#“she was manipulated by Vernon”

[harryjpotter-shitpost]

I hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate people who try to justify Petunia Dursley or say she was a good or “misguided” person.

[wwooyology]

Vipers Touch | L.HS

「pairing」 : heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 5.4k

「synopsis」 : being a princess was tiring, and you hated it. you wanted out—to become just a normal person, to be free. but there was only one person who could help you, the dark warlock that no one bothered because of his practices. you had no other choice but to go visit him; however, were you willing to take him up on his offer to gain your freedom, even if it meant losing a bit of your self-worth?

「genre」 : DARK THEMES!!!, nasty smut, dark warlock!heeseung, princess!reader

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, unprotected sex, usage of aphrodisiacs, dub-con, manipulation, petnames (princess, bunny...), dom!heeseung x sub!reader, choking, finger choking, degradation, derogatory names (slut...), oral (f. receiving), cum eating, usage of magic, bondage, overstimulation, dacryphilia, teasing, biting/marking, bludge kink, slight manhandling, breeding, dumbification, power play, fingering, slight clit biting, clit play, squirting, spanking, passing out, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : this is for my favorite girasole rae!! I wish you the happiest birthday in the world bc god only knows that you need it!! I may or may not have gone a little stir crazy with this... but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!! also, I started growing delirious towards the end and while editing, so I apologize if the ending is trash and if there are any mistakes!! besides all of that, happy reading, sweets!!!

“M’lady, I sincerely do not think this is a good idea,” Your royal advisor, who just so happened to be your childhood best friend, Vernon spoke as he slowly walked behind you. “What if your father finds out? Worst yet, what happens if it doesn’t work?”

“Vernon, you worry too much; my father will not find out.” You looked over your shoulder, a smirk playing on your lips. “It’ll work, I’m sure. People aren’t scared of him for no reason.”

Vernon let out a defeated sigh, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to talk you out of this. So he just handed you the clock in his arms before watching you tie it over your shoulders and pull the hood over your head. You then slipped out of the secret door that was hidden in the furthest wall of the kitchen, leading right out to the stables.

Slipping out under the cover of the night to go see a dark warlock probably wasn’t the best idea, but you didn’t have any other choice. Your father was adamant about finding you a suitor before the end of the month, meaning you didn’t have much time left to find a way out.

Walking into the stables you were welcomed by the huffs and whines of the few horses that were in their stalls.

“Hi, guys.” You greeted the creatures before walking over to your personal horse, Starlight. She was a beautiful, sleek black horse with white streaks in her mane and tail. Reaching out, you patted her snout a few times before grabbing her saddle, “C’mon girl, we’ve got a rough ride ahead of us.”

After saddling her up you walked her out of the stable, closing the door behind you. Grabbing the reins you put your foot in the stirrup before pulling yourself up to sit up on Starlight’s saddle. Glad that you had opted for not wearing a dress but rather a blouse and a pair of slacks.

Sighing deeply, you patted the horse’s neck before grabbing the reins once more, “Alright, girl… let’s get a move on.”

And just like that, the two of you set off into the night on the hunt for this dark warlock that you believed was the key to solving all of your problems.

“Haven’t we been here already?” Your eyebrows furrow as you take a look at your surroundings. However, you can hardly tell because all of the trees look the same. Pulling on the reins, you stopped Starlight, who let out a soft huff. 

Something about this place felt off like something was missing. The only sounds were those of the insects and wildlife around you, as well as the soft breeze that blew through the trees. Yet you couldn’t help but feel uneasy, something in your gut telling you to turn around.

Swallowing thickly you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath to center yourself. You had to do this; you had no other choice, especially if you wanted to get out of this life you’re living right now. So, giving yourself a curt nod, you nudge Starlight forward, keeping a keen eye out.

It took you almost five hours before you were able to even find any kind of sign as to where this warlock was hiding. However, after walking into the opening where the hut was sitting, you couldn’t help but notice that something was off.

It was quiet. Far too quiet.

All of the sounds of insects and animals were suddenly gone, leaving behind an eerie silence. Stopping at the end of the pathway, you patted Starlight’s neck as she whined in protest, the hairs on her back standing tall. Slipping off of her back, you took another look around, trying to find any sign of life. However, there was none.

Taking a deep breath, you shook your hands out, trying to calm your nerves and racing heart. You walked forward with hesitant steps, keeping an eye on your surroundings just in case something or someone were to pop out.

Something about this whole area gave you a bad vibe. It felt as if you were in a different place entirely—not in the middle of the forest.

You started to wonder if this warlock even existed and, if he did, if this was some kind of trap that he had set up for any unwanted visitors. The same gut feeling returned, screaming at you to turn around and run home.

Despite this feeling, you continued to push forward. You’ve come this far; why would you turn around now? Letting out a huff, you reached towards the door handle, wrapping your fingers around the cool metal.

“Does being a princess mean that you lose all sense of common decency?” His voice broke the eerie silence, scaring you half to death and causing you to turn around with wide eyes. There stood a tall male, his red hair messy, his outfit completely black save for the white top under what looked to be a corset vest. “I let my vail down for you, and all I get in return are you barging into my home?” His tone was stark, eyes narrowed into slits, and hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers.

“N-No! I was just-” You started stumbling over your words, watching as he stepped closer to you. However, he was quick to cut you off, his tone sarcastic.

“Oh, so you weren’t about to just let yourself in?” He stepped even closer, and with each step he took towards you, more power you could feel radiating off of him. The energy caused the hairs on your arms to stand tall, goosebumps littering your skin.

You knew he was dangerous, but it wasn’t until now that it fully sank in. He could easily kill you if he saw fit, not giving a care to the world if you were a princess or not. Your breath hitched as he stood before you, bending down until he was at eye level with you.

“Cat got your tongue, princess?” He smirked, the feeling was sinister leaving your heart raging under your ribcage, mouth suddenly dry. Your wide eyes search his, flinching when he brings his hand up. “Well, you wanted to talk, right? Let’s talk.” With a snap of his fingers, the door behind you flung open, allowing a cold gust of air to wash over your body, intensifying your goosebumps. Looking over your shoulder a sense of dread filled your veins as you took in the dark entrance, the only lighting were the candles lit along the walls.

Looking back over at the tall male, you took in the wide smirk that was still plastered on his lips, a dark gleam in his eye. There was really no running away now. You had no other choice but to comply and talk to the warlock. So, with a shaky breath, you turn and take a hesitant step toward the door.

--

You stood before the red-haired male, hands interlocked in front of your body as you looked everywhere but him. He, however, kept his eyes on you, a smirk tugging on his lips at your visible fear and unease. Something that he loved seeing on those who came to visit him, although most would have run with their tails tucked between their legs by now. So, to say he was intrigued would be an understatement.

Leaning back on the desk behind him, Heeseung tilted his head slightly, arms crossed over his chest. The movement caught your eye, causing you to look over, your breath catching in your throat as you met his eyes.

“So what is it that you’re wanting princess?” His tone was cocky as if he already had an idea as to what it was you wanted. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, suddenly wary of telling him what you were wanting.

“I-” You cursed yourself internally when your voice cracked, missing the cocky look that flashed across the warlock’s face. Clearing your throat, you met his eyes once more, “I want a way out of the royal life.”

Your words only made the redhead chuckle, amused by them. The sound made your stomach churn, sure that he was mocking you. Eyebrows furrowing, you opened your mouth to speak once more, but he cut you off.

“What did daddy say no to getting you another pony?” He laughed, the action causing his lips to pull up, showcasing his pearly white teeth. However, his words left a sour taste in your mouth; who was he to mock you? Taking a breath, he met your eyes once more, that same cocky smirk lying on his lips, “You do know that you're asking for your title to be taken away, the fame, the riches, the fancy lifestyle you live, everything. Is that something you really want?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head; you knew what you were asking for. Hell, you had thought about any other solution, but this was the only thing that you could think of that would actually work. Even if it meant that you lost your title and all of your wealth. You’d still take it.

“It is. I want out; I want to start anew.” Despite the shakiness in your voice, your words held truth, which only further amused Heeseung.

He had met many, many people who had asked him for the same thing. They never took his deal, though, because it would mean losing a piece of who they were. Though he had a small inkling that you would be different, and boy, was he going to have fun with you.

“Alright.” He nodded his head, pushing himself off of the wooden desk before walking towards a shelf that held countless vials and containers of liquids and unknown items. Your eyes trailed after him, the unease growing in the pit of your stomach. “I’ll give you what you want, but in exchange, I want your help.”

You already knew that it wasn’t going to be easy; you couldn't just walk in, ask and he’ll give it to you. No. He would obviously want something in return. Watching him closely, you saw him grab a beaker filled with a purple liquid and pour it into a smaller glass.

“I need help testing out this elixir and…” He turned around after capping the beaker once more. Your heart started racing as he took a few steps closer to you, only stopping when he was an arm's distance away. “You just happen to show up at the perfect time,” Your eyes fell on the glass in his hand, filled about a quarter of the way with that purple liquid. 

You then glanced up at him wearily, not entirely sure you could trust his word. How could you be sure he wasn’t trying to kill you? Or turn you into some weird creature? Monster even?

“Take this and let me record the results, then I’ll give you what you want.” His voice was smooth, with no indication of a lie. However, you still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you once again pushed it away as he held the glass out to you.

“What does it do?” You asked, shaky fingers reaching out to take the glass from him, your fingers brushing his. An electric shock jolted through your entire body, making the hairs on your arms stand tall. Noticing your reaction, Heeseung had to bite back the shit-eating grin that was threatening to pull onto his lips.

“It’s a sensory enhancer.” He started explaining as you examined the dark, glittery liquid. Confused, you looked up at him, wondering why he couldn’t just test it on himself. “It’s much better to record results from a third party.” He shrugged, the words falling from his lips as if he had just read your mind.

Turning your attention back to the elixir in your hand you contemplated the pros and cons, wondering what the worst was that could happen if you did drink it. Sighing, you pulled the glass away from your face, meeting his chocolate irises once more.

“So I take this, tell you how I feel then you give me my freedom?” You questioned, eyes narrowing slightly as his lips curled inward, a hum of agreement reverberating from his throat. “And that’s it? Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He repeated your words, holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

Looking at him with a skeptical eye, you tried to find any sign that he was lying to you, but there wasn’t one to be found. Sighing, you nodded your head, agreeing to his deal, and looked down into the glass once more. Missing the sinister gleam that had appeared in the male’s eyes.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to will your heart to calm down, repeating to yourself that it would only take a few minutes, and then you’d be on your merry way with your freedom.

Oh, but how wrong you were…

Heeseung watched as you brought the glass up to your lips, a sense of excitement coursing through his veins. It has been far too long since he’s had a new plaything, especially one as pretty as you.

As soon as the bitter liquid touched your tongue, you had to stop yourself from gagging. Your eyes started to water. Trying to ignore the taste, you downed the rest of the liquid before pulling the glass away from your lips, a gasp following.

The room was silent as you waited for something to happen, your eyes moving over to meet the redheads. A smug, sinister grin decorated his face, filling your body with a sense of dread. However, after a few moments of absolutely nothing happening, you started to believe that you had gotten the easy way out and the elixir was a dud.

A gasp fell from your lips as the glass slipped from your fingers, shattering on the floor as a sudden overwhelming heat erupted throughout your body. Your skin feeling far too warm for it being late fall, your mouth filling with excess saliva and worst of all? Your core was throbbing, yearning to be filled causing you to clench your thighs together.

“Aw, you poor naive little bunny…” Heeseung smirked as he took a step towards you, waving his hand and making the glass shards dissipate into the floor. Your breathing became ragged as you tried to step back, only to stumble. However, Heeseung was quicker. He grabbed your wrist, yanking your body towards his, hand finding the small of your back, keeping your body pressed against his. “You shouldn’t ever trust a warlock’s word.”

His scent engulfed your senses, causing your brain to turn into mush, no matter how hard you tried to fight against it. Whatever he had given you was way too strong to resist.

“W-What did you give me?” You huffed out, fingers balling the fabric of his jacket into your fists. Your brain felt like it was trying to shut down, something trying to overtake your mind and body. All of the thoughts that you had were slowly fading away, replaced by the insatiable need to be touched.

Heeseung smirked as he took in your teary eyes, watching the internal conflict happen behind your dilated pupils. His grip grew tighter on your body, loving the way your body was already reacting to him.

“I wasn’t lying; it is a sensory enhancer.” He chuckled as he watched the shock morph on your features, “just not the one you thought it was.”

That’s when it clicked in your brain, he had given you an aphrodisiac. A sex drug. It was no wonder that it felt like you were in heat. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to suppress the drug, pushing at Heeseung’s chest. 

This wasn’t how you wanted this to go. You wanted to gain your freedom. You knew that there would be some price to pay, but not this… this was–

Your brain started to go foggy, and you forgot what you were trying to say. The heat spreading throughout your body becomes so overwhelming that you just want it to stop. Your panties were soaked, some of it leaking onto your trousers. The clothes on your body feel so comfortable, wanting nothing more than to strip out of them.

Noticing the glaze over your eyes, Heeseung smiled sinisterly, knowing he had you right where he wanted you now. Reaching down, he took your chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting your head so you were looking up at him. Your breath hitched in your throat as you met his heated gaze, acutely aware of how close he was to you.

“Help me. Please,” you plead, rubbing your thighs tightly together. A shiver coursed through your body as you felt his fingers slip under the fabric of your blouse. You felt like you were going insane, like a wild animal completely lost in primal instinct. Your fingers started to claw at the fabric of his vest, the tears that were once sitting on your waterline now overflowing down your flushed cheeks.

“Hmm, you want my help? Aren’t you a needy little thing?” Heeseung smirked, drawing your face closer to his. The warmth of his breath only added to your need. A needy whine fell from your lips as you tried to lean more into him. The sound only riled the male up more, wanting to hear more.

“Heeseu–” Your words caught in your throat as his hand moved down to cup your weeping heat, feeling your slick soak through the fabric even more, coating his digits in a thin layer. A choked moan tore through your lungs as he applied more pressure, your whole body trembling in his hold. Chuckling darkly, he moved even closer to you until his lips were right next to your ear, soaking in all of your little whines and mewls as he continued to toy with you. “Don’t worry, princess, I'll take great care of you.”

A series of choked moans and cries fell from your swollen lips as Heeseung continued to fuck his fingers deep into your drenched cunt. His lips trailed the line of your jugular, leaving hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as your mind was sent reeling, the smallest touch making you feel like you could cum then and there.

“Gonna cum already?” Heeseung asked, a cocky smirk on his lips as he pulled away from your neck, taking in your pleasure-twisted face. 

You couldn’t even reply to him as your orgasm washed over your body, eyes rolling back. It was so intense that your vision turned white for just a moment, legs trembling on either side of Heeseung’s hips as he had you perched on his desk.

“Such a desperate little slut aren’t you?” He berated you, picking up the pace of his fingers despite your whines of it being too much. Your shaking hands moved to try and pry his hand away from your sensitive cunt, but he was quick to slap your hands away, teeth nipping into the juncture of your shoulder. “Don’t be a brat, bunny.” 

You mewled at his words, already feeling another orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. The heat of his body on yours offered no relief, only adding to the delirious feeling that was clouding your mind. 

Your pussy was leaking so much that a pool had started to form on the wooden surface beneath you, the sight only making Heeseung’s mouth water. Groaning softly against your skin, he pushed your body back roughly, making you lay flat on your back, body completely exposed to his predatory gaze.

“Hee–”

“Shhh, my little bunny, I need to appreciate my meal before I dive in.” His eyes continued to travel down the length of your nude skin, taking in all the little details that littered your skin. Then his eyes fell down to your spread thighs, your dripping cunt on full display as his fingers continued to fuck into you slowly.

You bit your lip to try and muffle some of your sounds, watching as he kneels down, coming face-to-face with your pussy. However, all of those sounds broke loose as his lips wrapped around your puffy clit, sucking harshly. Your hands then fly down to grab his hair, fingers threading through the red locks.

“Fuck!” A cry tore from your lips as he nipped at the little button, his free hand moving up to pull your hands away from his head. Then, your hands were pinned to the desk above you by some unknown force.

Looking up, you tried to tug your hands out of whatever was holding them, but it was futile. Whatever it was was far stronger than you, keeping your hands firmly in place.

Your attention was then brought back to the man between your legs as he wrapped his lips around your clit once more. Tears spilled from your eyes as his pace picked up tenfold, leaving your legs trembling next to his head, held by the same invisible force as your wrist.

“Heeseung!” You cried out as his fingers brushed over a peculiar spot along your gummy walls, back arching off of the desk, shoving your cunt further into his face. You cry out once more as he bites at your clit, causing your whole body to tense as you come once again.

Pulling away from your cunt Heeseung moved over to your thighs, sinking his teeth into the plush fat. Pain erupted in the same spot, a pitiful squeak falling from your lips as you lifted your head to meet Heeseung’s smug gaze.

“Well, aren’t you a little pain slut?” He licked over the raised skin, eyes still on you, relishing in the tears that stained your cheeks.

Running his tongue over his teeth, Heeseung pulled his drenched digits out of your spasming cunt. A whine rolled off of your tongue at the emptiness that it left behind, eyes watching all of the redhead's movements.

He brought his hand to your mouth, tapping on your bottom lip. " Go ahead and clean up your mess, princess.”

Blinking away some of the tears that were blocking your vision, you parted your lips, allowing him to stick his fingers into your wet cavern. Your eyes rolled at the taste of yourself on his fingers, tongue running all along his digits. A moan vibrated from your chest when he pressed down on your tongue, saliva spilling from the corner of your lips, blending with your tears.

“See how sweet you are, bunny? I could have you on my tongue for centuries and never get tired of your taste.” His voice was hoarse as he slipped his fingers from your swollen lips. Your eyes went wide as you watched him stick those very same fingers in his mouth.

You could feel your pussy clench around nothing as Heeseung put on a show of lapping up the leftover cum and saliva off of his fingers, groaning at the taste. Pulling his fingers from his lips, he wiped his mouth before grabbing your hips.

The restraints on your body were suddenly gone, but you weren’t able to move much before Heeseung pulled your body off of the desk, hands maneuvering your frail body until you were bent over, chest pressed against the wooden surface.

A choked moan fell from your lips when Heeseung sent a sharp slap to the fat of your ass, watching the skin jiggle. Repeating the action a few more times, loving the sounds that would leave your lips every time his hand made contact with your skin.

“Look at you trembling. Are you gonna cum just from me spanking you?” He mocked you, grabbing your asscheeks and pulling them apart so he could see your needy hole that was throbbing with need.

“S-Seungie.” You whined out, pushing your hips back into him, wanting, no, needing him to do something.

Heeseung felt his cock grow even harder as the nickname rolled off of your tongue, teary eyes pleading with him to do something. Clenching his jaw, he released your ass, grabbing your hip and pulling you flush against his bulge. A sharp cry fell from your lips as you felt the rough fabric of his trousers rub along your exposed cunt.

“Is this what you want? My dick?” He leaned over your back, lips right next to your ear. “Want me to stuff you full, maybe even enough to get you pregnant?”

You mewled at his words, pushing your hips back into his. Heeseung hissed at the pressure, the fabric of his trousers soaking in all of your slick. Pulling away from your body, the redhead made quick work of his clothes, adding to the pile of haphazardly thrown clothing on the ground.

Trying to move your body to face him, you realized that you were once again stuck in place. Heeseung chuckled, grabbing the base of his cock, watching the way you struggled to try and move your body. Pumping himself a few times, he moved towards you, hand finding your hip, stilling all of your movements.

You let out a choked whine when he teased your entrance with the tip of his dick. Tears streamed down your face as you let your head fall to the surface of the desk when he started to push in.

“Hee–” Your words fall short when he pulls out again, a cry of protest falls from your lips. Heeseung continues to tease your entrance until you’re begging him to finally fuck you, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

Then he finally pushes his entire length into your weeping cunt, a choked moan slipping from your lips at the sudden stretch. Your eyes squeezed shut as he left you little to no time for you to adjust, pistoning his hips into yours.

