#Is this a DH missing moment?

[startanewdream]

#6 - DANCE, for @hinnymicrofic

Is this a canon missing moment? Possibily not, but bear with me.

The Burrow was eerily silent as Harry walked down. He wasn’t really paying attention, but as he passed in front of the bathroom on the second floor, the smell of flowers overwhelmed him; the door of the bathroom was ajar, showing the remains of the mist inside, and he knew that Ginny had just taken a bath.

The memory of everything they had shared that day — his birthday kiss — popped up in his mind, almost as if that hadn’t been the reason why sleep eluded him; his creative mind kept insisting in showing scenarios of what might have been if they hadn’t been interrupted—

Stop that, he told himself severely. They had broken up for a reason and that kiss — and everything else he wished they had done — would not change it.

He forced himself to keep walking down, and avoided looking in the direction of her room as he passed the first landing, even though he could see the light was up. But when he reached the kitchen, he realised that all his effort was for nothing; Ginny was there, mumbling to herself as she went around to finish a tea for herself. 

For a moment, he just stared at her profile, at her face lit by the lights of the stove: the blue and red flames cast shadows over her face, made the brown of her eyes shine warmly, highlighted how gorgeous she was, standing there in her slightly too short nightgown, her wet hair combed in a quick braid. He could stay there and look at her forever, without tiring, but the minute that Ginny’s head turned to him, Harry looked away.

There was a moment of silence; he could still feel the feel of her lips against his.

“Do you want some tea?” She asked calmly, and once again Harry envied how she could pretend nothing had happened earlier that day.

“Sure,” he agreed, sitting on the other side of the table while she served two cups. “Thanks.”

“It helps me sleep.”

“I could use that.”

“Bad dreams?” She asked, with a sympathetic look that Harry couldn’t face.

“No, I—” I dream about you. “Just everything.”

“I know.” He didn't doubt that she knew. “I—”

But her voice shutted down as they heard the sound of boards creaking somewhere in the house, then a door being shut quietly.

Harry felt guilty at once; he promised to stay away—

“Don’t worry,” Ginny told him as if she could read his mind. “This is just Bill, probably.” She was rolling her eyes. “Something tells me he doesn’t care about the tradition of not seeing the bride before the wedding.”

He flushed with the implication in her words; Ginny chuckled.

“Well,” Harry tried, “it’s not midnight yet, so it doesn’t count.”

“So it’s your birthday still,” she noted, and for a second their eyes met; Harry thought about her birthday gift, at that blissful moment they shared, and he wished there wasn't a table between them, that he could pull her closer and—

He looked away.

“How does it feel, being seventeen?”

Harry breathed slowly. “I thought it would be different, but honestly, other than this—” He flickered his wand, turning on the lights of the kitchen. “It’s the same. You’ll see next year.”

He intended to say it with a smile, but a strange melancholy took control of him. Next year. He didn’t know if he would be there for her seventeenth birthday, he wouldn’t share her joy with silly spells, he wouldn’t give her a birthday kiss—

“Oh, I can’t wait,” she said, her voice bright even though her hands were gripping the cup tensely. “Fred and George won’t know what hit them.” He laughed, letting her words dissipate his worries. She rested her cup on the table. “I should go—I have to wake up ridiculously early tomorrow. Perks of being the maid of honour.”

“Why?”

“I have to look presentable—Merlin knows it's pointless, between Fleur and Bill this wedding will already exceed the quota of beautiful people—”

“You are beautiful,” he said without thinking, and even after he did think about it, Harry didn’t want to take his words back, feeling bold even as his heart was racing in his chest. Ginny hesitated for a moment, then she seemed to dismiss his words.

“That’s just makeup,” she said calmly. “You will wear one as well, cousin Barny.” She took a deep breath. “Save me a dance, will you?”

“I—I can’t.”

Her eyes betrayed her annoyance. “No one will know—”

“I will know. And this… this is hard enough without—” Without being close to you, Harry thought. Without sharing a dance with you fearing all the time that I won’t share anything else. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be, I—” Ginny forced a smile on her face; Harry hated it—they had shared too many happy, beautiful, truthful smiles before. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“No,” she agreed. “But there will be other dances.” And when Harry opened his mouth to remember that he couldn’t make any promises, her eyes blazed with defiance. “There will be, Harry.” She left no room for argument. “Good night.”

“Night,” he replied belatedly, watching her go away.

#Hinny #Hinny Microfic #Is this a DH missing moment? #Sort of

[cardinalone-ao3]

June 18 - Luna

@hinnymicrofic

He stepped out of the warmth of Shell Cottage, breathing in the sea air. It was salty, humid, and oddly calming. He’d like to spend more time by the sea, he thought, if he survived the war.

Anytime he thought of life after the war, and he allowed himself to imagine he survived, as improbable as that would be, his thoughts strayed to her. Praying to any god that would listen for her safety.

The war could have him. Demanded him, really. But it couldn’t have her.

He pushed his hands into his pockets and mentally chewed on the plans they had been making. He would put his friends in danger yet again. Breaking in to Gringotts was impossible Griphook said - a suicide mission.

Griphook didn’t know the half of it. He’d lost count of how many times he had almost died at this point. Didn’t want to think about how many more close calls he would have before the prophecy was fulfilled, one way or the other.

As he sat down on a large rock overlooking the cliff and looked out to the sea, his mind wandered back to her. What was she doing, now that she was tucked away at Muriel’s? Probably hating it, needing to do something. Was she too thinking about him?

“May I sit?”, Luna’s airy voice called out from behind him, breaking him away from Ginny’s comfort. He nodded. She sat down next to him on the rock and gave him a small smile. “Thank you again for rescuing us. It was rather awful there.”

The mention of Malfoy Manor brought back terrible memories - Ron’s panic, Hermione’s screams, and holding Dobby’s lifeless body. He couldn’t talk about it, not yet - maybe not ever, so he nodded instead.

They sat there in companionable silence for a few moments, and it reminded him again of her. How she would always let him have space to think - to be. Not the Chosen One, but just Harry. She never knew everything, his promise to Dumbledore forced him to keep so much from her. Merlin, he missed her.

“She misses you too, you know.” Luna said, still looking out at the sea, the light of dusk dimming the distant view of the waves. His eyes shot to her, and she smiled warmly back at him.

“She always says you tend to brood a lot. you are rather moody at times, but I know the truth.”

He just blinked at her.

She smiled. “It’s harder than that, isn’t it? People who’ve lost loved ones like we have…you never really lose that sense of loneliness that follows it. It makes you cling to the ones you still have more tightly.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He hated to think about it, to think about how many more they would lose before the end.

He looked back at the sea. The sky had turned even more darkish grey, and he thought that rather fit.

He sighed and allowed his head to drop to his hands. Noticing she was wearing a thin yellow and purple jumper, he took off his jacket and gave it to her. As she put it on, he thought it odd her wearing something so plain.

“Thanks, Luna. I…I miss her, too. She always knew just what to say. How to make things better.”

He breathed out a long sigh. “It hurts not having her close.”

He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. Perhaps because it was Luna, and she always did understand this side of him.

Luna turned and her wide eyes were unusually determined. “You will again.”

#hinny #hinny microfic #dh missing moment

[ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey]

April 19: Believe

Day 19 @hinnymicrofic

“Are we honestly supposed to believe you don’t know where they–”

“Shut up, Smith,” Ginny growls, the panic rising in her throat. “Or are you really as thick as you look?”

The train is crowded; anybody could have overheard them. A child of a Death Eater, or a gossipy Ministry employee, anyone who could snap their fingers and descend horror on the Burrow, on her parents, her family. 

She’s never liked Zacharias Smith, but now she’s considering maiming him.

