#( c: this ghost sitting year after year upon my heart )

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

What is a ghost? A tragedy condemned to repeat itself time and time again? An instant of pain perhaps. Something dead which still seems to be alive. An emotion suspended in time like a blurred photograph, like an insect trapped in amber. — Guillermo Del Toro, from The Devil's Backbone

DETECTIVE MILENA TEODORA ROSA | CRIMES OF PASSION

[nervouslaughter05]

Stars to Comfort a Lonely Moon

C/W: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kissing, Angst, inspired by "dont look for me in the sunset when I die", inspired by the song "It's Called: Freefall, really sad and angsty, kinda happy ending?

A/N: I'm so sorry this is the first work I bring to the fandom, but this has been living in my head for the past week and I finally decided to crank something out for this today during some free time I had. "Grizzly", the woman in this piece, is an OC I made who is very near and dear to my heart. I have a fic (that's much happier) in the works at the moment that I'll begin to share once I've gotten some decent headway on it. Chapter one is actually almost done! So maybe in the next few days?

Also, please heed the tags and comment below any you find necessary.

Last chance to turn away. I will be completely honest when I say this wrecked me a little to write. Considering you've stuck around this long, enjoy the piece.

Recommended listening: "It's Called: Freefall" by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

Inspired by this TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@bejadoodles/video/7203248315381714182?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7195436189938271790

Called to the Devil and the Devil said

Hey! Why you been calling this late?

It's like 2 A.M. and the bars all close at 10 in hell, that's a rule I made

Anyway, you say you're too busy saving everybody else to save yourself

And you don't want no help, oh well

That's the story to tell

Death was something Ghost had come to accept as something normal in life. 

With the horrors he’d seen, the people he’d lost, the stories he was told, it wasn't exactly unusual. 

He didn’t rush into danger trying to die purposefully, but it was definitely something where if he were to be injured gravely he wouldn’t complain at the prospect of dying.

At least, that’s what he had told himself for years. 

Upon joining the 141, this was still true. 

After Las Almas where he had dragged Grizzly, unconscious, from the bullets pelting down around them and guided Johnny, injured, through the city, this lessened slightly.

After sharing a quiet moment with Grizzly when they had to hunker down in her father’s house in Alaska, this faded to a murmur. 

After the first time they kissed, this evaporated.

That’s what made right now so terrifying. 

Because suddenly he was actually wanting to live, wanting to claw his way from the grave just to keep breathing crisp air through his broken lungs. 

Seeing her sent a sharp stab of something he didn’t want to name through his chest. She was limp, blossoms of red unfurling from beneath her glove covered fingers. He stumbles, collapsing onto one knee onto the dirt.

“What do you think of the idea of looking at a sunset to remember someone who’s died?” Grizzly asks, leaning back on her hands from her spot sitting in the grass. 

He glances at her from his peripheral vision, shrugging. “I’d rather have someone look at the moon.”

She turns her head to look at him. “Why’s that?”

“It stands out like a sore thumb and despite that, it’s alone.”

Grizzly shuffles, trying to raise her upper body up. He gets back to his feet, limping to her prone form in the grass. His other leg gives out this time, sending him back to the ground. Ghost doesn’t care–he crawls to her, shifting so he is sitting upright against a rock in the middle of the clearing with her cradled in his lap. She breathes shakily, hand clutching at the red seeping through the fabric of her shirt. 

With her free hand, she reaches for one of his, tangling their fingers together. Then she pulls back, tugging off her glove with her teeth and prompting him to do the same with a weak whisper of his name–not the callsign, but Simon. Her hand is small in the grasp of his own, somehow still not nearly as calloused and rough as his own. 

His own wounds are forgotten in that moment and the stabbing pain in his head is pushed away in favor of the sensation of her fingers against his.

The woman fell silent, a thoughtful expression slipping onto her face. Eventually, when Ghost was sure she wouldn’t say anything, she murmurs, “Then look for me in the stars.”

He is silent, looking up at the night sky.

She waits a moment before continuing, words equally as soft as before. “So the moon won’t be alone anymore.”

Night was fallen, covering their forms in the gentle light of the moon and the harshness of the shadows around them.

The moon hung in the sky, stars twinkling into existence around it. They blur together in his sight, and that’s how Simon realizes he’s actually crying. The moisture dampens his balaclava, making it stick to his skin uncomfortably. 

The hand clutching her side reaches up to his mask, tugging on the edge of the balaclava resting on his neck. Simon doesn’t hesitate, tugging the balaclava off his face and mussing up his hair in the process. The blood flooding from her wound is slowing down, leaking in a lazy stream now. 

She smiles up at him, looking behind his head at the sky. “The stars are out.”

Simon chokes back a sob, nodding his head, his free hand cupping the back of her head. “So’s the moon.”

Ghost looked over at her fully, eyes trailing over the way the light of the moon fell over her features. Her eyes shone in the darkness, filled with a depth he wanted to drown in. She looked at him with nothing but honesty. It tugged at something in his chest, stirring the grieving beast inside of him. 

“What if the moon wants to be alone?”

“Simon,” she breathes, breath going shallow as she winces. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, pulling her close as a fog begins to settle over his brain. It urges him to sleep, to close his eyes and fall into the abyss. “Don’t.”

It’s all he can manage to say past the choking lump in his throat. She seems to understand, grasping his shoulder to pull herself up. Hand still grasping his own, she brushes the other over his cheek, cupping it in her palm and resting her forehead against his. He holds her close by the hand on the back of her head, helping to keep her upright. 

“Simon,” she says, voice full of reverence. “The moon won’t be alone anymore.”

“It doesn’t,” Grizzly replies easily, looking back up at the sky. “The way he acts says the opposite.”

She looks back at him again, gaze soft. He meets her eyes, that feeling stirring in his chest again. It chips away at the walls he put up, spilling through the cracks. 

“But the stars won’t shine,” Simon tells her, holding her as close as he can. 

She chuckles again, breath ghosting over his lips. “The stars only shine so long as the moon does too. They can’t be-” She winces again. “Can’t be separated.”

One of his hands reaches up, bare palm against her cheek as his thumb strokes underneath her eye. She leans into his touch, tilting to lay a gentle kiss against his skin while holding his palm against her skin with her own. Ghost doesn’t know who leans in first, but before he knows it, his balaclava is shoved over his nose and their lips are slotted together. 

It’s soft and tender to start with. 

Then that ugly thing in his chest rears its head, pressing him to hold the back of her head and kiss her harder. 

Grizzly responds in kind, hands roughly grasping at his shoulders. 

She falls back onto the grass, his body over hers as he worships her with his touch.

“No?” Simon questions, wishing that he could just mold their bodies together. 

“No,” she affirms, eyes starting to drift closed. “Never.”

He hums, and she nuzzles closer. 

The blood–hers, his, it doesn’t matter anymore���is sticky on his clothes, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“And the stars could never shine without the moon,” Grizzly growls against his lips.

He swallows the sound of her voice, staking a claim on her from the searing kiss. He takes and takes and takes and she just lets him, taking and taking and taking in her own way. They were both broken and hurting, granted at different levels, but still were coming together in a clashing of emotion. 

It burns and soothes the ugly thing in his chest, nourishing and depleting his soul at the same time. 

Her hand falls from his cheek, eyes fluttering nearly shut as the rise and fall of her chest stills. He can feel the own aching in his body fading into a numb sting, eyelids as heavy as her body in his arms. Simon exhales, breath dispersing in a puff of white into the cool air. 

The darkness swallows him whole, except instead of painful it’s gentle. 

He doesn’t fear it–just like before–but because of different reasons this time. 

The embrace is welcome, because he knows that there’s someone waiting on the other side. 

A/N: I'm sorry for putting you guys through this

[pretty-please-just-let-me-sleep]

Restless Nights

Aki Hayakawa x Reader (I don't think there's any mentions of gender and if there is please yell at me because there's not supposed to be)

Fandom: Chainsaw Man

CW: manga spoilers!!! mentions of character death, angst, implied nightmares, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), unrequited love, non-sexual bed sharing, aki makes for really good angst sorry

1st Person

This is sfw but I have explicit content on my blog, minors, do not interact with my content. I don't want y'all here.

Aki Hayakawa had an expiration date far sooner than anyone his age should.

It was painfully obvious to everyone including myself; I mean, the Curse Devil alone was evidence enough but with the impossible, unwavering goal of killing the Gun Devil I wouldn't be surprised if death came knocking next week. It shouldn't hurt me as much as it did, I was trained not to be phased by friends' deaths given the profession and typically avoided friendships altogether but it'd be a lie to say I was okay with it.

Truth be told, I'd fallen for him entirely. It was stupid, of course, you'd have to be blind not to notice Himeno's attempts to stray him–I most certainly didn't have a chance–but the strain in my heart at the mere sight of him couldn't be helped. The thought of being his was lovely but even if he wasn't so cold and closed off; his contracts were so detrimental the idea of a future with him was nothing more than a pathetic pipe dream.

The only comfort I had was knowing I wasn't alone in being rejected or simply having their affections ignored. Himeno obviously but even his new buddy; the Angel Devil were so clearly in love but he never bat an eye at them. Not in the way they wanted him too at least. I suppose Angel would never admit that though, probably scolding me and giving the lecture on how he's a devil first, an angel second. It didn't matter. We both understood that we'd sit on the sidelines, helpless to aid in the prevention of his downfall or end up like Himeno. Whichever came first.

I had seen him less and less as of late though. It was to be expected. I suppose Makima was closing in on the Gun Devil so it came as a surprise when I was told that I would be looking into very likely rumors of a devil a few cities away with Aki. Nonetheless I took the job graciously and headed to the train station with a backpack containing sleepwear for both of us.

Upon arrival I called him, not catching sight of him anywhere. As the phone rang longer I felt my patience dissipating. I had no doubt he'd shown up, I was told he'd be here before me, but this was supposed to be my day off, we'd have to stay the night at a hotel, and I was already tired from the week. If it weren't for my paranoia about Aki's well being and a guttural feeling that as the Gun Devil grew closer to being killed Aki's time grew nearer I would've said no to going. But. The man I was in love with would be dead soon, I should enjoy whatever fleeting moments I can take. After all, his best case scenario was only two years and a few months.

At the third ring a small poke on my arm signified the presence of the man I was looking for. I smiled.

"Glad you found me, wanna get going?" He nodded in response, giving out a ghost of a smile. I grinned and took his hand, selfishly stealing what small contact I could. As I headed to the train he stumbled slightly. Slowing I looked back at him. He may not have said anything, claiming he was just fine without it, but there were small things I'd noticed that he was clearly struggling to adjust to after losing an arm. The most apparent being the few times I had been able to come over and needing to help him cook. He hated it and it was obvious. Prior to his bout with the Darkness Devil he was always ready with an intricate dinner before anyone was walking through the door. I shook the thought.

We boarded and sat in silence, the only noises on the train being the occasional sound of shuffling, rustling paper, and soft whispers. It was nice. I glanced at Aki to see a calm expression gracing his features as he gazed out the window. Moments like this were rare and I made a mental portrait of the way the afternoon sun seemed to make his blue eyes shine as it hit them. I looked away soon after though. He'd called me out for staring before and I didn't want to upset him. He didn't want a relationship, that was made obvious. The train ride would be long. I opted to sleep on the way there.

Upon arriving at the somewhat rural city (though just about every town and city tended to look rural when coming fresh from Tokyo) we asked around. Quickly able to surmise that tip about a devil in the area was correct and taking residence in a decrepit old house on the edge of town. It bolted after seeing us, immediately heading into a wooded area bordering the yard on the house. It was rather weak, the most difficult part of killing it being how good it was at fleeing. After taking care of the body we found a hotel close to the station we'd be departing from the next morning and checked in.

I sat on the couch and gave Aki a tired smile. He returned it before heading to the bathroom and starting hot water for a shower. I followed him in, setting his clothes on the counter.

"I'll go after you so don't take to long okay?" I said before leaving, closing the door behind me. He groaned.

"You act like I'm known for long showers," he muttered though it was audible through the door. I giggled in response before returning to the couch and staring at the ceiling. I had contemplated trying to find something on tv but I was tired and the thought of putting effort into anything right now felt like a chore. He was out quickly as promised, hair down and looking exhausted. Going to one of the beds in the room and pulling back the covers to tuck himself in he was out almost immediately.

After taking my shower and putting on a tee shirt and sweats I let my gaze fall on Aki for a moment. It wasn't a common occurrence to see him at peace to begin with but after Himeno's death he seemed perpetually distraught. Sighing I turned the lights off and muttered a small good night before getting under the covers of the other bed and letting myself drift off.

☆☆☆

I woke up to the sound of crying and turned over to see Aki, still asleep, whimpering as tears fell from his closed eyes. I avoided letting any come to my own at the sight as I climbed out of bed and padded towards him.

"Hey... hey, c'mon. Wake up," I whispered as I shook his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes slowly before quickly sitting up, startling me slightly. Bringing a hand up to his face he wiped away his tears and let out a shaky breath.

"S-sorry," he mumbled. His voice was broken and barely audible. I shook my head and after a moment of hesitation rubbed circles into his back.

"It's okay. You've gone through a lot, you can cry about it if you want to," I offered. It felt stupid coming out of my mouth but seemed to strike a nerve as he looked up at me, his brows knitted and eyes were glossy with tears. He pulled me by my waist and buried his head into my stomach as sobs racked his body. I brought my hand not busy rubbing circles into his back to his head, holding him close and petting his hair.

"Please stay with me tonight," he mumbled. I almost didn't catch it, his voice was weak and muffled by my shirt. But I did. I sighed and moved to sit on the bed before laying down, gently pulling him with me. He curled into himself and nestled further into me. I knew it would hurt, that this was likely the only time he would show anyone, let alone me, any type of vulnerability. That if it had happened to be someone else here who was kind enough to show him compassion and knew him well enough he would've likely had the same reaction. It didn't have to be me. He just needed a warm body and if that's all he ever wanted from me then so be it.

I was utterly whipped and just for tonight I could fool myself into thinking he cared even a fraction about me in the same way I did for him.

[raineydays411]

So warm and tender

Tony Stark x Daughter!reader

A/n: Hello! finally the last part of Ember. I hope you guys like it and sorry for making y’all wait so long for the confrontation lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s POV

“Aunt Pam?!” you say in shock as you stop struggling against the vine wrapped around your body.

“Y/n, is it really you?” your aunt said as the vine loosened its grip and gently lowered you on the ground. “ Where have you been? Everyone has been going crazy looking for you”

You don’t answer as you look at your aunt. You didn’t realise you missed her as much as you did but now all you want to do is throw yourself in her arms. So you did.Pam, sensing you needed comfort rather than an interrogation, wrapped her arms around you. “I missed so much my Petal.” 

With those five words, all the hurt and pain you bottled up came out. and you cried.

As you cried, your aunt looked at the girl she hasn’t seen in eight years, and wondered what she’s been going through and if she did the right thing by giving you to your father all those years ago.

“Petal, I think you need to explain what’s going on”

You look up and sniff, “ Yeah, i think an explanation is well in order.” and you tell her everything. From the years of being ignored by your father, your last argument, the two weeks you spent in captivity, and your new powers. 

“ And that’s when I found you.” You finish looking at the grim faces of Pam and the other woman, who now that you think about it looks really familiar. 

“Oh, you poor puddin’!” you found your face being squished between two ands and then you were comically pressed against a body in a tight hug. 

“Don’tcha worry bout a thing, me and Pammy will take care of everything, you just sit here and---”  This seems familiar...

“ Harley, I don’t think she can breathe.” “Oh right, now you remember, it the blonde woman who used to sneak into the apartment”. You think to yourself as you struggle to get loose from her grip. You hear someone snicker and see Danny looking at the commotion. 

“ Shut up Danny, where have you been?” You say, forgetting that you’re the only one who can see him. 

“Exploring, do you thing she could hug me like that too?” 

“ If you weren’t already dead, I’m sure they would kill you for that comment”

Pam and Harley look at each other in concern as it seems like you’re talking to yourself. 

“ Hey kid, if you’re gonna talk to yourself, try an’ do it when other people can’t see you, like me.”  The blonde says as if someone talking to themselves was a daily occurrence for her.  You explain that with your powers, you were basically dead and can speak and see other dead people. Hearing that, Pam’s expression darkened

“He let you die?” she said in a grim tone. All the vines and plants in the room started whipping around angrily as if they were looking for the person who wronged you. It was then when you realized it wasn’t your Auntie Pam who taught you how to plant petunias you were looking at, this was Poison Ivy. 

“ Men, you can never trust em��. Well, whadda say little flower, ya up for a little premeditated murder?” and that was the infamous Harley Quinn. 

“ It would’ve been nice to know that you’re related to scary criminals y/n....” Danny said in a fearful voice. And if you were being honest you just found out that your aunt Pam was also the Poison Ivy but to be fair you haven’t seen her since you were like eight. 

“I don’t want to kill him” you finally say. “ I don’t want anything to do with him. Nor his precious Spiderling.” The plants calm down as Ivy calmed down and was your aunt Pam again. “ What do you want to do?” she asks.

You think to yourself and say,” I want him to know how he made me feel, and then I want to stay with you.”  Your aunt and Harley froze when you said that. 

“Petal, there is nothing I want more than for you to stay with me again,” She started, “ But it isn’t safe for you to stay.” Your eyes started to water

“But I-I have powers now, I can defend myself! I won’t be any trouble, it’ll be like I’m not even here” At this point, anything was better than going back to being invisible. “Please...I don’t want to go back...” 

Hearing the desperation in your voice broke Pams, Harleys, and Danny's heart. Pam because this was the daughter of her closest friend. She vowed to protect you from anything the day you came to her after losing your mother. Seeing you like this just reminded her how she, in her mind, has failed you. Seeing you so desperate to get away from the man who broke your heart reminded Harley of herself. The nights she would sneak into the tiny apartment you shared with Pammy, in hopes of escape only to get drawn back with empty promises. So yeah, she had a small soft spot for you. And Danny, you were the only person who saw him after months of being invisible. He felt like he needed to help you in your mission to get your father regret ignoring you.

“Hey Pammy...maybe we should call him...” Harley started to suggest. 

“NO, I’d rather drink weed killer than go to that...orphan collector for help.” the red head spat. “ No. We’ll figure it out but she can stay here for now.”

Hearing that you had a place to call home now, gave you the motivation to go and confront your father. Not only for ignoring you, but for leaving you in that..cell for two weeks. He didn’t even attempt to look for you as far as you knew. You’d have thought at least one of the other Avengers would have came to save you. But no one came. After all those years, no one came.

“Y/n.. your eyes” Danny whispered, his cold hand touching your arm snapped you out of your mind. The neon glow of your eyes faded to your normal e/c. 

“ Aunt Pam, Harley is there any way you guys can get me to New York and back?” You ask, finally ready to confront your father. 