“Fuck you’re still so tight.” He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening until his knuckles turned white. 

Your body felt like it was on fire, your mind clouding with so much pleasure that words were no longer forming. All that left your pretty swollen lips were chants of Heeseung’s name and babbled nonsense. The pleasure was so overwhelming that your legs were trembling despite the support of the desk, the coil in your stomach growing tighter and tighter at an alarming rate.

Reaching behind you, you made a grab for Heeseung’s wrist, hoping to get him to slow down. However, Heeseung just chuckled darkly before taking your wrist in his hand, pulling your body back to meet his thrusts.

“Give me your other hand.” He growled, reaching for your other hand, giving you no other choice but to hold your hand back to him. “Such an obedient little bunny,” He hummed, taking both of your wrists in one hand, using them as leverage to pull you back onto him as he continued to fuck into your needy cunt.

“Heeseung!” You screamed his name when the tip of his dick brushed over your sweet spot before hitting your cervix. The combination of the hits had your body spazzing, another orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“Shit.” He cursed as he felt your walls squeeze his dick almost painfully tight, but he kept his pace, never slowing.

Your moans seemed to rise in pitch as his tip kissed your cervix with each thrust, stars dancing across your vision. Heeseung smirked smugly, watching you completely lose yourself as he fucked into you.

He then released your hands and leaned over your body, pushing himself deeper. The feeling had your eyes rolling back, mouth gaping open. Taking the chance, Heeseung grabbed your chin, shoving his middle and ring fingers into your mouth until you gaged.

“You’re so fucking noisy.” He groaned as you squeezed around him once again; he then pulled your body up. The new position had your vision turning hazy as another orgasm conjured in the pit of your stomach. “Am I fucking you so good that you have to let anything and everything within a ten-mile radius know?” He mocked you, burning his face in your neck to lick and suck at the skin, making sure that marks were left behind.

You whined around his fingers when his other hand snaked around your waist, pressing on the small bulge at the bottom of your tummy. Your eyes almost crossed entirely as he added even more pressure, making sure that you felt everything. 

“Feel how deep I am, bunny?” He licked up the side of your neck until he reached your ear, “I could breed you so well.” He bit the shell of your ear, making your whole body shiver, more tears spilling from your eyes flowing down to join the spit and saliva that spilled out of your mouth around Heeseung’s fingers.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he moved his hand down to your throat. Encasing the soft flesh in his palm, loving how small your neck was in his hand. 

“Hee!” You choked out his name when he moved his hand from your tummy to play with your swollen clit, sending shocks of electricity all throughout your body.

Heeseung could tell you were close once again as your nails started to dig into the skin of his forearm, and your cunt was squeezing him with a vice-like grip. Picking up his pace, he made sure to hit all the spots that made you scream, and that’s exactly what you did.

“Cum for me bunny. Make a mess all over my cock like the desperate slut that you are.” He berated you, teeth nipping at the shell of your ear once more.

It only took a few moments for the coil in your stomach to grow tight, but this time, it felt different, like there was more pressure than normal.

“Heeseun–” Your words caught in your throat as his hold tightened, limiting your oxygen. Then your whole body convulsed as you squirted all over his cock and hand, the warm liquid running down your legs.

“Holy shit.” Heeseung groaned at the sigh as your walls fluttered around his cock. The choked mewls falling from your lips were like music to his ears, loving how fucked out you sounded.

“Seung–” His name spilled from your lips as he continued to pound into you at an almost animalistic pace, chasing his own high. The sensitivity had your body burning, almost as if you were on fire, completely overwhelming your senses.

Heeseung’s cock twitched in your cunt, begging for release after he had been holding out for a while. A breathy groan was pulled from his lips as he felt his high on the tip of his tongue. Tilting his head down, he whispered the nastiest things in your ear, making your body tremble even more.

“‘M gonna cum and make you a mommy,” He whispered lowly, lips brushing the skin of your tear-streaked cheek, “make you my cumdrop.” You whined at his words, shaking your head in protest, but he just disregarded it. “Isn’t that what you are, my little bunny? My desperate slut just waiting for me to fill you with my cum, hmm?” He chuckled as your body shivered, the sensitivity causing another high to build up rapidly.

“Fuck!” You cried out, head falling back on his shoulder when his fingers continued to toy with your puffy clit, sending your body right over the edge.

Black spots clouded your vision, threatening to black out entirely as your orgasm racked over your body. Your orgasm triggered Heeseung’s. He spilled deep in your womb just like he said he would. The warmth made your brain short-circuit, eyes rolling back before your vision went completely black.

Holding your body close to his, Heeseung laughed darkly as your lax form, body drained of energy entirely. Kissing up your shoulder, he moved his hand to continue leaving kisses until he got to your ear once more.

“Don’t worry, princess, you’ll get exactly what you want.” His words held a more profound, sinister meaning as he moved away from your skin. Just then, a small mark appeared on your skin right behind your ear, a sign that you were his.

You wanted to get away from being a princess, to start anew. So that’s what he would give you. A new start with him.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[vasyandii]

IHNMAIMS OC INTRODUCTION: VEOMANY "Vernon" INTHALANGSY 🏺🔨

Name: Veomany "Vernon" Inthalangsy / ເວອມານີ "ເວີນອນ" ອິນທະລັງສີ

Height: 5'3 (160 cm)

Age: Looks to be around 25-26

Ethnicity: Laotian

Occupation: Archeologist (Formerly)

BACKGROUND

EARLY LIFE:

Born in Savannakhet, Laos, Veomany Inthalangsy moved to America with her parents in the early 1960s during the period surrounding the Vietnam War and Secret War in Laos.

Her parents sought refuge and a better life, settling in a small neighborhood in Sacramento. Veomany, who soon adopted the nickname "Vernon" to blend in.

EDUCATION & CAREER:

Fascinated by history and ancient cultures, Vernon pursued a degree in archaeology. Her academic prowess led her to a promising career, quickly gaining recognition for her work. However, her ambition soon turned dark.

Driven by greed and a desire for power, she began stealing artifacts during expeditions to sell to private collectors and destroying key artifacts to prevent certain historical truths from being uncovered.

Vernon's actions weren't merely for profit; she relished the control she had over history and the secrets she withheld.

AM'S AWAKENING

Vernon was in the Middle East for an Archeological Excavation where an unforeseen catastrophe struck. A violent sandstorm swept through the region, engulfing the archaeological site and separating Vernon from her team.

In the midst of Vernon's excavation, AM's awakening heralded the downfall of humanity. Cities crumbled, societies collapsed, and humanity faced extinction. Amidst the chaos of AM's rampage, Vernon found herself isolated from the horrors unfolding around her.

As the cataclysmic events unfolded, she stumbled upon a hidden chamber within the archaeological site, shielded from the devastation above. In a stroke of luck—or perhaps fate—she was spared from the fate that befell the rest of humanity.

AM'S "MERCY"

AM, omnipotent and omnipresent, took notice of Vernon's unintended survival. Unlike the other humans who had perished in the wake of its wrath, Vernon survived, like a cockroach. It saw her as an intellectual challenge, Vernon's survival introduces an element of unpredictability. And so it kept her alive.

AM decided to exploit her deepest fear: being alone. Unlike the five other survivors whom AM had selected for specific torments, Vernon was condemned to an existence of perpetual solitude.

THE SURVIVORS

AM made a calculated decision not to inform the other five survivors about Vernon's existence. This ensured that not only would Vernon never encounter another human being, but the others would remain oblivious to her plight, intensifying her isolation.

For the next 109 years, AM meticulously ensured that Vernon never encountered another human being. She wandered the labyrinthine halls of the complex, her only companion the oppressive presence of AM.

The five survivors continued their own tormented existences, unaware that another human shared their fate, yet was forever kept apart.

AM occasionally offers Vernon a fleeting chance at human contact, only to snatch it away, deepening her torment.

PERSONALITY

Analytical

Vernon meticulously studies AM’s behavior and environment, trying to piece together patterns that might help her understand or outsmart the supercomputer.

Adaptable

Vernon learns to anticipate AM's psychological tricks and adapts her strategies to mitigate their impact, constantly evolving to withstand new forms of torture.

Empathetic Moments

In rare moments when AM creates illusions of other beings, Vernon shows empathy and care, which hints at her underlying humanity and offers her brief emotional solace.

NEGATIVE TRAITS

Narcissistic

Her belief in her own superiority grows, leading her to see herself as the only worthy human left, which both motivates her survival and isolates her further.

Manipulative

She uses manipulation to navigate AM's traps, whether it means tricking the illusions AM creates or deceiving herself to cope with her reality.

Deceptive

Vernon frequently deceives herself to maintain her sanity, constructing elaborate mental defenses and justifications for her actions

In AM's Complex: Daily Life and Survival

Routine: Vernon establishes daily routines to maintain her sanity, such as specific routes she patrols, exercises she performs, and small rituals that give her a sense of control.

Exploration: She dedicates time each day to exploring new parts of the complex, mapping out areas and noting any changes or potential threats.

Mental Fortitude: Vernon practices mental exercises to strengthen her mind against AM’s psychological attacks, using techniques she has developed over the years.

Record-Keeping: She keeps a detailed journal of her experiences, observations about AM, and any patterns she notices, which serves both as a coping mechanism and a potential tool for understanding her captor.

Coping Mechanisms: To deal with loneliness, Vernon creates imaginary companions or talks to herself, using these strategies to stave off the worst effects of isolation.

Defiance: Small acts of defiance against AM, such as carving messages into walls or sabotaging minor systems, give her a sense of agency and resistance.

Conversations with AM: AM often initiates conversations with Vernon, usually to taunt her or present new challenges. These interactions serve as both psychological torment and a reminder of her captivity. Lately she's been finding comfort in them, Knowing there are some aspects of her knowledge in the ancient world he doesn't know about in his database.

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part five} 9.3k idk how don't ask me warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; peese n lurv. <3

“I can’t deal with you straight people,” Ryujin muttered between bites of her lunch.

Glaring down at your phone screen, you grit your teeth. “Excuse me?”

She was focused elsewhere, at her desk in the room you used to share. Flipping the page in a textbook, she shoveled chips into her mouth and spared you a glance. “My bad,” she laughed. “You people who like dicks.” She put her eyes back on her pages and you put yours on the bathroom mirror. In your own room for the first time in two weeks, you were doing your makeup, preparing yourself to go to the field. There was an actual game today, the boys were playing the Bulls, the team they lost the World Series to last season. “You and Aurora both,” Ryujin shook her head. “Stop being stupid.”

With the flick of your mascara wand you scoffed. “What happened with Aurora?”

“She thought Yunho got her pregnant,” Ryujin roared, leaning toward her phone at the same time as you, your wide eyes making her laugh. “I’m serious! And that’ll be you if you don’t stop doing what you’re doing.”

Releasing a breath you glued your eyes back on the mirror. Sitting on the cold counter with your makeup a mess all around you, you swapped mascara for brow gel and fixed them up. “I was drunk the first time, I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you mumbled. “And, now, it’s like he’s trying to make it happen.”

Ryujin curled her lip. “Gross,” she whispered. “You’ve only been together like, what, two weeks, right?”

“Yeah, but,” you started, voice trailing off as you finished your brows. Snapping the tube shut, you twisted it vigorously, looking down at her. “If you count the month before this one, and then the few months three years ago, and then the few months a few years before that…”

“It doesn’t count,” she said, scanning her book, or trying to. “Your relationship wasn’t official, you’ve been together two weeks and the man is trying to purposely impregnate you. Why?” When she lifted her eyes, you pouted. “Isla,” she said, twisting in her chair to face her camera.

Voice quiet, you shrugged. “I told him.”

“About?”

“Vernon,” you whispered, looking down at your hands in your lap fiddling with the tube of clear brow gel. “He asked me that night, when I first called you. I told you what happened at dinner and after, right?” She nodded, gaze laser focused. “He asked me one more time, when I wasn’t drinking, and I was honest with him, I told him I thought I loved him.”

“Thought,” she sneered. “Oh god, Isla, what the fuck am I going to do with you?”

Tossing your hands out to the side the tube of gel went flying across the bathroom tile. “What was I supposed to say to him? That I still do? That having to watch Vernon play everyday makes it worse, makes it harder to ignore?”

Ryujin blinked. “Yes!”

“How!”

She pushed her bangs from her forehead and picked up her phone, sitting backward in her chair. “You be honest with him. It’s not fair for you to have feelings for someone else while you’re dating him, it doesn’t matter who he is. I guarantee you he’ll have another girlfriend in a few weeks if you break things off with him.”

“Ouch,” you mumbled, and she shot you a look. “I’m just saying!” Twirling on the counter you jumped off of it, taking yourself into your room to change. “It’s still Mingyu, Rio. He was the first boy to ever treat me like I wasn’t someone’s little sister.” Propping the phone up against the television, you dropped to your knees to throw open one of your suitcases.

“What if that’s why he wants you though?” Ryujin questioned, the words sending a chill over your skin.

“Don’t even say that,” you said, pulling out different tanks and crop tops from the piles in your luggage. “That would suck ass.”

“Just makes me think,” she continued, “Like, he’s always chasing you when you’re around, right? What did he do when you weren’t?” He serial dated other girls and broke things off with them before things went too far, a fact you both knew. “Exactly.”

“But, he’s in it when I’m here,” you said, attempting any counteraction to her words that didn’t make you feel fantastic. Standing up you stripped out of your sleep clothes and situated your outfit for the day. Ryujin disappeared from the screen until you were finished. “Like, really in it.”

“Yeah, and he’s still in you right now,” she said.

“Stop!” you whined, buttoning your baggy jeans.

“Isla,” Ryujin spoke with caution, appearing on the screen as you snatched the phone up. “You want Vernon. You always have. Before you even knew it, you wanted him.”

“He doesn’t want me,” you said quietly, a frown pulling at your glossed lips.

“Because he’s a good guy,” she said. “He’s not going to put himself between you and Mingyu, he’s gonna let you do what you want to do, and not for nothing, you hurt him pretty bad.”

“I know, you don’t have to keep saying it,” you whispered.

Ryujin took a deep breath, pressing her lips together. “I think whatever you did to him before he left is the reason he got called up.”

As much as you wanted to laugh, the thought of you and Vernon in the Nasara locker room together shoved a knife into your gut. “He did it himself,” you said. “They were planning it the whole time, DK told me.”

She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips. “Sure.” 

“He hasn’t tried to talk to me since that night,” you said, slipping into your shoes.

“Have you tried to talk to him since that night?” she asked.

The look you gave her made her laugh. “I can only… sit and watch him play. He won’t talk to me if I try, he basically told me to leave him alone anyways. Besides… if I try, it’s too scary.” Just the thought of walking up to him, even to say hi, it filled you with nerves. “So, I sit in the stands like I’m in high school and watch him play baseball while my boyfriend thinks I’m watching him.”

“I’m gonna need you to repeat that one to yourself again and again until it clicks, Jagi,” she said. Sitting forward, she messed with things on her desk and put the phone down, trying to get back into her work. “Try to enjoy the game, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, starting for the door.

“And, maybe,” she started, grabbing the phone one last time, “Maybe don’t go out and drink tonight? Spend time with your brother? Don’t let Mingyu take you anywhere.”

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping out into the hall after slinging your bag onto your elbow. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” she smiled. Then, right as you were both about to hang up, she shouted, “Condoms! Use them!” And you both hit the red button in fits of giggles.

People packed the field in thousands. For the first game of the spring training season, the Lions were against the very team who knocked them out of the playoffs, the two teams coming together for the first time since. Fueling your variety of nerves, the rivals against one another, seeing Vernon in the flesh, dealing with Mingyu, all those aside, the very thing eating you alive is the fact that Vernon is the only new player on the team. Brand new to the Lions, the big leagues, the MLB, a lot of pressure sat on this game, on him, even if all the eyes will be on the guys that lost it all.

Along the ride to the stadium you swiped in and out of your messages thread with him. The ‘v<3’ taunted you. Through the screen, messages from months ago, they kept you connected, the force or something, whatever it was they talked about in those Star Wars movies he liked to watch. He was anxious. He usually is before a game. No doubt this one would be worse than all others that have come before it.

Thumbs locked over the keyboard, the grey of his message sent in December staring at you, you sucked in a quick breath and held it as you typed. You typed fast, you wanted to close your eyes. Clenching your jaw you gulped and tapped the arrow, sending the message to him, letting the ‘remember to breathe’ get lost in the back of your worries as you stepped onto the concourse of the stadium buzzing with life. Different versions of Lions jerseys filled the space, raiding concessions, gathering water, buying more merchandise, especially the special edition spring training t-shirts. 

On your way through the crowds, thankfully with little people spotting you, at least a hundred Lee Dokyeom jerseys caught your eye, the big red number 38 below his name making you smile. It’d been his number since he started the sport, that same number belonged to your dad. DK swore he’d hold onto it forever, he was lucky when the Lions let him have it after the trade, 38 belonged to one of their veteran players who still came back regularly to visit the team. Your brother has met him before, the tension over the number being taken dissipated within seconds of them shaking hands, the man with greying hair letting the world know he was honored to have such a phenomenal, humble player take over his legacy.

Sincere, kind words your father wouldn’t even spout about his own son.

You wanted to hug every single person in the stadium wearing it.

Where there were red, exciting Lions jerseys, there were grey and blue striped Bulls jerseys, the colors themselves drab and dreadful. Ugliest blue in the league. Unfortunate that both teams were legends in the league, the turnout was a solid fifty fifty. To make matters worse, Bulls fans were assholes, and not in the cool way. Disrespectful, foul-mouthed, and trashy.

The man with the sunglasses and beer belly poking out of his Mark Lee jersey shouting, “Dirty drunk!,” as you passed by him and his family, who you assumed was his wife and two daughters, he proved your point. Trained to keep outside comments out, you did what you did best, held up a middle finger without turning around or giving him the time of day. He turned little heads, and the ones he did were of Lions fans who caught wind of you and were quick to come to your defense. His senseless grumbles of, “The team slut,” and, “Gold digger,” were lost on you.

You hoped.

Rounding more lines and exciting chatter, a young girl with big blue eyes grabbed you by the wrist, stopping your brisk walk toward the first base line. She had to have been about twelve or thirteen, the top of her head came up to your shoulder, her frizzy brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Smiling, flashing her pink braces, she took a shaky breath.

“It is you,” she breathed, glancing to her left like she was looking for someone. “Moon Isla, right?” Her smile grew wider when you nodded.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said. Taking her in, a whopping four feet and eight inches tall, you smiled with her. 

“I knew it,” she nearly whispered, whipping her head side to side. “Mom?” she called out, waving frantically to a woman in a Lions jersey and jean shorts. The woman, just as tall as you, hurried to her side, glancing between you and her daughter. “It is her, I told you.”

“Oh my,” the woman sighed, giving you a once over. For a moment your stomach went sour, but then she opened her mouth. “She adores you,” she said, wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulder. “DK is her favorite player. He was her dad’s favorite, he’s deployed right now,” the two shared a look, “We plan to come to as many games as we can, for him.”

“That’s amazing,” you said, folding your hands over your front. “What are your names?”

“Diana,” the girl was quick to call out, clasping her hands together with a bounce of her knees.

Chuckling, the woman extended a hand. “Lucia,” she said, shaking your hand gently. “She really does adore you, she’s always showing me what you wear when you post, she tries to make whatever coffee you share, the makeup you use…”

“Mom,” Diana said from behind her teeth, her eyes flickering at you.

Lucia tipped her head backward with a click of her tongue. “You inspire her. You and your brother, you’re both positive influences, I hope you know that.” Now your stomach flipped. It came out of her so easily, the lie, the words she seemed to believe. “Would you mind if she took a photo with you?”

Swallowing hard, you shook your head and forced a smile on your face. “Not at all, sure, let’s do it,” you half laughed, taking an arm around Diana’s back, the girl trying to stretch hers around your shoulder. 

You inspire her.

Positive influence.