He has the decency to look abashed, but Ginny is past caring. What sort of explanation does he think he’s owed, anyway? Just because he showed up to some DA meetings so that he could pass his fucking DADA OWL? He can piss off.  

He lowers his voice. “You’re the one who’s thick if you think anyone is going to believe that you don’t know where Harry and Hermione are. And Ron, sick with spattergroit?”

She’s about to hex him, but he continues. “I’m not the worst person who’s going to ask. I’d come up with a better story, if I were you.”

The words are sharp and jagged on her tongue. “Harry ditched me. I couldn’t care less where he is.”

We could have had ages… months… years, maybe… 

Smith scoffs, clearly affronted. “With the way you two were carrying on? Please, spare me the cock-and-bull story. You won’t tell me, fine. But no one is going to believe that shite.”

It’s been like something out of something else’s life, these last few weeks with you…

He turns his back, and Ginny fantasizes about turning him to jelly as he walks away. Before she can act on it, she can feel a steady hand on her arm.

“He’s a git,” Neville says firmly, closing their compartment door. “Not worth it.”

Rather than debate the merits of teaching that weasel a lesson, Ginny sighs. “He’s a git with a point though. Worse than the likes of him are going to ask me about them. Probably you lot, as well.”

Neville looks grim, Luna thoughtful.

“I suppose it is difficult to think Harry would ditch you like that,” Luna muses.

“He did ditch me,” Ginny snarls. “You know that.”

Neville stares down at his shoes, but Luna remains serene. “Yes, but not really though, did he?”

“He did,” Ginny insists. “And you’d better help me convince them he never gave a shite about me.”

Neville grimaces. “Harry’s not like that though, is he? People won’t think–”

“He got what he wanted,” Ginny says harshly, wanting to startle them with it. “And he left.”

Neville looks unhappy, but then nods, acquiescing. Luna, however, gives her a searching look. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Ginny closes her eyes; perhaps her eyelids can shield her from the onslaught of memories accosting her. Harry, waiting outside of her lessons; Harry, mucking about in the library studying for Divination; Harry, kissing her furiously against a wall, looking at her like she's the sun.

Harry, walking away from her. 

“I have to believe that,” Ginny says, opening her eyes and gritting her teeth. “So they will, too.”

#hinny #dh missing moment #ginny pov #angst

[whinlatter]

hope (harry/ginny) | a microfic

for @hinnymicrofic day 14 | prompt: hope (slightly nsfw!)

They lug their trunks across the Burrow’s yard in sweaty, stony silence. ‘Beautiful evening,’ her mother remarks, as her children clamber back over the threshold of the rickety old house. ‘I do hope we get more of this lovely sunshine.’ 

Stupid thing to say, she thinks, stupid thing to hope for. There's a wishbone out drying on the kitchen window sill. Wonders if her mother plans to waste it wishing for more good weather in the middle of a war.

Dinner is shepherd’s pie - her old favourite, a Molly classic, and yet it tastes like dust, like ash, like nothing. ‘I know you’ve had a tricky time, dear,’ her mother says gently. She stiffens, glares at Ron, traitor, but then - ‘what with your exams being cancelled - and right when you’d done all that work -’ so she's safe, then, goes back to moving mash potato around her plate. ‘Made of real shepherds,’ her dad says, weak smile, trying his best. She gulps down her mouthful and excuses herself, slams the bedroom door shut, finds she's shaking.

Lying on her back on her bed, staring at the sunset’s stains on the ceiling, the only sound the late summer birdsong out of the open window. Quiet, too quiet, for a house this full. Downstairs, the kitchen’s all whispers. Every now and then she hears an unfamiliar footstep creak on the landing, strangers on the staircase. Headquarters, now. The war’s come home, and it’s using their loo.

She’d got her hopes up, that's the thing. First mistake, stupid. He’d been telling the story of Ron’s camp-bed collapsing in on him that time, lying back on his elbows under their tree with his hair ragged, handsome. She’d laughed, see, and said well, maybe this summer we’ll spare you the indignity of the campbed and being dense, he’d said well Fred and George’s room was nice if you don’t mind the smell of soot. She’d rolled her eyes, said Potter can you really not notice when a girl’s trying to get you into her bed. He’d gone red, then, stammered a bit, but it was all over his face: the wonder, the want. Your mum will go ballistic, he’d muttered, but he’d said will not would, and his hand had toyed with her hip, fingertips trailed her thigh. He’d wanted it too. He’d thought they’d have it, thought they'd get the summer, at least. 

We could’ve had ages, he’d said. Months, years, maybe. Stupid, stupidest thing, hope. No use for it.

It’d have been cramped. He’d have had to sneak down from Ron’s room, under the cloak. She’d have shown him her Harpies poster, now this is what a proper team looks like, Potter, worn her nice pyjamas, the ones with the shorts, asked him to take them off. Cleared a space for his glasses on the bedside table. He'd have slept on the right, nearest the door, ever on guard, and stroked her cheek with his knuckles, looked at her that way, like she’s precious. It would have been like that time they’d fallen asleep under their tree, heads together - the time she’d slipped up, let herself imagine it: two bodies in a bed in a house with a garden, laughter, little people running around who’d look a bit like them both. 

Stupid, stupid thing. Grips the bedspread in both fists, banishes it: all of it, all the hope. File away that future, bury it. Kill your darlings, push them out to sea.

Knock at the door. Ron, with two cups of tea and a half-empty box of Caramel Kappas. ‘Thought you might want some company,’ he mutters, sheepish, sitting on the bed. She sighs, no fight in her, and so brother and sister sit, sipping, in birdsonged silence. 

‘How are you doing?’ he asks. She means to snap - how do you think I’m doing - but takes one look at him and finds she’s fresh out of spite. ‘You’re going away with him, aren’t you?’ she says, instead. Ron nods, and it’s awful, all ache, terrible, gaping grief, all this filling in the blanks of everything that she’s losing. 

‘I just hoped,’ she says, eventually, eyes on her knees, ‘we’d have more time. I know - I know it was stupid.’

That’s all of it, really, isn’t it: her great failing, uttered aloud. Crumples, then, beside her big brother, and cries, heaping earth on all the hope as they lower it into the grave. Stupid thing, useless thing.

She thinks about the wishbone downstairs on the window sill. Thinks how stupid, how stupid it is, for something to die, and someone to make wishes out of its bones.

A/N: did not intend to write this, blame @brightlybound for this one - turns out gentle demands for a ginny's pov companion piece to yesterday’s fic will absolutely work on me, also Twenty-Two Days remains the h/g dual pov love story of all time for me so wanted to do a tribute. enjoy/sorry! back to regular writing now i swear!

now up on AO3 here | ask me anything

#really am stopping now #i'm so sorry gin #alexa play lorde - stoned at the nail salon #nobody is enjoying their shepherd’s pie #hinny #hinny microfic #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #harry potter #writing #missing moment #HBP #DH #microfic

[seriouslysam8]

April Prompt #14: Hope for @hinnymicrofic

Ginny’s limbs trembled as she walked down the long corridor towards Gryffindor tower. Everything hurt. Her mind was numb. She just wanted to go home.

Her breath hitched in her throat when she saw the wanted poster of Harry stuck to the wall. Reaching out, her fingers touched his cheek and her heart twisted. She would give anything to have five more minutes with him.

“They asked about you,” Ginny whispered, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “I told them we broke up. I lied and said you were a wanker and a git. I told them I hated you,” her voice cracked at the last two words. “I just wanted it to stop.”

With her free hand, she wiped the tears off her face. Her entire body quaked with a sob as she leaned against the wall, her face mere centimeters away from Harry’s.

“I hope I get to see you again,” Ginny spoke in a soft voice, her fingers lingering on his lips. “If even just to say goodbye. We didn’t get to say a proper goodbye. And now I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing and I just miss you, Harry. I miss you so much.”

