love you.”

renjun squeezes his eyes shut, attempting to pull himself out of his head not wanting to spiral back to rock bottom.

‘let it go, holy shit. no wonder you only have one friend who doesn’t even talk to you anymore.’

‘i didn’t mean it. i forgot how sensitive you are.’

‘stop crying, you’re so manipulative.’

‘if you actually believe that, it’s over, for good.’

‘i love you.’

‘you’re actually insane.’

‘what are you doing? is that my phone?’

“is that my phone?”

renjun snaps back into reality. jisung’s standing in the doorway looking confused, a glass of water in one hand and a pack of scooby doo gummies from jeno’s secret supply in the other.

he freezes like a deer in headlights, dropping jisungs phone into his lap. he opens his mouth to explain but he doesn’t make a sound, every word gets caught in his throat and comes out in a pathetic whimper.

“what the fuck?” jisung laughs awkwardly, “that’s like really not cool man.”

jisung enters the room and every step closer leaves renjun shaking with uncertainty.

“i was- i- you-“ he tries. he wants to diffuse this, it’s been a while since he’s felt this unsafe. it’s a carnal fear that leaves him seconds away from puking his guts out onto the floor as he’s viciously torn into by teeth that have an intention to kill.

jisung places the glass of water and pack of gummies on the bed side table and grabs his phone. he looks disgusted but harmless and somehow that makes renjun feel a whole different kind of bad. he’s the gross one, he’s the one in the wrong, he’s the crazy one.

“you were texting and i- you’re seeing other people.” renjuns teeth chatter with the accusation.

“so?”

oh. that one was new.

‘so.’ renjun blinks.

jisungs single word pushes along the gears in his mind until it gets caught between the cogs sending everything up in smoke.

so?

so.

‘so,’ renjun mouths the word to himself and stares back and jisung with hollow eyes.

“this is so fucked up,” jisung sighs, sounding almost sad, which at the moment made absolutely no sense to renjuns malfunctioning mind, “renjun, this is fucked.”

he feels like a child being scolded, shaking and crying while being stood over by someone completely unaffected.

“i’m trying really hard not to freak right now, jesus fucking christ,” jisungs never been meticulous with his words, they’re never thought out or practiced, a stark difference from his ex but it still all feels so sickeningly similar.

“i just-“ renjun cracks, and then stops, he just what? what could possibly keep him from getting ‘broken up’ with?

jisungs waiting for him to finish but he doesn’t know how to- he doesn’t even know why he started in the first place.

“i thought i was clear,” jisung frowns, “i thought we were on the same page.”

‘HOW?’ renjun wants to yell. he doesn’t. he can’t. ‘how can you be that emotionally inept?’

he’s been practically screaming on the top of his lungs how in love he was, how much he wanted this. how could he have been so misunderstood?

“you’re not my boyfriend.” jisung stabs the dagger in, renjun should have been prepared, he had months to prepare for this but it still winds him. “you know that right? i thought i made that clear. i thought-“

jisung goes silent for a second and renjun watches the paced out rise and fall of his chest, “man- i’m trying not to shut down.”

renjun doesn’t understand why his voice sounds so strained but he can tell that he hurt him. and it’s unfair. because why does he get to hurt? why does he get to be upset when he doesn’t even care?

“okay,” jisung breathes out and looks at him with cold eyes, “i want to make this clear. we are not dating. you are not my boyfriend. you will never be my boyfriend. do you understand that?”

renjun nods his head pretending the rejection doesn’t hurt like a vat of ice water being dropped on his head.

“and you cant just go through my phone. what the fuck? even if you were my bo- no actually we’re not even making it a hypothetical because it’s not going to fucking happen. ever.” jisung was staring daggers into his eyes and all he could do was blink and try not to crumble in on himself, “don’t fucking do shit like that. god. this is so fucking fucked.”

“did you-“ renjuns voice is barely about a whisper and cracks so viciously it hurts, “did you not like me at all? even a little bit?”