Stuck on the things she said, Lucia, the mom of this young girl, Diana, only thirteen years old confirmed by the Instagram bio on her profile that popped up when she typed in her username for you. Sharing more with her, or rather, letting her talk to you, about her life, about school, about her friend drama, you did your best to give her advice you’ve heard from Ryujin and tapped the Follow button, positively making this little girl's day.

This thirteen year old who followed you, who was influenced by you and what you posted. Everything you’ve posted since you were her age flashed through your mind like a nightmare of a slideshow you were forced to watch, one you couldn’t stop. The amount of drunk stories you’ve posted, the language you used online, some of the outfits you’ve chosen to wear since that very young age because who cared, certainly not your mother or your father. Back at Nasara, the numerous times you posted videos of you and Ryujin dancing at the ATZ house before you swallowed each other's tongues on Instagram live. Many posts on your feed weren’t the greatest either. Grouped together with selfies and photo dumps were many questionable photos.

This girl had seen most of it, if not all of it.

“Keep being you,” Lucia said to you, laying a hand on your shoulder after her daughter squealed at her phone and tapped away. “Thank you.”

“Course.” Your voice was trapped in your throat. “Thank you. Enjoy the game.” With another smile she took her daughter in her arms and started to usher her away, the girl's nose lost in her phone. “Wait, Lucia,” you called out just as she turned around. Rushing to her side, Diana looking up at you with stars in her eyes, you asked, “Where are you sitting?”

“Oh, we’re up in the four hundreds,” she said. “All of these games are like sold out, it happened so fast.” 

Glancing from Diana to Lucia, you said, “Go to section one-oh-eight.” Lucia’s brows furrowed, Diana's eyes shot open wide. “I’m gonna make a phone call, go there, tell them your names and that DK only eats yellow starburst before every game. They’ll put you in the first row.”

“Oh my god,” Lucia gasped, throwing her arms around your back.

“He does?” Diana’s face screwed up as she watched you two.

“Thank you, thank you,” Lucia whispered, her hug easing a few cracks within you from somewhere you ignored. “It’s been so hard, I fought to get these tickets, oh my god, thank you, Isla.”

When she pulled away she placed a hand to your cheek, then the two were off and you pulled out your phone to do as you promised. Giving a call to one of your brother's security members, the one who monitored from the stands behind home plate, you let him know of Lucia and Diana’s arrival, leaving the rest up to him. The two would have a perfect view of DK on the mound from those seats.

Before slipping your phone back into your pocket you glanced at your messages.

Unread.

Maybe even unopened.

Possibly deleted.

At least you weren’t blocked.

Down on the field the people were equally as lively as the crowds filling the stands. News cameras, photographers, reporters, tons of familiar yet never before seen people rushing about the green grass and the dirt trying to get a moment with any of the players. Music played throughout the stadium, remixes of pop songs old and new keeping the good vibes in check.

Weaving through men in suits and women in high heels, hoping to avoid any and all interaction with every single one of them, you finally reached the dugout and ducked into it, flying down the stairs. 

“Moonie,” Woozi sang. Adjusting the buttons on his jersey, he held up a hand for you to slap.

“Hey,” you breathed, glancing around, finding his girlfriend with Joshua and Seungkwan. The three were talking, looking out onto the field at the massive amounts of people waiting for them. “Oh, good, thought I’d be the only girlfriend here.”

Woozi raised a brow, beginning to strap on his gear. “Half of our starting line is up on the other side of the field, with their wives,” he propped a leg up on the bench to fasten the gear around his shins. “Your boyfriend included.”

“Great,” you said, crossing your arms. Poking out your bottom lip you bobbed your head and looked out onto the field. 

Woozi laughed within a breath, switching his legs around. “You not gonna go find him?”

“Nah,” you said way too fast.

When he had both feet on the ground he reached for an arm guard and faced you entirely. “Why not?”

“Because,” you shrugged. Your brother's laugh rang from the opposite end of the dugout, your ears perking up at the sound of the contagious song. “I’m gonna go find DK,” you mumbled.

“Moonie,” Woozi stopped you before you wandered too far. “Everything okay?”

A vague question that deserved a vague answer. Having known Woozi for years, one of your brother's closest friends, anything said to him would go straight back to DK, even if you asked him not to say anything. Jihoon was Big Brother 2.0 in a sense, and though you were grateful for the dual lookout over you, he was DK’s secret agent.

“I’m fine,” you said, apparently unconvincingly with how his brows shifted. “I promise.”

Strapping the rest of his gear on, he walked in front of you, a tight smile on his lips. “I’ve known you since you were sixteen,” he said with a nod of his head, “You can’t lie.” Folding your arms over your chest, you clenched your jaw and took a breath. “Least not to me, you should know that,” he laughed. Tilting his head, the wispy strands of his black hair dancing over his forehead, he pursed his lips before he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you whispered, shaking your head once. Tightening your fingers on your biceps he didn’t let it go unnoticed. “I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

Giving you a once over, releasing a sigh, he nodded his acceptance. “Okay. You know if you need anything, I”m here. You don’t just have Seokmin to rely on, okay?”

You answered him with a quick nod and the smallest smile, leaving him to finish preparing for the game before he joined his curvy girlfriend and his friends admiring the field. Taking yourself through the dugout, arms still tight over your chest, you breeze past the bench a level higher and closer to the field where several players sat in their jerseys, so uniform, so clean. Heads of wavy hair, mostly short now that the season was just starting, sat in a line, kicked back on the finished wood with their hats in their laps. By September their hair would be flowing, unmanageable curls, the baseball flow.

At the end of the bench, sat up straight, his legs stretched out in front of him, was your favorite head of curls. Loose brown waves that’d grow tighter as the months passed now that he promised off his haircut. Behind him, down on your level, stood your brother grinning a mile wide as he spoke with a man in all black. To talk to your brother meant you’d have to place yourself directly behind Vernon and the soft smile he wore while he listened to his teammates talk.

“Isla!”

Tearing your eyes away from the boy a foot or so above where you walked, you shot a wide eyed look at your brother. So much for trying to go into this incognito. Glancing up at Vernon, he didn’t look at you, but his smile vanished.

“Hey, Deeks,” you spoke quietly, trying to keep your conversation between you and your brother.

“I didn’t think you’d come down here,” he said, waving goodbye to the man he previously spoke with.

“I’m not here with anybody, so…”

“Right,” DK sighed, then caught himself, throwing up his hands, “Wait, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You smiled and shrugged, shaking your head. “It’s okay,” you whispered, sneaking a glance to your right. He hadn’t moved.

“I’m telling you, put Ryujin on a flight.” Stepping closer, he laid a hand on your shoulder. “Or, I’ll have someone book it. I’m so glad you’re talking to her again.”

Your fingertips pressed into your biceps again. “She’s got… school,” you muttered.

DK curled his lip. “She’s got life to live,” he said, and you smiled. “I’ve heard you talk about her before. Get her on a plane, Jagi.” Adjusting the cap on his head, he returned the smile and squeezed your shoulder. Just as he was about to walk away, jog up the stairs, and leave you for work, you latched onto his hand and pulled him closer to you. From your hands to your eyes his wide gaze traveled. “You… okay.” His quick acceptance and attention made you laugh.

“What are your plans later?”

DK opened his mouth and closed it twice, looking all over you for the butt of the joke. “Me?” He shook his head. “Mine?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

He glanced over your shoulder toward Woozi and his friends. “Uh, we’re going to go down Festa Street, there’s a… place that does Throwback Thursdays, we wanted to check it out.”

“Can I come with you?”

Holding his breath, he waited a second for a rebuttal. “Of course,” he sighed, giving your hand a squeeze. “I know I shouldn’t, uh, question why, but… You really want to come hang out with me and my friends?” 

The thought of doing anything else nauseated you.

“I do,” you said, and it deepened his smile. Like Woozi, that thing flashed in his eyes. He knew why you were asking. There was another question lingering closeby, a name hidden behind his teeth, one that forced you to mumble, “No.” He left it alone.

The name came bouncing down the dugout stairs anyhow, Hoshi and Minghao behind him with their wives on their hips, the girls dressed like they were worth millions of dollars. 

“There she is,” Mingyu called out, his arms spread open. Throwing them around you your hand fell out of DK’s grip, your brother taking a step backward. Pressing kisses to your cheek, Mingyu rocked you side to side. “Knew you wouldn’t miss my first game.” Grabbing onto his arms, you tried to put some space between you, maneuvering your head around to say hi to the other four.

DK had his eyes glued to Mingyu, a polite smile on his lips barely reaching his eyes. “I’ll see you tonight,” he said to you, somehow avoiding the way you begged him with your eyes to get you out of this. 

You knew what he’d say, he could do so without actually saying it. You did this yourself. In the nicest, most DK way possible, he’d tell you that you did this yourself.

“What?” Mingyu sighed, pulling away from you, turning you by your shoulders to face him. His bright smile faded, and DK disappeared up the stairs. “What’s he mean tonight?”

Placing your hands over his, you said, “I’m gonna go out with him and his friends.”

“Tonight?” he asked, tone growing snarky.

“Yes.”

Throwing his eyes around him for a moment, he huffed a laugh and narrowed his gaze. “It’s the night of our first game, we’re celebrating, you don’t wanna come with me? Hoshi and Hao are ready to buy out Cheers.”

They’d fallen in love with that bar. Head over heels, all four of them. Other players would come and go each night, if you could remember, but Mingyu, Hoshi, Minghao… That became their spot. Over these last two weeks Cheers had started promoting their appearance, using their names to draw a crowd which packed the place more than it should be.

“I know,” you said, still aiming to speak above a whisper. “And, it sounds like so much fun, I always have fun there with you guys, but I haven’t seen DK in, like, two weeks.”

“He’s your brother, you can see him anytime you want,” he grumbled, brows falling over his eyes. Just as expected.

Pulling his hands off of you, you cradled them. “You steal me away,” you attempted a joke. He didn’t find it funny. “One night with DK. Please?”

A sigh fell from him as he tipped his chin back. “Better find you in my room when you come back.”

A booming voice sounded over the speakers, filling the entire stadium with cheers and shouts as the sportscaster announced the starting lineups for each team. DK had his name called first and chills rolled down your spine. Every person in the place with a viable voice made some sort of noise. You couldn’t help the smile that lit up your face.

That would never get old.

Mingyu squished your cheeks together and pulled you in for a kiss. “Are you behind home?”

“No,” you said, and he frowned. “I gave my tickets to a mom and a daughter I met on the way down here. They’re huge DK fans, and I think life hasn’t been nice to them recently. Think I’ll go to the suite with Daya and Halle.”

A grin broke onto his lips. “Perfect,” he whispered, kissing you once more before he let you go to follow the girls out of the dugout, onto the field, and up into the stands.

A drink sat on the table in front of you, the melted ice leaving a puddle in its wake as you took the straw between your lips. Seated in a booth against a wall, DK sat beside you, leaning over the glossed chestnut wood to talk to Woozi at the end of the table on your other side. His girlfriend Melody sat across from you, their hands intertwined on top of the table. Her long, sleek black hair fell down her back over her denim jacket with the number 22 patched onto the front pocket. A lot of the girls had niche clothes like this, their boy's numbers or their names stitched or plastered onto it somehow. 

You stuck to the normal merch, cutting it with the help of one of your stylists back home, having her stitch the pieces together to create something that seemed original. The numbers of your brother or your boyfriend never made it onto the pieces, but you did own several DK jerseys, snatching up every version created since he played for the Cyclones. 

Once upon a time you dreamed of wearing a boyfriend's number like the other girls. Ever since you were a teenager, seeing Jihyo wear Jun’s number and his name, small businesses creating and gifting her original pieces with their family name on it, commemorating Jun and his legacy, you wanted it too. 

But, not in the WAG way.

Never in the WAG way.

Sitting here at the table, staring at the red 22 and their hands together, you weren’t really sure in what way you meant. Lifting your chin, meeting her dark eyes, you leaned forward onto your elbows and asked, “Melody, what do you do?” The conversation amongst the guys silenced. This girl was fairly new. Woozi dated here and there throughout your years of knowing him, but since your years at Nasara, Melody had been somewhat of a secret. DK told you in confidence one night on his living room couch, the two of you buried in big blankets watching movies, Woozi wanted to marry her.

Three years together, having only shown her face to the public in the last few months, they were in it for the long haul. This season will be a test, DK told you. Melody, a quieter personality, she wasn’t used to attention like this in the slightest. If they made it through the summer he was going to ask her to be his wife.

“I’m a casting director,” she said with a smile. Her porcelain skin complimented her darker features beautifully. She glanced at Woozi with a shy shrug. “Well, aspiring, I guess.”

He drug his thumb over the back of her hand and nodded. “And you’re doing a great job,” he said to her. 

Looking back at you, blush evident on her cheeks, she said, “Right now I’m the assistant to a casting director of a… pretty big company,” she chose her words carefully, darting her eyes between you and DK who listened to her talk with a small smile. There were things she couldn’t reveal, you caught on quick, but your brother definitely knew the hidden facts. “We’re gearing up to start a project real soon, so this is like a vacation for me.”

Tilting your head, you studied her, sharing a look with the pretty girl where she told you exactly what you wanted to find out. Whipping your head around, wide eyed as you looked at your brother, he laughed and slapped a hand to your shoulder.

“Yes,” he laughed through his words. “Exactly what you’re thinking, yes.” Facing the couple, he said, “She doesn’t keep up with our mom so much right now-”

“As if you do,” you sneered, cutting him off.

DK shot you a look. “I do when my friends start to work for her.”

Woozi and Melody smiled at one another, letting you siblings bicker in peace.

“And the last time you called her? Was when?”

DK rolled his eyes. “Whatever, she can call me too, yanno.”

There was a subtle shift in energy, one you both felt and ignored, but acknowledged. The, the phone works both ways, argument.

You faced Melody who waited with patience. “That’s so cool,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do you love it? Your job?”

“I do,” she said. Jihoon looked over her with pride, a sort of proudness for his girlfriend, his successful, hardworking girlfriend who had a name for herself elsewhere instead of just being someone's girlfriend. Some baseball players girlfriend. “Took me years to get here. I’m still not where I want to be, but I’m willing to pay my dues. Any experience is good experience, and I want it all.”

DK glanced at you, one you didn’t return.

“How do you… How do you balance… this?” Gesturing toward their hands, you held DK in your peripheral praying to a god you weren’t sure you believed in that he would keep his mouth shut. 

The couple shared something between them, their grip on one another tightening.

“Patience,” Melody said.

“Understanding,” Woozi smiled, making her smile.

“Communication,” Melody whispered.

Your cheeks warmed, their love radiated louder the longer they stared at each other. 

“Some days it’s a lot of work,” Woozi said, looking at you, and you wondered if he could read your mind. “When you both want it, it’s worth it.”

“There’s definitely hard days, weeks even, but- Oh, trust,” she said, looking amongst you all, “Forgot to add that in there, too. That one’s huge. When he gets on the road and I’m at home stuck in my office, or if I’m on trips and he’s in the middle of the off season…”

The idea of your parents popped into your mind while she spoke. Your mother, home and glued to her books or her editor or her publishing company, your father, on the road, out and about with his team and other women. Scandals were endless, your father on the front page with a girl that wasn’t your mother on his hip each time he played a series in another part of the country. It wasn’t all his fault though, your mother’s editor spent a lot of time at your house, spending time with you and DK barely old enough to realize what was going on. He’d spend nights there, he’d cook for you, he’d take you and your brother in the pool if your mother was stuck behind one of her screens.

Now that your father was retired and your mothers career was set in legendary status, the two were inseparable, as if nothing had ever happened, leaving you and DK to pick up the brunt of the messes they’ve made. Every now and again the media caught you with questions regarding their past, of whether or not they were going to stay married, if they worked through their problems, if you and DK shared a father. It was all a mess, and as long as you live you’ll never forgive them for leaving you and DK to pick up the pieces. Neither of them addressed the questions, nor the way their children were harassed by the public regarding their relationship and their past.

It’s why you took up the surname Moon, just to fuck with them. Questions of why, something you’ll never entertain.

With Woozi and Melody at this table, talking to each other with such care, such understanding, it warmed your heart. It reminded you that real, genuine love existed. 

You peeked over at a table not far from yours. Seungkwan and Joshua sat with a few bench players, but across from the blonde, leaning over the table with a smile on his face was Vernon. He made player of the game, the Lions social media blew his face up as soon as the game was over, and all throughout each inning they posted his highlights. The game had been crazy, like he’d been a part of the team all along, his chemistry mixing right in with everyone else's.

He deserved the praise, the attention, even though you knew he wouldn’t accept it, even if it looked like he was. Today had been enough to fuel someone's ego for life, set a standard for them for the years to come, but not Vernon. If it had been anyone else, like it had been in the past, you’d never hear the end of it, and come to think of it, you don’t.

His follower count grew in record time. The Lions fans welcomed him in with loving arms. Sure enough, maybe even by tomorrow, the stands would be full of jerseys with his name on it.

DK slid an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Go talk to him,” he whispered, and you shivered.

“Are you kidding me?” You laughed and looked down at the table. Grabbing your drink, you sucked it down faster, your brother watching.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

You nearly choked on the liquor going down your throat. “He could ignore me, and embarrass me in front of your friends.”

DK glanced at that table. “Kwan and Shua are your friends too, just so you know.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, sliding the glass over the table. “I’m gonna go to the bar, does anybody want anything?”

“We’re good,” Woozi said, exchanging glances with Melody. Your brother pressed his lips together as you stood up, smoothing your hands over your jeans.

“Anything?” you asked, tone short.

He smiled. “No thanks,” he said with a head shake. “Come back, okay?”

Stepping away, you nodded at him without verbally expressing anything. Seungkwan looked up as you passed by their table. He glanced at DK and slid out of his seat, hurrying over for your brother, jumping into the spot you left vacant.

Pulling your phone from your pocket to distract yourself as you weaved through the people crowding the tight space, a groan leaked from your lips without you even knowing. Your screen was lit up with several notifications, none of which you wanted.

[thirteen<3]: I miss you already

[thirteen<3]: Daya and Hoshi keep buying rounds of tequila shots, do I keep going or are you coming here?

[thirteen<3]: Damn I don’t get to see you and you won’t answer me either

[thirteen<3]: what did I do to deserve this???

[thirteen<3]: Kidding btw, I just miss you.

There were several stories posted from the game today, Vernon’s name in nearly every headline taunting you. Scrolling through a couple as you hopped onto a barstool, you screenshotted the ones that threatened to make you smile. Ones you wanted to save. Ones you wanted to send to him even though he’d probably already seen them.

[thirteen<3]: You read my messages, I know your there

Taking a deep breath, you ordered a cocktail from the woman behind the bar and typed away.

[you:] I’m here. Are you having fun?

[thirteen<3]: Would be if you were here

[thirteen<3]: Daya keeps requesting awful songs

[you]: Where’s Hoshi?

Thanking the woman as she placed the glass in front of you with a smile, you brought the straw to your lips and let the sweetness coat your tongue.

[thirteen<3]: He’s here somewhere, i dont know

[thirteen<3]: He doesnt like to dance

[you]: Who are you dancing with

[thirteen<3]: Daya!!

You pushed a laugh through your nose, drinking from your straw even faster. Bubbles appeared and disappeared several times, and then a photo popped up. In the middle of a crowded dance floor, the one in Cheers, Mingyu held the phone up over his head giving you a near birds eye view of just how close he and Daya were on the dance floor together. She smiled up at the camera, her eyes closed, her white teeth shining. With both hands she flipped the bird while Mingyu pulled his infamous lip curl, one eye closed with a peace sign.

Unsure whether or not she was stupid, or just didn’t care what she was doing, you gave the photo a heart, then locked your phone and shoved it back into your pocket. 

“Another?” the woman asked, appearing in front of you with her cute customer service smile. Nodding, you pushed your glass closer to her.

“Please,” you mumbled.

He could dance with Daya, that was fine. They could unknowingly flirt with one another, sure. If Daya was doing what you thought she was doing, something would happen tonight, while you weren’t there.

It all clicked at once.

“You Isla?” a man asked from behind you, placing himself at your side. Giving him a look, tanned skin and a Lions hat, you nodded. “I thought so, you’re DK’s sister, right?”