Ginny sniffed, her hand falling from the picture.

“I’m going to start back up the D.A.,” she continued, standing up straight. “If you’re going to fight, so am I. If I’m going to be tortured for no reason, I might as well give them a reason.”

Ginny pressed her fingers to her lips before she touched Harry’s lips on the poster. She would see him again. They would fight and they would win.

And she would be reunited with Harry once more. They would be happy once more.

Ginny needed to cling to that hope or else she wouldn’t be able to survive the year.

#hinny microfic #angst central #DH missing moment

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Submission #2 for the red/lover era of @cruelsummer-ficfest

Afterglow

-

I lived like an island

punished you with silence

-

Fighting with a true love is boxing with no gloves

Chemistry 'til it blows up, 'til there's no us

-

It’s the silence, more than anything else, that tells Ron how thoroughly he fucked things up with Hermione.

Merlin, is there anything he wouldn’t give right now to hear her call him an arse for leaving? Or for one of those snide little comments she used to make when he was with Lavender last year, not directly to him but most certainly meant for his ears?

Hell, he’d take the birds right about now.

He deserves it—this and any other brand of punishment her heart desires along the road to forgiveness—and he knows this, and he’ll gladly suffer through it as long as there is light at the end of the tunnel. But as it stands between them currently, he’s staring into an inky black hole of a relationship without so much as a flicker of hope.

Ron doesn’t have a shift on watch tonight, but he’s not sleeping either, poring over strategy with Harry while Hermione sits outside. Harry ought to be sleeping, too, while he can, and he’s the only one Hermione admonishes when she comes inside and finds the two of them, glancing right past Ron as if he isn’t even there on the way to her bunk.

He’s tried his best over the past three weeks to maintain a normal rapport with her on his end, even though he’s gotten nothing in return. So when he casually states that he’s going out to sit with Harry and continue what they were working on, he’s sure he imagines the soft “don’t go” from Hermione’s direction.

But if he isn’t imagining it…

-

I'm the one who burned us down

But it's not what I meant

-

“What?”

Hermione rolls over with a huff and spits the words at him. “Don’t. Go.”

He takes a hesitant step towards her. “I—”

But before he can put together any sort of coherent response, Hermione continues, “It’s a simple enough request, Ron, or I thought it was when I said it the first time, before you left, and I don’t suppose you learned anything at all on your little sabbatical if you still don’t understand it.”

She flops back onto her other side, facing the tent wall and leaving far more room on the outside edge of the bed than was there just a moment ago. Plenty of room for a second person. Way too much to be accidental.

Surely she doesn’t…she couldn’t mean…

This is either going to be the best or worst decision he ever made.

Ron toes his shoes off beneath her bunk and carefully lifts the covers to slip underneath. He knows damn well she’s not sleeping yet, but she doesn’t make any acknowledgment of him climbing into bed with her. If this wasn’t the right answer, he’s fairly certain she would choose hexing him into oblivion over the silent treatment, so he assumes he’s on the right track. Now that he’s here, though, he’s not sure what to do next.

It takes him only a moment to notice that her shoulders are shaking with silent sobs, and the realization dissolves his lingering hesitation. He places his hand gently against her side, and when she doesn’t protest his touch, wraps his arm all the way around to pull her close.

Her hand finds his resting against her stomach, and she laces their fingers together. When she composes herself enough to speak, her words rip Ron’s heart in two. “You hurt me.”

He knows she’s sick of hearing I’m sorry, even though he is, and he’s not sure she’s ready for I love you, even though he does. So he snuggles closer, holds her tighter, and just says, “I know.”

-

I don't wanna do, I don't wanna do this to you

I don't wanna lose, I don't wanna lose this with you

-

He can’t say how much time passes—it might have been five minutes or an hour, he only knows it’s not long enough—before she untangles their hands and rolls to her back, staring up at the bunk above them with eyes that are now dry but bloodshot. The movement lands his hand on her hip and she doesn’t push him away so he leaves it.

Hermione gives a tiny shake of her head and bites her lip before she whispers, “I don’t know how we come back from this, Ron.”

It’s not unexpected, but her statement still hits him like a punch in the gut. He doesn’t know how to make up for leaving either, or how long it will take, or even if she cares enough to let him try. He only knows he wants to. And if she wants that too, he’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.

“Do you want to, though?” Ron’s heart is nearly beating out of his chest as he watches her tug her bottom lip between her teeth again. “Do you want to get back to where we were?”

Never mind that where they were is a mysterious place that they had never really defined, and could just as easily have been best friends and nothing more as anything else. Just being friends with Hermione is never really going to be enough, but he’ll take that over nothing in a heartbeat.

“No,” she sighs. Her answer takes all the breath out of him, but before he has a chance to spiral, Hermione rotates again, turning to face him and bringing her body nearly flush with his. “Merlin’s pants, Ron, is that really all you want? To go back to the way things were?”

-

Tell me that you're still mine

Tell me that we'll be just fine

Even when I lose my mind

-

Tell me that it's not my fault

Tell me that I'm all you want

Even when I break your heart

-

The mood changes in an instant, and Ron can’t help but chuckle at the incredulous look on Hermione’s face. “No,” he admits. “That’s not all I want.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“I think you know.”

“Do I?”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, making a good show at their old teasing repartee, but her trembling bottom lip gives away her real feelings. He sees the doubt in her eyes, built up over years of his denial; recognizes it because she’s done the same to him. But if he doesn’t tell her the truth now, there might not be another opportunity.

“Yeah.” His voice comes out a husky whisper, and drops further when Hermione shifts right up against him and brushes her fingertips against his stubbly cheek. “Yeah, I think you do.”

Their lips meet for one glorious second before Hermione’s hand is on his chest with a gentle push and she’s shaking her head again. “I can’t,” she says, and he feels both their hearts breaking with the words. “Not yet.”

It’s not what he wants to hear, of course, but at least not yet is the flicker of hope he needs to keep going. He can work with not yet.

“It’s okay. I get it. I’ll just—” He doesn’t get more than an inch away from her before she’s tugging at his jumper, rooting him to the spot.

“I know it’s not fair to ask, but…stay with me?”

She’s looking up at him with those big brown eyes, and honestly, he doesn’t know how he ever walked away from her, horcrux or no.

“Of course. Anything you want.”

We’ll get through this, Ron tells himself as they settle in for the night, Hermione curled up against his side like she was made to fit there. It’ll be okay.

When he wakes up in the morning to the orange glow of sunrise creeping through the canvas walls and Hermione still in his arms, he actually believes it.

-

This ultraviolet morning light below

Tells me this love is worth the fight, oh

-

It's all me, just don't go

Meet me in the afterglow

-

#romione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron x hermione #harry potter #dh missing moment #cruel summer fic fest #romione fanfiction #tent angst

[thenicestthingiveseen]

prompt 30: goodbye (ver. 2)

this one is canon compliant and i know people love canon compliant fics so i thought i’d give you guys one on the last day of april’s prompts. [182 words]

written for @hinnymicrofic​

Her body ached as she trudged up the stairs to her room. Her dress was ruined, but she could get her mum to fix that later. Speaking of her mum, she probably should have had her look at her wrist before she left the back garden, but she wanted to be alone. She stopped by the bathroom to wipe the remaining makeup off her face. Her face in the mirror caught her by surprise. She looked haunted, almost like she did her first year. As she scrubbed the makeup off her face, she could see the beginnings of a bruise on her left cheek from where one of the Death Eaters slapped her around trying to get answers. 

She returned to her room quietly; slipping off her tattered bridesmaid dress and shrugging on the closest clothes she could find. 

After everything she had endured in the last two hours, as she lay in bed all she could think was: I didn’t even get to say goodbye. 