“ Well....” Harley say as with a smirk

~~~~~~~~~one terrifying ride on a stolen batplane later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving to New York you made Pam and Harley wait a few blocks away from the tower, as you really didn’t want the Avengers to find out your aunt was a wanted criminal. You “went ghost” as Danny like to call it and snuck into the Tower with ease. You then snuck into your room, seeing everything covered in a layer of dust as no one has been in there for over two weeks. You packed a bag and filled it with some clothes, books and a picture of you and your mother. You took that bag and walked to the door, looking around at the room that was both you prison and safe space. It was decorated with multiple trophies, medals, and ribbons all from the multiple sports and clubs you joined to impress your father. Not like that ever happened. Danny wander around looking at the multiple teams photos you had hung up.

“ You’re a volleyball girl?” he said, “ Huh. I’d never have had guessed.” 

You rolled your eyes as you finished packing. “ Hey I have a job for you.” you say turning to him. “ I need you to go to the control room and turn off the power for thirty minutes. Then turn it back on and come find me in the common room.”

“ Yes ma’am” Danny says, saluting and disappearing through the wall before he comes back. “Ummm, wheres the control room?” 

You roll your eyes and explain how to get to the control room and wait. When the lights go out and you’ll make your move. Your father would have to pass through the common room to get to the control room from his lab, which you assume he’ll be. There you’ll be waiting for him. 

The lights go out. It’s showtime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tony's POV

The team spent three more days searching for you. They followed every lead and half of the team even flew out to the building that collapsed an hour ago. Tony, Steve, and Natasha stood behind to look at more clues. It was a little past midnight, and both Steve and Natasha went to bed leaving Tony to tinker in his lab. Tony was making improvements to a certain spider suit as he thought about what his daughter said to him before she went missing.

“Sir, there seems to be someone in Y/--” FRIDAY started to say when the power cut out.

“FRIDAY??” Tony questioned as he walked out to check the control room, making sure to get his nano bracelet just incase. As he walked down the hallway he thought about waking up Steve and if he was brave enough to wake Natasha when he heard it.

“Hi daddy.”

Tony stopped dead in his tracks as he looked up in disbelief. The lights turned back on to reveal his daughter. Wearing a black halter top, spandex leggings, grey boots with elbow length gloves. She looked skinny, as if she hadn’t had a proper meal in the weeks she was gone. And for some reason the air was cold in the room. But there she stood.

‘Y/n” Tony said breathlessly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n pov

As you wait for Tony to walk in,you look around the common room and reminisce. You think about the time when you first moved in, and you got lost trying to find the bathroom and accidently walked into Natashas room. YOu thought she was going to kill you but ended up walking you to the restroom and back to your room. Or when you made the volleyball team way back in eighth grade, and you ran home to tell your dad but ended up telling the whole team, who were rarely all together, and they all took you out to get ice cream, minus Tony. You had to admit, even though your dad didn’t pay attention to you, Nat and Steve did. As well as the whole team, but those two really became the parental figures in your life. That’s why it hurt when not even they came for you. Even they had forgotten you.

“Hi daddy” you said in a mocking voice. Your father stopped dead in his tracks, as he looked you over in disbelief.

“Y/n”, he said in a breathless voice. 

“Oh, you remember my name?” You say in an sarcastic tone. “ Didn’t seem like you did when you left me in a hydra cell for two weeks.” 

Hearing that you were a prisoner of Hydra made Tony’s blood freeze. 

“Hydra? Oh Y/N are you okay? What did they do to you?” He asked frantically as he walk towards you with the intent of checking if you were injured. You jerk away from him, avoiding his touch and say

“ Oh, I’m wonderful. Just so fucking fantastic. I was just experimented on and injected with various liquids that caused excruciating pain. No big deal” 

“ Y/n..we spent days trying to look for you. Me and the team--”

“You and the team what Tony? I was there for two weeks. TWO WEEKS I WAS POKED AND PRODDED. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.” You scream, anger filling your heart as you remember the agony you went through. You think about the scratches on the wall of the cells, the taunts from the guards, and screams of the undead.

“ You have no idea what I went through. What I’m going through.” You say, feeling your body grow colder as you lose control and start to shift. “ You don’t care about me. If I were Parker, you would have saved mem within SECONDS.”

“That's not true. Y/N you have no idea how much I love you.” Tony tries to say. He’s filled with the need to tell you everything he didn’t tell you before. “I know I haven’t always been the best father. Trust me I know that now. But if you give me a chance, I want to make everything right. Please.” 

You didn’t think it would go like this. In fact you were not at all prepared for Tony to say this. You expected to walk in on him continuing his life as normal, tinkering in his lab and such. You had always yearned to hear him say those words to you. But now, they just fill you with anger.

“You think you could just tell me what I want to hear and what? I’ll just act like nothing happened?? I know you’re not that stupid.” You spit, the room growing colder as you get angrier. “ It’s too late for all that Tony. I’m not the same girl i was two weeks ago.i won;t take it any longer.” 

“Y/n..your eyes” Tony says as he slowly starts to put his gauntlet bracelet on, realising that you are becoming a threat. 

“ Oh do you like them?”, You ask “ This is what happened when they injected me. I can also do this.” You shift, shades of blue taking over brown skin. Tony stared at you in awe and a bit of fear. 

“ Y/n this isn’t you. I know you’re angry but--” “ Isn’t me?” You interrupt.” You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m like. And even if you did the old me died in that cell. Literally I died” You and Tony stared at each other. and that's when you heard the doors open. Two sets of footsteps started rushing to the commotion. 

“Y/N some red head and beefy blonde are on their way” You hear Danny say as you realize you had to wrap it up. If anyone can convince you to stay, it’s Steve and Nat.

“ It doesn’t matter anymore Tony.” you say as you start walking to the window. “ I can’t stay here anymore. There’s nothing for me. You win. Peter can be the child you always wanted cause from now on, consider me dead.” and with that, you phase threw the window and let yourself fall, knowing that you won’t actually fall as you can fly. 

Tony freaks out and calls for his suit, only to see a blue blur shoot up and across the sky. Then he just sits there and stares. The footsteps reach the common room and he hears someone ask 

“ Stark..what was all the yelling. What's going on?” 

“she's gone” He says, and that's when he truly realizes his mistake. He became what he never wanted to become. He became his father. And now you were gone.

Taglist: @vxidsti1es @big-galaxy-chaos

[bottomcyclonus]

Not to beat a dead horse but I am curious. How you and your friend got the idea to actually deep fry Hot Rod 👀👀. Did y’all just watch him fall into that oil on Cyberverse and want to recreate it or what lmao (cut to me telling people in the discord I’m in about it and then deciding to do my part 2 to it b/c someone told me not to lol)

FIRST of all I need you to know you frying your own Roddy made my ENTIRE fucking week!!!

Secondly, It was my 20th bday, (September 26th, 2020). My friend @bubblebots saw that meme of the deep fried Gundam and decided with another friend that they NEEDED to give me a fried tf figure. They went to the local Targét and were originally looking for a Prowl toy, but couldn't find one. They did, however, spot a Hot Rod. The joke practically wrote itself. They made their purchase, went home, and started the Frying.

Cut to a few hours later when I came home for my bday party. Out of all of the presents my beloved friends gave me, Ghost (bubblebots) wanted me to open a Very special gift first.

I must mention the presentation of this gift. Ghost, bless their heart, walked up to me sheepishly, clutching a target bag in their hands. They said, "I'm sorry it's not wrapped. I got it a little late. And it's a little damaged so I kept the receipt if you want to replace it." Me, clueless, told them that no matter how the toy looked I'm just grateful for getting a gift from them in the first place. That they took the time out of their day to help me celebrate was enough for me.

Then I opened the bag.

I screamed. I laughed. I coughed. I laughed some more. I had to sit down.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of Deep Fried Hot Rod stuffed back into his Near Pristine packaging and seeing his melted legs on top of his body. I knew I had to take him out.

Upon freeing Deep Fried Hot Rod and feeling the grease of his crusted body on my finger tips, Ghost insisted through choked sobs that I should take a bite.

So I did.

He tasted like ass.

I promptly put Deep Fried Hot Rod back in his box, and set him up on the counter where he watched us for the rest of the party. Soon after the party ended, I decided I needed to Fully Seal him for protection, partially from mold partially because I am scared of him.

Since that day, he has lived in my freezer. I took him home from my college dorm and told my Mother to Never let him out of the freezer. That if he escaped there will be repercussions. I'm very lucky that she believed me (and thinks he's the funniest shit she's ever seen).

I'm now in my senior year of college. I'll be graduating this May. And I'm lucky, and cursed to say that Deep Fried Hot Rod will be there with me.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

; i'm coming home

© gif credits to the author, i found it on google. if you own it, send me a message with your @.

bucky barnes x reader ⎢ masterlist.

bucky and you met six years ago in romania, but he disappeared. now, he's back.

word count: 1.8k.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

requests are open.

Six years had passed since the last time he was with you, before disappearing overnight. He didn't give you any explanation, he didn't even leave a note. He needed to protect you, but he also knew how stubborn you were and that you wouldn't let him take that decision for both. So Bucky simply left, breaking your heart in one thousand pieces. You wanted to understand his reasons, but you couldn't. He promised you eternal love, a life together, moving out of New York —maybe to a remote place where anyone could recognize him and have peaceful days, without having to be worried about someone coming after him. About someone trying to hurt you.

Since the very first moment you met in Romania, Bucky fell in love with you. Sometimes you still remembered how he started talking to you in Romanian, guessing you were from there until you laughed and replied in English. The next few weeks were like a daydream. Walks, romantic dates, nights of stargazing. Then, you came back to New York and kept in touch by letters, as in the forties or fifties. Until one day. Your friends invited you to a museum and what you discovered there was unbelievable. James, your James, was Captain America's best friend. And he was supposed to be dead.

You wrote to him. You told him you knew it. You told him you didn't care, that you could figure out how to escape from that situation. Together. But he never sent you a letter back. You weren't able to forget him after all that time, still sleeping every night with his red shirt, stupidly fantasizing about the idea of Bucky coming back to you. And your hopes increased when you watched him on TV. The Avengers found him and, even if you tried to contact them somehow to defend your James, you never got it. Nobody believed you, not even when you showed them the letters, not the only picture you conservated of both of you in Bucharest. You prayed to God to help him. You begged God to the world seeing him as you did.

But when Bucky was released on parole, he never tried to look for you. He did know you lived in New York and, with his resources, he'd have known in less than five minutes. One year had passed, and you ended up losing the most minimal hope wrapping your heart. All those things he told you once, were just lies. Lies to inventing a parallel life until you left Romania. Only replying to your letters to have something to lean on for his own good. That's what he demonstrated to you.

bucky's pov

Like every night since he earned part of his freedom, Bucky stared at the windows of your apartment, from the opposite sidewalk hidden behind a tree. Like a ghost. Like he was trained to see but not be seeing. Every night, he wanted to cross the road, call to your door, kiss you, hug you, feel your touch and your love —hold you, and never let you go again. But he knew it was risky, he knew he had to wait for the right time. And it came. Tonight it came. His year of therapy had ended and he was free. Bucky was free to come back home.

He had been watching you since it started, making sure you were safe and sound. He also was aware that you never rebuilt your life with another man, that you tried to find him. That you slept every night with his shirt. Bucky was also aware of all the times you cried for him, that you always walked the same way from your job to your apartment expecting to meet him in some street close to it. He knew you better than you knew yourself.

Taking a deep, deep breath, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his coat, the soldier put a step on the road. The first step to happiness. And then, no one could stop him. He continued to the front door of the building, not needing more than a push to open it. Third floor, fifth door at the right of the corridor. Bucky licked his bottom lip nervously, swallowing as he took a master key from one of his pockets and a small metallic stick to force the lock of your house. He needed to be fast and stealthy, ringing the bell wasn't an option for very obvious reasons. Breaking into the apartment, he closed the door quietly behind his back.

The lights were all turned off a couple of hours ago when you went to sleep, after sitting on the window of your living room waiting for someone who wasn't going to show up, as every night for the last six years. The whole place smelled sweet like you used to. Bucky never forgot your scent, using it as the encouragement he needed to continue fighting for his freedom, for a life together. Now, his heart was racing so quickly that the whole city could hear his beats.

Slowly, he toured the entrance, the living room, the hallway straight to your dorm. The door was half-closed. Not a single noise coming from the inside. Bucky walked towards it, pushing it in slow motion, trying to not wake you up. And if he knew before that could be that easy to watch you sleep —for creepy that it sounded— he would have watched you every night since he landed in New York.

Bucky wasn't sure about what to do. If he should wake you up, if he should let you sleep and come the next day after you finished your work. When he wanted to realize, he was running the nail of his index finger on your soft cheek. Your skin was still warm, which meant you fell asleep crying again. And that broke his heart, his soul. Being conscious of all the pain and the suffering he made you being through all that time was killing him from inside. And he wished he could have handled your relationship in another way. But there wasn't another way without you being collateral damage of his past.

Bucky was about to leave when he suddenly felt a hit to his collarbone, stumbling to the bed. He didn't have time to react when your right leg was beneath his cold arm and pinning down his neck, as your left leg was laced around it. Your hand gripping his wrist, immobilizing him, pointing at him with a loaded gun between your free fingers. Your breathing became erratic, your pulse was beating faster than ever, but you were ready to shoot if the occasion required it.

In the middle of the gloom you glimpsed at those deep oceanic blue eyes you had been craving to look at for years. The same eyes on the picture on your nightstand. It has to be another dream. Another nightmare where Bucky came to tell you that everything was going to be okay. But his touch felt so real that it hurt like a million flames burning down your body to ashes. You were paralyzed. Your brain collapsed. In a very slow motion, James —your James— raised his right hand from the mattress to above his chest, bringing it to the gun aimed at his head. You couldn't stop him. You tried with all your strength. But the commands sent by your neurons never reached the finger supported against the trigger.

His flesh digits made their way to your trembling hand, as the tears started to sprout out from your eyes. Bucky took the weapon, not needing to ask you to release it, to put it away from the two of you.

“It's okay, draga mea, it's me…” He whispered with such an angelical and melodic voice, over your dolorous sobs. “May I, uh… get my arm back?”

Bit by bit, you obeyed as if it was some kind of polite order, loosening the grip around his arm and over his neck. Stepping back till your body collided with the headboard, you curled up your knees to your furious chest rising and falling, hiding your face between the gap of both. Your cry became louder, agonic, painful, ripping your throat.

“No— Not again… Not again, please… I c— can't”. You implored sorely.

Bucky didn't need to be a genius to understand you firmly believed it was just part of another of your dreams. Another of your nightmares. He sat upon your bed, coming closer to you and landing his cold metallic hand on the back of your head, urging you to raise it. You did. You did raise your burning face because of the tears falling, running down your cheeks. Your blurry gaze focused on his pale blue eyes, begging you silently to forgive him.

“I'm here… I'm back”. Bucky murmured, gently touring your skin until reaching a side of your neck, caressing your throat by using his thumb. “This is not a dream, draga mea. This is real”.

His intentions weren't to scare you, speaking to you with such a honeyed tone of voice as he shortened the distance between his body and your legs yet curled. You pouted unconsciously, watching him leaning above your legs to press his lips on the bridge of your nose. Slowly, fondly. Wanting to transmit to you that the flame of his love for you never went out. Resting his forehead against yours, your right hand flew straight to the back of his neck. You had never needed more than you needed him at that precise instant, trying to believe that that wasn't a trick of your subconscious.

“'M so, so sorry… I had to protect you… I had to protect you”. Bucky explained while closing his eyes, lacing his free fingers with yours. “But, uh… I know you still drink black coffee with mocha and a stick of cinnamon every Thursday. I know you… rent a book from the library and sit on the stairs in your free evenings… I know you sleep with this same shirt every night”.

Discovering he had been watching you all this time provoked your lips to shiver, as your cry became lower and your breathing was calmer. He guarded your days, in the shadows, till the right moment. And it came. Tonight was the right moment.

“I'm free. I'm not an enemy anymore… I'm not a target”. Bucky couldn't help but chuckle to hold back his own tears. “I'm so sorry”.

“Will you…? Will you stay now? With me?” At first, you doubted asking, being afraid of his response for a second.

“No one will ever set us apart again. No one”. He promised you, his heart speaking, telling the absolute truth. “Everything I told you in Bucharest; everything was true. And I… I want it”.

Bucky leaned forward enough inches to make disappear the less distance between both of you, pressing his lips in yours, tenderly caressing your jawline with his thumb as his tears met yours in the corner of your lips. Neither of you could believe that you were reunited after all these years, after all the pain, the loneliness. And like James, your James, said so: no one would ever set you apart again.

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[theonewiththefanfics]

Thick And Thin (one-shot)

Synopsis: He never thought his wife would ever even think about divorce. They had problems, which is why they were at marriage counselling. But he never knew her heart had broken a long time ago. And he’d been the one to break it before they even got together.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: aaaaaaannnnggggssssttt baby, just wanted to write something that’d rip your heart out :)

Warnings: swearing, pain, kinda depressive (??), can’t think of anything else really, but please let me know if there is, also not my best work lol :D

Word count: 7102 (let’s start off the New Year with loads of pain :) )

Italics are flashbacks

“I want a divorce.” 

           Never in Harry’s life did he think he’d have to hear those words. Not after everything they’d been through, not after all of the effort he’d been putting in to save their relationship.

           Those words had not only stunned him but their marriage councillor, the woman’s mouth open mid-word, as she tried to comprehend what was happening. Harry was fairing even worse. It was like his brain was short-circuiting, synapses broken and no longer sending any signals. 

           “Mrs Styles, I know it’s difficult,” the therapist tried to diffuse the situation. “But the reason you’re here is to avoid this specifically.”

           “I don’t remember how you smell anymore,” Y/N continued not listening to the woman, voice like a black void, but her Y/E/C eyes rimmed with tears. “Or taste. I don’t remember how it feels to have you pressed up against me or what it’s like to hear your voice. I… I don’t have anything to cling onto anymore.”

           “It’s why we're here!” he cried through clenched teeth, slipping on his knees before her, hands grasping Y/N’s in a vice-like grip. “It’s why we’re trying.”

           The laugh she let out was detached and without any love. “We tried it your way, Harry.” She’d never called him Harry before. It was always Lover. “And it’s not working for me. It hasn’t from the start. We’re… we’re so unhappy. And I don’t want that for you or for me. We deserve happiness. But I don’t think we can give that to one another anymore.” She took in a shaky breath, looking down at Harry’s hands in her lap. “When I thought of it, at first I felt horrible. I wanted to throw myself off somewhere, but the more I sat on that thought, the more relieved I felt.”

           He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, didn’t want to believe it. “Relieved?” The word felt like acid in his mouth.

           “Yes,” she nodded. “Relieved. Because this choice won’t make us hurt one another anymore. This gives us a chance to have a fresh start.”

           “I don’t want a fresh start! We said – we said through thick and thin.” He was grasping onto the last straw he could find. “This is the thin, but we’ll get through it.”

           “Harry, I already broke through the thin. And now I’m drowning. And when the thick comes, I’ll either be frozen under it and watch you walk further, or I’ll surface somewhere, and I don’t know on which side of the shore I’m gonna be on and where you’ll be. And if you try to get me, you’ll start drowning too. I don’t want that.”

           “But that’s what marriage is! Going through the tough shit together!”

“Harry… I already asked Lionel to draw up the papers. The first draft is done.”

           His blood froze in his veins.

           “When you said to sit down and write one thing that makes me happy about the relationship,” Y/N was looking at the therapist now, “about the person, I – I couldn’t. Because I kept thinking back to the start, to the beginning. That’s what made me happy. But now…” She glanced at Harry. “If there was one thing, I couldn’t do to you, not in a moment like this, is lie. I just… I don’t remember how to be happy with you.”

***

They’d started out as the cliché of best-friends-lose-contact-only-to-be-reunited-and-not-let-their-chance-pass-by-and-fall-in-love. She was ten when she’d moved in next door to him and he was twelve when he’d seen the three vans full up to the house, a little girl hopping out from one of them. Harry watched as she rushed up the doorstep and put in a key, unlocking it and a new chapter of her life with it. Little did he know she’d unlocked a new chapter of his life as well.

She was the new kid at school, and despite the fact that he was a year above, he sat down next to her at lunch.

“ ’M ‘arry,” he said through a mouthful of a sandwich. “Saw you move in yesterday.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

And that was the start of a blooming friendship.

On her eleventh birthday, he gave her a handmade bracelet. She gave him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, making Harry blush all shades of pink and red.

He was thirteen when he had his first real kiss on his birthday. Y/N had simply tried to peck him on the cheek, but he’d turned his head, and her mouth had ended up on his. She’d walked away with a shy smile and ears on fire.

She was thirteen when a boy first asked her out. Harry was the first person she told him about it. That was the first time his heart broke.

When he was fifteen, he got his first girlfriend. Y/N was fourteen when her heart broke for the first time.

           And then he'd gone on X-factor and with that forgotten about her. She called him, texted him, messaged him on social media, but usually, she’d maybe get only one picture or a small ‘miss you too’ as a response. So, after a whole year apart, she gave up. What was the point of trying to save anything when he didn’t want to?

           He moved on and became an international superstar. Y/N moved on and graduated top of her class, got into her first-choice university, and graduated with a first as well. He had some relationships here and there, while Y/N had had a steady relationship since the second year of uni, but when she decided to go to a different one for her masters they amicably broke up.

           Eight years later she was sitting at a café in London, laughing with her ex-boyfriend and catching up, as he explained how what Criminal Minds showed wasn’t really what was taught in his criminology degree classes.

           “I’m still saying I dated real-life Spencer Reid,” Y/N chuckled, sipping on her gingerbread latte. “Don’t give a shit, I need something to flex with.”

           Harry had then walked inside the café, shaking off the snow from his boots when a familiar laugh he hadn’t heard in ages invaded his senses. It was almost like he’d stepped into a dream. 

           When his green eyes befell on the owner of the voice, he had to take a double-take. Somehow in his brain, he’d expected the fifteen-year-old teenager, a t-shirt of his face on her body, as she’d cheered him on when he’d gone onto his first concert as part of One Direction to be sitting in the chair, not the grown-up woman.

           He’d still checked in with Y/N through what she posted on her social media, but as much as he’d promised not to have the celebrity life sweep him away, it had. Harry sometimes had two concerts a day, and he barely had a moment to take a bite of food. And he hated to admit it, but Y/N simply slipped from his life. And he didn’t bother to put in the effort to pull her back.

           A huge wave of guilt and longing rushed through his body as he glanced at the woman, her face lit up by joy as she and the man before her continued on with their conversation.

           Someone tapped on his shoulder, making him turn around and face another customer. “You gonna order anything?”

           For a moment Harry stuttered. He could walk away without inserting himself back into Y/N’s life, but he didn’t want that. He’d missed her. Harry didn’t even realise how much he’d missed her.

           “You go ahead.” He motioned with his hand. “I’m still thinking.”

           Harry took in a deep breath and then walked towards where the pair was sitting. 

           The man’s eyes flitted up to see who was towering over Y/N, only for them to widen, and his mouth hang open. 

A sense of pride filled Harry's chest at the reaction and maybe quenched a little bit of the jealousy invading his body. He used to be the one who made Y/N laugh until she had to tell him to stop or she’d pee herself. He was back to take up the role.

           “You okay there, Dan?” she chuckled. “Don’t tell me there’s a ghost behind my back. I told him not to walk out of the flat wit –“ Y/N had turned around and almost choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Harry! Oh – hi!” She jumped up hugging him, feeling how his body shook with laughter at her reaction, strong arms weaving around her middle. “Holy shit, it’s really you!”

           “Yeah, ‘s me. Who else?”

           “I didn’t know you were back in the UK.”

           A warmth spread through his chest, as he reluctantly pulled away from the hug. “Been checking in on me?”

           Y/N rolled her eyes, sitting back down, but pulling up a third chair for Harry to sit upon. “Dan’s a huge fan.” She motioned with her head to the man. “When we first started dating, I thought he was only doing it because we used to be friends, and he hoped I’d set you up or something.”

           Harry masked the choke of envy by clearing his throat and letting out an awkward chuckle. “Hope I’m not interrupting a date or something.”

           “A catch-up date, but not a date date.” Dan lifted his brows at Y/N, who gave him a ‘don’t start this’ look to which he threw up his hands in surrender. “I’m just making conversation.”

           “You’re being annoying, that’s what you are.” Y/N flicked a crumb from the table towards him. 

           It was in that moment that it truly hit how much he’d missed, and it hit him hard he no longer knew the person who once was his best friend.

           “You’re different,” Harry said, looking over at her trying to keep the lump in his throat from making his voice break. 

           Y/N shrugged, eyes twinkling. “I mean it has been almost a decade. I do hope I don’t look the same as I did then. Otherwise, the pain of braces was of no use.”

           “No,” he chuckled shaking his head. “’S not that… It’s like you’re a different person.”

           “I grew up,” she said, sipping on the last bits of her drink. “ ’M not the same fifteen-year-old you saw last.”

           He nodded and bit his lip. But the thing was, Harry wasn’t the stupid sixteen-year-old that left the fifteen-year-old her either. This time, he wouldn’t let the chance at happiness pass him by when he could’ve had it all along. 

***

           He sat across from Y/N at the large marble table and watched, heart bleeding out in his chest as she put her signature on the papers, her attorney fishing out something from his briefcase and handing it to her under the table. He saw her shoulders shudder before she placed a maroon rectangle with a golden inscription on it in her own purse. Harry wanted to vomit. It was her new passport, where her surname no longer matched his, where he no longer existed, inscribed into the document as her spouse. 

           “Mr Styles?” Y/N’s lawyer pushed the papers his way, the pen laying atop them. “’S your turn.”

           ‘Your turn’, as if it was a game of spin the bottle or UNO. 

           “Don’t make me,” he choked out, pleading with Y/N one last time. “Please don’t make me do this. Don’t make me give up on us.”

           Her words were worse than a knife to his soul. “You can’t give up on something that’s no longer there.”

           When they’d been at the stage of negotiation, he’d kept pushing for giving her at least half of his income, to give her one of the houses they owned together, but she’d turned everything down.

           “I didn’t marry you for your money, Harry.” He’d expected her voice to be full of venom, but it wasn’t. It was sad, resigned. “I don’t want what you’ve earned.”

           “Let me give you at least something.”

           “I don’t want anything from you. If it makes you feel any better, you can donate whatever amount you wanted to give me. I don’t care. All I want from this is for you to sign the papers.”

           “And if I can’t?”

           Y/N sighed, looking down at the table. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

           That’s when her attorney had cleared his throat. “Mrs Sty – Y/L/N. Legally, according to the prenup, you are entitled to half of Mr Styles estate as well as twenty percent of all his earnings.”

           But Y/N just shook her head. “I only signed those documents because that’s what he and his agent wanted. I never asked for it or anything or the sort. Donate it, for all I care. Buy a new house, Harry I literally don’t want to know what you do with your money.” Y/N took in a sharp breath and calmed herself down. It’d been the first time Harry had heard any sort of emotion from her since she'd spoken those horrible words. “I just want this over with.”

           And now, he was at the moment of the end. He just never thought their story would end with broken hearts and ripped up futures.

His handwriting was barely legible at best of times, but right now it seemed as if a toddler had tried to forge it with how much his hand shook. When the pen dropped, so did his shoulders, and he saw Y/N’s drop as well.

           Harry’s with weight from the love lost, Y/N’s with relief, for now their broken hearts wouldn’t hurt one another no longer.

           His lawyer handed him over a new passport as well, where Y/N was no longer written as his spouse. The urge to rip it to shreds was almost uncontainable. He hated it more than the divorce papers.

***

           They’d been dating for a little over two years when he decided to propose, only every plan he had was miserably ruined by some outside force.

           The first time he’d decided he’d do it at a romantic dinner. Harry had found out Y/N wasn’t a fan of huge romantic gestures, so he wouldn’t get on one knee and draw everyone’s attention. He’d simply take her hand in his, kiss her fingers and ask. 

           But as they’d sat at the table enjoying their meal and talking, he noticed Y/N become quieter and quieter. A frown morphed on his face.

           “You alright, Lovie?”

           “Umm,” Y/N’s brow creased even more, and she dropped her fork. “I umm I don’t know. ‘M feeling kind of funky?”

           “What’dya mean?”