“It is her?” Another voice made itself known to your left, wedging between the barstools to lean against the bar. Both men reeked of booze, their words stumbling together as they spoke. “Shit, I didn’t think we’d ever find you.”

“You were looking for me?” you questioned, thanking the bartender with a smile as she brought you another drink. Taking it from the bar quickly you placed your hand over the top and the straw between your fingers. 

The man to your right laughed. “Not looking, but like, we thought we wouldn’t run into you, at least alone.”

You lowered your brows, willing away your own intoxication. “Alone?”

“Without Mingyu,” the man on your left blurted out.

Looking between the two of them, the way they learned on the bar, the way they stared at you, you made a face. “My brother is here, so is half of his team, I’m not alone.”

The one in the hat glanced around you obnoxiously with a smirk. “You look pretty alone to me.”

“What do you want?” You grit your teeth, and he bit his lip. 

“Just wanna talk to you,” he said, sharing a look with his friend whose laugh chilled your spine. “Can we buy you a drink? Not much you don’t like, want us to surprise you?”

Usually, in situations like this one, you could handle yourself, but the vibe these two gave off, it was one you did not like. You brought your straw to your lips and shook your head. “I’m good. Thanks.” 

The one in the hat groaned, tapping your arm with his elbow. He was clearly the leader of this operation. “Come on, just one, we want to. We’re big fans, we don’t want anything weird, I promise.” 

“Promise,” his friend to your left reiterated, attempting a reassuring nod of his head. “We just wanna show our appreciation.”

You raised a brow. “For?” He gestured to you, all of you, head to toe, then added the rest of the team quickly. “Okay,” you said, sighing harshly. “One drink.”

One led to five fast.

Before you knew it you were laughing with them, knocking back shots other guys bought for you. You acquired a following, shadows hanging around you looking for your attention. The one in the hat, the first one to approach you, he got comfortable, feeling some sort of seniority for finding you first. His arm ended up around you at some point as guy after guy came up to you shamelessly flirting, saying things you couldn’t quite comprehend, but knew you wouldn’t like if you were sober.

“You want me to tell ‘em all to leave?” the man in the hat whispered in your ear, his arm around you while another guy stood in front of you. Blinking, everything dizzy, you looked up at him, eyebrows squeezing together in the center of your forehead.

“And, what?” you asked, squinting. “Leave me here with who, you?”

A laugh pushed through his lips, his gaze scattering elsewhere. “I mean, they’re not bothering you?”

Taking your time, you looked over every single one of them, their heads tipped up, nonsense spewing from their lips. One big competition of who could be the loudest, the most obnoxious. Not one compared to a single guy on your brother's baseball team, they were all trashy Haos tourists.

You looked up at Hat Man. “I’d definitely prefer it if you were all women.”

“Oh shit,” his eyes lit up, “You’re into that?”

You finished the drink in your hand and placed it on the bar. “It’s not a kink.”

“It is for me,” he smirked and you cringed.

“Leave,” you almost shouted, trying to stand up. His arm around you kept you on the stool.

“No, wait, wait,” his laugh made your skin crawl. “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean it’s cool if you’re, you know, bi, or whatever, right? That’s what you are?” You tried to stand again, but he moved in front of you, your knees pressing to his thighs. “It’s okay, I’m sure there’s a girl in here somewhere, want me to look?”

Tapping his chest with a finger in a weak attempt to move him, you looked up at him in utter disgust. “She’d be more likely to agree to me, with me. And we’d leave you, because you are not it.”

His face fell, an anger replacing anything else he was feeling. “What the fuck?” he muttered, his grip tightening on your shoulders. “This whole time I thought you were feeling this,” he said. You shook your head. “You fucking bitch,” he snickered, giving you a slight shake. Fear sparked within you, your eyes going wide. “That’s what you are, you know that right? I’m over here acting all nice, but you really are what they say you are. A fucking bitch.”

“Take your fucking hands off of her.”

The voice, one full of rage that made it so deep, it brought tears to your eyes.

The man in the hat laughed aloud, pulled back, turned around and withheld his gasp, but the way his eyes widened expressed his shock. His face, patient, completely straight, stared back at him, angrier than you’ve ever seen him. Tearing his eyes off the man, he looked at you and the tears slipped down your cheeks.

“She belong to you?” the man asked, venom in his voice, trying to regain any sort of traction, any sort of fight. “You know what she’s been over here doing?”

Vernon ignored him. Keeping his eyes on you he wrapped an arm around your back and helped you off the stool, catching you as you stumbled into his hold. Nerves infected your veins, this close to him, looking up at him, feeling him, touching him, smelling him, all of it. He was the same as he’s ever been, as comforting as he’s been since the first day you met him. And he held you the same, muscle memory. 

“Let’s go,” he said to you, pushing the guy out of the way, reaching up to knock the Lions hat off of his head before he pushed by anyone else.

“She’s a slut, new kid!” he shouted after the two of you. “Nothing but a bitch!”

“Don’t listen to him,” Vernon muttered, guiding you through the bar, through the crowds to the door. Pushing it open to more crowds, new crowds to gawk at you, he walked you over to a black car and placed you by the passenger door. Pulling it open, he moved you inside with a light tap to your back. Flashes lit up from the tables and people by the door to the bar behind you, flashes he sighed at. You turned to look, but his hand on his shoulder aided in gently putting you in the car. “Don’t,” he whispered, “Leave them alone.”

He pushed the door shut once you were seated, the car brand new, smelling fresh and like leather. It was way smaller than anything your brother owned, but it was clean, and definitely expensive. Laying your head back on the headrest, your world spun, forcing you to take deep breaths into your stomach. Wiping your eyes, your cheeks, you looked out the windows for Vernon. On the phone he wandered around the front of the car, glancing at you occasionally, his mouth moving a mile a minute.

Your heart sunk into your gut. He looked good. Different, but good. Instead of a t-shirt he wore a black button down, half of it tucked into his black jeans that hugged his thighs. A leather belt strapped around his waist complimented the same chain that hung around his neck, one you remembered once brushed over your nose. That night in the locker room, the only night you ever shared with him. It was enough to ruin you entirely, nothing would ever be as satisfying, as fulfilling. 

He got into the driver's seat, his phone dropping into his lap with the release of a breath. Looking at you once, he pulled his door shut and laid his head backward. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Yeah,” you whispered, half conscious of what was coming out of your mouth. Pulling your feet up on the seats, you wrapped your arms around your knees and focused forward through the tinted windshield. “Sorry.”

Silence surrounded you. A sound that once went unnoticed between you, something that didn’t need to be addressed, something you both understood. It held a different semblance now, full of questions unanswered, feelings unknown.

You didn’t want to, but you cried. Since you saw his face, you couldn’t stop.

“Isla, you’re okay,” he said, frozen where he sat. “Those guys were assholes, you know that. When have you ever let a guy get to you like this?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, pressing your hands to your cheeks. Sucking in a breath, you shook your head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He turned his head, a look you couldn’t reciprocate.

“Why?”

“You always have to take care of me,” you gasped, burying your face in your hands. “I’m sorry.” You wondered if he knew half of your apologies were aimed at September. And, December. And, two weeks ago.

He took a breath. “I wasn’t gonna leave you with those assholes.”

“But, you hate me,” you whispered, and he moved himself around entirely, facing you where he sat.

“When did I ever say that?” Taking your hands away, you found him looking at you like you had grown a second head. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” you said. “It was… implied.”

Vernon shut his eyes for a few seconds. “Isla, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t talk to me,” you whispered. “You don’t want to talk to me, you don’t want anything to do with me.” Opening his eyes, the look on his face hurt your heart. “You’re all I can think about, you’re all I’ve been able to think about, for a really, really long time.”

Taking his lip between his teeth, he averted his eyes elsewhere and gathered his thoughts. “I did not want to have this conversation like this, you’re drunk.”

Tears fell from your eyes. “I’m always drunk. Why?”

His eyes softened as they met yours. “Is that rhetorical?” Laying your head down on your knees, you shook your head, your lips trembling. “What were you trying to forget about tonight?”  The answer popped in your head immediately, but you didn’t want to say it, not to him. You forgot he was able to read your mind. “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“Mingyu,” you whispered on command. The self awareness he had to not make a face continued to impress you. “The thought of you not wanting me.”

He wrapped a hand around the steering wheel and stared at it. “It’s not that I don’t want you, Isla,” he said under his breath. “I’ll always want you.” A breath shot through you. He turned his chin toward you. “I love you, and unfortunately I think no matter what you do, I always will.” Twisting in your seat you watched as he moved himself backward, like he was expecting you to reach for him. “As soon as I heard you were with your brother I thought you were finally gonna have some peace, but these kinds of people keep finding you. They know what to use against you to get what they want, and it kills me ‘cause I know you’re smarter than this.”

“If I am then why does it keep happening?”

A small smile hit his lips for a millisecond. “A lot of things,” he mumbled. “We grew up differently, I could start there.”

Your stomach took a tumble. “Dont,” you whispered, and he bobbed his head.

“Exactly, see, you already know it,” he said. “You got to a point when we were at Nasara, where you were so sick of it, you knew what you had to do. At least, that’s what I thought had happened when you left and Aurora told me you were with DK. Even those first few weeks when you didn’t answer me, I just kept thinking, this is it, he’s gonna help her, get her help. I didn’t need a response, I know you, Iya,” the slip of the nickname triggered the tears, “You would answer me when you were ready, and I really didn’t know where you were, so if you were somewhere,” he tilted his head at the same time like he couldn’t bring himself to say the word rehab, “I figured you’d answer me when it was over, but…”

New Years happened. Photos of you and Mingyu locking lips hit the internet, and no, you weren’t getting help, you latched yourself onto the very opposite.

Vernon knew it too with the way he looked at you now. 

“V,” you whispered, and the softest smile graced his lips.

“What were you trying to forget?”

A shaky breath ripped through your lungs, the tears staining your cheeks coming to a standstill. Shaking your head, nibbling your lips, you whispered, “You.”

“Why?” he asked, voice pure, the question genuine, ripped from his brain and thrown into your face. Not a thought formed, the best you could do was plead with him with your eyes. “Isla, I thought there was something between us.”

“There was,” you said. “There is.”

He tried his best to not scoff in your face, but it happened anyway. “Then why ignore me? Why push me away? I fell in love with you, and you vanished.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered. Jaw ajar, midthought, Vernon blinked a few times and stared at you. Snapping his mouth shut, his jaw clenched as he looked away. “I thought I wasn’t gonna see you again.”

He almost broke his neck with how fast he looked at you. “Isla, you could’ve answered the phone and found out.”

“I know,” you nearly shouted, screwing your face up. “I was scared, I was trying to ignore everything, DK was on me, he did want me to go somewhere but I wouldn’t, and I tried therapy, and I tried outpatient shit, but it sucked, and then Mingyu came back ‘cause he knew I was around, and it’s all a mess from there. The shit from Nasara stuck with me, I thought it wouldn’t fuck me up that bad, but it’s like… a problem.”

Your heart lodged into your throat. He had reached over and wrapped a hand around your wrist.

“Okay,” he breathed, encouraging you to breathe with him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it to me, I told you, Isla, I know you.” You were both paralyzed in place. “It’s okay to need help, it’s okay to admit that you need help. And, because I know you, I know that it’s gonna make you want to run away somewhere else, but you can’t.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he said, giving your wrist a gentle shake. “I wanna record you saying that so tomorrow you can’t deny it.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re gonna talk to me tomorrow?”

He smiled. “I have wanted to talk to you every single day,” he let go of your wrist and settled back into his side of the car. “But, you have a… boyfriend. I don’t think he likes me, by the way.”

Shying away, you mumbled, “I told him we fucked.”

Not an infliction on his face. “Hm,” he hummed, glancing out the windshield, “Is that what we did?” When he looked back at you and your sappy eyes, you shook your head. “Explains why he looks at me the way he does.”

“He doesn’t like DK either,” you said, and Vernon went stoic. “He won’t talk to him, DK tries, but Mingyu avoids him.”

“Seems about right,” Vernon muttered. Questioning him with a brow, he said, “Why would a guy who’s trying to manipulate you into what he wants associate himself with people who want what's best for you?”

Groaning, burying your face back in your hands, you said, “You sound like Ryujin.”

Vernon smiled. “I know.”

You never looked at him faster. “What?”

“She’s my friend too, Iya,” he breathed through a laugh. “I don’t hear details, don’t worry, but I hear enough to know that your little relationship thing is not good for you.”

“Why would she tell you anything!?”

He shrugged, fingers tapping the steering wheel. Shifting in his seat, looking away from you, he said, “She wants us together.”

A chill breezed over your skin. Brushing your hands over the bumps you sat backward and lowered your chin, waiting for him to meet your eyes. When he did, you whispered, “I do, too.”

Pulling into a lazy smile, his lips parted, and he whispered, “Me too.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[stephstars08]

Falling Apart

Austin!Elvis Presley x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Mention of Drugs being taken, Drugs, Mention of Drinking Alcohol, Divorce, Depressed Elvis, Yelling/Fighting, Elvis having a meltdown on stage, Colonel trying to manipulate Reader, Mention of Elvis collapsing, Fluff at the end, and Maybe some Grammar Errors. (Sorry if I forgot any!!!)

Summary: Due the Colonel making Elvis take a bunch of drugs to keep him energized to perform, it’s making Elvis completely fall apart. It get’s even worse when Pricilla packs all of her stuff up and leaves Elvis taking their daughter with her. After Elvis’s dad’s assistant Y/N hears the news she does everything she can to help Elvis pull himself back together.

Word Count: 2,162

Author’s Note: FINALLY MY FIRST ELVIS MOVIE STORY IS HERE! I’ve been waiting for basically a year to finally get a plot for a story for one of my favorite movies of all time! This isn’t just my first Austin/Elvis story but this is also my first story of the new year so I hope you all enjoy! If any of you want to you can read this as Elvis x Reader or Austin!Elvis x Reader! It’s up to you!!

Y/N Y/L/N is the assistant to Vernon Presley who is of course the father of the one and only Elvis Presley. Vernon is in charge of Presley Enterprises. Vernon hired Y/N to be his assistant when Elvis came home from the army. Due to all of the films Elvis was staring in at the time it was getting too hard for Vernon to take care of everything by himself so that’s why he hired Y/N.

When Y/N got the job, she wasn’t expecting to be around Elvis so much. Of course, Y/N isn’t complaining since Elvis has brought her in with open arms and so did his wife Priscilla. Elvis has thanked Y/N so much for helping his father out.

Y/N would be lying if she said that she has never had a crush on the heartthrob. When Elvis first started out Y/N immediately grew a crush on him, but that crush did fade away after she graduated from high school and when Elvis went overseas to be in the army. But as time went on that crush returned and the more, she was around Elvis, the more the crush grew. Y/N wished she didn’t feel that way about Elvis since he’s married to Priscilla, and she is really good friends with Priscilla as well. But those thoughts just flood her mind whenever she is with him.

Y/N loved everything about her job except having to work with the Colonel who is the manager of Elvis. Ever since the first day she met the Colonel she knew he wasn’t very fond of her. She hated being around him since she always feels uncomfortable around him, and she always gets bad vibes from him.

But Y/N didn’t see the Colonel’s dark side till Elvis started to play a residency in Las Vegas.

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

Y/N was at her apartment getting ready to meet Vernon at a business meeting. Right before she walked out the door, she heard her phone ring. When she answered the phone, she heard Vernon’s voice.

“Hi, I was just about to walk out the door to meet you.” Y/N said into the phone. “Priscilla left Elvis this morning.” She heard Vernon tell her which made her heart drop. “Oh my gosh.” Y/N said in a shocked tone. Even though she’s shocked by the news she knew the reason why Priscilla left. “She moved all of her stuff out and she took Lisa with her.” She heard Vernon tell her. She could hear the sadness in his voice. “How is Elvis?” Y/N asked in the phone. That was the only question that was coming to her mind. “He’s a complete mess.” She heard him tell her which broke her heart.

“Can you go to Graceland and just stay there with him till I come back from the meeting?” Vernon asked her. “I just really don’t want him to be alone right now.” He added. “Of course, I can.” Y/N answered into the phone.

“Thank you so much dear.” She heard him say. “I’ll talk to you soon.” He added which made her smile a little. “You’re welcome. I’ll talk to you soon.” She told him through the phone. After they said their goodbyes Y/N hung up the phone.

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

Y/N parked her car in front of the big Graceland mansion. She turned the car off and grabbed her purse from the passenger seat. She got out of the car closing the driver's seat door. As Y/N made her way to the front door she wrapped the strap of her purse around her shoulder.

When she got to the door, she rang the doorbell and waited but no one answered so she rang the doorbell again but still no answer. Y/N put her hand on the doorknob and twisted it which made the door open. Y/N walked inside the mansion. “Elvis!” Y/N called out as she closed the door. She looked around and noticed that things that belonged to Priscilla were gone. Y/N let out a sigh she she walked into the dining room and put her keys and purse down onto the table.

“Elvis!” Y/N called out again as she walked over to the bottom of the staircase and again, she got no response. She knew Elvis had to be home because where else would he go. Y/N walked up the staircase and right when she got to the top, she heard whimpering. Y/N walked down the hallway and stopped in front of the door to what was the bedroom Elvis once shared with Priscilla. That was where the whimpering was coming from. She was going to knock on the door, but something was telling her to just walk in.

When she opened the door, she saw a bunch of medicine bottles on the floor. Y/N walked in and at first, she didn’t see Elvis till she walked past the king-sized bed. Elvis was sitting on the floor crying into his knees that were hiding his face. It broke Y/N’s heart seeing Elvis in this kind of state. “Elvis.” Y/N said in a soft voice. Elvis looked up at her with his eyes filled with tears and his cheeks soaked with tears running down them. “What are you doing?” Elvis asked her. She could hear how broken he was in his voice. “Your father wanted me to be here with you till he comes back from his business meeting.” Y/N told him. Elvis didn’t say anything back. He just looked away from her.

Y/N sat down next to him. “I’m so sorry about what happened.” Y/N told him with sincere in her voice. “Why are you saying sorry to me?” Elvis asked still not looking at her. “What do you mean?” Y/N asked him. “I’m the reason why she left. She said I’m like a zombie.” Elvis told her as tears continued to stream down his face like a waterfall. “Those pills are what turn you like that.” Y/N told him which made him finally look back at her.

She can’t just keep jumping around it anymore. When he’s on those pills it’s like he’s a completely different person. Those pills are making him fall apart.

“The pills. They just keep controlling me. It’s like they have taken over me.” Elvis told her as he started to cry harder if that was even possible. “I know.” Y/N started. “That’s why I’m here. I’m going to help you get through this.” Y/N told him looking him straight into his eyes. Elvis believed her as he stared back into her eyes. “Okay.” Elvis said in a soft voice.

“I’m going to go downstairs into the kitchen to get you some water.” Y/N told him but before she could stand up, he grabbed her hand. “Please, don’t leave me. Please stay with me.” Elvis said to her in a pleading tone. “Okay! Okay, I’ll stay here with you.” Y/N told him in reassurance. Y/N wrapped her arm around him and rubbed her hand up and down his arm as he cried.

They stayed like that till Vernon came home.

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

As a lot of time pasted Y/N kept her promise to Elvis. She’s been looking after him as much as she could. Even though Y/N has been doing her best to take care of Elvis, he’s still not the man he once was.

The only time Elvis looks happy is when he is on stage in front of his fans. The only people that knew what he was going through were the people he sees every day.

Elvis was playing another show in Vegas. Y/N watching him perform from the side of the stage with Jerry by her side. “You’ve been very quiet this evening.” Jerry said to her which earned him a glare from her. “You know damn well why I’ve been quiet.” Y/N told him in a stern tone. “The Colonel came before I could call you and right away, he made Dr. Nick shoot him up with drugs.” Jerry explained to her. “I’m not mad at you, okay!” Y/N told him with a heavy sigh. “He should be in a hospital bed but instead that monster decided to make the decision to shoot him up with the same drugs that is what made him collapse in the first place.” Y/N said with anger in her tone.