And that hurt worse than the bruise on her face or the twinge in her wrist. 

#frank ocean once said i got 2 versionsssss #and so do i #version 2 #hinny microfic #hinny #microfic #canon compliant #DH missing moment

[takearisk-xo]

Freeze

written for @hinnymicrofic 🧡

The crunch of frost under her feet is the only sound besides the whistle of wind through the trees. The sun threatens the grey horizon but besides Ginny’s ceaseless pacing, the December morning remains undisturbed. Not even the gnomes are awake yet.

She continues along the path as if her feet are carrying her purposefully towards some end destination.

They aren’t, of course.

There’s nowhere for her to go besides around in circles. Her parents’s strict instructions to stay inside the boundary of the wards isn’t worth testing. Plus, she doesn’t think a lap around the orchard would help at this point anyway. She’d freeze for one thing. And flying had lost most of its thrill when all it did was remind her that she had no one left to fly with.

She may have tried for an escape up the hill to see the Lovegood house in the distance, but … Luna isn’t there.

The echo of her cries as she gets snatched from the train haunt Ginny’s nightmares.

Guilt and despair linger in her stomach, and she’s tried so many times to turn it into something resembling rage or purpose. But all she gets is loneliness.

People keep getting taken from her. Ripped from her life recurrently and without warning. Her friends, her brother, her boyfriend. The last sixth months have been marked, not by time, but by how much she has lost.

And now, she can’t help but wonder how much more she might lose.

#hinny #hinny fic #hinny microfic #harry x ginny #harry/ginny #DH missing moment #my fic

[nena-96]

No 1 of the I still prompts 😇

I still smell the traces of your scent on my bedsheets; my clothes; my pillowcase

I’d love Romione but feel free to write whatever comes to your mind ☺️

Hello, dear friend

What a lovely an unexpected ask ;) haha, thanks for sending one my way and I hope that you enjoy what I come up with. Lets go with a little Romione for this prompt, shall we :)

Here is my take on the "I still prompts"

No 1: "I still smell the traces of your scent on my bedsheets; my clothes; my pillowcase" (from @dumplingsjinson prompt list)

please read below or over on A03

His Scent Calms Her

She remembers the way he twirled her, when they danced at his brother’s wedding underneath the tent. It was almost as if nobody else existed in the world. It had taken her by surprise that Ron had even asked her to dance. Hermione had thought that the appearance of a certain Bulgarian Quidditch player would have complicated things between the two lifelong friends, yet it was a blessing in disguise. 

Especially since Ron had gazed into her eyes while they danced and reassured her that she was never his last resort and he was practicing all bloody morning in ways to ask her to the dance floor. Hermione had felt her heart flutter at his confession, if it wasn’t for Fred spinning one of Fleur’s Veela cousins and bumping into them. She was almost certain that Ron was going to close the distance between them and finally place his lips onto hers. Yet, the interruption had broken the spell between them. Even though they hadn’t kissed that night, just dancing with Ron would be enough for her to think of a happy memory and cast her Patronus.

The wedding was a distant memory now, one of the few she would let herself indulge in every now and again. As she laid on her cot, as she stared at Ron’s empty bed, she knew she shouldn’t torture herself by making his bed and fluffing the pillows in the way she saw him do countless times. Yet, she would do it because…. well because she has this feeling that one day, he’d come back to her and she would do everything to prove to him that he means so much more to her than what he imagines. The night when everything went to shit, Hermione felt so numb and utterly lost because she realized that she had taken Ron for grated far too many times.

The only thing that had kept her anchored to her spot when she re-entered the tent was Ron’s blanket. It might sound cliché, but his scent was the only thing that kept her going each and every night on the hunt. Which is why she had casted a charm, once she stopped shaking from crying so much. She had casted a spell after spell in order to protect his scent from ever fading from his blankets. Hermione did the same for his bedsheets, and her clothes. Which in reality she was wearing one of his old jumpers that was far too big on her small frame. Yet, the warmth that this knitted jumper had managed to calm her, especially since she’d bring the collar so close to her face that she’d inhale the distinctive scent that is Ron Bilius Weasley.

She knew that her charms were strong but, she would always worry that one day his scent would be gone. If that ever happened then, she’d realize that a piece of her would always be missing, never to return again, not even in her wildest dreams.

Whenever she’d go out and search for mushrooms, which had become quite scarce due to the blankets of snow covering the forest ground. She would do her best to make a small plate and place it on the small table besides the cot, because he’d come back. Many times, Harry would see this, but he would never complain like he did a few times before, no matter what he’d say, Hermione would continue leaving a small plate of mushroom and berry soup, besides Ron’s empty cot before taking her turn on watch. Only to return and notice the plate covered with ants and the occasional mice, and no food left.

Hermione would torture herself, every single night with memories of her Ron, she would hug her pillow... which was his pillow to be more accurate and close her eyes and let his scent from the pillowcase, and lull her into a sleep as she dreams of her Ron. whether it be from their times studying together or their trip to Hogsmeade, the shared chores that Mrs. Weasley had given them to finish, or even those late-night patrols through Hogwarts that ran a little past curfew. The memory that would surpass every single one would be the moment from Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It was the moment underneath the large tent, dancing with the boy that once had dirt on his nose all those years ago on her first train ride to Hogwarts, was beautiful. There were simply words in the dictionary to describe how much she loved having his strong arms wrapped around her waist in a gentle hold. The way that he whispered in her ear that she's “beautiful” had caused a warmth to spread all throughout her, while she tried to hide her blushing face. 

Who would have thought that once she’d get the feel of being wrapped in his warm embrace, that she would become addicted to the feeling? This made her thankful that Ron didn’t dance with Padma when they went to the Yule Ball together… it’s not like she kept a watchful eye on the red-head that night. She was just merely observing the other students dancing and Ron just so happened to be in her peripheral vision several times that night. Even with those overly ruffled maroon dress robes, he still was still the most handsome boy at the ball even if she was dancing with one of the Triwizard Champions. Viktor was alright but he was much too agreeable for her liking, she needed someone who could voice out their stance when they’d bicker, someone whose face is decorated with so many freckles that it rivaled all the stars in the sky. She needed someone who would defend her with a broken wand, someone who had belched up far too many slugs, just to defend her from Malfoy’s taunts, that she later learned from Ron that it was a horrid slur used for Muggleborns that was meant to belittle those that come from Muggle background. 

 Hermione knew that the boy she needed in her life wasn’t some famous Quidditch player, it was the boy that was wearing hand-me down dress robes. The youngest of the Weasley boys, Ron Weasley the boy that managed to steal her heart without even knowing. If only she could have used her Gryffindor courage and voiced out her feelings to Ron, maybe just maybe he wouldn't have let that blasted locket drive him away from everything that they built together. The moment she looked into his eyes, while the rain was pouring down on them, she knew at that moment things were different.

 Oh, how she wished she could’ve gone with him, but they both knew, she couldn’t. They had made a promise to each other at Grimmauld, that no matter what they would always be on the same page as the other. Yet, did that mean she broke her own promise by staying in that beat up tent? Was it because she doted on him while trying to help him heal from the splinching, or was it because he was tired of having her so close to him? It was times like these when Hermione blamed herself for not trying enough to make Ron stay with them…. with her. 

That locket must have riddled his mind with lies and left a lasting effect. It didn’t help that Harry had taunted him with, “running back to mummy” and shouting for him to leave not once… but twice. Why couldn’t she have that bloody Time-Turner, why did she give it back to McGonagall? Most of all why wasn’t he back…. It’s been weeks and still nothing. Hermione knows that he’s still alive, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s listening like a hawk besides the radio every day and before she sleeps. No, it was because she refuses to believe that Ron Weasley would be another casualty to the war, she knows Ron all too well. That being said, Hermione never loses hope that he will return its just a matter of time before she doesn’t have to strengthen the spell on her clothes, pillowcase or bedsheets. In was only a matter of time before Hermione’s senses are once again engulfed with the scent that is Ron Weasley. Her Ron will be back and she will make things clear that, she chooses him the one she was dancing with in Ottery St. Catchpole.