“no. jesus fuck- no.” he doesn’t even hesitate to answer, “and even if i did- which i don’t- that doesn’t give you the right-“

“god jisung,” renjun struggles, wiping tears away with the back of his hand, “you’re such an asshole.”

renjun hates how angry he feels, he hates how it’s bubbling up inside of him making him feel out of control. the emotional soup in his head make it hard to keep a hold of himself and his temper but he can’t yell then he’s the irrational one. then he’s crazy for being hurt, then it’s all his fault.

“i’m an asshole?” he’s so icy now and it terrifies renjun that he’s been locked out, probably for good this time, “i didn’t do anything wrong.”

jisung speaks like he’s trying to reassure himself, like renjun isn’t even there, “i made it clear what we were. i did nothing-“

“i’m- man- can you-“ jisung takes a couple breaths, trying not to fade away, “get out. i don’t want to do this right now, just get out.”

that shatters all the anger in renjun. he’s back to utter terror, he can’t leave. he can’t. he needs to fix this, he needs to do something.

he knows once he leaves this is over. he’ll be hated, he’ll be crazy, he’ll be just another story to laugh at with friends.

“please,” renjun whispers, “i’m sorry, can we please just talk about this, please.”

“there’s nothing to talk about.”

“no please there is. i get it. i understand. there’s nothing between us! i can be okay with that, i promise. please don’t make me leave. we can fix this.” he pushes himself up to his knees and grabs at jisungs wrists as he begs.

jisung looks down at his hands, he doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t do anything.

“please,” renjun knows he’s probably yelling now, his words barely comprehensible, just the sounds of agony and panic, “don’t do this. i’ll be better, i’ll change, i’ll do whatever you say, i promise, i promise, i promise please-“

his begging ends in a hiccup and he has to stop everything in an attempt to not vomit.

jisung sighs and shakes renjuns hold off, it was so tight it left red imprints.

“hey,” he says softly, and places a hand on renjuns head, stroking his hair gently, “you should have just told me.”

he hates this so much, he hates that he’s so pathetic jisung has to take pity on him, and he can’t help but sob harder.

“when you started to catch feelings and it got too hard for you, you should have told me and we could have called it off early,” jisung removes his hand and renjun already misses it.

“please,” is all he can muster.

jisung pushes the glass of water closer to him, “take some time to calm yourself down, drink some water,” he instructs and renjun nods, taking the glass from the nightstand. his hands shake so vigorously some of the water finds its way onto the bed and floor.

“i’ll leave you alone for a bit to calm down and then i’d like for you to leave,” jisung turns his back on him for what feels like the last time and walks towards the door, not even sparing a glance back as he starts to close it, “and try not to snoop through anything else on your way out, if that’s possible.”

the door clicks shut and renjun breaks down, worse than he has in over a year. he feels all of the progress he’s made recovering from his ex crumbling down. it hurts so fucking bad, all over, it’s an unavoidable pain he couldn’t even hide from.

he sits there and he cries, he wails, his cheeks are streaked in red and snot drips down to his lips. he knows he looks disgusting but he feels disgusting so he doesn’t make a move to fix it. it’s all guttural and too dramatic for a boy he isn’t even dating, but he can’t help it and he cant shut of the alarm bells in his mind telling him his life was over.

“please,” he cries out, to no one. his limbs feel numb and he hears a smash of a glass on the ground, he hadn’t even noticed he dropped it.

“please,” he whispers again, and curls himself into a ball.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

[hchollym]

Little background I'm childfree, so I have two relevant head-cannons. Feel free not to answer if you feel these are too political.

What is do you think Molly and Arthur's reaction be if one of their favored kids, say Bill or Ginny be if they decided not to have kids (ignoring the last part of DH).

Maybe Ginny knows there is no way she can be a pro Quiddich player if she gets pregnant or Bill decides he wants the married life but not kids. I imagine with the others while it would hurt the relationship, but it could be excused for any number of reasons.