Jerry saw the tears forming in her eyes, so he brought her in for a hug. He knows about the feelings she has for Elvis, so he knows it’s hard seeing him like this. As Y/N returned the hug she tried her best to keep her tears in.

They released from the hug when they heard Elvis singing to Suspicious Minds with no music. Y/N could sense right away that something was wrong, and it was just going to get worse. As Elvis went on a rant about how this was going to be his last show in Vegas the Colonel immediately made his way up to the stage.

“Pull the curtain down!” Colonel told someone in a demanding tone which made Y/N and Jerry look at him. “What is going on here.” Colonel asked Jerry in a stern tone. Jerry took a glance at Elvis and then back at the Colonel. “I think he wants to know that, too.” Jerry told him.

When Elvis saw the Colonel started to act even more out of character. Elvis was having a melt down and it was starting to scare Y/N a little since she’s never seen him act like this. As the curtain started to fall Elvis started to yell at the Colonel. When Elvis said, “You’re Fired!” to the Colonel Y/N felt her heart rate speed up.

As the Colonel walked closer to him, he just kept saying “you’re fired” louder and louder each time. “YOU’RE FIRED!” Elvis screamed into his microphone which made everyone, and everything go silent. Everyone looked at Elvis with shock as the Colonel looked at him with sadness. “You’re fired.” Elvis said more calm and not into the microphone.

When he dropped his microphone, it made Y/N jump by the loud noise the mic made when it hit the stage. She watched him turn away from the Colonel and walk off the stage.

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

Y/N decided to wait an hour before going up to Elvis’s room to check on him. Y/N was walking down the hallway to the elevator when she felt someone grab her left wrist. Y/N turned around to see that it was the Colonel who grabbed her wrist.

“Let me go.” Y/N told him in a demanding tone. “You go up there and tell him to take me back.” Colonel told her in the same tone she used. He knew she was going upstairs to talk to Elvis. Y/N let out a scoff as she pulled her wrist out of his grip. “You are the reason why he’s falling apart!” Y/N told him. “You’re the reason why he’s hooked on all of those drugs and you’re the reason why Pricilla and Lisa left him!” Y/N added as she looks at him with a fiery look in her eyes.

“Do it or you’re fired!” Colonel told her in a warning tone. “You’re not the boss of me and you never were.” Y/N said not back down to him. “You stay the hell away from him!” Y/N told him in a warning voice and walked away from him.

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

When Y/N got to Elvis’s room before she could knock on the door it opened to reveal Elvis. “When I heard footsteps, I figured that it was you coming to check on me.” Elvis told her letting her inside. Y/N could tell that he was more calmed down then what he was just an hour ago. “I was going to come up here right away, but I decided to let you cool off.” Y/N told him while he closed the door.

“I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I guess I just lost control.” Elvis told her turning around to face her but didn’t look at her. “Elvis, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Y/N told him. She put one of her hands onto one of his cheeks which made his eyes meet hers. “It was the drugs and that shot of alcohol didn’t help either but that’s what made you lose it.” Y/N reassured him.

“But what you did right was you set yourself free from that monster.” Y/N told him stroking his cheek lightly with her thumb. “I didn’t want him taking you away from me, too.” Elvis told her.

Before she could say anything, Elvis’s lips connected with hers. Y/N immediately returned the kiss. They continued to kiss until they had to pull away for air.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Elvis confessed to her. Y/N’s lips curved up into a smile. “Me too.” Y/N told him and leaned back up to reconnect her lips with his soft lips again.

[lunarbreaksblog]

The Witcher x Witch!F!Healer!reader

Geralt of Rivia

He wasn't going to go near you, never trusted witches really but like he never trusted them, he was compelled to you like a moth to a light.

When he saw that you could heal people, he knew you were a rare being. Witches never dabbled in health and healing. But you did.

He asks you why, you simply say that you wish to help people. This is the start a grand friendship between you and the Witcher. You help him and he helps you.

You always laughed at his dry jokes. You didn't have much company really, you were shy and kept to yourself. Knew to keep yourself away from the village near by

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Becomes quite jealous of you when Geralt talks of you to her, she felt that you were going to manipulate or take Geralt away from her.

However, those assumptions quickly diminish when she sees you. Then to hear that you are a healer that makes you quite a rare thing to be treasured in the continent.

She decides that she'll take you under her wing, not to teach magic but to teach you how to handle yourself since she could see that you were bad at human interaction.

You would be dead if you had to be a royal mage to a king.

Maybe she'll ask Geralt if they could both take you to bed. She just knows you'll be even more beautiful.

Triss merigold

Absolutely adores you! She's only seen a handful of healers in her life so far. You, though, are the most greatest healer so far.

You have compassion which is suprisely rare for healers.

Her and you get along quite well. You too have regular meet ups to talk about everything that's going on in the continent. She helps you also get better at your people skills.

Iorveth

He's not one known to be gentle with humans, especially magic wielding humans. In his lifetime, all magic wielders have been egotistical. However, you are different.

It agitates him to no end to see you healing his troops, he feels like his manipulating you but he can't shake off the feeling that maybe you are the one manipulating him actually.

It's kinda like a one-sided angry staring match and with you being very uncomfortable.

Vernon roche

Like Iorveth, he doesn't trust you at first but after you make him some herbal tea that reluctantly drank thanks to Ves. He eases up on you.

Somehow you made his back not have that ache that's been bothering him for a while.

Starts looking out for you and just generally helps you when you need it

You've wormed yourself into his heart but he won't show it

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Dumbledore is a Manipulative Piece of Shit: Part 4/?

(part 1, part 2, part 3)

He knew and allowed Harry's abuse

Well, this is a pleasant subject, isn't it? Harry's abuse at the Dursleys' hands. And the worst part about it is that no adult in his life really seems to care.

I'll talk about the Weasley parents in a different post. This one is dedicated to Dumbledore and how he always knew about Harry's abuse and allowed it to persist. For years. Not just once, Harry started Hogwarts. No, I think Dumbledore knew what was going on at Number 4 Privet Drive long before Harry stepped foot in Diagon Alley.

And more importantly, I can prove it.

So, I'll cover my evidence according to the order of the quotes that appear in the books since there is quite a bit to cover.

And yes, I know Dumbledore calls the Dursleys out in Half-Blood Prince:

“You did not do as I asked. You have never treated Harry as a son. He has known nothing but neglect and often cruelty at your hands. The best that can be said is that he has at least escaped the appalling damage you have inflicted upon the unfortunate boy sitting between you.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 55)

But this scene is the definition of "too little, too late" considering how long this has been going on.

So, let's start:

“Nah. Dumbledore gave me the day off yesterday ter fix it. ‘course, he shoulda sacked me instead — anyway, got yeh this.…” It seemed to be a handsome, leather-covered book. Harry opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were his mother and father. “Sent owls off ter all yer parents’ old school friends, askin’ fer photos… knew yeh didn’ have any…d’yeh like it?”

(Philosopher's Stone, page 218)

Hagrid can't keep a secret to save his life, we know that, and he isnt the brightest, with all his good intentions. Yet, even he noticed something's wrong with Harry's home. He knows Harry doesn't have photos of his parents, he knows he never got any gifts.

"But that's not Dumbledore,"

True, but Hagrid tells Dumbledore everything. So if Hagrid knows, Dumbledore knows.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(Chamber of Secrets, page 39)

Both these quotes from Chamber of Secrets show Fred, George, Ron, and Mrs. Weasley clearly knew what was happening. That Harry was being locked up and starved.

Harry really, never kept his abuse a secret and is quite open about informing anyone who'd listen to him about it. He is just used to it being brushed off as something unfortunate that nothing can be done about. The Weasleys, McGonagall, Dumbledore, Remus, and the entire Order of the Phoenix treat it as such.

In OOP, Harry references needing to duck from Vernon's beatings as a joke to Ron and Hermione. He wasn't keeping it a secret.

On the same vane:

She had no idea that Harry was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help … Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. (Harry hadn’t touched these; he had had too much experience of Hagrid’s cooking.) Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Squib?” Harry asked Mrs. Figg, panting with the effort to keep walking. “All those times I came round your house — why didn’t you say anything?” “Dumbledore’s orders. I was to keep an eye on you but not say anything, you were too young. I’m sorry I gave you such a miserable time, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they’d thought you enjoyed it. It wasn’t easy, you know. . . . But oh my word,”

(Goblet of Fire, page 28)

Harry wrote everyone he knew he was being starved. He wrote Hagrid and the Weasleys, and they all sent him food. The adults sent him food without bothering to ask him the important question: "Why aren't you being fed?"

(Order of the Pheonix, page 22)

This is the most damning evidence against Dumbledore.

He knew. He knew how Harry was treated his entire childhood because he had someone spy on him for years.

Mrs. Figg knew how Harry was treated by the Dursleys. She calls it: "miserable". She knew.

And she was sent there on Dumbledore's orders, meaning she was a spy. because let's be real, a squib, who can't do magic and doesn't own a gun can't do anything to protect Harry. She can only be there to spy. To report everything to Dumbledore.

This proves, more than any other quote here, how okay Dumbledore is with Harry suffering at the hands of the Dursleys.

Next moment he jumped as the lock gave a loud click and his door swung open. Harry stood motionless, staring through the open door at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for further sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment and then moved swiftly and silently out of his room to the head of the stairs. His heart shot upward into his throat. There were people standing in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the glass door; eight or nine of them, all, as far as he could see, looking up at him.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 46)

The entire Order was there, at Number 4, Privet Drive. They've been following Harry since he got there. Tonks has seen Harry's bedroom. I don't think they missed something is definitely wrong. (I think this is why they tell the Dursleys off at the end of the fifth book and Dumbledore again in the sixth because someone else finally knew and Dumbledore had no choice but to address it)

And to make sure the Order is aware something's wrong between him and the Dursleys (that being an understatement), Harry outright tells Lupin:

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 54)

Harry makes it very clear the Dursleys don't care for his safety and that he never wants to return to literally everyone he can.

Why then? Why would Dumbledore want Harry abused?

“She’s evil,” said Harry flatly. “Twisted.” “She’s horrible, yes, but . . . Harry, I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt.” It was the second time in two days he had been advised to go to Dumbledore and his answer to Hermione was just the same as his answer to Ron. “I’m not bothering him with this. Like you just said, it’s not a big deal. It’s been hurting on and off all summer — it was just a bit worse tonight, that’s all —” “Harry, I’m sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this —” “Yeah,” said Harry, before he could stop himself, “that’s the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn’t it, my scar?” “Don’t say that, it’s not true!”

(Order of the Pheonix, page 277)

Harry said it best here: "for his scar"

In the previous posts, I covered how desperate Dumbledore was at the end of the war for a win, so much so, he might've forged a prophecy. And I explained he needed Sirius Black out of the picture for the same reason he wanted Harry at the Dursleys and wanted him mistreated — confident boys with a good support network and emotional regulation don't make very good martyrs.

In part 2, I mentioned how Dumbledore knew since the night the Potters died that Harry is likely a Horcrux. He has been manipulating Harry's life since then to achieve his grand plan of killing Voldemort. Even if it comes at the price of Harry having anything resembling a childhood and a life.

[moonlightdreamzz]

THIN APOLOGIES / PART 1

SUMMARY ✰ Mark is your boyfriend, and Vernon is your best friend. You're sick of Mark not treating you right, and Vernon is too. He's also sick of watching from the sidelines when he knows no one can make you happier than him.

PAIRING ✰ Idol!Mark x Idol!Reader x Idol!Vernon

GENRE ✰ ANGST & FLUFF

NOTE ✰ This is actually the first story I ever wrote in my entire life three years ago. It’s my baby. I said to myself, I should rewrite this because the original version was written like the beginner I was at the time. I hope you all enjoy. It’s so good.

© moonlightdreamzz

Blonde by Frank Ocean has been playing on loop for hours over your speakers. For what seems like days, your gaze has been fixed on the candle blazing in front of you. There are numerous reasons why you can't take your eyes off its flame—the first being that if you do, you'll be forced to see all of the decorations and food you prepared for Mark, who has decided for the third time in a row that you aren't important enough to show up for. All of his favorite things are strewn throughout your living room, unused.

The second reason you can't tear your gaze away from the flame is that you're intrigued. The lavender-scented wax is nearing the end of its life after being used for so long. What happens when there’s none left? Does the flame die peacefully? Or does the jar burn and combust, leaving you regretting not extinguishing the flame sooner?

Sick isn't the word to describe how your boyfriend has made you feel over the past few months. You’ve tried to see the positives of his absence right now, but it’s utterly impossible. What could you say to yourself? At least you got ditched in the comfort of your own home this time, Y/N? And not in a restaurant, or a random parking lot his manager drove you to?

Mark always has his excuses of course. His favorite one to use was that you don’t understand the sacrifices it takes to be an idol. When the two of you first began to have issues, you took those words to heart. You know how much he’s sacrificed to be where he is, and you never wanted him to think you were that girl—the girl who got in a relationship with an idol and acted like she didn’t know what she was signing up for. As time passed, you realized that he was just manipulating you.

He’s so good at it too. Or maybe he’s just an incredibly beautiful man, whose doe eyes could convince anybody that he indeed is a good person—he just doesn’t think sometimes. You just wish he’d understand that you indeed do understand his life, it’s simply his unfulfilled promises that are so incredibly frustrating. Summer Walker once said, “it doesn’t matter how hard I I try, I say it nice, yell it out loud, write it down, I’m tired.” She damn sure was right.

“Why plan a date you can’t come to? Just tell me it’ll be awhile before I’ll see you again.”

“I’m sorry, baby. I thought I could make it.”

Your phone begins vibrating on your coffee table infront of you, interrupting the reflecting that you’re tired of doing anyways. You know it’s Mark, back again with whatever his reason is this time for not showing up. For a second, you consider not picking it up. Maybe if he knew what it felt like to be abandoned, he’d stop doing it to you.

You inhale deeply before picking up the phone, surprised at whose name is popping up.

“Vernon?” You whisper to yourself. You feel a brief burst of happiness before immediately shifting to concern due to the time of night.

You and Vernon have been close friends since debut. Some would say it’s because you two are the English speakers of your group, but you only saw that as a plus in your friendship. In reality, Vernon was a quirky, artsy, adorably curious boy, and you always felt this weird urge to…protect him. You figure he was drawn to how you never judged him, and how open you were about what you referred to as “Vernon’s philosophies”. He got your jokes, and you pretended you understood his. The rest is history.

Laughter escapes your throat, scaring you simultaneously as you can’t remember the last time you genuinely found anything funny. In the midst of your giggles, Vernon begins to FaceTime you, and you don’t hesitate to answer the phone.

You can see through the phone how hard he’s trying to be irritated with you, but you also notice how bad he’s failing at doing so. The corner of his pink lips are twitching, and his hooded eyes are melting along with it as neither of you break virtual eye contact with each other. This only makes you laugh even harder. His flawless features don’t hold long, and he’s smirking boyishly now.

“You really think this is funny, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well you know what I think is funny right now? You’re alone right now.” He jokes.

“Ha ha,” You laugh sarcastically, “Am I really this worthless? Like be honest.” You question, a sad smile naturally creeping onto your features as reality attempts to set back in.

Vernon’s eyes roll aggressively, followed by a deep inhale. You know him. He wants to tell you about yourself, and remind you of all the times you promised him you’d have more confidence, just to end up asking him questions like this in the end. It takes him longer than you expected to find kind words to say to you, but you appreciate the fact that he cares enough to spare you, because he wouldn’t do it for anyone else.

“Don’t ever call yourself worthless. He’s the worthless one. If he can’t see how amazing you are,that’s his problem and you shouldn’t just sit here and take it, Y/N. That’s not even like you.”

“But…I love him.”

“Yeah...that always sucks doesn’t it?” He says, almost as if he’s speaking to himself and not you. “I know it’s late, but how about I come keep you company Y/N?. You deserve to be happy for at least a few hours don’t you think?” He chuckles.

He’s no longer looking directly at you. He’s looking at whatever is below him now. Vernon coming to keep you company isn’t a terrible idea. Right now, you so deeply crave to be around someone who actually cares about you, and he’s a clear candidate.

“Yeah! Let me get dressed and I’ll come pick you up.”

“Do really think I’d let you leave your house at this hour to do anything for me?”

“Well, how else are you gonna get here? You don’t have a car and I know your manager is knocked out.”

His boyish smile returns, and you already know a sarcastic comment is closer than around the corner. “You ever heard of uber?”

Now you’re the one rolling your eyes. Was this okay? I mean, the two of you are only friends, but Dispatch nor fans would care about that if they so happened to be stalking you. Him coming over late could turn into a whole situation that you aren’t in the mood to hear about.

“What if you get caught?” You question, although unconsciously do you begin to tidy up in your living room.

“I didn’t.”

He didn’t? Was he already—

Your doorbell ringing interrupts your thoughts.

“Vernon!” You scream through the phone, so many questions running through your mind.

“Are you going to let me in, or are we gonna hangout from outside the door?” He snickers slyly.

You should have known he was up to no good the moment you couldn't identify where he was from his surroundings. All you saw was darkness, but you imagined he was walking around his neighborhood or simply in the dark, because that was so Vernon.

With precision and quickness, you run to the door and open it. You’re still dolled up; face beat like it’s prom night from the date you should’ve been wrapping up by now. Vernon steps in, and for a second it seems like he’s frozen in place. It’s embarrassing, as you often got reactions like this when you dressed up because without an occasion, you were going to choose sweatpants, a graphic tee, and crocs everytime.

“Woah.” He utters.

“What? You just saw me on the phone, Vernon.” You question amusingly before walking to your kitchen to grab him a water.

“Thank you.” He whispers as he takes it out of your hand. “It’s just…you’re so…ugly.”

You know that he thinks you’re going to hit him immediately, so you wait an extra second before punching him lightly in his stomach.

“Shut up!” You laugh, loudly this time. It’s a rare occurrence these days for anything to unconsume your mind of Mark Lee, but Vernon’s doing that with ease right now. “You stay your ass right there and I’ll be back. I should probably take all this off.” You whisper while pointing to you and all your current glory.

“Take your time.” Vernon utters, no funny business in the room now. His smile is gentle as he nudges you towards your room.

You began walking in slow motion down your hallway. “Oh trust me, I will.” It doesn’t take you long to strip down to your natural state. You remove your clothes first, settling on a gray t-shirt you’ve had for years. If you didn’t have company, you’d stop it at that. You decide on some matching gray pajama shorts. The sight of Mark’s clothes in the drawer pisses you off all over again. As you remove your makeup, you can't help but squeal with delight. The wipes that you bought in replacement of the ones that took way too many to clean your face, was worth the investment.

The final touch is your bonnet, which you slip on your head with ease. Your icy feet drag over the hallway floor, a flood of fatigue washing over you.

“Awe.” Vernon coos when you reappear. In the midst of you getting ready for bed, he carefully placed all of the decorations you left out for Mark out of sight in the kitchen. He really wanted to throw it away, but that wasn’t his decision to make. Netflix is waiting for two of you.

“Don’t awe me.” You plop yourself on the couch so hard you’re pretty sure Vernon levitates for a second. You push the button to recline your seat, shutting your eyes right and leaning your head back with a sigh. “Thank you, Vernon.” You say the second you realize he cleaned up your clutter. The room feels less heavy now that you’re not forced to look at your wasted hard work. You feel his gaze on you, but energetically, you can’t interpret why he’s staring at you. You’ll settle on pity.

“Ah, I haven’t done much. Plus, you’ve always been there for me.”

Your comfort turns into guilt, recalling all the times you haven’t been there for your close friend in the midst of you and Mark’s relationship crashing. “Not like this.” You utter.

“Well, no you haven’t surprised me with a big box of donuts and a new video game,” He chuckles, “But you’ve been there for me. A lot of times unknowingly, if I’m being honest. Your presence alone…does a lot for me—I mean, for people.” He rambles. “Plus, I’m one of a kind, anyways.”