           “I – “ Y/N opened her mouth but didn’t manage to get anything else out as she jumped up and rushed towards the ladies room.

           Harry quickly dropped his own utensils and rushed after her, not bothering with the yells of the woman who was looking at herself in the mirror, while his girlfriend threw up her guts inside one of the toilets.

           A member of the staff had run to see what all the commotion was about, but when he saw Y/N half inside a stall, half outside, Harry’s hands keeping her hair away from her face, he went back out and immediately grabbed the first aid kit they had in the kitchen, handing it to Harry along with a cold wet towel.

           Y/N shuddered, leaning against the stall wall sweat glistening on her face, as he pressed the damp cloth against her skin. She gave him half a smile. “Told you not to get the shrimp.”

           “I’ll get the cab, Lovie.” He smoothed away the once meticulously styled hair, which was now stuck to her damp skin. 

           But she shook her head. “Not yet.”

           “Why?”

           “Because I’m about to puke again.”

           In the end, she threw up two more times, her stomach really not agreeing with the entrée. The waiters kept apologising the whole time, and the chef had stopped cooking, the restaurant immediately taking action and refunding everyone who’d ordered anything with shrimps in them.

           When they’d gotten back home, Y/N was so tired and felt so sick, Harry could only help her get out of the dress, clean her up with a warm towel and wrap her up in her favourite pyjamas before curling up together on his bed and falling asleep, making sure if there was a moment, she felt nauseous again, he was by her side. She needed his help more than he needed to propose.

***

           He threw himself into his work like a madman. Day and night, he was either at a studio, on a filming lot, in between meetings or interviews. The media buzzed about how his marriage had fallen apart, even though Y/N hadn’t made a statement or spoken a word to anyone, and neither had Harry. But he guessed the emptiness of his ring finger gave everything away.

           He refused, however, to speak on it. As painful as it was, he was still in love with Y/N. She hadn’t chosen to be in the spotlight, it was Harry’s world, not hers, so he respected her decision to be quiet and remained so himself, save for one single post his management had asked for him to put up. It'd also been the last time he'd spoken to her.

All he received was a simple text message 'do what you have to do'.

           A couple of months down the line though, something came up, and Harry couldn’t keep his tongue behind his teeth.

           It was an article in The Sun, a photograph of Y/N plastered all over the front page with the words ‘Gold-digger Y/L/N finally seen out after divorce with Harry Styles.” He’d snatched the paper right off the stand and flipped it open, frantic green eyes scanning the words.

           ‘Despite it only being two months since the two childhood ex-best friends broke up, Y/N Y/L/N was already seen in the company of a man, sharing a drink, and giving one another flirtatious smiles. An inside source tells us, how she hadn’t even been that upset about the divorce and has been going out and having fun with many male companions, one of them being her ex-boyfriend from university times.’ 

           ‘Harry Styles, known for his time in the pop boyband One Direction and for his solo endeavours in music as well as dabbling in acting, broke everyone’s belief in true love after being seen in public without a ring. This prompted an announcement that the four-year relationship and two-year marriage to who was once his best friend had ended and the two had decided to get a divorce. Although the post showed a picture of their silhouettes holding one another with their foreheads together, and his statement showed nothing but love and respect for his then-wife, sources say Y/N had been controlling and obsessive over her then-husband and hadn’t wanted him to leave to pursue his career, stifling his growth.’

           He didn’t bother to read any further, as he pulled out his phone, calling Jeff immediately to figure out how to make all of it go away, how to do at least one thing right.

           “They’re dragging her name through the mud!” he sneered, not even caring he was bumping shoulders with people, and if the paparazzi would dare spin a story of the state he was in at that moment, he’d sue each and every one of them personally. “I have to do something. Fuck, Jeff, I love her! I can’t let them paint her like this. Y/N – “ he choked back a lump. “She never asked for this. Didn’t ask for anything. And that man – that was Dan, okay. I know him. Yes, he’s her ex, but they don’t know anything!”

           “Harry I’ve sent them cease-and-desist letters already.” Jeff tried to ease him. “But… she’s no longer your concern Har.”

           The words hit him like a bullet and ripped a hole in his chest just like one of them would. “You might still love her,” Jeff’s voice was solemn. “But Y/N is no longer yours to protect.”

           “I can’t just let them talk shit about her,” Harry whispered back.

           His friend sighed on the other side of the line. “I know. Which is why we’ll deal with it. But you have to start letting her go.”

***

The second time Harry wanted to propose was about a month later, and Christmas was right around the corner. They’d decided that Christmas Eve would be spent with his sister, her boyfriend and Anne, while Christmas Day they’d go to Y/N’s side of the family. 

Although they’d settled on one gift each, Harry had been carrying around that small box for what felt like an eternity. And it wouldn’t really be a gift, given how he’d wrap it and hang it in the tree.

“It’s an ornament,” he’d say to her, a smug smile on his lips, as Y/N would roll her eyes at him. “Just because it has your name on it, doesn’t mean it’s immediately a present.”

And then she’d open it, and would gasp, and Harry would slide down on his knee, press a kiss to her ring-free finger before asking that fateful question. 

But just like before, his plan didn’t come to fruition. 

           He’d asked his mother to hang up the little box, so there was no chance of Y/N seeing it in his hands, but what he hadn’t thought of was Gemma’s boyfriend had decided on the exact same plan of action.

           When Michal had dropped down on his knee, Harry’s sister’s trembling hand in his, he couldn’t do that to them. As much as he wanted to marry Y/N, he couldn’t take away Gemma’s moment. So while Y/N was preoccupied with looking at the gleaming diamond on Gemma’s finger, Harry plucked down the box from where it’d hung and placed it on the side no one could see, before he could put it in his bag.

           “ ’M sorry, honey,” Anne had said to him over coffee the next morning. “I didn’t know Michal would do that.”

           He’d just shaken his head, no hurt in his heart. “Great minds think alike. Our moment will come. ‘M happy for Gem. Besides, if he hadn’t done that anytime soon, I would’ve needed to have a stern talking.” 

***

           What his sister said to him made him think he had to be living in a simulation, because it couldn’t be true. Y/N couldn’t be getting married. Not this soon. Not ever. Not to someone who wasn’t him. It had been barely a year since he’d signed the death sentence to his own happiness.

           Harry shook his head. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying, Gem.”

           “I’m not.” Her voice broke as she said it. “I saw her at a café. Saw the ring… the man who gave it to her. Harry, I’m so sorry.”

           His mind reeled with questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to. Was that why she’d really divorced him? Had she been cheating on him and just needed an excuse out of their relationship to jump into the new one? He was away so much on their relationship, he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone else had swooped in and tried to win her heart.

Harry’s mind was one of the greatest things he’d been blessed him, but also one of the worst curses bestowed upon him, as it weaved a story of Y/N and the man who’d now put a gleaming ring on her finger.

           He was away, like always, doing something he could do another time. She was on her own, keeping their bed warm with just her body, fighting for their relationship on her own, while he made plans once more to go to a different part of the world and leave her behind again.

           Y/N pulled herself out of the bed, sighing and rubbing her face. She opened their closet only to be greeted with Harry’s half empty. Maybe that was the moment she decided to find someone who’d fill it and wouldn’t leave it permanently empty, Harry conjured up.

           She’d dress in a soft jumper and some jeans, a large cardigan hanging over her body and would go to a café for her morning drink. And that’s where she’d meet him. The stranger that would take her out of the lonely life she’d been living. The stranger that would make a smile bloom on her face and her heart stutter once more. The stranger who would show her the love Y/N deserved to have.

           Harry had to shake his head to get rid of the thoughts before they ventured into a worse territory.

           No. Y/N wasn’t like that. No matter what, she would never cheat on him. She had enough dignity for herself and respect for him, even though in his own mind, Harry didn’t think he deserved it. 

           Although he didn’t have a right to, nor was it the sanest move (and if someone saw him doing it, there would probably be a slew of articles), Harry got into his car and drove to where Y/N’s apartment was, and when she opened the door after hearing seven loud knocks, he stepped inside without even waiting for her to invite him. 

           “You’re getting married?”

           She crossed her arms. “It’s none of your concern.”

           “It’s been barely a year! I refuse to believe you’ve moved on so fast.”

           Maybe he was kidding himself, and Y/N truly had, but as much as their marriage had fallen apart, he did have the honour of having known her and having figured some things out deeper than others would.

           Y//N scoffed. “I was proposed to. And I said yes.” The words were like venom entering his veins. “If I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t have agreed to it. And as I already said – it is none of your concern.”

           Harry stood there, watching as she dragged a hand down her face, eyes flitting everywhere he wasn’t. It told him everything he needed to know.

           “You’re not happy,” he whispered stepping forward and reaching for her hand. “I know how you shine when you’re truly happy. This isn’t it. Why are you doing this?”

           “That doesn’t matter.”          

           Harry was so confused, at a complete loss at what Y/N was saying. “So, you’ll what? Get married to him and be miserable? Why the hell did you divorce me then?”

Y/N sighed. “Being unhappy with him isn’t as unbearable as being unhappy with you. Because with you, I know what it feels like to truly fully loved. Which is why it broke me when you stopped.”

           “I never stopped!” Harry whisper yelled, anger coursing through his veins at her words, because they were lies. “Why do you think I dragged us to marriage counselling? Why do you think I kept fighting for us? For you?! You were the one that gave up!” 

           “You weren’t there when I needed you.” 

           Harry blinked rapidly, not understanding what she meant.

           “You left me for ten years. You forgot all about me until that day at the café. Not once did you message me or call me or even send fucking snail mail. I was the one putting in all the effort, I was the one who was trying to keep you in my life, but you didn’t want it. Just like it was when we were married.”

           Rage bubbled under the surface, but he kept it at bay. That was not how he’d get Y/N back. “How?” he asked calmly. “How did I not want it?”

She scoffed shaking her head. “It was the same as it was ten years ago. With the movie, the new album... You were always at the studio or hanging out with your castmates. When I asked for you to free up one night, one single night, you didn’t come back until three AM, drunk off your ass, and I had to take care of you. I asked for one night. And you didn’t even give me that. So forgive me for not feeling like you still loved me.”

           “Why didn’t you talk to me then?!”

           “I did!” This was the first time he’d ever heard Y/N yell, before kneading her lips tightly together and then continuing more quietly. “But you never heard me. Not really. You heard what I asked, and promised to be there, but when the time came… something more important always came up. Something that always deserved to have the promise you gave me to be broken.” Y/N gave him a sad smile. “Do you remember when you first asked me out? And I said no?”

           Harry nodded. “You said that we just got one another back and didn’t want to have anything rip us apart again. Didn’t even want to chance it.”

           “And you said it was exactly why I should give us a chance. That we’d finally found one another again and shouldn’t let the opportunity go…” She tilted her head. “Guess we should’ve listened to me. I included.”

           He couldn’t believe her. “Is that really your takeaway here? You were right?”

           “But I was.” Y/N shrugged. “Look at where we are now. You forgot me for basically ten years.” She shrugged, stepping away. “Give it some time, and you’ll forget me for the rest of your life. Besides, we’ve not known one another longer than we have. So, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

           “Why did you then? Go out with me?” Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Get married to me?”

           For a moment Y/N just looked at him, Y/E/C eyes boring into his green ones. “Because I’d once again convinced myself I was important to you, just like I did when we were teens. And in my head, I had dreamt up that maybe I’d be important enough for you not to forget me.”

***

The third time did the charm though.

           They were both sleepy, under the covers of Harry’s bed, eyes barely keeping open as they were determined to finish Elf.

           Y/N had her cheek pressed against his chest, bare body next to his naked one. She hated sleeping in pyjamas (unless they were staying over at one of their parent’s places,) because she said it made her feel like the clothes were suffocating her. Harry didn’t like sleeping with pyjamas because all he wanted was to fully feel the skin of his lover next to his. 

           Snow fell behind the large windows of his London penthouse apartment, covering the city in a white blanket. It rarely snowed there, so he watched with warmth in his heart as the flakes fluttered to the ground.

           It was all so calm, so serene, that Harry realised that’d been the moment he’d been waiting for. No need for fancy dinners or present it as a loud gift. Being together was a gift enough.

           “Lovie?” he asked, nose hidden in her hair. “You awake?”

           All he received in answer was a small hum. She was on the verge of passing out, but this was the moment, so, he whispered the question, voice so low as if he was asking the dark to marry him not Y/N.

           He couldn’t look at her, afraid of what she might say, afraid she might say no, think back to the times he wasn’t there for her, think of all the reasons why he wasn’t good enough for her, and would only bring her sorrow. 

           “Lover.” Her voice was as soft as a summer’s morning. “Look at me. Please.”

           It was one of the most frightening things in his life, as he did so. 

           Y/E/C eyes met green. What he saw on her face allowed his heart to calm down a little.

           “Is the Sun the closest star to us?”

           That he hadn’t expected. “What?”

           “Does it rise in the East and set in the West?”

           “Y-yes?”

           Her hand cupped his cheek, and he melted against her. “Then why are you asking me a question you know the answer will be the same as to those?”

           “Can I put the ring on your finger then?” He was more excited than about anything in his life.

           Y/N shook her head, bringing his lips to brush against hers. “Don’t need a ring. Just need you to kiss me.”

***

           The wedding was far away from the city so that no one from the press could even think about following her or her entourage. The guest list was small, compared to the three hundred people Harry’s and her wedding had had.

           Anne had told him not to go. He wasn’t invited, and neither was she or Gemma, for obvious reasons. As much as Y/N loved them, she knew it’d hurt the two women, but it would hurt Harry more. So seeing her stepping out of the car, dressed in a cream wedding gown, a veil covering her face, made flashbacks appear behind Harry’s eyelids.

           She’d worn an off-white gown before as well, dusty rose to be exact. And Harry’s bow tie had matched it. Y/N had never liked the thought of wearing white at her wedding. 

           “Listen, if it’s white, I’ll most definitely spill something on it,” she’d told him as both of them had been flipping through some wedding magazines. “You know me. But if it’s some other colour, there’s a bigger chance no one will notice when that happens.”

           It didn’t seem right to him. It was like a bad fever-dream like he’d had that one time, and Y/N had had to listen to him babble about the hallucinations dancing in front of him because of the high temperature.

           Her gaze remained on the ground, or maybe on the bucket of white roses in her hands. She hated white roses.

           A woman in a pale blue dress straightened out the back of Y/N’s dress and the train of it, and he watched as her mother came to stand beside her daughter, giving her an elbow to grasp onto.

           All he wanted was for Y/N to be happy, and it hurt to think it wasn’t with him because Harry believed it was supposed to be him. 

           He took in a shaky breath and got out of the car just as Y/N had walked up the steps and disappeared behind the double doors.

           It was going to be him.

***

Harry knew he wasn’t the best husband in the world. He was away for a lot of time, and as conceited of an excuse it was, his job did entail going out to parties, mingling with other people living the high life, and being seen with certain celebs.

           Y/N was never one for it. She always supported Harry, but she didn’t like going out and spending time with people who didn’t care for her existence. Well, maybe they did, but only in a sense that she’d been the lucky bitch who’d snagged up the Harry Styles.

           But if there was something Harry did was love, and he loved wholeheartedly, which is why it absolutely destroyed him when he’d gotten back home one evening and heard Y/N crying in their bathroom.

           She’d never tell him, but it was because no longer did his pillow smell like him. Harry had been away for so long, that the essence of him that’d soaked into their sheets was no longer there. And it broke her to pieces.

           When he’d get home, he’d be so tired, he’d crash on the couch, only tiptoeing his way into their shared room to go to his closet and get some clean clothes in the morning. He’d look over at his sleeping wife and allow a blissful smile to bloom on his face at the sight.

           He was so lucky to have Y/N back in his life. He was so lucky she’d accepted him and fallen for him as he’d fallen for her. He’d silently move over and press a kiss to her temple, before going back down and off to work once more. Only he wouldn’t see the dried tears on her cheeks.

           So, when he’d found her curled up in the tub, hands in her hair, face hidden by her knees, frame trembling like leaves in a storm, he instantly dropped to his knees, ignoring the sharp pain shooting through his bones, as he pulled Y/N into him.

           “I can’t, Harry,” she choked out, shaking her head. He knew it was bad. She never called him by his name. “I can’t do this. I’m so alone. Even when you’re here, I’m alone.”

           Harry had had his heart broken before, and always he wondered afterwards if someone took it out of his chest at that moment, what kind of a sound would it make. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it’d be as silent as the tears running down his face at Y/N’s confession.      

           “Maybe,” he swallowed harshly trying to keep his whole body from shaking, from showing the fear her statement instilled in him. “Maybe we need couple’s therapy.”

           “What?” her eyebrows had shot up to the middle of the forehead.

           “Y/N, we’re clearly having problems. I – I know I need to work on things, but you’re also not telling me how you’re feeling. Maybe we just need some help.”

           She didn’t really know what to respond. In her mind, Y/N had somehow conjured up an image that if she ever got married, they’d be happy. Sure, they’d fight and have rows, but they’d always be able to work things out on their own. Not once in her life, did she ever think she’d need to go and see a marriage counsellor to help her save her marriage.

           Her own parents much like Harry’s had gotten divorced. Hers had tried therapy. It’d been their last resort. It didn't work. So, when he’d mentioned it to her, that’s what made her decide it was truly over. 

           Y/N nodded, bringing him in for a hug, and felt his body melt into hers with relief.

She’d try, for Harry, but her mind was already made up.

***

           So he stood outside the doors, listening for the line of ‘if there is anyone who opposes this union speak up now, or forever hold your peace’. His hand grasped the handle, ready to push, but… he couldn’t. He’d ruined her happy ever after once before. He couldn’t do that again to her.

           Tears streamed down his face as he pocketed his hands and ventured away from the ceremony. The ceremony where the love of his life was promising to cherish someone else, to fight through thick and thin with someone else, to make someone else happy, while her own happiness suffered.

           Harry sat in his car, waiting for her to exit, a smile on her face as she’d hold the hand of who now was her husband. That'd be the moment he'd let go of her. But when the doors sprung open, she was alone, hands clutching onto the front of her dress, as she rushed down the steps and back inside the car she’d arrived in.

           For a second he sat in his vehicle, stunned beyond belief at what had happened, at what, as horrible as it sounded, he hoped had happened. When a man, hand in his hair ran outside as well, the same woman in the pale blue dress rushing out with him, Harry knew.

           He was basically a madman on the road, breaking almost every possible law as he tried to catch up to the car Y/N had jumped in. 

           His mind raced with the possibilities of where she could’ve gone. The airport, her family’s summer house in Winchester, honestly anywhere in the world, but Harry shut up his mind, and allowed his heart to make the decision.

           It didn’t seem like Y/N had premeditated fleeing from her wedding, which meant she’d need her stuff. And that meant going to her apartment as quickly as possible before someone came to look for her.

           The way he parked was probably illegal leaving the car basically in the middle of the road, but Harry didn’t care much as he frantically rushed up the steps of her apartment complex. He was scared that if he knocked, she wouldn’t open, thinking it might be someone from the wedding, but he didn’t need to be afraid of it, as he saw Y/N, her hair still styled as it had been for the ceremony, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a suitcase in hand exiting from the flat.

           “Why didn’t you do it?” he breathlessly asked, startling her and making her drop the keys.

           Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? What are you doing here?”

           Harry stepped closer, hand cupping her cheek, insides trembling from all of the emotions coursing through his body. “Why didn’t you do it? Marry him? Why didn’t you say yes?”

           “I – “ Y/N choked on her words. “I couldn’t say yes. It didn’t feel right.”

           “Why?”

           “Because it wasn’t you, I was saying yes to.”

           That was all Harry needed to kiss her like he'd done once before. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her go. He’d made that mistake twice. He would never repeat it again.

           “I love you,” he cried through a laugh. “I love you. I love you. I love you. And I’m never letting you slip through my fingers ever again.”

           “How can you even think about loving me again after what I did to us?” she asked, pulling away from his lips.

           Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re talking like I ever stopped. Through thick and thin. It’s what we promised. Think and thin, my Lovie."

***

           A sixteen-year-old Harry and a fifteen-year-old Y/N laid outside in the grass of Harry’s garden; eyes trained onto the dark night starlit sky above. It was the day before his life changed forever as did hers.

           “Do you believe in soulmates?” Harry asked, trying to catch a glimpse of a shooting star.

           Y/N scrunched up her nose. “No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I want one.”

           “Why not?”

           “What if they’re old and in their thirties? Or dead?”

           Harry snorted at her response.

           “And you?” Y/N turned her head to look at him. “Do you believe in soulmates?

           He bit his lip and nodded. “I think I do. I think it’s two people who’ve been brought together, and no matter what happens will find their way to one another. Through thick and thin.”

"And what if one of them breaks the other's heart?"

"That's the thin." He looked at her. "And you don't give up then. It's when you need to love them even more."

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Harry Styles tags: @sarcasticallywitty15​ @breezykpop​ @girlboss99​ @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist​ @alliyjane​ @sirtommyholland​

A/N: Happy 2021 everyone! Hopefully things are better this year, and everyone stays safe and sound.

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don’t repost my fics on other platforms without specific written permission. Reblogs are a okay :)

[fallen-gravity]

our hearts are heavy burdens

The Ghost Council learns the truth about Scratch and his relationship with Molly, and sends him away as punishment.

Scratch isn't willing to let go that easy.

Notes:

I'd love to give a huge shout out to Mollycord for inspiring me to write this! I've had an absolute blast the past couple nights plotting angst with you guys, and I consider this to be something of a gift to everyone who heard me out on my angsty ramblings.

I hope you enjoy! >:)

AO3

The Ghost Council rarely summons a ghost for no reason. 

Maybe to the recently deceased, it seems like they call upon them all the time. It may seem erratic, and out of nowhere, and quite poorly planned on their behalf, since they always seem to summon them when they’re busy with some time-sensitive task. It seems random, and unfair, and as though they never have any rhyme or reason as to when or why they decide it’s an important time to talk.­­

Not to the experienced ghost, though. The experienced ghosts who've been dealing with them for years know that they’re very particular with their reasoning, and none of them are ever good. They’re either about to ridicule you for the numbers on your scare report, banish you to the Flow as punishment for some awful crime you weren’t even aware you committed, or both. 

Scratch knows this better than any ghost. Thankfully, there’s always been something preventing his banishment, usually at the last moment, but it doesn’t make being summoned to the ghost realm against his will any less terrifying.

In fact, he’d almost say that this time around is even more terrifying than all the rest, because he knows he triple checked his scare report before he turned it in. After that close call with the Sart Duan Sib fiasco, he silently vowed to himself that he’d do his best to never be that careless with the Ghost Council again.

Especially not after seeing the look on Molly’s face when he said he could be taken away. He never wants to see that look on Molly’s face again.

So if there’s nothing wrong with his scare report, that could only mean that they brought him here for one thing, and-

“Scratch,” the green ghost sitting at the center of the Council begins, interrupting his thoughts. “Do you have any idea why we’ve called you here today?”

He honestly and truly doesn’t, but he knows if he says that then they’re just going to get angrier. 

“Uhh…is it because you found an inconsistency with my report?”  He squeaks, twiddling with his thumbs as sweat drips down his forehead. “Oh, boo, that’s too bad, if you could just point it out to me real quick so I can just…take it and go and stop wasting your time, I can get right into fixing it, promise, I’ll even throw a few more scares in there for good measure, just in case I have any accidental repeats, or-”

“That’s enough, Scratch” the purple ghost sitting on the far left interjects. “Don’t play dumb with us. You know exactly why we called you here” 

“I do?” Scratch replies, his voice jumping up a number of octaves in the process. “B-because, you know, my memory is awful, just the absolute worst, and it would really help if I received a reminder as to-”

“Scratch, what’s the most important rule of being a ghost?” The purple council member interjects again, not even taking the time to listen to what he has to say.

Scratch swallows hard. “K-Keep your assigned town as miserable as possible?” 

Apparently, that was not the response they wanted. All four council members and the Chairman squint suspiciously at him in response. 

“What’s the other most important rule of being a ghost?” 

Scratch sighs, his entire body drooping downward. “Nobefriendinghumans,” he mutters, just barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I couldn’t quite make it out”

“...No befriending humans”

“That’s right!” the council member beams eerily, clapping her hands together. “And we have intel that you’ve been lying about your relationship with a very particular human”

If Scratch’s heart could still beat, he knows it would be slamming against his chest. “Wh-what? C’mon, pssh…you know me, I hate everyone and everyone hates me. Simple as that” 

The council members exchange glances, and they all collectively nod before collectively flashing sharp, dangerous grins in his direction. 

“Oh, then I suppose you wouldn’t care in the least if something bad were to happen to…Molly, then, would you?” 

Okay, if Scratch’s chest could still beat it would be bursting out of his chest completely. His mouth opens and speaks before he has time to stop himself.

“H-How do you know her name?”

“Oh, would you look at that?” the green council member clasps his hands together with glee. “You do care about her. Befriending a human and lying directly to the Ghost Council? My, my, Scratch, aren’t you having a field day with breaking our sacred laws today?” 

Behind the council, the Chairman slowly begins to rise from his chair, and Scratch slowly begins to back away from the council. “N-No, wait! Y-you don’t understand! We-we’re not friends! She’s the one whose family moved into my house, remember? I- I only know her name because I’ve been trying to scare her out of it!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Scratch” the green council member shakes his head. “If that were the case, then why were we able to gather evidence of you calling yourself a…what’s it called….a McGee?”

Scratch freezes. He knows that either way he argues, it’s not going to look good for him. He opens his mouth to try and come up with a last-minute argument, but no sound comes out. 

“Oh, well” the councilman hums, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “I guess you’ll have all eternity to think about what you’ve done” he turns around and gives a silent nod to the Chairman, whose giant boney hand morphs into a thumbs-down position, summoning the Flow of Failed Phantoms above his head. 

“W-wait!” Scratch pleads, looking all around the ghost realm for some sort of answer as he finds himself slowly getting dragged into the Flow. There’s nothing around to help, and in a blind moment of panic, Scratch can only find himself scrunching his eyes closed and blurting out the honest truth. 

“She needs me!” 

Silence.

Even the Flow itself seems to have stopped making noise, and when Scratch finally finds the courage to open his eyes again, he notices that all four of the council members are staring deep into his soul. For the briefest of moments, he’s convinced that he somehow got through to them, but the relief is extremely short lived when they all start laughing hysterically like he just told him the funniest joke they’ve heard all week. 

“The human needs you?” The purple ghost on the far left wheezes out in between fits of unhinged laughter. “Oh, please! This is the most pathetic excuse we’ve ever heard!” 

“She does!” Scratch throws his arms into the air. “She needs me! She’d be a wreck without me!” 

“She’s a human,” the council member continues. “The last thing she needs is a pathetic waste of ectoplasm breathing down her neck all the time. What she needs is other humans. She needs to be with people of her own kind who can actually provide something useful for her. It’s why humans are always gathering in groups anyway, isn’t it?”

“That…That’s not true!” Scratch shouts back, his voice suddenly wavering. “She chooses to be with me! She tells me I’m her best friend any chance she gets!” 

“Are you quite sure she’s not just saying that to keep you complacent? That she knows how insufferable you would be if she didn’t have to constantly spare your feelings?”

N-no.

Molly would never. 

Molly would never. 

He starts tugging at his hair. “She wouldn’t! She cares about me! She…she needs me!” He pulls harder, and harder, not at all missing the anxiety in his stomach churning and slowly becoming something much, much darker. 

“Oh, well,” the councilman sighs, seemingly not even paying attention. “I guess we’ll never know,” he says, and snaps his fingers to summon the Flow again. This time the pull on Scratch is just a bit stronger, and pulling him in just a bit faster, but he still fights with everything that he has.

“No! Molly!” he screeches, his vision starting to grow all spotty. “Molly! She…she needs…I….I need…”

He barely has time to notice the Flow disappearing behind him, or the council members suddenly staring at him with horror, or even the portal to the living realm opening beneath his feet.

“MOLLY!”  He howls at the top of his lungs, and then everything goes black.