Tonight, was different because she whispered his name,"Ron." She had refused to say his name because of the hurt she had felt in her heart for his departure, but know she doesn't care anymore, nothing will stop her from saying his name not even herself.

"Ron.... Ron.... Ron." 

She knows he'll be back its just a matter of time.

#ron weasley #hermione granger x ron weasley #DH missing moment #Longing #ron x hermione #Ronmione #nena writes #Romione OTP #HP Romione fanfic

[greenhousethree]

Exodus

A Deathly Hallows Missing Moment

It’s a strange thing, sifting through the things that make up your life, deciding what you could leave behind and still be the person you were.

Written for @thethreebroomsticksfic Weasley Fest, October 16th: Molly Weasley.

#molly weasley #arthur weasley #ginny weasley #dh missing moment #weasleyweek #ao3 #the burrow #home #motherhood

[adenei]

The Moment I Knew

Submission #1 for Era 3 (Red/Lover) of @cruelsummer-ficfest

Ship: Romione

Song: The Moment I Knew (Red)

Read on AO3

You should be here.

Tears stream down Hermione’s face as she tends to Harry. She’s not sure how long she’s been awake, but there’s no way she can sleep until she can be certain he’s okay. Between making sure he’s breathing, tending to his wounds from the wreckage and fighting against Nagini, and keeping her distance every time he has a night terror, she’s exhausted.

But what can she do? There’s no one to split the load with. It’s just Harry and Hermione. Ron’s still gone. Another choked sob escapes her lips as the constant reminders of his absence still shake her to her very core. And she spends another sleepless night wondering if she’ll ever see him again.

You said you’d be here.

Hermione closes her eyes as yet another tear slips through. Harry’s keeping watch and she’s finally able to get some much needed sleep. Except she can’t.

She’s too afraid that something is going to happen. There’s only two of them. Just like it has been for the last month. If something were to happen, she would never forgive herself.

He said he’d be here.

They promised each other they’d stand by Harry no matter what. She can’t remember how many times they’d spoken about it at the Burrow last summer. Even at Grimmauld Place, he said they’d get through this together. Together.

Over and over again, she tries not to fall apart. She tries not to think of him. Of all the things they could have been, and the sinking feeling grows. Her mind is at war. Conflicting thoughts of anger and grief play on repeat when she can’t distract herself with a book. She’s been over the same scenarios in her head hundreds of times, yet they still play out. Tantalizing her with thoughts of how things could be different if he were still here. But he’s not.

As her eyelids finally droop from exhaustion, a happier image plays in her mind. One of a fantastical reunion—a reunion she knows will only happen in her wildest dreams.

And it was like slow motion.

“Hermione! Hermione, come quick!”

Jolting awake, she throws the covers off her body and runs to the tent flap,  burstint through. Defenseless, she looks around for Harry in the early light of dawn, the cold air stinging her cheeks.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you alright?” 

Her head whips from left to right, searching for danger or threats. And that’s when she sees him.

“More than alright, actually.” Harry speaks, but his words are drowned out by the buzzing in her ears.

This has to be a dream. She can’t possibly be awake. The likelihood of him ever finding them again was so small and yet…

Frozen, she stands there in one of his old Christmas sweaters and lingering hints of the perfume he gifted her fifth year—the only two things she still has to keep him close to her. Though perhaps now, she won’t need them. Assuming he’s not a mirage.

Their eyes lock and he offers her a sheepish grin. But it’s her favorite. The way one side of his mouth raises slightly higher than the other makes her weak in the knees. And before she knows it, she’s running toward him, forgetting that Harry’s around and that she doesn’t have a wand to protect herself in case this is all a trap. 

But she doesn’t care. Because if this is Ron and he’s back, there’s only one thing she wants.

She flings her arms around him to break her stride and he gladly catches her. It’s unmistakably him. She knows. Deep down she knows. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers in her ear. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I should have been here.”

She could say I know or I told you so, but she doesn’t. She simply holds on tight. Tears fall yet again, but this time they’re because she’s happy. The stars have aligned and she’s just so happy.

And that was the moment she knew.

#romione #ron x hermione #ron weasley x hermione granger #hermione granger #ron weasley #dh missing moment #tent angst #take a sad song and make it happy #cruel summer fic fest

[cardinalone-ao3]

This Is For You

Prompt: Nov. 11 - Scarf

@hinnymicrofic

The biting cold wind whipped around her atop the Astronomy Tower, her mane of red hair flowing across her face. She pulled the red and gold scarf closer around her.

His scarf.

She wore it like armor. The one weakness she allowed herself in a place surrounded by enemies.

No one knew it was his. She knicked it from his trunk - something of his she could have before they disappeared.

Looking out at the frozen Black Lake, she breathed deeply - settling herself.

She would come here to think often, to be alone. No one seemed to come up here, or at least not on nights like this. Which was why she liked it so much, or so far as anything could be liked in the middle of a war.

She felt more than saw Luna step up next to her.

“I thought I would find you here,” Luna said quietly.

Ginny glanced at her. Her blonde hair whipped around, but her face was set, her silvery-blue eyes determined.

“He would be proud of you, you know,” Luna said, barely above a whisper. Even in the solitude of the tower neither dared to say his name.

“I miss him,” she said. She hadn’t actually said the words, or dared to admit their veracity, in what felt like months, or maybe a lifetime.

Neither spoke for some time. And maybe that was what she liked about Luna the most, how she understood this side of her - allowed her to admit something as dangerous as that.

“We have a way into Snape’s office?”

“Yes, Neville is ready when we are,” Luna replied, her determined face fixed again.

“And we are sure we have a way to get the sword out?”

“Neville will get it to Aberforth, through the Room of Requirement,” Luna said.

“Good.”

It was a good plan. The carefully-laid distractions, enough chaos to buy them time to sneak in and out quickly. But it required precision timing. If something went wrong…well, she knew what specific brand of torture likely awaited.

She breathed the frigid air and let it fill her lungs. “Okay, let’s go.”

Luna gave a stiff nod and turned toward the door down the stairs, and to almost certain danger.

Necessary danger. Because above everything else, a message had to be sent. They would not take this horror lying down.

She let her eyes linger a second longer on the birch tree near the shore of the lake.

“Wherever you are, this is for you.”

#hinny #hinny microfic #DH missing moment

[ashesandhackles]

never really gave up on you, not really

A birthday drabble for TTB barmaid @hinnyfied < 3 I am also excited because this is my very first attempt at Hinny.  Blood-soaked sword in one hand, a destroyed diary in another. Song of the phoenix echoing in the murk of the underworld in which she had slumbered. That’s how he appeared in her dreams. “It’s over,” he would say, as the phoenix circled them, its shimmering red-gold plumage lighting the dark shadows. “Riddle’s gone..” And she would wake up, and Harry would be gone, his absence hewn into the very walls of the castle. But when she closed her eyes and rested her head, there he was again.

Dreams of him were etched deep into her mind and even at the mercy of the Carrows, when it was alight, every nerve ending alight with the threat of complete darkness, they refused to be burned out of her, remaining as if singed only deeper into her memory. As vivid as the ink that had dripped from his fingers and stained her hair. Tom was here, so was he. Tom was gone, he remained. And she would wake up, clutching at her bed sheet, to the world as it was, where he was gone and the shadows of Tom remained, in every corner of the castle. “Something out of someone else’s life,” he had called their time together. She understood what he had said then - but not as painfully as she did now. Read on Ao3 here. (special thanks to @shes-a-gryffindor for looking over this and making the images in my head pop more with wonderful tweaks :) )

#harry james potter #ginny weasley #harry x ginny #harry potter x ginny weasley #hinny #hinny fanfic #set in deathly hallows #DH missing moment

[startanewdream]

For @everythinghasreason, who sent me a prompt for a mini-fic, though I ignored the length a little bit. 1.6k words of Ginny and Fred talking for a DH Missing Moment, with mention of Hinny, and a bit of underage drinking (that this author does not recommend, kids).