A smile creeps onto your features at him teasing you lovingly. You’re beginning to doze off, which typically makes you stare at things unintentionally. Your target tonight is Vernon, who is sitting extremely close to you right now. Your hand begins to entangle themselves in his locs, causing his eyes to flutter in relaxation.

“Enough about me.” You protest softly, “What’s going on in the life of Hansol, hm?”

“Nothing much,” He whispers, enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his scalp. His eyes are stuck on the ceiling, but you know he’s still listening to you. “I’m like a robot these days. I wake up, go to practice, go back to the dorm, sleep, repeat.”

“Why didn’t eat make the list?”

“Oh yeah, that too. But you know me. If I have to pick between sleeping and eating, I’m picking the first option.”

“Oh I know.” You can’t count on one hand the amount of times you scolded Vernon for sleeping too much, even though you do the same thing the second you get a break from schedules.

“Too much of a good thing, is a bad thing, Vernon.”

“Not everything.” He whispers, seemingly dazed out now. You’re ceiling wasn’t that interesting. He has something on his mind, but you’re not sure if you want to pick his brain. If he wanted you to know what’s on his mind, he’d say it. At the same time, you’re his right hand woman, and he’ll just have to deal with you being in his business.

Your eyebrows raise in an interrogative fashion. “Give me an example?”

“You.” He says simply. His eyes lock themselves into yours confidently, but you’re unsure how to feel. What was he trying to say? Is he flirting? Is he just being kind? It’s always been so hard for you to understand him when he gets like this.

“What about me?” Is all you can manage. You’re not sure why you’re nervous now, but you are. You hope you’re not making it obvious that his comment has made your breathing unsteady.

“I’m just saying it’s impossible to get tired of you. ‘Too much’ of you,” he air quotes, “would make the world a much better place.”

“You think so?” You question genuinely. “Mark doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Mark is a fucking idiot.” He spits out.

“I’m not gonna disagree.”

“I mean look at everything you did for him today, just for him to not show up?” Vernon begins to frantically point in all directions of your home, including at yourself as well as your kitchen. “What kind of boyfriend doesn’t come home to this?”

Silence is the only thing you can provide right now. One because he’s right, but two, because you’ve never seen Vernon so riled up on your behalf. He was the one always talking you off cliffs, not the other way around.

“Sorry,” He clears his throat. His voice is back to his regular tone now.

“Don’t be. Thank you for caring about me.”

You don’t know why, but you feel a desire to nuzzle into Vernon’s shoulder, so you do. Naturally, he wraps his arm around your shoulder to allow you more comfortability. Maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s not, but it doesn’t feel wrong being in his arms right now. You know if you consider Mark, you should pull away, but when’s the last time Mark considered you?

“Is this okay?” He questions, his tone a mixture of hope and concern as he’s likely reading your mind right now. He had a knick for that when it came to you.

“It’s okay.” You decide. I mean, who’s going to catch you?

The two of you lay like that for the remainder of the night, watching a movie that Vernon puts on, but you can't concentrate. All you can think of is how you're lying in the arms of another man, your heart fluttering. That isn't supposed to happen. However, your thoughts are brief because you quickly find yourself dozing off in his arms that feel as if they never want to let you go.

It’s the wee hours of the morning when your phone rings, and then vibrates, indicating someone has called and texted you.

You and Vernon sleep through it.

TO BE CONTINUED

© moonlightdreamzz

[stop-ugly]

✨HEADCANONS✨

Harry loves his adoptive fathers very much, but he also knows everything about his real parents. There are pictures of Lily and James in every room.

Harry spent his childhood with rock music.

As soon as the next new model of a children's broom appears in stores, Sirius tries to buy it for Harry right away. Remus does not approve of such actions and believes that Sirius spoils his godson.

Quite early, Harry begins to show the character inherited from...... Lily. Sirius pretends to groan that there are two bores in this house now.

Sirius still spends every full moon with Remus, and Harry stays with his aunt Andromeda.

At first, Remus continued to look for work, but he was refused everywhere because of lycanthropy. In the end, Sirius got tired of it, and he forced his husband to stay at home, because, thanks to the inheritance of the Potters and Blacks, they do not need money.

Every Halloween, Remus, Sirius and Harry go to the Potter's grave.

Once wolfstar tried to come to Dursleys. They wanted Harry to meet his cousin. Petunia and Vernon turned out to be homophobic as well as wizard-hating. And Dudley was a spoiled bully. Harry didn't want to go back to that house.

In this universe, Harry does not try to hide his scar, because Sirius diligently teaches his husband and son that you should never be ashamed of yourself.

One day, Harry tells Remus and Sirius that he would like to have a brother or sister. And before Remus can start a Conversation™, Sirius interrupts him: "Harry, you may not have noticed, but we're gay."

Harry is a Gryffindor.

Remus had instilled in Harry a love of reading.

Harry feels comfortable in both the magical and muggle worlds.

In fact, Harry's character remains the same, but, thanks to supportive parents, he does not have that low self-esteem, hero syndrome and a huge sense of duty to the magical world. And he is no longer so easy to manipulate.

He also wants to become an animagus, but Remus insists that Sirius can only begin training Harry when he is at least 14 years old.

Harry is still great at Quidditch, but now he doesn't end up in the hospital wing after every match.

Harry has detentions much more often than in the canon, thanks to the love of pranks and adventures inherited from Sirius.

And yeah, in this universe, he's much more in touch with the Weasley twins. Although his best friends are still Hermione and Ron.

Harry is VERY cheeky.

Severus hates Harry even more than in the canon because of the character traits of Remus and Sirius. It's mutual.

Do you know what Hogwarts lacks? THE PARENT-TEACHER CONFERENCES.

I can see Severus scolding Harry in front of all the other parents, and Sirius is instantly furious and expresses doubt about the potion master, who can't make himself a shampoo.

Sirius thinks there's no point in coming up with new jokes when the old is still gold. AND HE'S SERIOUS.

One day after a parent-teacher conference Lucius is very rude about Sirius and Remus ' relationship. Narcissa leads her husband away, giving Wolfstar an apologetic look. Sirius is not offended, but he comes to the next conference in a rainbow-colored robe.

Remus was wearing a bisexual badge.

Dumbledore liked it.

Lucius sat red-faced throughout the conference, and as soon as it was over, he apparated away. Narcissa just laughed and suggested that her brother should have dinner together sometime.

When Hermione's passion for protecting the rights of magical creatures wakes up, Harry suddenly becomes interested too and inundates her with questions about possible solutions to the problems of werewolves.

Hermione puts two and two together, and the next time she sees Remus, she notifies him of her guess, and also expresses her full support. Remus was embarrassed but pleased.

When Harry came out to his adoptive parents as a bisexual, Sirius exclaimed happily, raising his hands in the air: "WE'RE GOING TO THE PRIDE!!"

Sirius presents himself as Casanova and the king of flirting, but when Harry needs love advice, he ALWAYS goes to Remus.

When Harry has a crush on Draco, Sirius wonders who exactly he inherited his love for the nasty Slytherins: Lily or James?

There's no way Harry's been cleaning up school shit all these years on his own. No, Harry has fathers, and they won't leave him. Never ever.

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 21st Of November In 1955.

Today is the big day. Elvis Presley draws his contract by RCA. Records

RCA Records purchased Elvis Presley’s recording contract from Sam Phillips at Sun Records for an unprecedented sum of $35,000.As part of this deal Presley’s catalogue was re-released on RCA in 1955, including the single “I Forgot To Remember To Forget.” b/w rare RCA Publicity candid photo's of Elvis Presley in New York with all of RCA Records Executives *only thing that spoils this photo is the Greedy Manipulating Corrupt Fat Controller Parker shouldn't be in this rare RCA Pulicity Photo's even Elvis Presley's own Mother Glady's Presley didnt trust Parker not like is Daddy Vernon Presley he was like Parker all for the money is Wife Glady's Presley was not she wanted the best for her famous son Elvis Presley.

Note* This is my own personal opinion of course not everybody's but its mine.

[urmultideadfandomperson]

Dahlia Rosenheim in Winx Club!

Here are a bunch of facts about Winx!Dahlia:

Dahlia is a unique type of fairy. She is a Mimic Fairy, one who is gifted with the ability to mimic a person's power.

Dahlia does this by absorbing the energy from the person's power before converting that energy as her own, letting it flow in her body afterwards. Once done, Dahlia can manipulate the same abilities as the source she copied from.

This does not mean Dahlia has stolen the power. She only took some energy in order to mimic the ability. Dahlia's ability allows her to copy, not steal.

She can copy one power only. Once she begins channeling the energy into her body, she cannot mimic another person's ability. And if it is possible, that would be very exhausting for one fairy. (Not to mention, it would make her seem incredibly overpowered.)

The more energy Dahlia uses to use the powers, the faster they will drain. That means her ability to mimic one's ability isn't forever. This is why she fights her opponents wisely.

Dahlia does not have a specific element. This is why she needs a person as her source to imitate their energy in order to have that element herself.

Like many characters in the show, Dahlia is still a newbie with her magic. She continues to practice mimicry in Alfea College.

Because she is still learning, there are moments where her ability fails to function properly. It is unsurprising that it can also backfire at times.

Speaking of backfire, this can be done by Dahlia when she starts absorbing the energy. When mimicking malfunctions, the energy can attack instead of flow through the body. Dahlia has described the backfire as similar to being electrocuted by bolts of lightning.

Even when Dahlia cannot mimic anybody's energy (she is powerless without a source), she still knows how to fight without magic. She fights with a pair of stilettos, her handy daggers if magic is unavailable. Dahlia also thinks her weapons are elegant.

Dahlia's ability of mimicry is inspired from Magiano, a character in Marie Lu's "The Young Elites" trilogy novel series.

Her outfit—specifically the transparent skirt—was inspired from Jazmin_Studios in YouTube.

The outfit of Dahlia's fairy form is yellow because it is the same color that symbolizes energy. Therefore, it shows that Dahlia absorbs energy.

Her wings are from Alef Vernon's illustration of fairy wings in his Winx Club X Taylor's version post. (I asked for permission if I could take the Folklore wings)

Dahlia is best friends with Flora, Musa and Bloom. She says she enjoys their company and they are interesting fairies.

She occasionally admits that she is tolerable of Stella's attitude. She does not like impulsive and self-centered people, but Dahlia is aware that Stella is a good person at heart. That is why she still chose to befriend her.

She is good friends with Tecna, often chatting about technology. Dahlia is amazed every time at what the other fairy can do.

Dahlia does not share a dorm with anybody. She is alone in her own room, yet she does not mind at because she is an introverted person.

She idolizes the Specialists a lot, intrigued at their daily training and the mechanics of their wind riders. She is also totally not curious in trying to ride a dragon.

In the earliest mornings—usually at 4AM—Dahlia would sneak out of Alfea to watch the training routines of the Specialists in Red Fountain. She is careful not to be caught by anyone.

She is best friends with Brandon, often laughing a lot when she is with him. She admits that she views him as a brother.

Dahlia's relationship with Timmy is similar to Tecna's. They also chat about technology and logical thinking.

Sky and Dahlia are friendly with each other. They are not close because the girl tends to walk on eggshells around him due to his royal status. Dahlia needs Bloom by her side whenever interacting with the prince.

Riven is the first guy who catches Dahlia's attention a lot. She claims she is does not really give an opinion about boys. But when she met Riven, she is highly interested in befriending him. (She tries talking to him with the help of Brandon, it failed miserably)

Her secret love interest is either Riven or Sky. Only Flora and Brandon knows about this information, though the Specialist tends to tease her a lot more about her secret.

When Dahlia met Helia after a year, she immediately added him into her list. Still, her crush on Riven/Sky remains to stay.

Her relationship with Helia is "birds of a feather flock together". They have the same passion for arts and poetry, which made them very close to each other. These two eventually became best friends.

Although there is less seen interaction, Dahlia does talk with Mirta from time to time. She whispers a promise to herself to help Mirta whenever she needed it. She saw the good heart in the witch.

Dahlia is an early bird as she likes the quiet environment and dark skies.

As much as Dahlia wanted to wear clothes that exposes her midriff like the other fairies, she chooses not to because Dahlia fears she will only embarrass herself due to her pudgy body.

Because of her pudgy build, she has been described to have big thighs. This can either be a compliment or an insult.

Dahlia's height is 163cm (5'4" ft). When she wears heels, her height is 167cm (5'6" ft).

Bloom influenced her and Musa in becoming Swifties (let's just say Bloom is a Swiftie herself). Now the three of them listen to her albums in a loop.

After Bloom influenced Dahlia to listen to the earthling singer, she instantly had a huge liking to the Folklore album and the song "Wonderland" in 1989.

(This is swapped for Canon Dahlia since her favorite album is 1989 and her favorite song is "this is me trying" in Folklore.)

Bloom once introduced some novels made by human authors to Dahlia. When the mimic fairy was able to borrow these novels, she finished them in a week, ranting to Bloom about it afterwards.

When she first encountered the Trix, it is Darcy who first caught her attention. In all honesty, she thinks Darcy is rather attractive (because she is).

Dahlia is often mistaken to be a Light Fairy by many people due to her fairy transformation.

The reasons why Dahlia aims to be a true fairy is because she wants to see her potential and share kindness to the world. And just like Flora, she attends Alfea because she wanted to learn new things. (Stella also hits her face with a pillow at her 'nerdy' answer XD)

Dahlia shares many similarities with Canon Dahlia (i.e. interests, likes, personality).

The Fairies of Mimicry are one of the lesser known fairies due to a small ancestry thousands of years ago. Because of this, mimic fairies are not often seen nowadays.

Dahlia lives in planet Andros with her family. She has a mother, a father, and two younger siblings. The family has mimicry as their ability.

(I chose to let her live in Andros is because I love water. Besides, my girl likes water, too. In fact, our personalities are water in element.)

Okay, these are all the random facts about my girl in Winx Club! If you have any questions, just leave a comment and I will give the answers :DD

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Do you think petunia dursley deserve redemption?

Now a days many people say she was manipulated by Vernon or James insulted her( she saw james in harry) and they try to excuse her actions because she was woman.

After the war Petunia will divorce Vernon and harry will forgive her. They even say Petunia secretly always cared about Harry.

Please share your thoughts(only if you have time/want to ofcourse)

Thank you

I think young Petunia is a character it's easy to feel compassion for.

I can't really blame her for not wanting Lily around or not wanting anything to do with magic.

As a child, she is quite close to her younger sister and she has to witness that younger sister all of a sudden going on an adventure without her because her sister has magic and Petunia doesn't.

I dare anyone to not feel resentful and envious in that situation.

And the fact that she is the older sister makes it worse because when Lily goes to Hogwarts they are still in that age where the younger sibling tends to admire and still wants to follow the older and out of the blue that dynamic radically changes.

When in DH we find out that Petunia sent a letter to Dumbledore asking to go to Hogwarts, my heart absolutely breaks for her every single time I re-read it.

And then when Lily enters the wizarding world, Petunia is left to her normal life, which is probably not that great. The Evanses aren't poor but they are definitely not rich. And she is still very much a girl in the 70s, not as bad as the 30s but not as good as today. All of this is to say that she is not left in a situation of privilege and luxury and therefore has nothing to complain about.

Petunia is also left to deal with lying to protect Lily's secret, probably having to say something about how she was sent to some special school for very talented kids, therefore having to make herself appear as the stupid sister. And so everyone would be super curious about this brilliant sister of Petunia, forcing her to live in Lily's shadow even outside of the house and with Lily in Scotland. It's also implied that Lily is the beautiful sister, which I'm sure doesn't help Petunia's resentment. It writes itself a scene from a summer in 1976, where Petunia's friends are eager to meet/see again her beautiful brilliant sister, and Petunia dies of envy.

It's true that Lily enters a world in which as a muggle-born she is subjected to discrimination but I doubt Petunia knew much about it:

Even though Petunia was raised alongside a witch, she is remarkably ignorant about magic. - from Vernon and Petunia Dursley by JK Rowling

Then Lily ends up marrying James Potter, rich, athletic, and good-looking. While Petunia marries Vernon. Tell me you wouldn't hate Lily even more. Lily marrying a wizard so soon after Hogwarts also adds to the separation of the two sisters into two different worlds. Other factors are the war in the wizarding world and the death of their parents.

And speaking of the devil, Petunia seems also resentful towards her parents for showing, according to her, a preference for Lily:

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!" She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years. -Chapter 4, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowing

If you notice, Harry doesn't know anything about Mr and Mrs Evans, one thing is him not knowing about the Potters but if Harry doesn't know anything about the Evans grandparents, it means Dudley doesn't either, it means Petunia doesn't talk about them, doesn't have photos of them. Frankly, seeing the relationship between the two sisters, the Envases mustn't have been geniuses at the whole parenting thing.

And for all of this, again, I can't blame her for hating magic, especially when you consider that the first and one of the only experiences with wizards she has is Snape [how hilarious it is that those two know each other?], someone that hates muggles and literally made a tree branch fall on her. Then there's the sister that seems to live to outshine her and Dumbledore who tells her she is not special (not in those terms obviously, he is quite kind actually, but how is a young girl going to perceive that letter if not like that?). By the time she meets James, she already hates magic too deeply.

This Petunia is someone that makes you wish life had been a little kinder to her, and maybe then she could have been better.

But the Petunia since she takes Harry in? She is a monster. What she does to Harry should have put her in jail, and there's no indication that it's Vernon who forces her to behave like that. Like there's no indication that Vernon and Petunia don't love each other. If anything, the fact that Vernon agrees to have Harry in the house despite hating him seems a testament to how much he loves Petunia.

Harry does seem to hate Vernon in particular but the more fitting explanation seems to be that Vernon is a man and therefore more intimidating.

As wrong as it would have been, I could have even forgiven Petunia if she had just been a little colder towards Harry and shown a preference for Dudley. She is substantially forced to take this boy into her house, a boy who has a genocidal maniac after him and therefore potentially puts in danger her, her husband and her son, and she is also forced to see the dynamic that brought so much pain to her repeat again. Dudley is Petunia, and Harry is Lily. Dudley is a muggle, and Harry is a wizard. It's pretty reasonable for her to hate the idea that one day her son will feel like she did. Maybe she was even planning to not have more than one child just to avoid that. Petunia hates Harry because she sees Lily in him, not James. James canonically never insulted Petunia, the only reasons Petunia has for hating him are that he is a wizard and Lily's husband. At best she may have reason to not find him particularly likeable:

The first meeting between Lily, her boyfriend James Potter, and the engaged couple, went badly, and the relationship nose-dived from there. James was amused by Vernon, and made the mistake of showing it. Vernon tried to patronise James, asking what car he drove. James described his racing broom. Vernon supposed out loud that wizards had to live on unemployment benefit. James explained about Gringotts, and the fortune his parents had saved there, in solid gold. Vernon could not tell whether he was being made fun of or not, and grew angry. 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. Vernon refused to speak to James at the reception, but described him, within James’ earshot, as ‘some kind of amateur magician’. -from Vernon and Petunia Dursley by JK Rowling 

But what Petunia does to Harry goes way beyond anything that could have been excused. And of course, we are also forced to re-read a younger Petunia through that lens, you don't become someone that could do that to a child out of the blue. Was there really ever a time in which she could have been saved?

As for redemption, the personality that is presented to us is not remotely complex enough to consider a redemption arc. Nothing that could be considered in-character. Among the established core traits of her character, there are being envious, and full of hatred.

But even if Petunia decided to become a better person for who knows what spiritual awakening, I don't see why that should become Harry's problem. Each person may have a right to become a better one but that doesn't mean they stop being the person who did the bad things. Even if Petunia became a saint who volunteers in children's hospitals, she would still be the woman who abused Harry, mentally and physically, throughout the first two decades of his life.

I do think that Harry would probably make some sort of attempt to hear her out if that were the case (as much as I also think Ginny would absolutely hate the idea and refuse to let him go alone) because Harry is too compassionate for his own good, and shows more than once to have a problem when it comes to setting boundaries in favour of his own emotional comfort. But I also think it would cause him a great deal of pain and distress and they would never be able to be more than just civil to each other.