~~~ 

Molly hasn’t seen Scratch all day. 

Sure, she knows that he likes to have his alone time every now and then, but she knows he can usually be bribed out of it with food, and nothing she’s tried placing in front of his little offering house or even simply mentioned has been enough to drag him out. She’s tried looking in every single little window she can find, and knocking on every little door she can access, but there’s no sign of her ghostly friend anywhere. 

“Scratch?” she calls, cupping her hands over her mouth in case he’s just taking a nap, or he can’t hear her, or something like that. But even after a whole minute of waiting, there’s no sign of Scratch getting sucked out of his little house, or from any of the other rooms in her house, for that matter. 

She frowns, tapping her foot at the ground and looking at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. She may pride herself on being super patient and collected at like, all times, but there’s gotta be something going on if summoning him isn’t working, either. 

“Scratch?” she calls again, louder this time. She plops down on her bed, but even after what feels like ages, there’s still no sign of her friend anywhere.

He’s not…upset at her for some reason, is he? She racks her brain trying to figure out why that could possibly be, but…no, even if he were upset at her, it wouldn’t cancel out her summoning, he’d just be…grumpy that she summoned him. 

Groaning, she throws her head down on her pillow, and stares up at the ceiling trying to figure out what could possibly be going on. Even if by some crazy chance that Scratch figured out how to break their curse, and that’s why summoning him isn’t working anymore, he’d at least have told her that, and even that wouldn’t really explain why she doesn’t have a clue where he is, because this is still technically their shared room in their shared house. 

Before she even has enough time to even think too much about it, though, something cold and wet drips on her forehead from above her, and she bolts upward to scrub it off.

“Ugh, stupid old leaks from stupid old houses” she grumbles, but her heart instantaneously leaps to her chest the moment she catches glimpse of the substance on her fingers. 

Ectoplasm.

She eagerly lies back down in her bed, heart beating out of her chest to look for the source of the drip. There’s still no sign of Scratch anywhere above her, but she does see a big splat of ectoplasm on the wall beside his cobweb hammock, which Molly supposes is a good enough start. 

She sighs in relief, and racks her brain to try and think about why he’d even leave any ectoplasm on the wall to begin with. She knows he’s well past trying to scare her awake in the middle of the night anymore, and the last time he’s ever accidentally left ectoplasm somewhere he didn’t want it to be is when he was summoned away to the ghost realm, and he didn’t want to go, so he grabbed onto the wall with all of his might to try and stop it from happening, but-

Oh.

Oh no.

She jumps to her feet. 

Molly, if they find out I’m friends with a human they’re going to take me away from you forever!

There’s…there’s no way, right?

There’s no way they found out, is there? She was so sure that they were being so careful, that they were doing the absolute best they could to prevent it from happening, that she had all the right preparations in case they needed to fight, and-

No. She shakes her head. She refuses to believe he’s gone for good. She knows Scratch would be willing to fight harder than defeated acceptance. She knows that he’s just as willing to fight back as she is. 

He was probably just…summoned for his scare report check in, right? And her summoning didn’t work because he was on his way back through the portal home, and summoning him doesn’t work when he’s between realms, right?

In any case, Molly can’t just sit around and quietly accept his absence, either. She opens the drawer of the nightstand behind her bed and pulls out a flashlight and a half-eaten bag of shrimp-flavored chips, and messily shoves them both in the pockets of her vest. She’s going to go look for him, and she doesn’t care if it takes until well past nightfall to find him.

She opens the hatch door that leads her out of the attic, and rushes down the steps as quickly as she reasonably can. She waves a quick goodbye to her parents in the living room and heads for the back door, but just as she reaches for the doorknob to leave there’s a loud bang coming from somewhere downstairs. 

“What was that?” Molly’s mother asks, rising from her seat on the couch. 

Her dad scratches at his chin. “I dunno, it sounded like a wild animal. Do you think we should call someone?” 

…Wait.

WAIT.

“Dad, don’t you dare!” Molly practically screeches, and frantically sprints for the door leading to the basement. She flings the door open, clicks her flashlight on, and sprints down the stairs as fast as her legs can carry her without stumbling down them.

 With a shaking hand, she flashes the light around the basement looking for the source of the noise, and the moment she flashes her light on…something is the moment she realizes that whatever it is, it’s making noises; the soft, desperate choking of someone who’s crying. She squints at it, and when she realizes that her light is flashing on something blue, a gasp escapes her throat.

“Scratch!” Molly beams, and scrambles around the dark room until she finds the light switch to turn the lights on. She clicks the light on as fast as her trembling hands can handle, but when she turns back towards Scratch to dive on him and give him the biggest hug she can, she ends up dropping the flashlight tucked under her arm in shock.

That’s definitely Scratch curled up in the corner, alright, but there’s something…off about him. For starters, he’s twice as large in size, he looks all jagged in places where he usually looks…wobbly, his ectoplasm is actually closer to a deeper purple, rather than its usual sky blue, and there’s bits and pieces of him dripping to the floor like wet paint. 

“Scratch?” she tries again, calmer this time, and Scratch turns to look in the general direction she’s standing in. He’s not looking directly at her, more like straight through her, but Molly can see the tear streaks running down his cheeks clear as day. There’s something hauntingly…familiar about his appearance, but Molly can’t quite place why until he opens his mouth.

“I-I need…” is all he manages, his voice distorting so much that Molly hardly recognizes it. Once she realizes why it all feels so familiar, she gasps, and slides to her knees and crawls to his side.

He’s corrupted, just like Howlin’ Harriet was.

That would explain why summoning him wasn’t working earlier. Something terrible must’ve happened to him when he was summoned to the Ghost Council that scared him so bad it caused his mind to corrupt, and he won’t be able to come back down from it until he gets whatever it is his broken mind thinks he needs. 

“C’mon, buddy, spit it out” Molly gently encourages him, patting him on the side. “What do you need?” 

Molly learns very quickly that touching him while he’s like this is a big mistake. He lashes out at her friendly gesture, leaving a number of deep scratches along her arm. Molly winces when she pokes at them to inspect them, but she still sighs and scoots backwards to give him some space.

“Right, right, sorry” she rubs awkwardly at the back of her head. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just tell me what you need so I can help you”

As if in response to her words, Scratch starts desperately looking around the room for something, whimpering like a lost puppy when he can’t seem to find it.

“I...I need…” he starts, his voice breaking as tears pour uncontrollably from his eyes. It hurts Molly’s heart that she can’t just grab him and hug him and make everything better, but she knows things will probably go over smoother if she lets him figure some of it out on his own.

“Need…” he starts, and then visibly sighs. “M-Molly…” he moans, and it’s as if hearing her name on his tongue just has him panicking even more, because he starts hyperventilating the moment it leaves his mouth.

That’s…not what Molly was expecting at all. “Scratch? It-It’s okay Scratch, I’m right here,” she whispers, and tries to reach out for him, but the moment she tries to get even remotely close to him he lashes out at her again. She frowns, and scoots backwards again.