*-*-*-*-*

11. things you said when you were drunk

Firewhisky tasted horribly.

She knew it already, having sipped a shot last July before Mum took the glass away from her, but firewhisky was the only alcoholic beverage avaible at Aunt Muriel’s. And considering Ginny was currently breaking into her great-aunt alcohol cabinet (if it could be considered one with only one bottle), she guessed she couldn't complain.

Or maybe she wanted to. For someone who had been used to a high degree of mischief, misconduct and rebellion, those last few days at Aunt Muriel were the height of boredom.

"Tsch, tsch."

Her already quick-beating heart skipped a beat, but she relaxed even before turning toward the voice.

"Are you drunk, little sister?"

"I'm not drunk," Ginny replied easily, though she wasn't sure she was being truthful. It took her a while to fixate her gaze upon Fred, and even then, she couldn't be sure it wasn't George instead — and Ginny had always been proud of identifying her brothers. "I'm drinking. It's different."

Fred laughed; it had to be Fred. For all the claimed they were identical, Fred's laugh was always more high-pitched.

"I was wondering how long you'd take to figure out Aunt Muriel does not protect her cabinet against underage access."

Ginny raised the bottle. "The perks of being enclosed here."

He took the bottle from her. "You shouldn't be drinking."

"As if you and George — or any of you — didn't drink before becoming of age."

Fred smirked. "Percy didn't, though not for lack of offering from us. And, well, we had access to something that you won't."

"What?"

"A Hangover Potion. The first rule of underage drinking — any age drinking, actually — don't get drunk unless you are ready to deal with its effects."

"What difference does it make?” she asked before she could control herself, her voice bitter than the firewhisky. “So I’ll wake up with a headache. It’s not as if I have anything to do. Not locked here—”

“We are all locked—”

“You and George have your business going on.”

“Barely. It’s as if we are back to that year Mum found our stuff and threw it away, only we are not so fond of Aunt Muriel. And it’s not like it’s not hard for everyone else. Dad isn’t working anymore either. We are all waiting.”

“I wasn’t.” She breathed hard. “I was breaking the rules every day and trying to do something good in the world, trying to give people a little hope, and now— staying here and doing nothing is worse than a Cruciatus.”

His face darkened, no smile on his lips anymore. “You don’t mean that.”

Ginny shivered. “No, I don’t.” She took back the bottle. A long gulp. “I hate staying back. I can’t. Not when people are out there in danger, not—I wanted to get out of here. I almost took one of the old brooms here and went to Bill’s.”

“Ginny—”

“But I didn’t.” She closed her eyes for a moment, hating and clinging to the voice that echoed in her mind every time she thought about crossing a line that she knew was too extreme. If this was your funeral… He’ll try and get to me through you… “I broke into the broomshed, spent hours staring at the broomsticks and then went back to my friend Ogden.”

“You don’t even enjoy drinking.” Under her gaze, Fred shrugged. “It takes a while to develop the taste.”

“Well, give me a few hours with Ogden and we’ll be lovers.”

“Why would you love someone who makes you miserable?”

She couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped her lips, louder, echoing in the kitchen. It wasn’t cheerful; it sounded quite insane, and she couldn’t fault Fred for taking her bottle once more and then proceeding to give her a glass of water.

“Drink this and shut up. You don’t Mum to find out, trust me.” He waited until she drank; her mirth was gone by the last gulp of water, only misery filling her. “What’s going on?”

“Harry.”

“What…” Eyebrows raised. “You still fancy him after all?”

The unhappy laugh was at the back of her throat, but she managed to hold it back this time.

“Fancy. Funny word.”

“I thought you were over—”

“We were dating.”

If things didn’t feel so heavy inside her head, she would have congratulated herself for the expression on Fred’s face. It took a lot to surprise any of the twins.

“What? How—”

“The usual way. Holding hands, sharing meals, finding secluded corners in the library to—”

“Okay, okay, I don’t need details.” He shook his head. “How come no one in this family knows it?”

She tried to take the bottle back; he kept it away from her. “The same way I can fly well – or how I could open my soul to a sixteen-year-old young dark lord – I’m actually good at hiding things.”

“This isn’t – this is something else – how did you manage to hide something this big?”

“Ron knows. Everyone at Hogwarts knows it—”

“Ginny?”

“We broke up, okay?” There were tears shining at the corner of her eyes; she wanted to throw the bottle away, to see it smashing in thousands of sherds. Stupid firewhisky. “Harry broke up with me – said something stupid about trying to protect me and then he went off to save the world, except somehow, he’s back at my brother’s house and he – not once – he didn’t ask for me or came to see me and I hate that I can’t hate him for trying to save this fucking world!”

“Ginny—”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like this. I’ve been getting these looks all year – poor Ginny Weasley left behind by her boyfriend –”

“You were not.”

“That’s what we sold to the Carrows.” She buried her nails in the palm of her hand. “That Harry and I had a meaningless fling, and then he left me because I had no use to him anymore.”

Used. She hated that word. She had been once used by Tom Riddle, and the idea that people believed Harry had used her was so wrong. There was nothing of Tom Riddle inside Harry.

“You know it’s not true.”

“Of course I do. We were in love.” She glared at him, daring him to question her. “He loved me.”

Her voice shook with her fierceness. Ginny knew how she sounded, like a woman who had been left behind by a lover who had promised he would return but never did; they all believed in their lovers’ promise until reality forced itself upon them.

At this point, Ginny thought she was better than those wronged by their lovers; Harry had never promised he would return.

Fred was still looking at her; there was no pity in his eyes, at least, and for this Ginny would always be grateful, would always cherish her brother.

“Then you get through this,” he said at last. “You survive this challenge of staying put, you meet Harry when this is all over and you give him your peace of mind, so he understands he won’t ever get to let you alone and then you snog him senseless until he gets it in his thick head — only make sure none of your brothers are around to see it.”

Ginny snorted. “I don’t even know if he will still want to be with me when this is over.”

“Look, Harry may be a specky, scrawny git, but he’s not stupid. He will get around – and if not, any of your six brothers are willing to hex him in your honour.”

“You do realise the only way we will be back together is after Harry does his noble heroic thing and defeat You-Know-Who, right? Are you sure you want to jinx the wizarding world saviour?”

“In times like these, little sis, I always question myself: Why would Ginny do?”

She laughed; it was a warmer laugh than she had let out in a while, and it felt relieving to know she still could laugh like that.

“Something reckless, probably.”

“We taught you all the right lessons.” Fred winked at her. “There’s something you can do right now – help us get Potterwatch back. We haven’t figured out yet how to bend the charm around all the protective enchantments around this place.”

“And you – who once rat me to Mum, very unbrotherly – will just let me cast underage magic?”

“I’m letting you drink, Red.”

“Red?”

“You will need a codename as well.”

“And the best you can give me is Red?”

“Tell you what, you decipher the spell, you decide your name.”

Ginny grinned. “Deal. When do we start?”

“As soon as you are sober. If I’m letting my young underage sister cast spells, I’d rather she doesn’t misfire her wand.”

Ginny glared at Fred; he threw her an innocent look, but she rather thought he had just given her an assignment that would keep her from drinking for some time. It was rather clever of him, and Ginny would concede defeat when she had to.