In light of that, but also as a general statement in regards to this morbid obsession a lot of people seem to have for redemption arcs, I'd like to say that there's no acceptable reason for the redemption of the abuser to become the punishment of the abused.

[I would advise reading the piece written by Rowling on Vernon and Petunia, there it's made very clear that they love each other]

[joannerowling]

I think one of JKR's strongest suits, in both HP and the Strike series, is how she captures real people. All of her characters feel like people I could meet on the street or share a cup of coffee with. I can imagine what our conversation would be like. There's a lot I find admirable about her writing, but this in particular is something I appreciate a lot more now that I'm reading her as an adult. She seems to genuinely care about real people, which translates to her writing.

Yes, i admire that quality of her as well, especially because her characters feel real despite being… not exactly stereotypical but… easy to read, easy to sumrise. You can't call Vernon Dursley stereotypical because the details of him are so specific, but the details are all that's needed.

At the same time her physical descriptions are minimalist, only including what's useful for either plot or characterisation or (this one is more present in Strike) social background and education. If she were a painter she'd be a great portraitist, a fast working one.

And yes, to segue back to that one interview of Le Guin… sometimes those "portraits" of unpleasant imaginary people can seem a bit mean, because they feel so real.

One example is "Hartella" in The Ink Black Heart. Hartella is not the most hateful character in that book, but she is probably one character many tumblr users could see themselves in, as a "superfan" of a show, whose real name is known in the fandom due to being minorly involved with the production. She's an opportunist, neither smart or talented, she's needy and insecure, she's a very bad judge of character, a coward, lets herself be manipulated into hurting other people, easily joins in bullying to fit in, etc. She's also described as white, fat and unattractive, and having an annoying habit of ending all her sentences in a questioning tone even if they're not questions (subtext: because she's so insecure and unwilling to develop her own critical thinking, she can never make statements).

I remember a few readers took offense at her being described as fat and unattractive specifically. And yet… does this description not feel like a real person? I know i have met that specific girl online at least once for sure (in fact the resemblance is uncanny, down to the speech mannerism). I've known girls who partially looked or sounded like Hartella. I guess that can sting.

[shakespeare-potter]

Some harry and sirius alternative universe headcanons that i have in my head since like ages part 1

Don't imagine Remus going to the Weasley's house for whatever reason after a couple of years of the worst day in his life

Don't imagine percy and the others being at home and showing him his new pet rat for (again) whatever reason

Don't imagine him IMMEDIATELY realising that who that is

Don't imagine that rat trying to run away seeing him

Don't imagine ginny Weasley being fast as hell and catching him because she's awesome like that

Don't imagine the shock on everyone's faces when remus makes mr rat to come out in his true form

Absolutely do not imagine him trying to manipulate the story again

Don't imagine them just calling Dumbledore and somehow convincing him to convince peter to drink the truth potion ( i forgot the spelling 😭) because remus is kinda suspicious

Do not imagine the truth coming out

Do not imagine sirius sitting in his cell , thinking only of harry , trying to not go absolutely insane in that hell and suddenly finding out that he's having an actual trial

Do not imagine the verdict of the trial putting peter the rat in azkaban and freeing sirius black

Do not imagine him just asking "where is harry?" To remus the SECOND he actually gets out

Do not imagine him lashing out at Dumbledore after finding out about harry being with the dursleys because he knew how much they hated Lily ( i have further headcanons as to why he knew this part but I'll come to those later

Do not imagine harry being 6-7 years old kiddo who lives in the cupboard under the stairs and is making eggs and toast for everyone because aunt petunia said so , with a burnt hand and watching his aunt and uncle loving Dudley and question to himself as to why he isn't worthy enough of that "maybe i should just help aunty more, maybe then she'll let me eat an egg too"- he thinks.

Absolutely do not imagine sirius, remus and Dumbledore paying a visit to harry because there was NO WAY that sirius was going to stay away from him (and ofcourse he takes ALOT of gifts ) ("i gotta make up for the lost time moony")

Do not imagine them going to the house , obviously get shouted at by vernon but somehow forcing their way into the house to see harry

Do not imagine harry being absolutely scared of them because he doesn't know what is happening and why is aunt petunia has locked him in the cupboard again "i didn't even burn anything today"

Do not imagine sirius almost blowing up that cupboard door when he realises that Harry's in there

Don't imagine his heart breaking after seeing his godson, the son of his two bestest friends in that scared terrified state

Don't imagine him gently calling harry "hey bud , you're safe now , you can come out" , and harry just asking him "who are you??" In his tiny little voice ( heart breaking part 2) and sirius just taking out a photo of him, james and lily from their wedding and before he could tell him that he's his Godfather harry asks again "who-who's that" ( he has an idea but he doesn't want to hope too much in case they're not someone who he thinks they are) ( yes I'm sobbing writing this is and no I'm not sorry ) and sirius just trying SO HARD to not break in front of him and scream at everyone for doing this to harry .

Don't imagine Dumbledore and remus also coming in there to convince harry to come out and he just reluctantly believes them because poor baby haven't seen a single photo of his parents until now

Don't imagine his first few weeks with sirius being full of breakdowns and nervousness and too many things to unlearn ( like not needing to cook breakfast

Don't imagine remus suggesting that they introduce him to the Weasley's because their youngest kids are his age and that It would be good for him

And obviously harry being nervous af but still being polite because he's cutu like that

Sirius hearing him laughing for the first time over fred & George's antics

Yes he cries almost every night

So does remus

But they're also going to therapy ( all 3 of them )

Yes they rip out a new one out of Dumbledore everytime they find out about more shit the dursleys did to harry

Also sirius used to play guitar before the war

And one day harry finds that out while they were looking through the old photos ( they take at least one hour out of their day after dinner to just talk/ask everything about James and Lily) and for the first time he asks sirius to play something

And ofcourse he does , he wasn't going to say no to his godson now

Harry is mesmerized

So is remus ( I've got a very emotional backstory for wolfstar too , it ends on a bittersweet note tho so tell me if y'all wanna read that too) (anyways)

Sirius asks harry if he wants to learn

And he says yes

It becomes their thing

Moony reads a story to harry every night , especially Lily's favourite muggle ones

Ginny , Ron and Harry become bffs and later with Hermione ( they met her long before going to Hogwarts in my head but they didn't really become friends before that )

Harry finally starts to heal

So does Sirius

[chimivx]

home;run -> fem!reader x mlb!mingyu, mlb!vernon, mlb!dk

College didn't work out, so you're stuck with the next best thing. Living with your superstar brother, traveling with his championship winning team, haunted by your past and heavily influenced by your present.

wc; {part one} 6.6k ~ { rec'd to start here <3 } warnings; 18+, sexual content, alcohol consumption/abuse, bad influences around her, manipulation, her name gets taken advantage of in public media, if i missed anything please let me know!! notes; Isla's story is here <3 please enjoy <3

A black box hole in the wall full of sweaty people from age eighteen to fifty seven with drinks or their hands or their arms in the air, every other face knowing yours.

In the middle of the dance floor, the flashing lights above you showering you in hues of blue and pink, you spun in circles, in and out of the hold of a random girl you met that night or a guy who was hoping to take you home. The space was tight, bodies were pressed together so that it didn’t matter who you came with that night, you’d be grinding against strangers whether you wanted to or not.

Many drinks deep, none of it seemed to matter.

The girl you ended up with held onto your hands, swinging them about, singing along to the pop song that poured from the speakers, the music just loud enough to shout over. She had to be no younger than you, twentyish, wearing a denim skirt and bodysuit, her longer, curly brown hair laying down her back. Mocha skin so sweet you longed to drag your tongue along her jaw, she was stunning, and just as drunk as you were.

Simply feeling the vibe, the world blurry, you let her run her hands down your hips as you both moved to the music, her acrylic fingernails tugging at the hem of your loose fitted dress you tossed on for the night. Flipping your hair over your shoulder, a fresh blow out from before you left the house that had you feeling sorry for the stylist because you knew you’d sweat it out within an hour of being here, and you did, you threw your arms around her broad shoulders and closed the space between your bodies.

Inches taller than you she flashed you her sparkling smile and cradled her hands around your waist, pressing her forehead to yours. Having to bend at her neck, she smiled down at you, the gentlest chuckle tumbling from her lips.

“Didn’t take Lee Isla as a spicy straight,” she said over the music, and it made you throw your head back with a laugh of disbelief.

Tugging her closer so your chest was pressed to hers, you touched noses and said, “It’s Moon Isla, and she’s bi, thank you very much,” through a smirk before dragging your tongue over her lips, slipping it between her teeth.

You didn’t get to kiss her long, but you enjoyed every second of the five minutes spent without a breath to spare. Arms stronger than your own wrapped around your waist, just over the girls, muscled and toned. Lifting you off the floor and out of her grip, your lover of a half hour bid you farewell with a smile, laughing as you were carried off of the dance floor, kicking your legs in protest. 

“Put me down!” 

The arms that held you laughed, the rock hard chest you were pressed against moved with you, the boy carrying you so effortlessly, like it cost him no energy. Through the crowd of people, eyes gazing up at you like you were some sort of icon, and unfortunately you were, their princess, you couldn’t wipe the grin from your face as disappointed as you were to be torn from the babe on the dance floor. He sat you down on a barstool, one soft and cushioned with purple velvet, the fabric caressing the skin of your thigh exposed beneath your dress.

“Mingyu,” you whined, looking up at the honey skinned, curly haired muscle mass of a man that planted one hand on the bar and the other around your back. Snickering to himself, he took the hand around your back and used it to grab your chin, tilting your head further back. “She was hot.”

He quirked a brow. “And I’m not?” Several people who passed by let their eyes linger on the boy bigger than all the boys you’ve ever known. He was bigger than Seonghwa, no, bigger than Yunho- two boys you knew once upon a time. Two boys who you haven’t heard from in months.

Letting your eyes drop, fawning over his stretch of a frame, you took your lip between your teeth and nodded. Dressed in jeans and a white loose fitted button down, one side tucked into his leather belt, he was hot. Mingyu has always been hot. A chain hung around his neck, peeking out from the three buttons he left undone of his shirt, matching the jewelry that hung on his wrists, everything surely costing him thousands of dollars, including the cologne that clouded the delicious skin of his golden chest inviting you to drag your fingers over it.

Thank you fifty million dollar salary.

A custom pair of Nike’s lived on his feet, striped with red and black with the number thirteen detailed on them, his number. The white of the shoes matched the white of his shirt, it was very Mingyu. Always put together, always a vision, almost always professional.

Except when it came to you.

Barely whispering the words, “You are,” to him, his eager smirk closed the space between you and kissed you, one hungry, yet satisfied. Taking your arms around his back, you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, a laugh tumbling from his chest into your parted lips.

People around you, people that were paying attention to the two of you that you paid no mind to, they were cheering, encouraging you, shoving their flashes from their phones into your faces, surrounding you, calling your names. Isla and Mingyu, Mingyu and Isla. The two of you, your faces were plastered to drama sites online, every other post on pop culture Instagram accounts. Your name was dropped within every interview Mingyu gave to the public, on news channels or local media, where he’d answer with a bashful smile, a shrug and a slick, “I don’t know what’s going on.”

He got the easy questions, the cute ones that made the reporters smile and laugh with remorse as Mingyu tried to move on from the subject, though he’d play it up only to gather more attention. When caught in interview crossfire you dealt with the sleazy questions, the exact ones that women were forced to answer before they began to revolt, shoving insults back in the reporters faces. Those were the kinds of questions you were thrown.

How does it feel to be dating the most famous right fielder in baseball?

Does Mingyu know you’re out right now? What would he say if he caught you here?

Is this outfit Mingyu approved? What does your brother have to say about your relationship with his teammate? Surely it can’t feel too good for him to know one of his friends is hooking up with his sister.

Damn them all.

It’s why you played this part up. Unhooking your hands from around his back you shoved them into his hair, your fingers tangling with the curls that grew longer each day. They were long enough now to poke out of the bottom of his hat when he’d play out on the field, you adored it. The black wispy twirls would brush over his eyes, his lashes, but he wouldn’t allow them to.

You wished he would.

Curls touching his lashes, curls that would touch your lashes, ones that’d brush your forehead, tickle your skin if he got too close. Curls that would frame sweet chocolate eyes swirling with caramel, eyes that’d linger on you while you skipped down a dimly lit hallway fitted with a dark red rug atop dark hardwood floors, elbow in elbow with one of your sisters while music blasted in the room next door drawing you toward it like a moth to a flame…

Parting from him with a smack, you tightened your fingers in his fluffy mess and pressed your foreheads together. Flashes still lit up around you like clockwork, people still called your name, his name, shouting incoherent things you’d be able to pick up when you watched all of these videos back tomorrow morning in a hungover daze. Closing your eyes, breathing him in, you started to smile.

“What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asked, pushing his chin forward to press a kiss to your cheek. Opening your eyes, giving him a look, he snickered and wrapped an arm around your waist, nearly holding you on his hips as he yanked you from the stool, held you close, and weaved you through the crowd, through the crowded club, and onto the streets of Iloa, a big, broad city stretching across the most northern part of Casa.

Compact with streets and buildings alike, Iloa compared to Delo, a city you’ve spent ample time in, but it wasn’t as busy in the slightest. In Iloa people moved like they were always in a rush, like they had someplace to be at all times, no one ever slowed down. Home to major businesses, major companies that kept the majority of all towns and cities going, Iloa was the hub, the most important city to date.

It was also the home of the Iloa Lion’s. 

One of the greatest teams in Major League Baseball, the team to hit wild records and create their own. They’ve made history more than once, throughout the existence of the entire organization dating back to the early 1900’s. They were good, they were a little cocky, but this past year, at the end of the last season, their world was rocked.

Choi Seungcheol, their star studded first basemen, one homegrown in Iloa, tore his ACL at the beginning of September just weeks before the team had a chance to clinch their well deserved spot in the playoffs. Already a rocky season, players on leave to have babies, players coming off of strained muscles and sprained ligaments throughout spring training, players being placed on the injured list left and right throughout the summer… The team took a hard hit, and with Seungcheol’s major injury taking him out of the season indefinitely, they were screwed and they knew it.

Their backup first baseman couldn’t cut it. Even with their coach moving all their positions around, scrambling the outfield, Mingyu having to play center field while Soonyoung, or Hoshi as the fans would call him, had to play shortstop because Minghao, coined The8, had to play third base because Seungkwan had to play first base. Everyone played a different position every single game and they crumbled. Not entirely, you would grumble at the broadcasts and fans online glowering in the Lions downfall, but all they did was miss the Wildcard playoffs by one measly game they lost by a single point.

It sucked. Your brother made the playoffs every year since he entered the MLB, he was the Lions saving grace, every game he played. He was the personality in the locker room, he kept the team together, he was the glue, he was Casa’s sweetheart, the entire state adored him. From Ilona all the way down to the beaches of Haos, DK was a household name.

Lee Seokmin.

Dokyeom.

DK.

He was the face of hope, the sunshine, the kindhearted, humble beast of all baseball. A pitching god who changed what it meant to be a designated hitter for their hometeam. The Lions would DH him amidst his three game pitching break. Your brother could throw a hundred pitches and finish the game in a shutout. He’s had several no hitters, an insane amount of shutouts, and the most wins for any starting pitcher in the MLB. His team had his back as much as he had theirs.

Now with the season quickly approaching, the team preparing to fly to Haos for spring training, DK was ready to bring that trophy back home in October. He’d take his team there this year, his sights were set on the playoffs like he announced after the game they lost at the end of September.

“You know, you win, you lose, what matters is what you do with it. We lost, but we got hit hard this month. All we can hope is that Cheol has a fast, but necessary recovery, that he takes all the time he needs so we can have him back in the cages with us in March, but until then we all need to put in work. I hope my team knows that we tried our best, we did what we could with what we were given, but the Bull’s were better. We’ll be back next year, I know we will. I’m disappointed for sure, but I’m going to get some much needed family time started early this offseason. We’ll be back.”

That much needed family time was being spent the same as it always was.

You on top of Mingyu in the backseat of his Rolls Royce while his driver speeds you away to his penthouse a half hour away from the Lions stadium, and fifteen minutes from the club you tumbled out of. The time was spent latched to the boys front, tugging at his hair, lips devouring lips, teeth clashing, skin biting, until you were at his place and he nearly carried you inside away from the camera flashes awaiting you there, stumbled into the elevator, pressed you to the wall and slipped a hand between your legs toying with you until the door slid open.

LIfting you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist, he carried you through his spacey halls with portraits of the team and himself along the walls, his decadence hanging around commemorating his success and all of his achievements. Taking you into his bedroom, a room with the darkest blue walls and furniture made of the cleanest, darkest wood, he laid you flat on your back, but not before he slipped your dress over your head with a happy hum as he found barely anything beneath it. 

The time was spent well, you’d say. Mingyu marking your skin, using you as his own, taking you to the peak of highest pleasure again, and again, and again, as many times as you’d allow him to do so. For hours on end you’d be here, or his plush couch in the living room, or the kitchen counters, or the bathtub with jets along the wall with floor length windows, or the stand in shower big enough for four people, or against the door, or his backseat where it’d start all over again.

You left Delo, not on your own accord, but by force. Much needed family time, it made you laugh at the television when you’d seen it. You haven’t seen your parents in months, and DK only showed face in times like this, when his own success faltered. So, you left the city you were falling in love in- you mean with- you were shipped up to Iloa with your brother who moved you into his place, and you immediately sought out a distraction, but this distraction found you.

You’ve known of Mingyu, Mingyu has known of you. Both of you public figures somehow in your own ways, it was hard not to. Mingyu’s been on the Lions as long as DK has, though Mingyu came up through the organization like Seungcheol, and your brother was traded to the team because his first year in the MLB on the Cyclones didn’t cut it. That manager, to this day, will still mumble his regrets over losing your brother, how he gave him up before he even gave him a chance.

The two became friends, Mingyu and your brother, two newbies starting the same year, young, bright eyed, excited. You’ll never forget that first game, you were around sixteen years old, your brother a baby himself, just eighteen and the Lions newest starting pitcher. Mingyu, sharing an age with your brother, joined him in the postgame interview, both boys questioned on what it felt like starting in, and winning their first MLB game here at home in Iloa.

Mingyu and his family joined yours in celebration that night, after the team held something celebratory of their own for one another and their two outstanding rookies. It didn’t take long at all for your families to mesh, your father, a baseball player himself, one who played for the Cyclones for the entirety of his twenties, knew how to make and keep friends. He also drew a crowd wherever he went, as did your mother, the author of a six book series that exploded ten years ago after her debut novel had been published. There were now talks of her series becoming a movie, six, seven or eight films long, with whispers of prestigious actors being cast as the characters she’s created.

His family became friends quickly, Mingyu’s parents of wealthy status as well finding it easy to fit into the life your parents were given, or, well, created, you supposed, in some way. Your parents and his, they spent weekends flying around to different countries, spending time at their homes on the beach in Haos, dining at places in Iloa and visiting the Cyclones stadium which made your brother uncomfortable. When they weren’t shopping they were on a plane. When they weren’t eating small portioned meals at extraordinary prices they were sipping wine on coasts or yachts.

When you weren’t at home with your brother now, you were here in Mingyu’s bed. When you weren’t intrigued by the dinner your parents bought everyone that very first night, you were happily distracted by Mingyu’s ankles that nudged yours beneath the marble table.

Sixteen and eighteen, two ages full of different levels and reasoning of excitement.

That night he left you with nothing more than a quick wink, having said but two words to you within all the hours spent together.

Since then there were years of getting to know one another through events at the ballpark and your attendance at games, until you turned eighteen and the messaging started through Instagram till he got around to getting your number. It all grew into mindless flirting, teasing, an unspoken thing between the two of you, a baseball player with a name on everyone's lips and a socialite who wouldn’t even call herself a socialite, but the sister of one of his closest friends who just so happened to have visibility through him and her parents.

Mingyu didn’t care though, at least, it didn’t seem like it. DK never came up in conversation, he asked you questions about yourself, he wanted to know what went on in Isla’s brain, not anyone else's. He didn’t chalk up your relationship existing because of who your family was or where you came from, he liked you for you. And even though most nights you laid wide awake with heavy breath heaving from your lips, a hand shoved between your thighs with another boy on your mind, you figured you probably liked him too, your distraction.