What was it that worked last time? Giving Harriet exactly what she wanted? Maybe that worked for her, since they were able to just make fake toes out of crafting supplies and leave them out for her to take, but how is she supposed to give Scratch…herself? She racks her brain trying to think of something, like maybe she could give him one of her old vests, or a hair tie she never uses anymore, or an old stuffed animal of hers, but…no, that still doesn’t solve the problem of giving them to Scratch, since he still doesn’t seem to want anyone coming close to him. 

Think, Molly, think… she knocks on her forehead, trying to think of something that’ll work, when-

It hits her. 

Scratch was with the Ghost Council before all this mess happened, wasn’t he? And he’d just been worrying about being taken away from her, right? If the last thing he remembers before his mind got all warped was talking to the council, and the council was threatening to send him to the Flow of Failed Phantoms, as he’d called it, and the thing he needs is her, then-

She rushes forward and wraps her arms around him in the tightest hug she’s ever given anyone in her entire life. “It’s okay, Scratch” she whispers, crawling ever closer to him still. “It’s okay. It’s Molly. I’m right here” 

For the briefest of moments he freezes at the sound of her voice, but he’s back to panicking just as quickly. He’s trying to squirm his way out of her grasp, screeching and digging his clawed hands into her skin in an attempt to get her to stop. She simply shakes her head no, and each time he squirms or each time he claws at her arms, she only hugs tighter. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispers, and squeezes her promise into her hug. 

“But I’m not letting go, either, Scratch. I promise. I’ll never let you go”

~~~

Someone’s trying to wrap their arms around him.

He doesn’t know where he is, or who this person thinks they are, but they better let go of him right now if they value their own life. 

They’re trying to speak to him, but he’s not listening. Their voice sounds like Molly’s, but that’s not possible, since they took him away from Molly, they laughed in his face about Molly, they told him Molly didn’t care, and he’s not sure how much longer he can handle these cruel games. 

The last thing he remembers is being sentenced to the Flow, and Molly, and being told he’ll never see her again, and being told she’s better off without him, and Molly, and Molly, and Molly, and if whoever this wise guy thinks they are, using the sound of Molly’s voice against him, they’ve got another thing coming.

He lashes out, but their grip on him only strengthens. It’s driving him up the wall, because they even hug like Molly, but it can’t be Molly, he knows it can’t, because he was taken away and he doesn’t remember where he was taken but he’s sure this is torture, he’s certain the pain and agony gripping at his undead heart is because the council members are torturing him with the spitting image of the only person he’s ever loved, of Molly, whose name will not stop repeating itself in his head, whose name hurts on his tongue when he speaks, of Molly, Molly, Molly, Molly, over and over again. 

This…apparition, this…illusion of Molly just keeps talking, and keeps tightening her hug, but it’s not real, it isn’t, it can’t be, because he was torn away from her and he needs her, her needs her more than anything, he’s terrified and alone and someone is playing tricks on his mind, and the only person whose ever been able to pull him from that ledge is Molly, and she’s-

~~~

Molly pulls away from the hug.

She didn’t think she would have to resort to this, but if hugs aren’t working than it’s clearly the only option she’s got left. 

She shakes her arms, both to relieve the sting from all the scratches he’d left on her arms and to remove the excess ectoplasm from them, and she stands to allow herself to be at eye level with the larger-than-usual Scratch. 

She grabs him by what she assumes are his shoulders, pulls him into the gentlest, most delicate hug she’s ever given anyone, as if to avoid fracturing him to pieces, and whispers four simple words to him.

~~

“I love you, Scratch” the voice speaking to him suddenly whispers, and it’s so fragile, and so gentle and delicate and…genuine, that something inside of him snaps. There’s something so…caring, and kind, and so…Molly-like to the voice, that it eases the tense feeling of pain and agony gripping his heart and clears the storm clouds in his head. 

Instantaneously, he feels as though the weight of the world is coming off of his shoulders, both figuratively and literally. He forces an eye open, not even realizing that he’d been forcing them shut from fear, and words cannot even begin to explain the amount of relief he feels when he sees he’s somewhere in the basement of the McGee family household.

He’s also just now realizing that there’s still a pair of arms wrapped gently around him, and a choked sob escapes his throat when he glances downwards and recognizes them belonging to Molly.

I love you, Scratch

She…

She loves him? 

Molly McGee, the only person he’s ever opened up to, the only person he’s ever loved, the only person willing to give him the time of day, the one person he needs more than anything in the whole world?

She honest and truly loves him, even after seeing him like that? 

I love you, Scratch

The words bounce around in his head like the old pinball machine at the arcade he’d possessed once for a scare, like an old fashioned computer screen saver, just bounce bounce bounce bouncing around in his mind without any sign of stopping. 

Molly loves him.

Molly loves him. 

His arms act before he can process his actions, and he winds his arms around her to cautiously return her hug. There’s all kinds of cuts and small gashes running up and down her arms, and he doesn’t even want to think about how she probably got those for even a second. He shakes that thought off with a shake of his head, but the moment he makes physical contact with her, Molly sucks in a loud gasp, and Scratch quickly pulls himself away. He’s about to apologize profusely for...well, everything, but before he can get a single word out she grabs him again and yanks him into a super tight hug.

“Scratch! You’re okay!” she squeals, and though Scratch can’t see her face he can practically hear the smile splitting her face in two. “I just knew you’d be okay!” 

Scratch feels like laughing himself to tears. He can feel it bubbling in his chest, but the last thing he wants to do right now is anything that could potentially upset her, so he swallows his pride and just wraps the full extent of his arms around her, just tangles her up in a big ol mess of goop and ectoplasm, and returns her hug so tightly that her legs momentarily leave the ground.

“Well, yeah, Of course I am,” he tries for calm and collected, but the waver in his voice gives him straight away. “I, uh, I love you too, Moll”

She squeaks in response, attempting to wriggle out of his mass of arms so she can hug him back equally tightly, and the whole thing is just a big mess of tangled limbs and unspoken unconditional love. They stay like that for a few brief moments of deafening silence, and when Molly’s finally able to untangle herself from all that mess she’s smiling brighter than Scratch has ever seen before. 

It’s incredibly contagious, and he can’t help but offer her a smile in return, but…

He still feels pretty awful for scratching up her arms. 

As much as he’d hate to ruin the moment, he knows that it’s gonna bother him for the rest of his afterlife if he just up and decided to never bring it up again. 

“Hey, uh, Moll…?” he starts, but can’t quite find the right way to phrase the apology.

Molly must have some weird power that lets her know exactly what he’s thinking, though, because her gaze falls to the gashes on her arms the moments his voice trails off. “Oh, these?” she shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Scratch”

He frowns. “But-”

“No buts!” she pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “I mean, yeah, these are probably gonna sting like crazy for the next few days, but I made a promise to you, and all I see when I look at these is my word of honor that I’ll never break that promise” 

Scratch doesn’t really like that answer, because he knows he still hurt her, and it almost sounds as if she’s prioritizing his feelings over her own, but she continues on before he can interject. 

“I promised that I would never let you go. Even when you might hurt me, I just know that deep down you care a lot about me too, and I can always heal from it, and that’s the most important thing in the world to me”  

She wraps an arm around him in a side-hug, as if in demonstration. “I’ve never had someone I could say was always there for me. Mom and Dad and Darryl are great, sure, but we move around an awful lot, and it’s been…hard for me to accept having friends who will stay my friends for the long run, so…” she trails off. “...I know how it feels. I really do hope I can be that person for you, Scratch, because I really do love you.” She shakes her head. “I didn’t just say that because I thought that’s what you wanted to hear.” She pats at her chest, a soft smile spreading to her face. “I Molly McGee guarantee it.”

For the briefest of moments all Scratch can do is stare. 

Of all the humans in the world to eternally bind himself to, and he happened to choose the only one in the world who’s actually capable of caring for people like him.

He returns her side hug by wrapping an arm around her, too. 

“You too, Moll,” he replies. “I Molly McGee guarantee that I love you too”

[etherealeeknow]

vocal lesson

• rated m for mature, slight angst

• pairing: vocal coach!seungmin x fem!reader

• wc: 2.3k (confession: writing long fics isn’t my forte)

• tw: underlying toxic relationship, masturbation (m), grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, explicit language, creampie- i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. i have a few goals i’d like to achieve from this fic and whether or not i’ll succeed is based on your feedbacks 🥺 so please don’t hesitate to drop them! also, enjoy!

• tag list: @es-kay-zee @formidxble @bobateastay @vogueinnie @sailorhyunjinz // leave a comment, dm, or an ask to be tagged! thank you ♡

—

seungmin despises the way his heart dropped when he sees your name flashing on his phone screen instead of you flashing upon his eyes. by this time, he’s fully aware that a chatty girl like you isn’t the type to text. in fact, you only do it on one occasion, which is when you’d like to cancel the class. just like what he has expected, the text says you won’t be able to make it that day and that you’re sorry; but he knows you’re not sorry. he knows you’re doing this on purpose—to torture him—and it’s working perfectly.

honestly, the suffocating pain in his chest isn’t because he has been losing sleep, tossing and turning in his king size bed for hours over the thought of you being all dolled up in the baby blue dress he has gifted you; neither is it because he missed his favorite orchestra playback this morning just so he could find the most perfect white shirt out of his collection of other white shirts just so he can appear pleasant for you, but because you’ve been cancelling the lesson for three times in a row. if your mother ever finds out about this, she would definitely fire him. to prevent that from happening, seungmin has been silencing your maids with credits, but he knows too well they’d soon go for more if you keep this up. 

fiddling with the handkerchief that you had purposely left for him a few weeks back, seungmin gloomily shoves it into his pocket before dragging himself to the grand piano to warm his throat up. the first few notes started off slow and stable according to the piano keys, but with constant fear running on his mind, his fingers slipped and pressed the wrong one. the awry sound makes him cringe and shuts his eyes in annoyance. he hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because he adores you more than anything, even when your cracked voice sometimes haunts him at night. see, seungmin’s giving his all to you,

but why are you doing this to me? where are you? i miss you.

“heh, pathetic,” he mutters to himself as he slowly lies down onto the piano bench, facing the chandelier which lights would usually illuminate you when sitting on the same bench while waiting for him to get to the music room, running your delicate fingers along the black and white wood. your side profile’s exactly like a goddess—breathtaking.

sighing over the imagery of you, he begins unbuckling his belt; eyes closing momentarily when he slips a hand into his unbuttoned pants and starts palming his clothed member. three weeks. it’s been three weeks since he last got off, since he last felt your touch, and he’s been trying his best to hold back because he believes you’ll eventually come around. he believes you won’t leave him just like that, yet you aren’t here again today, and he’s dying to release his pent-out frustration.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips when he takes out his dick, the tip leaking from precum and it makes him let out another sigh when he begins pumping it; another one follows, then another one, and it carries on as seungmin’s hand goes faster by each second. even in the peak of his pleasure, all he can think of is you. oh, how heavenly it would’ve been to have both your soft hand and pretty lips around him instead. his free hand is quick to slip into his pocket, snatching your handkerchief. despite only briefly smothering himself with it, your lingering scent alone is enough to make his head spin. with the sateen now wrapping around his throbbing cock, it feels as if you’re there, skin to skin with him.

“fuck!” he hisses, but eyes widening right away over his own volume as he quickly raises his head to check on the slightly opened door.

he’s so close and pausing in the middle just to lock the damned door would ruin everything. should he just bet on his luck today? it’s not like any of his well trained maids would rudely barge into his music room, right? but who knows?

screw it.

his back automatically arches when he feels the increasing tension in his pelvis, and it pushes him to fasten his hand move—pumping his dick rapidly to release. with eyes rolling to the back of his head, seungmin begins chanting your name desperately and that’s your last straw. the moment seungmin ejaculates is the moment you slam the door open and run towards him. the poor guy who’s barely riding out his high jumps on the bench as he sits up.

“y/n—”

“shut up,” you cut him off and crash both of your lips and body together, causing him to fall back down onto the bench, and creating a somewhat deafening screech on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his loud moan in between the kiss.

the feeling of you straddling his lap instantly makes him hard again; the feeling of his warm hands running wild all over you and the stickiness on your inner thigh coming from your ruined handkerchief has you wetting your already damped panties—the effect of rubbing yourself when peeping on his little show. as the kiss deepens, so does your hunger for each other. of course, there’s no way you’ve gotten over what he did, and he’s surely still upset for being ghosted too, but for now, lust is winning. one squeeze on your thigh is all it needs for you to throw your baby blue dress across the room.

“you’re always so hot when you do that,” says the now naked seungmin who gets back onto the same position, looking at you with his half lidded eyes as his arms stretch out to fondle your breasts, his favorite part.

“the only time you’d compliment me is when we have sex,” you scoff before going back down on him, slowly yet easily pushing his cock inside of you, and both of you grunt in unison.

“y/n, ah— shit! i told you it’s because i know you can do better.��

snorting, you call him a liar before grinding mindlessly, movement starting off slow just like how your breathy moans starting off low. as much as seungmin enjoys being taken care of, patience doesn’t exist in his dictionary today. his hands leave your chest for your hips, guiding you to slip in and out of him at a faster pace. but that’s still not enough—he needs more. in a blink of an eye, you go from being on top of him to under him. seungmin bangs you down loudly on the grand piano, your buttcheeks and hands hitting the keys and filling the entire room with jumbled notes while you yourself are filled by him to the fullest, right at your g-spot.

“seung— fuck!” 

“louder,” he commands while thrusting into you, hips moving in a rhythm, and strong hands bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders before holding onto your ass, supporting you from slipping down—multitasking is indeed his second best talent besides singing.

“what’s the p— point?” you breathe out, trying your best to sound coherent while maintaining eye contact, “so you’ll compliment karina instead again? pat her on the head and caress her cheek again?”

“you know i only did that to motivate you.”

“bullshit.”

if seungmin has to name anything you can do best, it’ll definitely be your ability to drive him crazy—disobeying him. again, he believes he has been going all in, keeping up with your lack of talent and bullshit for the past half a year; the way you’d fight, then fuck him, and fight again only to fuck him again, and the cycle continues. whenever he tries to talk things out, be it about your vocal lesson or your tangled relationship, you wouldn’t give a damn. today, that has to change.

“and i’m the one to blame? karina always listens to me,” he replies, slowing his thrust as he can feel your walls clenching around him even more and more.

“faste—“

“i said louder, y/n. tear your mouth wide open,” he grunts, thrusting into you so strongly that you jump and land back on the piano, creating such messy harmonies.

“seungmin, faster!” you yelp, voice raspy yet a little louder this time with your hands finding their way on his shoulders, and it makes him sneer as he leans in to kiss you, biting your lower lip before he lets go, and stop dead on track.

“hoarse voice, dry lips. don’t i always tell you to stay hydrated?”

you find it unfair. seungmin’s energy doesn’t make sense. the fact that he still has the power to put up with fucking while carrying you even after his solo session is unfair. and the way he has the audacity to give you a vocal lesson in the middle of everything, then stopping just because you aren’t complying is way too cruel, but perhaps, this is what you deserve.

“i’ll never cancel our lessons again. i’ll— i’m sorry. i will really listen to you,” you beg desperately, almost sobbing as you grind on him, refusing to let the tingling sensation on your core die down.

seungmin shakes his head. he knows you too well. normally, seeing you surrender like this softens him and makes him think that perhaps, he’s being way too demanding, or maybe, he should be even more understanding.

“that’s not what i asked for, love.” is what he says before resuming, putting all the remaining pressure he has left to snap his dick deeper into you.

that’s when his name falls out of your lips ever so gracefully, followed by endless ah’s, jaw hanging open. this is the loudest and clearest you’ve ever been—no holding back, no hitching breaths, no cracking—pure perfection. 

seungmin doesn’t even need to ask for more because you’re already repeating it on your own.

“fuck yes. just like that. such a good girl,” he grunts right beside your ear, picking up his pace.

it only takes a few moments till you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen coming back along with him twitching inside of you, and this time, you make sure to hold onto him so tight, afraid he’d pull the same stunt again.

“shit— please let me cum. please cum with me, come inside me, please, please, please,” you blabber, voice turns husky once more, but seungmin couldn’t care less, there’s always another chance for another vocal lesson. right now, all he wants is to,

“cum.”

the two of you reach together. name chanting, legs shaking, fingers digging, and body fluids mixing into each other—drenching not only your lower bodies, but also the extravagant bösendorfer piano seungmin shipped all the way from austria. but that’s another thing to worry about. right now, he can barely keep his eyes open while you can barely feel your stiff spread legs across his shoulders. once he’s made sure you’re over your high, seungmin gently pulls out and lets you down. he sits himself first on the bench before pulling you by the waist to seat you on his lap, and the two of you let silence take over for a little while.

“i know you’ve been bribing my maids,” you start off, “they have a big pay, but it’s impossible for their designer bags to double up in just a week, you know,” you continue while pushing his damp hair aside, revealing the remaining half of his sweaty forehead.

“they were gonna snitch on you to your mom,” he replies, pausing in the middle to mirror your action, pushing strands of hair to the back of your ear before averting his gaze back on your eyes.

even with your smudged eye makeup and cracked lipstick, you’re still as shining, dilating his pupil.

“and?”

“and she’s gonna fire me.”

“isn’t that what i should worry about? you’re a world winning award soprano. there are hundreds of talented people waiting in line to be your students. money isn’t the problem. plus, i know you hate my voice. i also never listen to you, never call you sir, and am ninety nine percent horny throughout our lessons. in short, i’m a bratty and disrespectful pain in the ass.”

your punchline makes him snort and he can’t help but to pull you into a hug, closing the already small space in between so he can indulge in your body heat and feel your chest beating calmly alongside his.

but what happened to changing things? don’t you wanna be in charge? you can’t just let her have everything she wants. 

despite hearing the faint voices in his head, mocking him for having the weakest heart for you, seungmin doesn’t care. for all he knows, he was a train wreck earlier this day; he surely didn’t expect he would go from reminiscing the memory of you under the chandelier to it actually coming true. 

“this is real, you’re here.”

“it is. i am.”

“and you’re gonna—“ pausing, he breaks the hug to cup your cheeks, “you have to stay.”

“what for? for you? for the vocal lessons? for… what?” you question, unconsciously tilting your head as you place a hand over his, slightly squeezing it, hoping he wouldn’t let go.

silence.

“i might be a bitch, but i’m not dumb. it isn’t about money and it isn’t about sex either. so what is it, seungmin?” you ask, eyes searching for an answer before adding, “i bring no good to you.”

you’re right. his best friends have said the same thing. they can’t seem to wrap their heads around how a collected person like him can break so easily over a random, spoiled, daddy’s little princess. it doesn’t make sense, he knows—i know. he’s been trying to figure it out, only to meet the same dead end.

“i’m a mistake.”

yes—yes you are, and seungmin hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because,

“you’re the only mistake in my life that i can take, y/n.”

—

gen’s masterlist

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

Spring (Bucky Barnes X Male!Reader)

Plot: For Bucky it was love at first sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Male!Reader

Y/N: Your name

H/C: Hair color

E/C: Eye color

Warnings: Fluff, Bucky hella in love

Word count: 908

Since the moment Bucky was captured by HYDRA he felt as though he was living in a cold and desolate world. He felt like frost ran through his veins, numbing him to the warmth that surrounded him. When Steve came back into his life the cold wasn’t as hard to bear, his friends’ encouragement, bright smiles and comforting actions bit back at the frost, adding a bit of warmth back into him. When the team got back together and he officially met everyone he could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on his back, it was awkward yes, but he wasn’t so cold and lonely anymore.

God when he met you though, it was like spring had finally come. His world exploded with warmth, your warm smiles, warm eyes, everything about you was warm. He was addicted to it. You came in and thawed him from the glacier he’d been stuck in for the last 70 years, you didn’t even have to try. Every time your fingers ghosted over his skin, he felt like flowers sprouted in your path, you made him feel again. No longer was he just alive, he was living for the first time since the 40’s.

He hadn’t told you this, you were his teammate, his friend. He couldn’t risk the friendship he depended so heavily upon. Even now as you two sat in the abandoned common room at 3 in the morning you still made him warm, there could be a blizzard and he’d be blazing in the heat your presence bathed him in. He had a particularly bad nightmare and came to you; you had made a routine for this. The two of you would go into the common room, you’d make him hot chocolate and let him talk as much as he wanted, or you could sit in silence, whatever he needed. Bucky appreciated that a lot, you knew sometimes it was so much to talk about, you understood that, you understood him.