Based on a common 'bingo' asked of childfree women, do you think it's possible that the bad with money Molly and Arthur assumed that their kids would take care of them when they are elderly. Which kid do you think got saddled with them?

Growing up I'd assume that Percy was the son chosen for that task especially when the older brothers yeeted upon graduation. I just get the feeling that Percy was initially chosen to be the one but after the fight, I'm not so sure.

I don't mind answering political questions at all. 😉

Oof. That is not going to go over well, and I don't think it matters much if it's a favored kid or not. Either way, Arthur doesn't really care, but Molly tries to guilt trip them constantly - crying, talking about how children give your life meaning, saying that she doesn't want them to miss out on such a precious gift, etc. It puts a definite strain on their relationship, and whoever it is gets tired of having to deal with it, so they don't come around much.

I highly doubt Charlie came back to visit often, because Molly kept setting him up with blind dates (i.e. inviting women over for dinner) no matter how many times he told her to stop. It would honestly be bad for any of them, but I imagine it's worse for Bill & Ginny because of their partners. Bill would have to constantly deal with Molly blaming Fleur, and Ginny would have to constantly deal with Molly's horrible comments about how she's depriving Harry of happiness and the family he never had growing up.

To answer your second question, I do think Molly & Arthur assumed that one of their kids would take care of them when they got older (if necessary), just like Molly assumed she would take care of Aunt Muriel when the time came. It may not have been spoken about, but the expectation was always there.

I think it's (subconsciously) part of the reason they tried so hard for a girl - statistically speaking, daughters are far more likely to take care of ailing parents than sons (and that expectation is yet another way the Weasleys are misogynistic). So I think they originally hoped Ginny would do it, but that obviously didn't work. I'm not insulting Ginny at all, but I definitely don't think she would be the one to care for them.

Once they realized that, Bill was their next best hope. He's the oldest, cherished son, who does try to act responsibly when he's in town (letting Ron stay with him, distracting Molly when she gets upset about Percy, trying to keep the peace with her by being passive, etc.). That's partially why Molly hated his marriage to Fleur so much, because Fleur threw a huge wrench into that plan.

I do think Bill would help them financially - he has a decent job and makes enough money that he could manage, and I picture him as feeling a fiscal obligation to them. But if Molly & Arthur need physical help (such as moving in with him, needing help changing/bathing, etc.), then that's a giant no. Bill (and Fleur) are not doing it.

Similarly, I also think George, Ginny, and Ron would help financially (if possible), but that's about it, and to be honest, I doubt Charlie would even help in that way.

So that leaves Percy.

Percy and his spouse get stuck with the physical and emotional burden. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - Percy has Oldest Daughter Syndrome. His parents may not have originally expected him to be their caregiver, but when you think about it, it was pretty much inevitable the whole time. 😢

Thanks for the ask! 😊

[danpuff-ao3]

Hypocritic Oath

by Amanuensis. Rated: E. Words: 3,231. Harry/Severus. Harry/others. Prostitution. Memory loss. Dark.

Harry's not well. Neither is Snape.

Hits the Ground

by atrata. Rated: M. Words: 3,271. Underage. Student/teacher.

Snape comes back from a Death Eater meeting, and his Issues manifest in a decidedly ugly way.

No Bounds

by atrata. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 3,311. Underage. Bondage. Detention. Past James/Severus.

Harry has a plan. Snape has a grudge.

Incubus

by Belladonna1185. Rated: E. Words: 10,769. Harry/Severus. Harry/Ginny. Harry/Severus/Voldemort. AU. Dub-con. Ambiguous morality.

“I give in to incubus who softly calls my name each night/ Once more and I will become the insomniac who dreams of you while waking.” —Lauren Ashley

Dark Dreams

by blackwhitelight. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Word: 3,567. Underage. Student/teacher. Painful sex. Forced orgasm. Dark Snape. Dark fic. Mind fuck.

Harry wakes tied to a bed.