“I’m gonna sleep then.”

“Try to disguise how miserable you are going to wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Prat.”

“A very smart prat, yeah. Drink water. Lots of it.”

“Sure, sure.”

She was at the door when he called her back. “Ginny… don’t lose hope. We’ll get through this.”

“I know,” she answered him. It was a lie – no one could know what would unfold in the future – but she had learned something with the twins a long time ago and Ginny had tried to live by it. She just had to had enough nerve.

#DH missing moment #Fred and Ginny #Hinny fanfic #Ginny will not wake up happy the next morning #I don't know how to tag this so I won't!

[sliebman10]

Footsteps

(Parvati/Lavender, 159 words, @sapphicmicrofics)

It was their turn to stay in the Room of Requirement, while the others left for dinner. Lavender joined Parvati on the floor against the wall. 

“I hate this part,” Lavender said, resting her head on Parvati’s shoulder.

“This is the part you hate?” Parvati said. She was in a bad mood, having gotten on the wrong side of Alecto Carrow in class this afternoon. Lavender ran her hand through Parvati’s hair. 

“This is temporary, right?” she said. “It has to be,” she said, more to herself.

They both heard footsteps approaching and pulled out their wands. As far as they knew, the Carrows still hadn’t figured out the existence of the students’ sanctuary. 

The footsteps died away. The girls slumped against each other. “I can’t take this much longer,” Parvati murmured.

“Do you want to go home?” Lavender asked, wide eyed. 

“No…I don’t. I don’t know what I want,” Parvati said, tearfully. “I want things back to normal.” 

#parvati patil #lavender brown #parvati x lavender #room of requirement #dh #missing moment #sapphicmicrofics #hp saffics #footsteps

[goodiegoddesselle]

my favorite pair | L. DH

pairing: enemy roommate!haechan x reader

genre: smut, sir/daddy dom, unprotected sex, degradation, pervert haechan lol, enemies to lovers, uses doll/toy as a nickname

summary: you see one day that your annoying roommate, haechan, hasn't done his laundry and just left his basket by the washing machine. sure, this is irritating, but it reminded you to do your own. when you finally start getting your own clothing, you notice that your favorite pair of underwear is missing. on top of noticing that, you notice that your roommate, who moves around the apartment a lot normally, hasn't left his room at all that day either.

wc: 3k

minors dni. dont like, dont read.

______________________________________________________

You were tired of him. Tired of the dishes constantly sitting in the sink. Tired of his friends constantly being piled up on the couch, like you didn’t live there too. Tired of all the noise from his gaming—finally, it truly occurred to you just how tired you were of your roommate Lee Haechan.

For the most part, he didn’t do much but sit around and annoy you, whether or not he actually did his chores. It was almost like he messed with you on purpose. Despite all of this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from still having a partially hidden crush on him.

Yes, sadly, you did have a crush on him. You did, but there’s only so much you can do about having a crush on someone that doesn’t really get along with you the way you truly would’ve liked. It was almost impossible not to, nonetheless, seeing as Haechan was one of the most gorgeous men out there. His hair was long, golden and wavy, his eyes glowed a glistening honey color, and his voice was sultry with the perfect tenor tone. And with the amount of talents this man had, there really wasn’t anything you couldn’t like him for.

Did Haechan know about this crush, though? Never in a million years. You figured you would die before he even came close to knowing about it, let alone actually knowing. Especially since he was so irritating to you, even at that moment.

“Ugh, can you actually do your damn chores Haechan? I would like to take a break too, y’know!” you called out. You were in your room, digging through your clothes after seeing his laundry basket lying next to the washing machine. You figured you might as well do the laundry anyway, since he wasn’t getting around to it and your clothing was beginning to pile up inside your room.

A deep sigh left you as you dug through your underwear and recognized that something was wrong. It was gone—your favorite pair of panties was missing, and oddly enough, this was the first time that has ever happened to you. Your eyebrows scrunched in complete confusion. Where the hell could they have possibly gone?

You searched a little further, peeking under your pillows and through the rest of the drawers until Haechan’s lack of movement started making you curious. Sure, he was annoying, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t another human, and he typically moved around the apartment a lot more than he was that day.

Immediately you turned around, walked out of your room, and headed to the bedroom next to yours. It wouldn’t take much to get in his room anyway, seeing as he was either playing a game or sleeping with all the grunting he was letting out.

At least, you thought so.

You simply knocked on his door twice before letting yourself in, ready to talk about his laundry until your eyes landed on your roommate, who rushed to pull his blanket over his completely nude body. The squat you would have to do to pick up your jaw would probably give you the strongest legs on Earth.

“Woah!” he yelled, his eyes wide as he scrambled to hide his hands under the blanket as well. “I, um—I was just, uh, I-I…”

“There’s no need to explain, Haechan,” you interrupted, a smirk slowly spreading across your face, “I already saw them. Really? That’s what you’ve been doing?” The laugh that left you made his face turn the hottest shade of red.

It wasn’t hard to see Haechan holding your favorite panties in his hand. For once, you weren’t angry about it either. It was, however, a teeny bit shocking instead. You didn’t know that he was like this at all, seeing as every time one of your pairs would go missing, you would find it somewhere in your room the day after. The whole time you just figured it was you making them disappear. At least, until now.

You walked a little closer to him, closing the door behind you and giggling lowly. “Lee Haechan, when were you ever going to tell me that you are the world's most hidden pervert?” you asked. It was like he was frozen in place, internally freaking out as you leaned in and ran your thumb across his chin, his breath completely silent. “Well? What are you going to say about all this?”

“You know what, I was going to find an excuse, but since you want the truth so bad…” Haechan sat up, suddenly grabbing your wrist and pulling it away from his chin while pulling you closer. Your eyes widened as he held up your underwear again. His lips rose into a cocky grin as he waved them back and forth, watching the annoyance cover your face all over again. “It’s one thing to want you this badly, y’know, but you make it really easy to come and get these. And if you want them back, babe, this time you’re going to have to work for it.”

You scoffed. “Work for it? When it belongs to me? Guess you’re always like this, huh?”

“Like what, Y/N?”

“So goddamn infuriating!” you answered, rolling your eyes. Haechan laughed and leaned closer and closer to you, all the way to the point where your lips were almost touching, but not quite yet.

“Do you know you only get hotter and hotter the angrier you get?” Haechan replied. “If you didn’t want me to be so ‘goddamn infuriating’, then stop being so goddamn hot.”

He closed the distance between you two, tilting his head and pressing his lips to yours. It took no time at all for you to respond to it. You kissed him back fervently and climbed further onto his lap, sliding your hands onto his shoulders and taking his words and actions as an invitation to fight back. It was hard to reject him, after all, especially after feeling his teeth graze against your bottom lip several times.

The feeling of Haechan’s arms wrapping around your hips brought you into a high you didn’t even know you could reach, only getting higher and higher as he leaned down to your neck, slowly leaving kisses and sucking marks onto your warm skin. Crowds of moans left your lips, making him bite even harder. Out of nowhere, he flipped the two of you over and shoved you onto his mattress.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks or how much I infuriate you, babe,” Haechan whispered into your ear, licking the shell of it, “you’re mine whether you like it or not.” He tossed the panties away from the bed and went back to leaving hot kisses on your lips and neck. But this time, you could feel his fingers sliding down your torso, all the way until he reached your pajama shorts and pushed under them. Another chuckle left him, and you could feel your face scorching from embarrassment, knowing damn well that he was laughing because you weren’t wearing anything under them. Your lips separated for a moment, but shut shortly after, shyness killing your effort to say something before he did. Haechan, however, already knew where you were headed with that.

“Oh? What, do you only wear your favorite ones?” Despite knowing it was a genuine question on his end, you really couldn’t find it in you to answer him. You even looked away, but that had no point, especially since he grabbed your jawline and immediately pulled your head back into facing him.