His head rested in your lap; eyes closed as you soothingly ran your fingers through the ex-assassin’s hair. Tonight, had been a night of silence, Bucky was trying to process the nightmare and you were there for him to lean on. After a few minutes of silence Bucky looked up at the man who turned his world upside down, the H/C giving him a soft smile. “Penny for your thoughts?” Your voice was so unbelievably gentle, it made him want to curl into you and never let go.

“I’m just really thankful I have you.” Bucky admitted, voice almost shy and embarrassed, a rather comical thing coming from the most feared assassin of the modern world. You cocked your head to the side and God you just oozed of kindness. “Why? I haven’t done anything.” You pointed out, and you couldn’t be more wrong. Bucky shook his head, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “No doll, you’ve done so much for me and don’t even know it.” The way your eyebrows creased with confusion made his heart swell, so he spoke again.

“Before you came into my life it was like I was in a never-ending blizzard, frozen in place. But when I saw you, it was like spring had come. Everything warm I could never feel was suddenly there. My world full of colors and happiness, something I never thought I would get to experience again, until you came along with your goofy smiles and infectious laughter.” Bucky had sat up as he spoke, eyes staying on you and gauging your reaction. He hadn’t meant to be that open, but it was like the words were spilling out and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Bucky...” Your face was flushed, and you looked so beautiful, he just wanted to kiss you; so, he did. The super solider leaned forward, flesh hand gently cupping your cheek, pausing as if to wait for permission. When you showed no discomfort, he leaned the rest of the way, pressing his lips to yours. He felt like he was being engulfed by the sun, bathing in your flames. Your lips were so warm and soft compared to his own, and he couldn’t help but melt as he felt your hand move to his neck. By the time you two pulled away he was breathing heavily, his cheeks tinged a light pink.

He stared into your beautiful E/C eyes, forehead resting against yours. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you Y/N.” His voice held anxiety as he finally said those words out loud, but he was terrified of rejection. The smile that spread across your lips destroyed those worries, your eyes shining with such love and adoration that made him want to kiss you again. “I love you too Bucky.” Your words were quiet, as if you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing such an intimate moment.

A grin spread across Bucky’s lips as his thumb brushed over your cheek bone. “Be my guy?” He questioned, having a feeling he already knew the answer. “Of course, Bucky, took you long enough to ask.” There was that goofy grin he loved, and for the first time in a long time he was truly content and happy.

[turntechgoddesshead]

Promise

Hey guys! Remember me? I was the rando that said i was gonna write Sally Face fanfic, wrote one headcanons post and yeeted off the internet for a couple days. Well, i’m back and I did indeed write a thing. This is the beginning of a series, if ya’ll like it that is. I don’t know if this will end up as Larry x Reader or Sal x Reader but hell, i guess we’ll see. Anyways, here ya go!

Also feel free to hit me up for Headcanons, they’re fun warm ups. 

Words: 1624

TW: Mention of animal death, Parents leaving, and Juvy.