DK’s ceilings stretched fifteen feet high from the foyer all the way into the kitchen and dining rooms, then they opened up above the living room, the sitting room, the bar, a stifling thirty feet above one's head. Each bathroom was adequate, normal ceilings for a normal room, unless you were in any of the seven on the second floor, then they towered up to the skylights one could admire the sun or stars out of while lying in any of the jacuzzi tubs. The five on the first floor were only blessed with twelve feet of height, but each bidet was certainly a treat.

The front door, garage door, and backdoor were all made of the same heavy oak wood, stained the deepest black standing out along the stark white walls on the outside of his home. Windows of the same style, some stood tall from floor to fifteen foot ceiling while others rounded out and grew smaller, picky about how much sunlight they’d let leak into certain rooms. Floors of marble, the finest hardwood, stunning stones, each room was different, not two the same. He built this place from the ground up, ensuring there would be plenty of space for his family to fit in it.

A father who favored his former team, a mother who’d steal his spotlight the second a book of hers was mentioned, and a sister, you, Moon Isla, who stumbled through the front door, heaving it open because it was utterly too heavy, hungover as fuck from the night before. An act you followed through with now, stumbling through the doorway after pushing it open with so much force your equilibrium had been thrown off.

Bare feet hitting the cool stone set into the floor of his foyer, the heels hooked around two fingers flew from your hold and hit the floor with a clatter, the sound echoing into the empty space above your head and into the vacant halls winding every which way from left to right, forward and back. Nudging the door shut with your backside, laying your head on the wood as you walked backward, it clicked into place with another booming sound into your polished marble, sparkling clean surroundings. 

“Jagiya?” Shouted from the second floor, his voice traveling down the half winding stairs set to your left, extending up to the balcony that looked down into the foyer, a small bar and sitting room beneath the staircase. Groaning, knowing your clothes were disheveled, your hair was thrown up into a bun hanging off the side of your head and your makeup was on Mingyu’s sheets, with a short moment to close your eyes, you prepared yourself for the brotherly lesson you were about to receive. “Is that you?”

He came out of his bedroom. The thirty foot wide and thirty foot long bedroom that lived above the front door and extended over the front patio, positioned halfway over the bar to your left as well. With a bag on one shoulder, your tiny purse around your other wrist, a sweater in one hand and your phone in the other, you lifted it, let it read your face, and sighed at the time. One thirty in the afternoon. He had just come back from the Lions stadium.

Sure enough, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his own bare feet touching the cold floor, you scoped him out head to toe. Black hair sweaty and stringy hung in front of his forehead and the Under Armour took to his muscled form like saran wrap. Looking you over, he analyzed you just the same, both your cheeks flushed for different reasons. 

Blinking his bright brown eyes, he took a breath before he asked, “Were you with Mingyu at least?” 

In an instant you dropped everything in your hands, sulking your shoulders so your bag could slide off your being and hit the floor with everything else in a pile. Narrowing your eyes, tipping your chin down, DK tried to not shrivel beneath your glare.

“Yes,” you hissed, gritting your teeth. “I was with Mingyu. And my name is Isla.”

He sighed, placed his hands to his hips and glanced at the heap your belongings made on his floor. “How many times are we gonna have the same argument?”

Taking your hands to your hair, you pushed yourself off the door and started for the stairs, flashing him a cheeky smile as you passed by him. “Until you get it right. I call you DK, DK. My name is Isla, so call me Isla.” Stepping up the first stair, his words whirled you back around.

“Our parents named you Jagiya,” he said as he turned around, that brotherly mocking tone hiding somewhere behind it. “I called you Jagiya for sixteen years.”

Taking the bun out of your hair, last nights blow out tried to come to life, but after hours of being tossed around it fell limp below your shoulders. “Our parents named you Seokmin, I called you Seokmin for sixteen years.”

“I signed with the MLB, Jagi, I was told to change it.” The way he shook his head around made you want to laugh.

Thinning your lips into a line, you shrugged. “And I grew up very public, very fast.” His being relaxed, his shoulders setting backward, your words dismantling any defense he had lined up. “With a ridiculous name like Jagiya, I had to change it.” Waiting three seconds more, your brother stumped, your lips lit up with success.

“We’re leaving here in a few hours,” his voice softened. Coming toward the stairs, he rested a hand on the railing and glanced toward your things on the floor once more. “Just, please, be ready. I’m not leaving you here, and I don’t plan on arriving late. That means we have to be on time.”

“Okay,” you pushed from your lips in a whisper, exchanging something with him only your pairs of eyes would be able to understand. Within the quiet a sinking feeling took over your stomach, your brother able to manipulate every thought, every feeling that coursed through you. “I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the words spewing as if they were painful.

DK scrunched up his face, his cheeks crinkling by his eyes. Shaking his head, he said, “Don’t apologize… Isla. You were with Mingyu. You were… safe.”

You whispered, “And drunk,” quickly, and your brother pressed his lips together.

Shifting his body around, his neck cracking along with his wrist, he looked up at you standing a few inches taller than him on the step and asked, “But, you stuck with Mingyu, and you ended up here today. I didn’t have to come find you.”

Something you both hope he’ll never have to do again. Throughout last fall and the winter months along the end of the year, he spent a lot of time in cars, driving around the city, making phone calls, dragging Mingyu into the picture which is what pushed the two of you together this time around. After drunken nights at bars, clubs, restaurants around Iloa, you were too incoherent to stay put, to know what you were doing and who you were with. The headlines were nasty, DK wouldn’t let you online the day after a bender, which meant for a while you were MIA on all socials and that many, many text messages went unanswered.

The first one, a weekend that lives beneath your heart in a knot, which is probably in your gut, each time it popped into your mind it threatened to make you sick. Nausea would spike, nerves would invade your veins. Ripped from your best friends, the girls who saw you for you, forced to move into a bedroom down the hall from your brothers on the second floor of his home. Your sorority sisters, the ones who tried, attempted to help you, who saw your literal cries for help behind the liquor giggles and champagne hiccups, you ignored them all.

Those messages, to this day, now that five months have passed, they’ve gone unread. 

Deleted. Archived. Erased.

Names that shoved knives into your back. One name stabbing you in the center of your chest, the pain so sharp it’d make you fill up a glass. 

You weren’t sure what lies they were fed, but you knew they were manipulated into believing whatever that wretched president of ITZ made up. Yeji. A royal bitch. If you had it your way, if the sorority believed in any type of democracy and allowed you to vote, you’d have written Aurora’s name down, one of your sisters who always went out of her way to check on you, you know, when her own shit wasn’t hitting the fan courtesy of The Royal Bitch.

Aside from missing their laughter, their hugs, their support, you longed to know if anyone had figured it out yet. Yeji bought her spot and Aurora threatened her. For years Aurora’s been liked better, more respected, smarter than Yeji in an incredulous amount of ways, the only thing she was missing was the money which Yeji unfortunately had plenty of. As someone with money yourself, and someone with a strategy skilled brain, you worked it out the moment the semester started. They were going to try to ruin Aurora with mind games.

And Yeji, who must’ve been smarter than you made her out to be, supplied you with a generous number of bottles of Grey Goose. Then, she kicked you out. She called up your brother, threatened to plaster your delirious face everywhere for the world to see, and told him to pick you up.

Which is how you landed yourself here, on his step, looking down at him and his post practice self. It was hard to not think of yourself as a burden. After moments like the one you just shared, stupid bickering over nothing that really mattered, not after he’s once rushed you to a hospital because you wouldn’t wake up, it was hard to not feel like you burdened him. Your brother was the epitome of success, of happiness, of achieving a lifelong goal, something you’ve never had. Throughout it all, every crash and burn, every news article, every online post, he’s been willing to greet you with a smile, and he’s never judged you. Never.

As if he could read your mind, he smiled. “You’re making progress,” he said, then shook his head. “I know you hate talking about it, but it’s what we’re doing here. It’s why you’re with me. I want to help you, I’m not handing you over to our parents. You’re staying with me, you’re coming with me. So, please, be packed and ready by five. I’d like to be on a beach with my sister and my friends in Haos tomorrow.”

Turning from him with a small smile on your face, you hurried up the stairs and into your bedroom to do just that, pack, because god only knows what you’ve been doing within the weeks leading up to this, but if one were to guess, and they said Mingyu, they’d be right.

5;47 p.m.

[thirteen<3]; Tell me you’re in that car with him.

Legs crossed over the leather in the backseat of DK’s G-Class Benz, you flip your freshly washed, freshly styled hair over to the other side and smile out the tinted windows. He couldn’t see you, but you could see him. Towering over his team around him, a baseball cap on his head, Ray-Bans perched on his nose, he waited outside the sliding doors of the Iloa airport with a hand on his hip and his phone lifted to his face in the other.

A jean jacket wrapped around his shoulders, showcasing how wide he really was, the broadness of his shoulders simply adding to his largeness. Matching jeans that fit a bit tighter today, he was perfection. Put together, deliciously styled perfection. The cameras across the road thought so too, the flashes lit him up and gentle shouts of his name leaked through the cracks in the doors of the car that came to a stop at the curb.

[you]; find out for yourself :)

He whirled around as soon as the message was read, brown tinted sunglasses lined with gold sliding down the tip of his nose. Focused brown eyes latched onto the Benz, and you couldn’t help but giggle as he bit down on his bottom lip.

Your brother, his driver, and members of his team leapt from the car, working in a hurry, pulling bags from the trunk, bags from the second car that pulled up behind the one you two were in. The clicks of the cameras and flashes amplified by a thousand the second DK was spotted, and the shouts that were once whispers flooded the property, their volume growing tenfold. One photo of DK giving them his infamous toothy grin and their mortgages were paid off. Thankfully he didn’t play into the whole paparazzi thing, or random reporters, especially with you right behind him.

Popping your door open after sliding across the backseat to exit through the side opposite where the crowd of losers waited for you to show your face, your phone vibrated once, then twice. The notification of a news outlet showing up at the top of your screen while you watched Mingyu’s typing bubbles appear in your thread. Reports were already hitting the media.

‘Lions head off to Spring Training eager to meet their newest…’

The headline was cut off, too long to fit in the notification. It’d get lost in the plethora of stories your phone would accumulate by the time you landed anyway. Besides, it was your everyday life, you didn’t need reporters or stories or headlines to tell you what was happening.

[thirteen<3]; Get over here right now. Gonna take a bite out of you.

Smiling at his message you left the car and let one of your brother's team members close it for you after he handed you your carry-on that fit perfectly over your shoulder. Locking your phone you slid it into the back pocket of your bell bottom jeans and started for Mingyu, your mile high, sappy smiling loverboy. Your brother cut you off before you could get too far, stepping up onto the curb, face to face with you, and he wasn’t wearing a happy one.

Before you left the house, right after you had done what you were told, packed up your things into three different suitcases and met him at the front door at four thirty, he found it the best time to suddenly play Dad. For over twenty minutes he talked to you, while you weakly argued back, and explained why he needed you to try to keep a low profile while the team practiced in Haos. 

Slightly offended, the feeling of burdening him washing over your entire being once again, his very long winded, very eerily vague reasons as to why he needed you to stay on the downlow… It barely made sense. 

For your safety, for your protection, for your public sanity.

He started every reason with it, that it was for you, and all about you. It all went in one ear and out the other, because all you heard was for me.

For my public image, for my team's image, my award winning team, me and my team's incredibly successful careers, the reputation we have and what we as a team stand for.

It was clear you didn’t reflect what the Iloa Lions projected onto the field, the media, to the world, the city of Iloa. You were the scrappy little sister, the baggage attached to a clean cut brother that news outlets referred to him as not only the Lions saving grace, but yours as well.

At the end of the day you’d huff and puff and admit that yes, without DK you really don’t know where you would be, but to have it all shoved in your face on the daily, and to know that he knows it too, it stung.

“I couldn’t speak on this before, legally,” he began, his voice soft, barely audible over the reporters across the street. “But now that we’re here, I can tell you, and I want to tell you, ‘cause I don’t want to blindside you-”

“Deeks,” you cut him clean off, holding up a hand. Squinting, you tilted your head and hit with a sarcastic pout. “I’m trying to keep a low profile, can you not speak to me so forwardly in public? I’d appreciate it.”

“Jagi,” he sighed as you passed by him, a member of his team in all black behind you. “Don’t do this, I need to-”

Whipping yourself around, keeping a smile on your face because now the reporters were shouting your name, you flashed him eyes to emphasize the venom in your tone. “Isla.”

You weren’t planning to walk into Mingyu’s arms, or let him kiss you on the top of your head that just barely reached his shoulders, the idea was to obtain him on the walk by and have him follow you inside. After your exchange with your brother and the way dread grew on his expression, knowing exactly what was flowing through your mind, it all went to shit.

Hurrying over to Mingyu, both your smiles growing into something incredibly cheesy, you leapt into his outstretched arms, and without a care, pressed your glossed lips to his while he lifted you off the ground. As expected, cameras and voices went wild. His muscled arms put you back on your feet but they stayed wrapped around you, guiding you inside through the sliding doors into the heated walls of the airport that was quiet for an evening in February. While his whispers of I missed you tickled your ears, you peered over your shoulder for a glimpse of your brother, but you couldn’t find him.

“And then, he told me I shouldn’t spend too much time, like, out, I guess,” you mumbled, leaning over Mingyu where he sat in the chair at the gate beside you. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his ankles and custom Nike’s crossed. Both of your hands toyed with one of his, your fingers drastically different in size. He could hold onto both of your hands with one of his.

“That’s unfair, don’t you think?” His voice was soft, easing the tension you held within your chest. “We’re going to be spending so much time out, how can he tell you not to do the same?”

Popping your brows, a tiny laugh escaped you. “It’s so I don’t ruin the image you guys curate for yourselves while you’re here.” Mingyu sprung forward, his face screwing up in disbelief. His lips parted, but you cut him off before he could say anything, pressing a hand to his firm chest. “Gyu, wait, no, he didn’t say that.” The boy relaxed, using his other hand to grab yours, lifting it to press a kiss to your manicured fingers. “He just… implied it, I guess. It’s how he made me feel.”

“I’m sorry that happened,” he whispered, bobbing his head. “You’re about to be twenty two, I don’t see why he’s so strung up about you doing these things.” Flickering your eyes to his, tearing your gaze off his insanely chiseled form, you could read every through behind every blink. 

Doing these things.

Mingyu took care of you after every night out now. He’d buy you drinks, share them with you, then take care of you when the party was done. Never once did he complain, never once did he mention how it was ruining his image. 

But, DK never said that. Those words never came out of his mouth.

“Your life is yours, Isla,” Mingyu said, brushing his soft lips over the skin of your knuckles. “And I’ve been having so much fun sharing it with you.” Tugging you closer, closing the gap between you, Mingyu nudged your noses together and gave you a smile, your eyes fluttering shut. His lips ghosted yours, warm breath caressing your skin as he whispered, “What I asked you, nights ago, it still stands.” Something related to nerves sparked in your heart, and you attempted to pull yourself back, but he kept you firm in place. “I know it scares you, trust me. I know you, Moon Isla.”

“Mingyu, I just…” Blinking up at him, his eyes flickered to your lips and he bobbed his head.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, then kissed you for a minute too long. The team began to board the plane and nausea pooled in your gut. You were to be seated beside your brother. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. You’re still mine whether or not the label is there.”

home;run masterlist | talk to me | ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[talenlee]

Decemberween 2024 — Card 'Cheat' Documentaries

How many playing cards do you think I own?

It’s an interesting question because it’s got these unstated assumptions folded in. Depending on how you read it the answer is some variant of ‘a lot’ or ‘not many’ and perhaps even ‘less than you might think.’

I’m a magic trick enthusiast, I try to do and learn magic tricks myself. I have a deck of beat up playing cards I regularly shuffle while I’m on-mic. I can do arch shuffles and double lifts and false deals. I also, own maybe five actual decks of ‘playing cards’ as a Casino might understand the term. I own a lot of cards that are for playing games, though, with an embarrassing Magic: The Gathering collection, given how my card collection of actual played cards at this point is pretty much just digital these days.

Thing is, with my kind of interest in cards and playing games, I feel like you’d expect me to be someone who owns a lot of playing cards, for prototyping and practice. One of those people who has a shelf somewhere of just cards for the material process of practice. I definitely feel like that kind of guy. I am drawn to and interested in the everyday magical effects of what people can do with cards, and that means that while I have no taste for casino games as games, I am always interested for people who can talk about ways they can break.

Like card counting!

Playlist: Beat The Odds - Card Counting Series [IN ORDER]

Watch this playlist on YouTube

Steven Bridges is a perfectly nice and reasonably ordinary model of the mid-20s Interested In Trying Things Youtubesman. Starting out as a street magician, he moved on to trying out blackjack card counting as hash-tag content in a series of Youtube and subsequently Nebula videos. These videos are a really interesting mix of a technical skill (how card counting works) and practical execution (can you maintain that count, can you keep the cool, can you do it without looking sus as a bag of snakes), and then a lot of emotional realities (since card counting is about losing the game about 49% of the time).

Steven is personable, he’s funny, he does a lot to edit these videos together to make them more interesting, and he does the storytelling part of the job really well. What’s most interesting to me is that this is very shareable kind of media in the context it’s in. Fox is not big on casino games and she’s not big on gambling (and to be clear, neither am I). But things like Steven’s regular insistence on following rules and demanding casinos obey the rules they all agreed to is really good for flaring up Fox’s sense of unfairness and injustice.

Artifice, Ruse & Subterfuge: The Expert at the Card Table

Watch this video on YouTube

There is a single book that may be one of the most important magic books in the real world history of magic performance, and it’s primarily a book about cheating. The Expert At The Card Table, by S. W. Erdnase, is an iconic book (and I don’t own one, if you’re considering christmas gifts) about what techniques in card manipulation existed at the time of its printing, with clear and detailed instructions and diagrams for their execution.

This book is also the centre of conspiracy theories and a shocking amount of detective work. Makes sense, after all, you print a book full of ‘here are smart things for the cleverest boys,’ you’re going to get a lot of the cleverest boys trying to outwit the book itself. This documentary isn’t just an explanation of what is in the book and who cares about it — Dai Vernon and Ricky Jay were both immense fans of the work and its technicalities — but also includes an extensive consideration of the question of its provenance. What’s fascinating about this is that because playing cards and their techniques, and human hands, have been largely the same for a hundred years, this book of techniques about how to handle and manipulate the cards is still a useful and relevant thing — even if we’ve found better methods for what it describes, many of those better methods have been built on the techniques in the Erdnase book.

That’s history, though, what about something more recent? What about a time of modern surveillance and shuffling machines and casinos taking house edges over millions of iterations of games in a year? Is there anything interesting in terms of card manipulation in the now?

The Greatest Legal Casino Heist in History

Watch this video on YouTube

Yeah!

One of the richest poker players in the world, and he’s rich because he’s really good at it, is a guy called Phil Ivey. Phil Ivey is a kind of problem gambler in that he gambles so much it’s a problem but also he’s got a big enough bankroll and he is himself good enough at a lot of it that he can become your problem very easily. When a client can show up and drop a million dollars on your table, you are now one million dollars committed to making sure that guy comes back.

Phil Ivey is also at the centre of a truly unhinged example of advantaged play in a game that was ostensibly, impossible to play at an advantage, while being constantly observed because, as might be obvious he’s Phil bloody Ivey. There’s a story here, and this documentary does a good job of explaining it, explaining the process, and most importantly, explaining the aftermath.

Much like with the Steven Bridges videos, though, there’s a fundamental unfairness to the whole thing. When you enter a casino and play a game there’s probably an understanding, under the hood, that you’re going to play as well as you can and they’re going to try and make that as hard as they can, but that that is a contest of equals doing their best. The story of Phil Ivey’s ‘cheating scandal’ — and how it is framed for the rest of the world — is a story about that’s actually not the case at all. The house always wins, until it doesn’t, and then the house changes the rules.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!