“Look at me when I speak to you, and don’t make me tell you again,” Haechan ordered. “You can use your words, doll. In fact, I’d like it better if you did.”

“Um, n-no, I don’t,” you stuttered back. Haechan’s gaze alone was intimidating you, which only made the situation ten times better than when it began. In fact, it got even better than that, right when his fingers started lazily rubbing at your cunt, slipping between your lips and toying with your clit. A loud groan filled the room the moment he began.

Haechan slid two of his fingers into you while keeping his eyes on yours. “For someone that loves talking about how annoying I am, you’re pretty wet right now. Soaked, even,” he teased, fingers massaging at your sweet spot gently. “It’s real cute.”

A frown crossed your face. You wanted so badly to say something back to that, but there wasn’t much to say back to the truth, really. However, as he picked up the speed of his fingers, the frown died within a few seconds, followed by his name being pulled out of you. Each second after, you could feel yourself getting closer to finishing, and you were completely ready for it—until he ripped his hand out of you. At first you were upset about it, but then you saw him licking your essense off of his fingers with an evil grin on his face, and that settled right away, being replaced with the need for him to put something much bigger back where his hand was.

Haechan pulled his fingers out of his mouth and chuckled, saying, “don’t think I can’t tell when you’re almost there; you made that face like you were ready to explode.”

Another pout crossed your face. “Then why didn’t you let me get there?” you asked. His face straightened out as he looked at you like you truly didn’t understand the situation you put yourself in at the moment. Again, he grabbed your chin and made you face him, his eyes flaring now instead of swirling with honey like usual.

“Did you really think I was just going to let you cum and we’d be done here? When you haven’t even thought about what you need to do for me too? Get up.” His hand slipped away as he climbed off of you, gesturing for you to rise up as well and take your shorts off. Despite being ordered to, another thought came to your mind and you figured things would definitely get different if you followed it. This time, a smirk crossed your face instead, and you crossed your arms.

“If you want me to get up, make me, then,” you baited, watching a look of surprise spread across his face before disappearing quickly. Before you could even see what he was planning to do, his hand shot across the bed like lightning and grasped your wrist again, startling you. Somehow you knew where this was headed for you.

“Last I checked, doll, I told you not to make me have to tell you again,” Haechan growled, ripping you off of the bed and in front of him, “but if you’re going to make me, you’re going to find out why I warned you to begin with. Shorts, off. Now.”

Completely filled with intimidation, you wasted no time in pulling your pajama shorts off this time, being completely nude from the waist down. Haechan’s gaze swept over you before he lifted your shirt up and leaned in, lips heading for your chest, right below your neck this time. He began leaving spots all over it, suckling onto your skin and heading lower and lower each time. You couldn’t help yourself from whining as he did it, grabbing at his shoulders again as your legs shook.

“H-Hae…” you mumbled, grip tightening around him. Haechan’s teeth grazed across your right breast before his head lifted. “Is there something my little toy wants?” he interrupted. With a tight throat, you simply nodded, hoping you could find it in you to answer him with words this time, but it didn’t take long for you to find out that those words wouldn’t matter either way. He lowered his head again and bit on your nipple, making you cry out into the room.

“Remember what I said earlier? Disrespectful playthings like you don’t get what they want either way,” Haechan said, sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you up. “Learn how to act right next time and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

“Yes…” you moaned.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir…”

Haechan hummed in response and turned around, pinning you against the wall next to the door. “Now it’s my turn to play with my little toy,” he muttered. It didn’t take much time at all for you to feel it—the feeling of Haechan stretching you out with his size alone, making you wonder if you could even take someone as big as that. Your face froze with your mouth open, facing the ceiling in complete shock, your soul escaping your body more and more the deeper he got into you. Haechan himself let out a long, smooth moan as he pressed into you.

“God, I never knew you’d be this tight, Y/N,” he said, pulling out a little before thrusting himself back in roughly. “So, so good…” The two of you stayed still for a moment as he let you get used to his size. After a few moments, Haechan began again, pushing and pulling himself in and out of you at a slow pace at first.

“Sir,” you finally spoke, “can you speed up a little bit?”

“I will if you ask me nicely,” he responded, still moving slowly just to mess with you.

“Sir, please speed up,” you pleaded. Haechan leaned down and left a quick kiss on your neck before speeding up to a pace more hasty, more rough and harder to handle. Part of you regretted asking him to get faster, but most of you couldn’t even focus on that. You were enjoying the sensation of his cock hitting your sweet spot full force each time he slammed into you, your back pressing against the wall as he fucked you.

“Look at my pretty little doll, taking it like she should be,” Haechan teased, going harder and harder into you. At this point, you could barely handle what he was giving you, but every part of you wanted it. Needed it, even. You could even feel your orgasm coming toward you full speed, like a car on the highway at night. With how loud you were moaning, too, everything in you knew that he could tell as well.

“I’m so close,” you breathed, your arms tightening around his neck as your cunt tightened around him.

“Really? Is my doll already so close? How bad do you want it?” Haechan asked mockingly.

“So bad,” you replied, “really, really bad…”

“Yeah? Then beg for it.”

“Please, sir, please let me cum; I need this so badly…”

Haechan reached his hand down and began stroking at your clit. “Keep going, babe.”

“I’m so close, please let me cum, I’m begging! I-I’ve been doing good, please, I’ve been a good girl,” you continued pleading as a shock of what felt like lightning passed through you. If he didn’t decide now, you were going to release either way, and you didn’t want to disobey him all over again just to get another punishment.

“Hmm,” Haechan hummed decisively, almost jokingly. “You have been doing pretty well so far… I think you’ve earned it. You know what to do; cum for me, now.”

Immediately you released, his order cutting the tie for you. You were squeezing his cock as your juices leaked out, spreading all over him as he continued to thrust into you. It was amazing, but the overstimulation was starting to hit you not too long after.

“S-Sir, I can’t take this anymore,” you cried, legs weakening around his waist as he continued.

“Yes you can, doll,” Haechan responded, grunting lowly, “because good girls take what they’re given. And I’ve got something for you to take.”

Your nails were clawing into his skin at this point. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the intensity increased. You could feel another orgasm coming for you, and your whole body was ready to implode all over again. Haechan pressed his face into your neck again, taking a deep breath in before moaning at full volume, picking up speed as he pounded into you.

Not too long after, Haechan’s teeth sunk into your collarbone again as he moaned, “now take everything Daddy gives you.” Instantly, you were filled with more and more of his cum as he came, pushing you harder against the wall and leaning up instead to kiss you on your lips instead. The two of you made out even after he finished, even after both of you noticed that his release was starting to drip out of you, and even after you noticed you had also came while he was getting off. After a while, the two of you finally pulled away from each other, Haechan still carrying you but just not against the wall anymore.

Soon after, the high started fading away, replacing itself with a different level or nervousness. The reality that you just slept with your crush-slash-enemy hit you like a full-force train. At some point, you decided that since you already did all of this, you might as well just let him know anyway. “I just wanted to say, Haechan,” you began nervously, “that I do actually like you… I just didn’t really have a way to let you know, I guess…”

The nervousness began peaking when all Haechan did was watch you in silence while blinking. Then, out of nowhere, another gentle laugh escaped him. “You think I didn’t know that, Y/N? What did you think I bothered you so damn much for?”

“You what?” you gasped. “You fucking knew that already and didn’t ask me out or something like that instead?” He shrugged.

“Just wanted to play with my toy first. You should already know that you’re mine. I’m just glad everyone else gets to know now, too,” he said. 

You sighed. “You’re so freaking annoying.” Haechan leaned in right by your face again.

“Doesn’t matter; either way you’re mine. Aren’t you, doll?”

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