Y/n Is a girl and uses she/her pronouns, has freckles and glasses. Sorry haha, i have a hard time not writing in those features bc this did indeed start off as a shameless self insert. Y/N also has two dads bc happy pride month. 

~~~~~~

A tiny cry echoed through the hallways of the labor ward, as a new life had blossomed just merely a few moments ago. Her fathers welcomed her into their lives with open arms and tears shedding from their eyes, as they drank in ever tiny inch of her brand-new body. She was absolutely perfect to them, and everything that they had worked so hard for. Her tiny hand gripped tightly onto the finger of the man who held her, her small green eyes cried tears of confusion as the second man beside her smiled and placed a gentle hand onto the top of her tiny head of H/C hair.

               “She’s so beautiful,” The first man spoke to the other, failing to contain his tears. The nurses watched in silent anticipation as the two finally introduced themselves to the newest member of their family. The woman who sat in the bed, smiled happily watching the two interact with the baby which she had carried inside her for nine months. She was finally meeting the family she forever deserved to be apart of, and the family which she had so graciously chosen to give her baby up to. After passing the baby girl off to the nurses, the two men embraced the woman into a teary hug, thanking her for all of her kindness.

               “Thank you so much, for our little Y/N Moore.”

               Days turned into weeks, which casually turned into months, leading to the sudden and unexpected change that occurs within the years of growing up. Five years into her young life, little Y/N and her fathers moved into their own little slice of heaven, room 402 of the Addison apartments in Nockfell.  They happily lived along with the other residents, making friends with the Johnson family which resided in the basement below. Larry Johnson was the only child of his parents, Lisa and Jim, who was just excited to have another child his age in the complex. The two children eventually became inseparable, always in one room or the other inevitably getting into whatever trouble children at the age of five or six get into. Y/N eventually grew into a worrisome little girl, always anxious over whether or not the duo would get away with their latest antics while Larry easily concocted them in that little brain of his. Three years Into the Moore’s and Johnsons friendship Young Y/N and Larry played outside excitedly with a handful of firecrackers which Mrs. Lisa had brought home. Y/N expressed to the young boy how anxious she was about playing with something which her fathers would inevitably be angry about, but eventually calmed down and began to play after her best friend convinced her it would be alright.

               “Larry, be sure to aim it away from the building!” She told him in between her high-pitched giggles. Snow outside fell from the sky and landed delicately into her hair, just to melt moments after.

               “I don’t think you can aim them He-" Before the boy could finish his sentence, the firecracker went off, flying towards the building and into an open window, before exploding into a flurry of pops and whistles. The sudden silence after the firecracker ceased lasted for only a moment as a sudden screech emitted from Mrs. Gibson, the old woman who resided within the apartment. All color drained from the freckled face of the little girl as she gazed up at the window in horror, listening to the screams of terror and anger that omitted from just a few floors above her.

               “L-Larry,” Larry had cut Y/N off before she could even form words. He gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her out of the sight of the window. Hurriedly he tugged her along to the side of the building so neither of them could be seen, glancing around the corner once for caution, before turning his attention to his friend. Y/N’s face had grown ghost-like as fat tears began to form in her eyes and roll down the center of her cheek.

               “Larry, did we hurt her?” She cried, putting her face into her hands. Her sobs turned into hiccups as she constantly attempted to wipe the water off her face. The pressure of her best friends hands gripping tightly onto her shoulders, suddenly pulled her out of her panicked state. She looked up at Larry who seemed as cool as possible, his eyes were sharp as he looked down at her with determination.

               “No Y/N, we didn’t,” He told her, nodding his head, “You were up in the treehouse by yourself, I asked you to play, and you were angry at me remember?”

               Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she realized the weight of the situation, “No, Larry, I can’t leave you by yourself!”

               Larry shook his head.

               “Go sit in the treehouse, and count to a thousand. Once you do, climb down, and go straight home. When your dad asks you what you did, you say you played in the treehouse by yourself,” He ordered her, as though he hadn’t been coming up with this plan on the spot.

               “It’s not going to work!” Y/N continued to sob.

               “Yes, it is! Tell them you were mad because I nocked your glasses off with a snowball! But you didn’t play with me today, promise me you’ll do what I say!” Larry shook her shoulders slightly in desperation, before the girl eventually nodded to him.

               “Good,” Larry sighed, releasing the grip he had on her shoulders. He watched as his best friend turned on her heal and began to run towards the tree house.

               Y/N didn’t hear from Larry for two weeks after that. Her parents kept her at arm’s reach for what felt like an eternity, as she constantly wondered what her friend was up to. Every day she would ask permission to make her way down to the basement to see her friend, and every day she was denied. Weeks turned into months, as her parents protective grip seemed to loosen ever so slightly, reluctantly allowing her to wander the complex on her own after a plethora of begging on the young girls part.  She sauntered through the hallway, her eyes glued to the stained hardwood floor as she walked mindlessly, wondering about her friend who she knew was just five floors below. It wasn’t until the little girl had bumped mindlessly into another person that she was snatched from her anxiety inducing thoughts.

               “Oh, I’m sorry,” She spoke meekly, fixing the round glasses that sat delicately on her nose. Upon looking up, Y/N immediately recognized the woman with long brunette hair and much more empty than usual eyes.

               “Mrs. Lisa!” Y/N replied, her emotions suddenly too much for her small body to handle, “Is Larry here?”

               Lisa looked down at little Y/N almost painfully, her eyes bore dark circles under them, and she held the mop in her hand tightly, “Larry is down in the basement right now Y/N,” She replied calmly.

               Sheepishly, Y/N let out a small, “Oh,” and stared down at her feet as she rocked back and forth anxiously.

               Lisa smiled just a little bit at the little girl and pulled a small card out of the back of her pocket, “Tell you what though, why don’t you just go visit him now?”

               Excitedly, Y/N snatched the card from Lisa’s hand and hugged her with all her strength, excited at the opportunity to see her best friend once again, “Thank you Mrs. Lisa! You’re the best!”

               In a hurry she quickly ran towards the elevator and stuck the keycard in, which allowed her access to the basement. It took her only a moment to get to the apartment that was underground, but when she did, she eagerly ran to the door. Not even bothering to nock, the little girl opened the door and ran straight for the room where she knew Larry was. She opened the door to his room, noticing him laying on his bed with his hands behind his head and bulky headphones covering his ears as his foot tapped ever so lightly.

               “Larry!” She cried excitedly, jumping on top of the poor unexpecting boy, “I’ve missed you so much!”

               Larry scrambled to take his headphones off and toss his Walkman to the side, “Y/N?! Where have you been?”

               “Where have you been?!” She replied to his question, crushing him in the largest hug all while attempting to hold back her cries.

               Larry grew silent, looking down at his hands before looking at Y/N in embarrassment, “The firecracker killed Mrs. Gibsons pet rabbit.”

               Y/N let out a gasp and covered her mouth.

               “And they sent me to Juvie for a couple weeks.”

               “No!” Y/N cried, grabbing his hand in instinct.

               “Y/N I-“ Larry paused, looking at her before sighing, “I think it drove my dad away.”

               Y/N cocked her head in confusion and tightened the grip on Larry’s hand, “What do you mean?”

               “My dad left a couple days after they sent me away,” He confessed, his face burning red in shame. He looked away from his friend and steadied his breathing, as though trying to contain his own emotions, “I thought I drove you away too.”

               Y/N’s heart jumped to her throat as she defensively rose to her feet, “Larry, you couldn’t ever drive me away! Daddy and Papa have been acting so weird and protective, and now I guess I know why… but it wasn’t my choice I promise.”

               Tears fell down her face, but she quickly wiped them from her face and continued to talk, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, but from now on, we do everything together!”

               Larry smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.

               “You promise?”

               “Pinky.”

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

hello my darling lin 💞 i'm afraid i can't keep it to myself any longer, i must know all about your character tags, they're simply too intriguing 👀.

Ahhh, my loveliest Lizzie! Thank you so much for sending this ask my way, it was such a lovely and generous surprise to find in my inbox today! 🥹❤️ I have a lot of different tags for five separate works so, please, bear with me as I briefly try to elaborate on all of them skdskfjsksfjsk. I apologise beforehand for my seemingly endless rambles, though I hope it will turn out to be interesting nonetheless! 🥰✨️

VOIEVOD:

The majority of my tags come from my medieval magnum opus sksksk because numerous distinct characters are already detailed and elaborate in my mind — let’s dig into them! I do have to confess that some of these tags have yet to make a proper appearance, but I have prepared them in advance, just in case.

( oc: if i cannot move heaven i will raise hell ) — Vlad Dracula. This phrase is a well-known quote from Virgil’s Aeneid: “Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo.” I have always felt that it perfectly encapsulates Vlad’s entire life — he is quite the prototype of a Machiavellian ruler willing to resort to more violent methods if needed (which we know very well from history, after all). Throughout the works, he repeatedly acknowledges his belief that he is destined for hell and expresses his willingness to sacrifice his soul for the greater good of his people. And he is also a very strong-willed and stubborn person who will always find a way to achieve his goals, whatever it costs him.

( oc: sanctuary ) — Cătălina. At first, I greatly hesitated to use this symbolism as I truly believe this remarkable woman is defined by much more than her role as the royal mistress and the mother of the voivode’s sons, and I try to depict that individuality of her character. However, this role does significantly influence her life and defines many of the decisions she makes. Throughout their relationship, Vlad sees Cătălina as his sanctuary because she accepts him as he is, loves him despite his perceived defects, and offers him a sense of belonging and peace. Sure, he loves that she keeps him on his toes, but this acceptance and the notion of having a kindred spirit give him the feeling of healing and safety. He can take off the many masks and let himself be exposed as he is, deep down. She also serves as a sanctuary for their sons, acting as the family’s anchor since they spend most of their time with her.

( oc: golden child; lion boy ) — Mehmed the Conqueror. His tag comes from the beautiful poem written by madzieloss on Tumblr, with the whole quote going, “Golden child, Lion boy; Tell me what it’s like to conquer.” I initially tried to use one of Mehmed’s poems from his diwan to make it a bit more personal, but this particular poem works perfectly because it encapsulates Mehmed’s whole essence — the Sultan of the Empire, the gifted child, the great conqueror. I also love using the recurring theme of gold and sun for his character. Gold represents the splendour of the Ottoman Empire, as well as his personal visuals (a lot of rich clothes and jewellery, the gilded Ottoman armour, his ginger hair and beard). Sun is the lovely little dichotomy seen in his character as it is both radiant and invigorating (his manners, generosity, education, intellect, aspects of rule), and merciless and blazing (his cruelty and the destructive sides of his politics towards other countries). Like the sun, he can either help grow or burn everything down.

( oc: the dragon ) — Vlad Dracul. I hate admitting that I could not come up with anything even remotely unique for Vlad’s dad as his moniker Dracul literally means “the Dragon” skdhskfskdks. However, the nickname was used for a reason, and we do not fix what isn’t broken in this house. The dragon’s role in medieval symbolism reflects a complex interplay between themes of heroism, morality, and the battle between light and darkness — on the one hand, the creature is seen as a protector and symbol of power, strength, and courage, but on the other hand, a dragon also represents a cunning and dangerous figure. He is called “the Dragon” both by people who admire him and despise him, so it shows the double meaning and the complexity of a ruler’s nature. At the same time, the meaning also spills over to his private life as he is both a figure of protection and (unwilling and unintentional) destruction to his family.

( oc: of burning martyrdom ) — Mircea Dracula. The eldest sibling is without a doubt the most tragic figure in the entire story, and I wanted his tag to reflect the tragedy and inevitability of his fate. He was killed at nineteen at the hands of his father’s enemies and in the cruellest way imaginable, and the “burning” part hints at some of the circumstances of his death. In his own way, he dies as a martyr because he dies refusing to give up his beliefs — and he is a martyr figure because the majority of his short life is marked with great struggles.

( oc: keeper of secrets ) — Alexandra. This tag is supposed to represent all the inner turmoil and complexities fighting one another inside Vlad’s younger sister. Because the two siblings share most of their personality and physical traits and are also close in age (there is a three-year gap between them), Vlad has always had a fond spot for his little sister and always considered her his little confidante — hence the meaning of keeping secrets. In return, Vlad has always been the brother who has granted Alexandra the most freedom and experience. She also keeps many secrets because there is a lot of her she has to repeatedly suppress inside of her — as I have mentioned, Vlad and Alexandra are quite alike, but Vlad’s personality tends to be accepted more while the same traits in Alexandra are often frowned upon.

( oc: cel frumos ) — Radu Dracula. My laziness shows here once again as that is Radu’s moniker, meaning “the handsome” or “the beautiful”. Radu has been given a fair share of horrible portrayals in media over the years, so I aim to further develop his character and show the varied aspects of his personality that are frequently overlooked. I initially tried to find something that would suit his complicated character but eventually settled on the nickname itself as it nicely shows the irony of his life and the most defining issue of his life — always being disregarded and reduced to only a sliver of his being.

( oc: cel mare ) — Ștefan the Great. (Or, as I like to call him, Fane.) There is no possible tag that would fit the famous Voivode of Moldavia and Vlad’s cousin (Vlad’s mother was a Moldavian princess) more than his own nickname, “the Great”. He is considered a national hero in both Romania and Moldova and undoubtedly earned his monicker through his actions.

OPEN HEART:

( c: i rise with my red hair and i eat men like air ) — Laura Levchenko. Her tag comes from Sylvia Plath’s poem called Lady Lazarus and, although I wanted to find a fitting quote from Lesya Ukrainka to represent Laura’s roots (that form a great part of her being), this one has the right amount of sharpness and edge fitting for my darling spitfire. Her fiery hair is undoubtedly one of her trademarks, and the quote also represents an independent spirit that will not be pushed down by being seemingly “inferior”. It also shows her own stance towards men, beginning with the painful experience with her dad and marking her whole life, as well as people who look down upon her.

( c: veni vidi vici ) — E.R. This is incredibly embarrassing because I was desperate to find something better for Ethan, something more fitting for his character… but there it is skdksfksldls. I do not think this quote even needs any introduction, so I will mention instead that “I came, I saw, I conquered” expresses the way Ethan achieves everything he sets his mind to, as well as the ferocity with which he pursues all his goals. When we compare his character to Laura’s, it might also imply the briskness with which he achieves certain things in life as a straight white American man — as opposed to Laura who is not only looked down upon for being a woman but also has to face a lot of xenophobia in her life. (You also want to re-enact the Ides of March on him sometimes but… I digress sksksk.)

CRIMES OF PASSION:

( c: this ghost sitting year after year upon my heart ) — Milena Rosa. This quote comes from Federico García Lorca’s play Yerma, in Spanish being, “este fantasma sentado año tras año encima de mi corazón”. I have to admit that I have yet to get myself familiar with Milena and craft her character in detail the way she deserves, but we know from canon that Jimmy’s tragic death greatly defines not only her own inner life (because she battles with all the demons his loss has inflicted upon her) but also the trajectory of her future career and the purpose she finds in her mission.

( c: bleeding sun ) — T.T. Trystan’s tag is from Lucie Thésée’s Poem, and the full quote goes, “Handsome as life and poison. Sun-blood handsome. Bleeding sun.” This was an instant fit because Trystan is undoubtedly the product of the environment he grew up in — Drakovia is both a place of beauty and vibrance, but we know its regime is bloody and deadly. Trystan will also never suppress the essence of who he is, and his character is both full of life and somewhat fierce (sometimes even violent) in nature. A lot of my worldbuilding for the story comes from my own experience as an Eastern European, and this little corner of the world is brimming with endless contradictions, so I tried to come up with something that would evoke that as closely as possible.

THE WAYHAVEN CHRONICLES:

( c: i am the sea and nobody owns me ) — Kimberley Cunningham. Kimble is my TWC newborn that I have only recently crafted into a character she should have been from the very beginning. Her tag is actually the legendary quote uttered by Pippi Longstocking which, apart from its fierceness, also fits Kimberley’s playfulness and carefree approach to life. She is a rebel through and through in every aspect of her life, which stems from the disastrous nature of her relationship with Rebecca. Her main objective in life is to do the exact opposite of what she is told, and she enjoys shocking people around her. But, just like the sea, she can be tempestuous and unpredictable, and some of her decisions can be quite destructive. Kimble ends up in the love triangle which kind of mirrors the rest of her life — initially harmless fun turns complicated and messy.

( c: a ribbon of loneliness ) — Sydney Brannagan. My poor baby Syd has been characterised through his melancholy since the very first moment, so I needed to find this little nugget that would instantly evoke his inner world. Then I found this quote by Jenny Slate that goes, “I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that there will always be a ribbon of loneliness running through who I am.” Loneliness runs through Sydney not only in the sense that he is such a sorrowful soul, but also because a part of him always feels so detached from others. All his life, he has felt like he has to prove his worth to his mother to feel accepted, and he also unconsciously builds a wall around him as the time goes by. In the professional setting, his personality does not stand out in any particular way — he is diligent and polite, some might even consider him a bit bland.

BLEEDING HEART:

I do feel like I need to give a bit more context for this interactive fiction beforehand, especially because there is only Chapter 1 out so far. The story is a retelling of Bram Stoker’s Dracula through the point of view of Mina Murray, and the first chapter already explores several wonderful themes I cannot wait to get my grubby little hands on! I have a very clear idea of who I want Mina to be, how she struggles in the setting and society she lives in, and how her personality drives her emotions and decisions. I do not know if my personal HCs will align with the story as it progresses, but there is nothing this user cannot tweak to her liking skdhskfjfksks.

( c: growing fruit around cyanide ) — Wilhelmina Murray-Harker. Mina’s tag is a part of a poem from a collection called Swallowtail by Brenna Twohy and goes, “Peach pits are poisonous. This is not a mistake. Girlhood is growing fruit around cyanide. It will never be your for swallowing.” Essentially, it encapsulates the conflict between who Mina seems to be on the outside and who she truly is on the inside. I have always felt like the Victorian times were one of the most suffocating periods for a woman to live in, and Mina always has to suppress a huge part of herself to somehow “fit the mould”, hence how she grows fruit around cyanide. Just like the society, her relationship with Jonathan also suffocates her — her engagement is a choice made out of reason, but she does not feel fulfilled with him in practically any way, which ultimately drives her into the arms of Dracula.

( c: the master of the night ) — Count Dracula. His tag is just the tweak of the quote from Bram Stoker’s Dracula: “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” Since he commands all the creatures and phenomena of the night, I have changed the bit to the “master”. I wish I had anything interesting to add to his character but, so far, I am waiting to see what he turns out to be like in Bleeding Heart — I know we are able to make him be the big villain or give him redeeming qualities, so I will wait and see which route will seem more fitting to me though I do play around with the idea of making Dracula more redeemable and a different character more villainous). Also, Count Dracula the Vampire has absolutely nothing to do with Vlad Dracula the Voivode in my fictional world — I know merging the two into one character is very popular, there is even one novel that did this that I absolutely love, but… not happening here lmao.

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream V // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen-year-old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, heartbreak, fluff, talk of death and fluff.

Words: 4.4k

A/N: We’ve come to the end of the Distant Dream mini-series. I truly enjoyed writing this with my whole heart. @merceret I told you I’d use Lucy’s Cordial somewhere in the series. All parts are located in the linked masterlist.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The massive changes between the ’90s and 2021 slowly but surely started no longer seemed startling as it had been at first. Carlos had helped you assimilate to homeschooling once he’d admitted he knew about the boys. Ray was still kept in the dark. 

2020 ended on a high note. Mostly. With the years in Narnia providing you with the knowledge you flew through schooling. Then you took a job as a waitress at a coffee shop, one similar to the shop the band performed in. The downside to the end of the year was for the band.

Despite performing at the Orpheum, the band hadn’t received as much traction as Luke had desired. They were a step closer to the dream but not as far as the entire band had wished. During Julie’s Christmas break, Luke had overworked the band with little breaks.

“Hide me.” Julie hissed from behind the counter of Ancient Grounds. The Puerto Rican musician escaped the studio to have lunch with you.

Unfortunately, Julie failed to see that without the entire band together, Luke would go to what makes him just as happy. You. That’s precisely what happened as Luke walked in through the entrance of the coffee shop.

“He’s still pushing more practice?” You asked, stacking the clean mugs on the shelf with complete focus. How odd it is to go from being Queen to working in a city as a waitress.

“I love him like a brother, but I feel like my fingers are gonna fall off from playing the piano constantly.” Julie sighed, sliding down the counter to sit on the floor hidden from the approaching guitarist and from your manager.

“Hey!” Luke grinned once his hands fell on the counter to lean over on the balls of his feet. His lips pressed against your right cheek before he fell back onto his feet.

Not a single soul in the half-full Ancient Grounds batted an eye to your awkward stance when Luke kissed you. Not since the boys had become tangible and visible to the general public when they wanted. 

“Look to decide to grace me with his presence.” You teased. Your foot nudged Julie in her thigh to urge her to crawl to the end of the counter.

“I have no clue where Julie is. Reggie dipped to join Ray in his errands, and Alex is somewhere.” Luke shrugged, stepping aside when an older gentleman dropped a tip in the jar before leaving.

“Pick a number.” You told the male with one of your dimples on display.

“Eleven,” Luke responded, bouncing on the balls of his feet at the regular game you played together.

Each visit, you’d split a dessert from the menu with Luke along with his favourite mug of tea and your drink of choice; even he knew he didn’t need caffeine with his energy. That was Luke’s favourite thing of being brought half alive from the golden glow they’d received. You were sure Reggie had cried upon eating your Tia’s best recipe.

“Nanaimo Bar Cheesecake. A limited-edition from our Worldwide Treat menu. It’s Canada’s month.” 

Luke followed to the counter’s end, where the sweets were kept on a glass viewing shelf. With careful movements, you slid a perfect triangle of the cheesecake onto a beautiful plate. The half-ghost retrieved it to your favourite spot in the garden patio. Julie used the time to sneak out the door with Luke’s back to her.

“What is a Nanaimo Bar?” Luke questioned upon you joining him at the iron-wrought table. One teacup accompanied by a teapot with Luke’s tea and a mug of your drink on an emerald tray.

“It’s a no-bake dessert. The base is a chocolate graham cracker and coconut base with the middle layer a cream filling. The top layer is a thin layer of semi-sweet chocolate.” 

Luken nodded, “Ancient Grounds loves cheesecakes.”

“Addie adores inventing new versions of cheesecake. Her best is the Creamsicle Cheesecake during the summer. A staple on the menu.” You responded with a twinkle in your eye. You may not look like the Queen you once were, but you were just as invested in learning about people as you’d done with the Narnians.

“What’s your favourite dessert?” Luke questioned.

“I’m pretty partial to the chocolate cookies Addie makes.” You grinned, leaning closer to the male across from you. You hesitated in continuing, “In Narnia, the pastry chef Cair Paravel employed always had these gorgeous desserts with Edmund in mind. Turkish Delights with a secret ingredient.”

Luke’s smile grew as you talked about the other home you had. A place you rarely spoke about now. You hadn’t even returned to the basement to see the wardrobe like you had before.

“I wish I could have seen Cair Paravel. It always sounds so magical when you talk about it.” Luke’s tone was wistful paired with the twinkle of his hazel eyes.

“It’s a breathtaking place. Everything is lively in Narnia, and after the Witch was defeated, we ruled peacefully for the most part.” Your e/c eyes unfocused on your surroundings to recall all the wonderful times spent in Narnia.

The times you shared a table with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver in their home over the years snacking on the homemade jams. To the times you listened to Mr. Tumnus playing everchanging lullabies on his flute. Even walking the beaches with Lucy in hopes of catching sight of Aslan again. Of gossiping with Susan over the many suitors that came for her hand.

“If you could do it all over again knowing the outcome, would you still do it?” Luke questioned with a tilt of his head. He’d shed the flannel jacket as the sun rose higher in the sky.

You nodded, “Absolutely. The Pevensies were some of the greatest friends one could ever hope to have.”

As usual, Peter wasn’t spoken of in light of the ache that resonated in your heart and the awkwardness Luke felt. A poor choice of avoiding your once husband instead of communicating on the topic.

“Have you ever thought of trying to find them?”

“No point. Peter would be ninety-seven now as the oldest, and Lucy would be eighty-nine. If I recall, it was 1940 for them when we went to Narnia. It’s possible Peter may have joined the war in ’42 when he was eighteen, so who knows if he lived.” Luke was surprised by the nonchalant reaction to the potentially grim outlook on your former in-laws.

However, Luke knew the truth, that you greatly missed the four people who became family during your disappearance. You could fool Julie and Reggie, but you could never fool Alex or Luke no matter how much you tried.

“I’ll see you at home? My break ended.” You swiftly cut off any more talking of your former life. Luke merely watched as you stacked the dirty dishes, only leaving Luke’s cup and teapot.

“I should get back. Julie’s most likely back in the garage from sneaking back.” Luke’s hand pushed through his messy curtain of brunette hair. His words revealing that he’d known Julie had been in Ancient Grounds the entire time.

“How’d-”

“When she sits on the floor, she taps the heel of her shoe on the floor. Same rhythm.” Luke smirked as he chugged the last of the tea, “Don’t tell her. I like when she fights a smug smile with that certain light in her eyes.”

The brotherly role Luke had taken on with the Molina girl was heartwarming, to say the least. Sometimes Julie would begrudgingly ask for advice about her feelings for Nick to Luke’s amusement. He adored being able to tease her.

“I’ll see you later.” 

The boy dropped the correct change for the tea on his way out the door into the bright sunlight. Like clockwork, he’d turn into the alley to become intangible to poof back to the studio. 

The rest of the day passed by like a breeze in the coffee shop with the late lunch rush and then the dinner rush the busiest time. Jess gave you a ride home in her truck as usual with a promise of a cupcake of Julie’s as payment.

“Did you see him?” 

The sudden voice startled you so much your hand couldn’t help but grasp at empty air by your side. Alex screeched as you swung to face him on the Molina driveway.

“Alex! Good Aslan, you startled me.”

“...were you reaching for a sword?” Alex questioned, appalled by your reaction. Your e/c eyes rolled in response.

“Isn’t the saying old habits die hard?” You prodded the baby blue of Alex’s long sleeve shirt. One of the shirts you’d often stolen from him, “And no. I didn’t see Willie.”

Your heart clenched as soon as Alex’s shoulders dropped in defeat once more at the absence of the skater. It had been months now with little sightings of the skater you had yet to meet. The boys kept your presence on the down-low to avoid Caleb’s interest.

“I hope he’s okay,” Alex muttered under his breath. The elder Mercer began gnawing his lower lip in worry.

Gently you interlaced your hand with his hand, his deft fingers playing with the braided bracelets on your wrist. The bracelets had been a Christmas gift from Julie and Flynn with the colours of the sunrise. It grounded Alex more often than not.

“You told me the Club travels around the world. Maybe Caleb’s not in America; maybe his ego needs to recover from his loss.” You shrugged, tugging the teenager into the house. Ray barely waved from his work computer.

Ray Molina had welcomed Alex, Reggie and Luke into the family when he met them in person the day after the Orpheum performance. He’d accepted that Alex was your older brother and had been in Switzerland for boarding school. He understood that Luke and Reggie came as a package deal with Alex, so the boys had worked to clean out the basement.

A few visits to second-hand doors brought furniture for the basement renovated into the boys’ shared suite. Alex still spent most nights in your room; he still feared you'd disappear from his life again.

“I hope you’re right.” Alex muttered in false hope that something would go his way for once, “Oh! The band received an invitation to some underground music festival in England during spring break. We’re hoping to convince Ray and Julie’s aunt to let us go.”

And you could see the band practices would be growing for that breakthrough with the band. And you were correct in your guess merely hours after going to sleep.

At five in the damn morning, Luke burst into your attic bedroom to drag your less than enthusiastic brother from his sleep. You bet your ass you hit the teen in the face with your pillow, which meant you had to crawl out of bed to retrieve the pillow.

“Asshole!” Alex exclaimed as Luke roughly poofed both of them to the studio. Julie swaying sleepily in her sweater and pyjama pants, waiting for the two.

Spring Break 2021 (March 26-April 2)

The youngest member of the tourists proudly displayed her smile, catching sight of the bed and breakfast in the English countryside. Julie had been floored when Ray had given his permission to the foreign festival. 

Ray couldn’t hide his excitement for the band, plus all-expense paid, receiving the invite via a relatively small record company. 

“First birthday back together,” Luke spoke from your side. Hands intertwined together in the cool wind of England. His arms were covered by his flannel coat in the unfavourable weather of the day.

You hummed, “Never thought I’d be celebrating my seventeenth birthday in England during 2021. Besides, I’ve already been seventeen.”