His Mother's Eyes

by blackwhitelight. Harry/Severus. Rated: E. Words: 6,713. Voldemort Wins AU. Forced femeninization. Vaginal sex. Forced orgasm. Corruption. Voyeurism. Captivity. Dark Snape.

Harry always has a cunt when Snape fucks him.

Coils of Gold

by Crymsyn. Rated: E. Words: Many. Harry/Severus. Non-con. Dom/sub. Mpreg. Background Draco/Ron.

The death of one Dark Lord brings about the rise of another.

In My Veins (In My Blood)

by danpuff. Rated: E. Words: 7,042. Harry/Severus. Harry/Death Eaters. Gang rape. Possessive behavior. Angst & porn. Het & slash. Background Alecto/Bellatrix. Voldemort wins AU. Partner betrayal. Victim blaming. Emotional manipulation. Hurt no comfort. Whump. Dark. Intense.

Voldemort wins the war and rewards the Death Eaters with a prize: Harry Potter. What he doesn't know is that Harry already belongs to one of them.

Ashes of Armageddon

by emilywaters1967. Rated: E. Words: 140,804. Harry/Severus. Severus/others. BDSM. OOC. Dark Harry. Angst. Tragedy. Hurt/comfort. Mystery. Suspense.

Dark!Harry, slave!Snape. DarkFic. (and I really do mean, dark!) Post-DH, ignores epilogue.  Book One:What if Harry never had the King's Cross experience? Severus Snape survives Nagini's bite, and wakes up from a coma five years later, only to become enslaved by a very angry, vindictive, and extremely powerful Harry Potter. Book Two: The war is truly over now, and both Harry and Severus Snape have survived the ordeal. But the consequences of the two months spent at Godric's Hollow are still with them.

But Not Forgotten

by Hijja. Rated: E. Words: 2,660. Underage. Drama.

Harry finally masters Legilimency, and ends up wishing he hadn’t.

Fic: What Price Help

by iamisaac. Rated: E. Words: 3,419. Humiliation. Student/teacher. Forced relationship.

Harry needs to learn how to cope with anything that might happen to him. Snape is the obvious choice to help him - but will Snape be prepared to help Harry? And at what cost?

War Makes Strange Bedfellows

by iamisaac. Rated: E. Words: 2,834. Bottom Snape. Bonding. Angst. Ambiguous/open ending.

Request: Harry/Snape. Hogwarts era (between book 5 and 6), forced bonding with non-con and nasty stuff. Would love it if the needs to be kept secret, but its effect on Harry is clear to his friends so they get suspicious etc. No fluffy endings, but some hope at the end would be cool. Darkfic please! No bottom!Harry

Paid in Full

by lesyeuxverts. Rated: M. Words: 731. Harry/Severus. Forced bonding. Dub-con.

Severus's revenge was sweeter for the delay, and this was only his rightful reward.

Revenge is for Tomorrow

by lysanatt. Rated: E. Words: 2,469. Humiliation. Watersports. Slavery. Violence. Extreme dub-con.

Snape has planned for this, his redemption, for years, living like Harry Potter's property. The chance finally comes...

A Thing of Guile

by Perfica. Rated: E. Words: 7,598. Harry/Severus. Rape (Harry/others, Snape/others.) First time. Angst. Hurt/comfort. Ambiguous ending.

It was good to know that things hadn't changed too much since his imprisonment.

Absolution

by Rushlight. Rated: E. Words: 25,476. Hurt/comfort.

Snape is forced to make a difficult decision when Harry is captured by Death Eaters, and they both have to find a way to deal with the aftermath.

Nights of Gethsemane

by starcrossed. Rated: E. Words: 363,198. Harry/Severus. Minor Harry/Ginny. Imprisonment. Rape. Torture. Dark.

Other links: NoG on LJ, Invictus (companion piece) on LJ, Release of Sisyphus (incomplete sequel) on LJ.

Harry is a prisoner of the Dark Lord and Snape, his prison guard. Completely cut off from the outside world, Harry struggles to hold himself intact as he is forced to rely on Snape for everything. Yet Snape may not be all that he appears....

More Fools They

by steph7of7. Rated: E. Words: 139,068. Harry/Severus. Harry/others. Stockholm syndrome. Rape porn. Inspired by atrata's A Fool Too Late.

Harry makes an offer he doesn't understand. Snape accepts an offer he can't possibly comprehend. More fools they.

Vulture

by wintergreen825. Rated: E. Words: 748. Harry/Severus. Brothel AU. Childhood sexual abuse. Violence. Obsession.

Harry reflects on one of his most frequent patrons: the one who was his first patron, in fact.

[artheresy]

Okay listen, I think Blade needs to be taken away from me. I haven’t had as much sleep this week and the sheer evolution in my obsession with him has become concerning

He is haunting my every waking thought, pls send help

All I can think about is stuff like how much more it hurts me, like intense psychic damage, when people say “Blade is Yingxing!” than when people arguing the same with Dh and Df because of how strongly the disconnect is emphasized. How Blade gave himself his name, after his rebirth as Jingliu said. How his character stories say Yingxing died his first and only death and how they immediately follow that up with Blade’s inability to connect with Yingxing’s past goals and passions. How, while he does take on the responsibility of his sins as his own due to… that’s how karma works ofc, there are still places where he is referred to as separately from Yingxing whether by the text or even by himself. How that disconnect with Yingxing is likely not only in part due to the “true death” and the mara affecting him and his mental state, but also the self dehumanization instilled into him by Jingliu during their lessons. And so, so many other things…

Or thinking about how, his whole outlook regarding their sin is literally directly from Jingliu and what she taught him while y’know, immensely traumatizing him through hundreds of deaths. Hundreds of deaths where it likely wasn’t an instant death given the thousands of times he was stabbed and the course of his entire first character story. Like, when you stop to think about just how much of how we see him currently is directly the result of Jingliu (and ofc, overall this all happened bc of the sin they committed which influenced her actions and his very existence, like jesus christ why is his lore so depressing), how you can see reflections in the way he treats/addresses Dan Heng and their shared sin to the way Jingliu does. Literally the fact that “Of five people, three must pay a price.” is Jingliu’s mantra and even after hundreds of years, he still follows it. UGH Sorry this is all word dump I know this is probably not coherent, I really need to sleep but trust I could keep ranting about this topic and how meaningful the disconnect between YX and Blade is and how painful it is to even see ppl insist Bld is Yx sometimes like-

Or, y’know, thinking about what would have happened to him if Jingliu never found him. Who could have found him next? Where would he have ended up? Where did he wake up in the first place? Would he have gone on living a new life, without any knowledge of who he had once been given he woke up without even knowing his own name? Would he adopt a new name at some point, either given to him by someone he eventually met or chosen himself after hearing others’ tales and histories? Would the Stellaron Hunters still have come for him given his connection to one of the Nameless? I mean, Kafka said it was his immortality and swordsmanship… if he never learned to wield a sword with Jingliu, would someone else have been destined to be a Stellaron Hunter in his place? Would any happiness be possible for him at all in a life like that? Since eventually he might see the people around him die and fade while he remains eternally youthful, if he ended up finding short life species at least. And eventually his memories would still catch up to him, whether the past mixing with the present or just his current memories since that seems to be how short life species are able to be mara struck. All via memories. Just how much would his destiny have changed? (Ngl, might make this into an au idea since I have brainrot, but I’m not sure if I need the added pain)

And y’know for good measure, why don’t I just keep thinking about how his primary reason for wanting to finally die and rest is, I mean a big mix of factors, but especially because of the sheer pain he lives in every single day. That pain that only goes away for a brief moment when he is killed, before he is drenched in it again. Perhaps not even just solely the horrible physical pains he has, but the pain and mental anguish of even being mara struck at all. It’s sad to think about, especially since it seems the only ending, at least that’s somewhat happy, for him is one where he can finally die and stay dead like ouch. OW! Thanks Hoyoverse for fucking up my brain chemistry with your emotional punching bag.