“I always knew I’d bring you to all the countries in the world.” Luke’s tone was matter of fact, staring at the stage being built under a woman’s guidance in her mid-30s.

The bed and breakfast had a lovely history your tour guide Martin had enthusiastically told on the train ride from the city. 

The man with spry greying hair pointed towards the old train station providing facts that interested most of the group. Luke’s arm tossed over your shoulder focused on the songbook, a new one, open in lap. Luke and you had slowly but surely evolved from shy brushes of skin to holding hands and then Luke’s arm over your shoulder. Chaste kisses on cheeks while you reassimilated into the dating world.

“In 1940, this train station deployed countless trains filled with evacuating children away from London during the Blitz. Filled with returning soldiers, mothers sending children to safety and children were torn from all they knew. Each child had a tag to identify them.” Martin explained intently, speaking to the group his organization had assigned him to.

“Where did they go?” Reggie curled into the travel blanket he’d bought specifically for the trip.

“Anywhere safe for them and where they could be cared for.”

“This route is one of many the evacuations used. The bed and breakfast we’re heading to holds a great history as well. It was once the Manor of Professor Digory Kirke during his life and passed down through generations throug-”

Martin’s story faded into the black abyss as sleep took you over by the soothing motion of the train and Luke’s warmth. Luke met the gaze of Alex. The two guys shared a sweet smile solely for the relaxed features of the younger Mercer.

“This is just another step in our journey for Julie and the Phantoms.” Your words warmed Luke Luke when he noticed you cemented your position in his life. You saw yourself in the future of Julie and the Phantoms as a faithful supporter and friend.

“Luke Patterson, correct? I’m Eva.” Your eyes widened, meeting the eyes that reminded you of someone. Just on the tip of your tongue, “My wife Diana will be a few minutes. We’re still getting the stage put together.”

“It’s so nice to meet you. How many people are you expecting?” Luke questioned the older woman. His mind snapped into business mode for the band.

“This is our fourth year putting on the festival at this location. This is the first year we added a wild card option for fans to vote on. Your band rocketed ahead of the other bands.” Eva explained, keeping her eyes on the woman you dubbed as Diana. The pure love in Eva’s eyes is a call to the yearning in your chest.

“I thought a recor-”

“Technically, yes, a record company flew you out. Diana started a small record label a few years back. Cair Oom Records. She’s the first person in both our families to step into a non-traditional career.” Eva explained to the now interesting young couple.

Luke was interested in the record label’s history, whereas you focused on the label’s name. Cair Oom. A call to your Narnia days you remembered. 

“Cair Oom?” You interrupted the conversation in pure curiosity. Your eyes drinking in the features of Eva, her freckles and brown eyes mirroring a person from your past.

“The label name?” Eva continued once you nodded in response, “It’s from a childhood story my family passed down. Diana was close to my great-aunt before we moved out here to run the bed and breakfast.”

“Of a dream of a dream. Spare Oom.” It was whispered in the breeze straight in your ear of a voice you vividly recalled—the disembodied voice with the same freckles as Eva but with chocolate brown hair instead of strawberry blonde.

“Y/N? You coming?” Luke’s concerned hazel eyes bore into your distant ones wandering the hills of the property. You hadn’t even noticed Eva leaving towards the Manor.

Your e/c eyes search for the owner of the youthful voice but come up empty. The only people you saw included your group with the odd workers setting up under Diana’s supervision.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Luke stepped right up in front of you, “You’ve been out of it since Eva mentioned the record label.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” You mumbled, following the woman up the path. Luke stared lost as you disappeared into the door. Eva entered.

The woman stood outside a door within the home, “I never knew what she meant. Not until I saw you Y/N.”

Your foot stumbled back when Eva turned with a soft smile you vividly recalled on a certain Pevensie. Eva unlocked the door to a room with only a picture hung on the wall.

“Narnia.” You breathed, stepping right up to the detailed painting of Cair Paravel. Your fingers tracing the beautiful frame holding it up.

“Correct. My Great-Aunt, in her adult life, adored painting in her past time. It was rare she told Narnian stories, but my mother loved them so much she told them to me as a child.

“Who’s your-”

“My name is Lucy Eva Baker. I was named after my other Great-Aunt, but I prefer going by Eva.” Eva’s words pulled a deep gasp from your throat. Tears building as the truth settled in the room.

Eva shared the same smile and brown eyes as Edmund Pevensie did, even the mature aura wrapped around her. The maturity Edmund had grown into during the fifteen years in Narnia. Without a shadow of a doubt, Eva Baker was the granddaughter of your former brother-in-law.

“Your-”

“Edmund’s granddaughter.” Eva finished with a sympathetic smile, “You featured heavily in each story. I always knew Narnia wasn’t merely a story.”

And then the conversation stuttered when you finally noticed Eva spoke mostly of learning of everything by her mom and Susan. Not a mention passed Edmund being her granddad. A piece of your heart broke, and it seemed the older woman saw it happen.

“W-what happened to…” You couldn’t even choke the question out in the room. Eva’s hand reached out to grasp yours in her own hand.

“I can’t tell you much as that reason that will become clear but in 1949 just shortly before my mom was born there was an accident. Grandpa Edmund and Peter were waiting for the train at the station. The train wrecked, killing the train occupants and many people in the station.” Eva was quick to catch you as a piercing grief-stricken scream exploded in the room.

In the Manor’s tea room, the band and Ray enjoyed a genuine tea time with Diana. Ray and Diana traded stories of their young sons while Reggie restrained himself to savour the food. English tea time begging for genuine manners.

Luke raised his cup to lips before it dropped to the saucer upon an exploding anguished wail from upstairs. Thankfully the cup didn’t break as the American guitarist sprung himself in the direction of the wails—Alex hot on his heels with a call to his friends.

Your screaming drowned out the furious stomps of feet racing in the halls of the Manor to the entrance of the room. Luke’s heart shattered at the pure anguish coating your broken features. Alex roughly pushed his way to tug you into his arms.

Alex’s large hand cupped the back of your head while he rocked you in his arms, “Shh. Let it out.”

“No!” You screamed into Alex’s shoulder. You couldn’t acknowledge Luke’s comforting hand on your shoulder, “N-no.”

“I got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Alex murmured in your ear so softly you almost didn’t catch what he said. Luke dropped to his knees by your side. The three teens unaware as Eva excused herself for your privacy. Eva had watched her great-aunt Susan break every time she spoke of her late siblings.

Seconds passed or maybe years as it seemed to happen to you. But soon, you simply rested against Alex staring at Susan’s painting. Barely blinking in the room causing you suffering. You barely responded to anyone as you battled the grief. You faded in and out of daydreams as the bands performed. Days mixed together. Time didn’t exist to you. You were aware enough when Julie and Ray invited you to shop in London.

To everyone, including your surprise, you agreed. The three half ghosts joining in fear you’d shatter again. Eva and Diana held hands watching the car disappear in the distance carrying a group of musicians. An echo of Eva’s words replacing in the back of your mind.

“Three of five drink at high tide. Four of nine and five of nine stand apart by time. A drop of Valiant’s potion will begin the time once before frozen.” 

“Are they-”

“Yes.” Eva spoke before her wife could finish the sentence, “She’ll be returning to Narnia. Decades separating her from the Pevensie siblings.”

Eva was correct. At the station, the location was painful as it was Lucy, Peter and Edmund’s last place they’d been alive. Ray disappeared to use the restroom, leaving the five teenagers to wait for the adult.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, rubbing a spot on your arm with a grimace. Your eyes glaring at your tall older brother, “Don’t pinch me!”

Alex shook his head, “I didn’t pinch you!”

“Luke!” Reggie squealed, jumping away from the guitarist with a pout on his full lips. The bassist rubbing his stinging cheek, “These cheeks are reserved for my Grannie!”

Luke scoffed at his friend, “Why would I risk the chance of you biting off my finger Reginald?”

“We have bigger problems than whose pinching us! I’m losing my damn mind! First three himbos fall out of nowhere, then a girl trips out a magic wardrobe and now this!” Julie snapped, staring at their environment in the train station tunnel, “I need to be committed!”

You watched breathlessly as a strong gale storm literally tore pieces of the train and the walls of the station apart. Through the train windows, you watched as a bright blue sky increasingly grew. The colour is so clear and vivid in only one place you knew.

The train blew by. The wall behind you changed into stone—the floor into the sand.

“What the fuck?” Alex demanded, twirling around on the new scenery of a beach in what was supposed to be a train station. The poor male kept being thrown off-kilter since the alley in 1995.

You knew deep in your heart where you were. Especially when four people of different heights stood with their backs to you. One individual, the shortest, turns upon feeling eyes on her back. And at the same time, you spoke.

“Lucy!”

“Y/N!”

The two girls ran straight into each other’s arms sobbing in elation and relief at finally seeing each other after a long year apart. The seven additional people who joined the duo collapsed on the ground. Alex cleared his throat.

“Y/N? Are you going to intro-”

“That’s Queen Y/N.” Peter snapped towards the stranger with a pink sweater on. Peter could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen a man wear pink. 

“That’s my sister.” Alex snapped, standing at his full six-foot height, pinning a glare on the other teenager. Peter scoffed in response. His face faltering upon finding your hand encased in a male shorter than the blonde.

Without a shadow of a doubt, Peter knew this man was the unseen third person that filled every conversation and room between Peter and Y/N. Peter was very much aware that you weren’t in love with him. He lived with the knowledge for a decade, pretending it was he that you deeply loved. Seeing the person holding your heart hurt.

“This is my brother Alex Mercer and our friends Julie Molina, Reggie Peters and my...this is Luke Patterson.” You gestured to each of them; the Puerto Rican musician shell shocked. Julie now knew why that talking lion you spoke of sounded familiar. Narnia had seen one other visitor years before Julie was born.

Rose Molina’s bedtime stories for her children involved a lion named Aslan and a magical wardrobe made from a special tree. Julie recalled the feeling Narnia birthed if in the world as Rose described it. 

“Mercer as in...?” Edmund trailed off slowly.

“My horse. Yes. I guess subconsciously, I still remembered where I came from.”

“These are my friends Susan, Edmund, Lucy and...Peter.” You softly spoke of the eldest Pevensie. His blue eyes sadly meeting yours.

A fondness growing at the sight but a pain blossoming at the heartbreak in his features. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see Peter had put two and two together on who Luke was to you. And while Peter desired to fight for you, he knew it was a lost cause; time cruelly separated you outside the world of Narnia. You both deserved happiness, so with great pain, Peter let you go.

“C’mon!” Lucy shouted, racing out of the cave on the bright sunny beach. The rest hot on the heels of the youngest member of the conjoined group. As you all goofed around on the beach, you told the Pevensie family all about Julie and the boys.

“Welcome to Narnia, my love.” You murmured to the boy that held your heart in his gentle hands. Luke Patterson beamed. He finally got the girl of his dreams and visited the place you hold dear.

The fun aspect of being in Narnia with both of your family came to a halt when you discovered the ruins. Cair Paravel had become a pile of broken stone and sadness. Not a single Narnian in the distance nor the Beavers or Mr. Tumnus.

“What?”

Julie and the boys’ presence became static in the background while the former Narnia royalty pursued through the ruins. They found the chessboard and the gifts Father Christmas gave them during the Winter Revolution. 

Something clicked within Lucy as she almost robotically walked to each half-dead boy with her Cordial in hand. The room went silent as Lucy fed each phantom a drop of the medicinal potion. As soon as Alex closed his mouth, all three boys were enveloped in a blinding silver light.

And the true magic happened. For the first time in twenty-six years, three hearts began pumping blood. A previously frozen clock began beating to the sound of those hearts. The magic of Queen Lucy’s Cordial finished what Julie had started; the three formerly half head phantoms became living humans once more.

What a magical place the world of Narnia is.

(Above is the teacup and pot Luke uses in the Ancient Grounds coffee shop!)

Tag List(s) PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!

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9-1-1 Taglist:

[somenewsarah]

Dear Draco ~ Part One

Summary: Ten years ago, Draco was sure you were dead. But after receiving a letter from none other than you, his world is flipped upside down.

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Genre: Fluff, a lil angsty

Requested: No, requests currently closed while I finish my sitting requests :)

Warnings: None

A/N: I know it’s been a while, and this is likely all over the place~ just something that’s been on my mind for a while and finally had some time to sit down and plot it out! Part 2?

The warmth of the fire can’t drive away the cold. It creeps in, starting from his toes and runs all the way to his chest. That cold that can only be associated with his own sadness. Draco sits in his favorite chair by the hearth, his eyes scanning the letter over and over again. Surely he’d seen this before.

“Darling,” Astoria, his wife of six years starts. “I’m putting Scorpius to bed, are you coming?”

“Not tonight,” he says. It’s firmer than intended, but he can’t even drag his eyes away to apologize.

Astoria lingers in the doorway of their meager living room of their meager cottage that they’d fallen in love with when they first saw it, but now needed more space. She eyes her husband warily and the letter in his hand, that smelled of the sweetest perfume and has him in a tizzy. She knew there’d been someone before her. Someone that never made it out of the war. Someone he loved more than anyone.

Astoria sighs, her eyes still watching her husband for a single second before she slips down the hallway.

Draco brings the letter to his lips, kissing the very paper it was written on, his mind wandering back to all the kisses he gave to you, all the times he’d kiss your forehead and hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He can’t believe the letter had even come.

Dearest Draco,

I’m sorry if this letter reaches you late. It is now May 10th, 1998, and by now you must be sure that I am dead.

Draco puts the letter down for a moment, his heart almost completely stopping in his chest. Alive? Is she alive? Should he leave now?

I hope someday you can forgive me for letting you think I’d ever meet such a fate in a war, but I assure you I am, for now, safe and sound. I made a deal with Dumbledore before your task. I’m continuing his work, growing my own power and studying as much as I can. I’ve followed the knowledge, as I always told you I would. I wrote the first half of this letter once I’d gotten out safely, but couldn’t bring myself to finish it. It is now August 25th, 2008. Ten years since I started.

She’s alive. She must be, if he’s receiving this letter now. He sets it on the arm of his chair and stands, pacing in that Draco Malfoy way. He stoops at the chair for his whiskey and the letter, his eyes scanning it.

I’ll be returning to London soon. I’ve taken up the Potions Master position at Hogwarts under Mrs. Granger’s rule, and I wanted you to be the first to know that I’ll be coming back. I hope to see you in Hogsmeade on the 29th of August. You know where. I’ll be there at 3pm, and I hope you show. I want to hear all about your life, Draco. Did you ever marry? Are you happy? I miss you, and I hope that you’ve built a life for yourself.

See you?

Love,

Y/N

Draco sits down in his chair again, his eyes wide and his heart pounding. Seeing you. Tomorrow. For the first time in ten years. The longest ten years of his life, thinking you were dead. The worst ten years. No, he married. He has a son. He became one of the most well-respected and astute healers in the entire wizarding world. He’s had a wonderful ten years. Right?

He stands again, pacing and pacing and pacing. Alternating between his drink and smelling your sweet, sweet smell that he’d tried so hard to preserve in one of his t-shirts you always wore to bed.

Astoria leans against the doorjamb, watching Draco pace and pace. She knows that pace. He’s stressed and conflicted and terrified. That look on his precious face…

She walks to him, taking his face in her hands.

“Draco,” she says firmly, catching his attention. “What is it?”

He’s quiet for a moment and she holds her breath, searching his face for any kind of answer.

“It’s Y/N,” he says, his voice almost a ghost of a whisper. “She’s alive. And she’s coming back. And she wants me to meet her tomorrow.”

Astoria drops her hands from his face, taking in his words. So, this was it, then. She knew who he would choose should it come down to it.

“That little twit,” Astoria breathes. “How selfish can she be?”

Draco, taken aback, gazes at his wife. “Selfish?”

“You were in hell for the first years of us being together because of her! You moped at our wedding. You won’t dare allow me to do simple things like wear your clothes to sleep in or go through your old Hogwarts trunk. All because you thought she was dead!” Astoria roars, finding her voice now.

“Darling, calm down,” Draco starts.

“Calm down?” Astoria roars, growing louder. “You’re going to tell me, your wife, to calm down, after telling me you’re going to meet the woman you’ve secretly wished I was for the last ten years? Don’t tell me to calm down, Draco. Don’t.”

Draco sighs. He paces the length of the family room, only stopping to sink into his chair.

“Astoria, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs. He drags his hands down his face, haunted almost. “She was the love of my life. She taught me everything I know about love and how to do it. That I was capable of it.

“Would you leave me for her?” Astoria asks suddenly, eyeing her husband.

“I wish I had an answer for that,” Draco relents.

 Astoria nods. She squares her shoulders, holding her chin high as her eyes water. “Then you can sleep on the sofa tonight.”

She turns and exits into the hallway, and Draco can hear her stalking to the bedroom and the telltale door slam.

~

Astoria doesn’t speak to him all morning. She gets Scorpius ready for his mid-day lessons and ignores Draco.

So, he gets up, showers, tousles his hair, and squirts on some of his best cologne. He’d look like the happiest man in the world today. Maybe because he is.

He leaves the house without a word to Astoria, only stopping to kiss Scorpius on his head and whisper a quick “I love you,” words he never heard from his own father.

~

Hogsmeade bustles with shop owners and consumers and students, all exploring the new world and everything it has to offer. Draco walks amongst the crowd, his teeth chattering despite the warm August day. His nerves make every step feel longer than it is, and his palms sweat profusely. He allows his mind to wander as he forages down the cobblestone pathway; what would you look like? What would you be wearing? Would you smell the same? Did you ever marry? Are you happy?

His train of thought is halted as he approaches the place that you used to call your spot. The little ice cream shop across from Creepy Cauldrons, a vehement Halloween only shop. You and Draco would go on ice cream dates almost every Hogsmeade trip since fourth year when you admitted you fancied him, and he you. It was the one spot he couldn’t bring himself to walk into when he thought you were dead. Not even with Scorpius.

He pushes open the door, the little bell jangling as it always does. It doesn’t take long for him to spot you. You were in the same booth you were always in when you’d meet up. Your booth you shared together.

Draco approaches you, though your back is to him. He wonders if it’s a dream. Could it really be you? Is this a cruel prank?

Upon hearing his footsteps, you turn, Y/E/C eyes locking with his grey ones. Draco stops. His heart stops, his mouth dry, his eyes watering. It’s really you.

 You stand and move to hug him, but Draco is stiff. He doesn’t hug you back.

 “Draco,” you start, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry this is so sudden. I understand if you don’t want me back in your life at all, I just wanted a moment to explain myself.”

 Draco nods. He takes his old seat, and you sit across from him.

 Over his shoulder, Sir Harrington- the owner of the ice cream parlor- gives you a thumbs up. He’d been serving you ice cream since you were kids, and you had no doubt he would forget you or Draco.

 “So,” Draco begins. He hides his shaking hands underneath the table. “You’re back? For good?”

 “For good,” you relent.

 “I thought you were dead,” Draco says. His voice betrays him and cracks. He clears his throat, but doesn’t continue.

 “I know,” you say. You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn’t move. You withdraw your hand, knowing he’ll be cold as ice until you can crack him. “I know what everyone thought. I knew the repercussions of what I did, but I’m only sorry to you.”

 “Sorry to me?” He asks. “You’re sorry? You came here to tell me you’re sorry?”

 “Draco,” you start, but he cuts you off.

 “Don’t. You don’t know what it was like. I thought you were dead. I moved on. I lived in hell every single day that you were gone. I can’t even look my wife in the eye without wishing it were you,” he says through his teeth.

 “You married, then,” you say. Your resolve weakens, and you know it’s hopeless.

“I did. Astoria Greengrass and I wed in 2001. It’ll be seven years in December.”

 “I see,” you say. “I’m happy for you, Draco.”

 “We have a son. Scorpius.”

 You nod, chuckling to yourself. “The name we picked out for our first son?”

 Draco nods, and has the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Astoria knows what you meant to me. I wanted to keep you alive in my memory somehow.”

 “Meant?”

 Draco remains silent, his eyes on his hands as he considers his own words.

 “Mean,” he says, finally meeting your gaze.

 You sigh and allow yourself a moment to get lost in his eyes the way you wanted to every minute you were gone.

 “I didn’t want to leave you, Draco,” you admit. “But it was for the best. I was doing dangerous potions work. Collecting samples of serums from creatures that can only be found in the deepest, darkest corners of the world. It was the type of exploring that I had to do alone.”

 “You could’ve at least told me you were alive,” Draco says. He leans across the table, taking your cheek in his palm. “I died over and over again every day that I thought you were gone.”

 You bring your hand up, holding onto his wrist, letting his words soak into your brain. You know you’ll likely never hear them again.

 “I didn’t know if I would ever come back,” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat. “So many times I was sure I was dead, but I kept fighting. I wanted to come back to you.”

 Draco drops his hand, though you had the feel of his warm palm on your skin already committed to memory.

 “What are we to do?” He asks, reaching for your hand.

 You trace the silver wedding band sitting on his left hand, fourth finger. “We go on with our lives. I’m sure I’ll be teaching Scorpius someday. I’m glad that you found love, Draco, and I’m sorry that it wasn’t with me.”

 You stand, turning your back on the boy you love so dearly, and walk out of the shop.

 Draco sits for a minute, taking everything in. Why hadn’t he tried to stop you? Why hadn’t he reached out for you? Why did he let you walk away from him again?

~

When Draco enters, Astoria rises from her place at their dining room table. She’s prepared for the worst, but Draco doesn’t look haunted anymore. For the first time in her life, he looks alive.

 “Draco?”

 His head whips to her, like he hadn’t seen her.

 “Oh,” he says. “Hello.”

 “How was it?”

 “It was… good?” he says. He takes a seat at the table, his eyes trained on his hands, recalling the feeling of her finger on his wedding band. “She said she’s happy I’m happy.”

 “What else?” Astoria pries.

 “She just wanted to let me know she was alive,” he says. “She’ll be teaching potions at Hogwarts. She likes that we used her name for Scorpius, said she looks forward to teaching him someday.”

 “She didn’t… she didn’t ask you to be with her?” Astoria asks. She can’t hide the shock from her voice.

 “No,” Draco says. “She didn’t.”

 “Well,” Astoria starts, her voice returning to normal. “I’m happy she’s okay. Come now, let’s shower.”

 Draco rises, follows his wife into their bathroom, all the while in a daze. His mind wanders to his time at Hogwarts with you, how much he loved you then and he wonders if maybe he still does.

 ~

 You look back at Draco, giggling as you pull him through the snow, trying to outrun Crabbe and Goyle to Hogsmeade.

 “Darling, come on!” You grin back at him. “They’re going to eat all the chocolate chip, and you know it’s my favorite!”

 “Slow down,” Draco laughs, pulling you to a halt. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing!”

 “Oh, it’s just a little cold,” you smile up at him. “We’re going to get ice cream, come on!”

 “Maybe we should get some soup or something?” Draco asks, keeping you tucked into his side. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

 You lean up, kissing him sweetly. “I love the way you take care of me, even when you’re stressed.”

 Draco’s cheeks redden as he smiles down at you, his blond hair flopping in his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “You’re my love. I’ll always take care of you.”

 Your returning smile is dazzling as you stop in the snow to hug him tightly, relishing in his warmth.

 “Just two more years and we can graduate and be married!”

 ~

 Draco towel-dries his hair as he sits on the edge of his bed. His mind feels like an unraveled ball of yarn, but he can’t ever remember feeling so happy?

 “What’s on your mind, love?” Astoria asks, crawling behind Draco on her knees. She rubs his shoulders softly, kissing at his shoulder blades.

 “Her,” he admits. “I was just thinking about some of our time together in school. Just some memories, that’s all.”

 “Let’s have another baby,” Astoria says suddenly.

 Draco turns to look at her, his heart torn. “I don’t think now is really a good time, Astoria.”

 “Why?” She pouts. “I think it’s as good a time as any.”

 “I don’t,” Draco says. He removes himself from her grasp, standing so he can properly look at his wife. “I just… I can’t right now. I know you can’t understand this, but I’m really trying to be the husband that you expect me to be.”

 Astoria gazes up at him. “You’re rejecting me?”

 “No, Astoria, I-“

 “If you wanted to meet my expectations as my partner, you’d give me another baby,” she says, determined.

 “I don’t want another baby with you,” Draco says almost immediately. His eyes are wide as he takes in the enormity of  what he’s just let slip. “Astoria, I’m sorry-“

 “Don’t,” she hisses. She closes her robe and moves to the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

 Draco sits on the bed again, dragging his hands down his face once more. There it is, then. He doesn’t love his wife, he’s a terrible father, and everyone at St. Mungo’s would hear about this. With Astoria’s connections, he doubted there was a way out of this one.

 ~

 Knock knock knock.

 The door swings open and Narcissa Malfoy stands in the doorway, looking at her son who looks like he’d just walked miles and miles to even be at the manor. She takes him in her arms immediately.

 “Hello, my darling boy,” she smiles, kissing his hair.

 “Mum,” Draco says.

 Narcissa ushers him inside, closing the door behind him. The manor had changed significantly since Lucius’ trip to Azkaban, where he remains for conspiring against the ministry. Everything is white and crème, no more blacks and greys, though the telltale Slytherin green still decorates the throw blankets and some statues.

 “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” Narcissa asks, sitting comfortably on the sofa.

 Draco takes a seat across from her.

 “Do you remember Y/N?”

 “Oh, how could I forget? She was fierce. It’s a shame what happened to her, I quite liked her,” Narcissa says, reminiscing to herself. “She would’ve done incredible things.”

 “I saw her today,” Draco says. “She’s alive.”

 “Oh, darling, are you still mourning her? I can get you some help, though you are the healer of the family,” Narcissa rambles.

 “No, mum,” Draco says. He wipes his palms on his pants legs. “I mean, she wrote to me, and we met at the ice cream parlor. She’s alive. And she’s come back to teach at Hogwarts.”

 Narcissa sits up immediately.

 “Draco…” she starts, choosing her words carefully. “But, what about Astoria? Scorpius? You have a responsibility to your family.”

 “I know,” Draco says. He rests his chin in his palm. “If she’d just told me she was alive… If she’d just… I would’ve waited.”

 “Don’t say that,” Narcissa goads. “Then you wouldn’t have Scorpius.”

 “I can’t pretend that I don’t love her, mum. Astoria wants another baby. I just… I would’ve waited.” Draco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair.

 “Does Astoria know?”

 “Yes,” Draco nods. “She’s not happy about it.”

 “No one would expect her to be,” Narcissa says. “She’s just found out the same news that you have, but now it’s a waiting game for her.”

 “A waiting game?” Draco asks, looking up at his mother.

 “Draco,” Narcissa smiles. “When have you ever picked anything over that girl? You were almost killed trying to protect her. It’s only a matter of time until you can accept the consequences and chase after her.”

 “I’ll lose everything,” Draco says, his eyes searching Narcissa’s. “I’ll lose my life, Astoria will make sure of that.”

 Narcissa stands and crosses the space between them to sit next to her son. She takes his hands in her own.

 “Answer me this, darling,” she starts. “Are you happy?”

 Draco takes a moment to consider this, chewing on his lip.

 “I love Scoripus, and-“

 “That’s not what I asked,” Narcissa interrupts. “Can you honestly look at me and tell me that you’re happy.”

 “No,” Draco admits. “I’m miserable. I’m stuck. I don’t love Astoria, she was just a good option, as harsh as it is. She deserves better, but I can’t lose my son.”

 “Go to her,” Narcissa instructs. “Tell her how you feel.”

 “Which one?” Draco asks, holding onto Narcissa’s hands for dear life.

 “That’s up to you,” Narcissa advises. “But always remember this: You’re a Malfoy and no matter what, there’s respect given for the name alone. I can spin a bad reputation, but I can’t heal my broken boy.”

 ~

You flit around your kitchen- though it’s not really a conventional kitchen- throwing herbs and animal parts into the large cauldron that adorns the middle of the room. Who needed a dining table when you can eat in bed?

 Taking a whiff of the potion, you smile- it’s perfect. You’re just about to extract it when there’s a knock on your door.

 Draco stands behind it, hands in his pockets, cheeks rosy, hair perfect.

 “Draco,” you smile. You hold the door open, inviting him in. “What a pleasure! I would’ve tidied a bit had I known you’d be dropping by.”

 “Pardon the intrusion,” he smiles. “I called in a favor with the Weasleys to get your address. Still messy as ever?”

 You laugh that cathartic laugh of yours, throwing your head back momentarily as you gesture around you. “Would you expect anything less?”

 “Frankly, I don’t know how you function,” Draco laughs. “How do you find anything?”

 “Organized chaos,” you shrug. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to goad me into cleaning, though. Is everything alright?”

 At your question, Draco is pacing again. Honestly, this boy could pace a hole in the floor, but you only lean against the kitchen counter, your arms folded, watching him in all his amusing glory.

 “What I’m about to say is going to sound daft,” he starts, chewing his thumb. “But I think I might still be in love with you.”

 He stops pacing and looks at you finally, but you can only raise an eyebrow at him.

 “Draco, you’re married.”

 “I know. And it feels so wrong,” he admits. He closes the space between you, taking your face in his palms so gently. “But I’ve never felt as alive and free as I do when I’m with you.”

 You pull away quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible as to not offend him.

“I know how you feel, because I feel the same way,” you start. Draco’s eyes light up. “But… I can’t be with you.”

 “Why not?” He asks, visibly shrinking.

 “You’re married!”

 “What if I weren’t?” He counters.

 “That’s not the situation,” you retort. “You are married. Had I known, I likely wouldn’t have written you. I would’ve let you find out on your own. I never meant to come between you and your family.”

 Draco runs his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated.

 “You are my family,” he growls. “Can’t you see? You and Scorpius and my mum are the only people in this world who truly matter to me. I married Astoria because it was what was expected of me.”

 “I’m afraid that’s not the way the world works,” you sigh. “I love you, Draco. I always have. I’ll probably love you forever. But I’m not a backup plan. You thought I was dead, you moved on. That’s something I’ll have to live with.”

 “Y/N,” Draco starts. He folds his hands in front of him, and he grows more and more flustered by the second. “I’m standing right in front of you, telling you that I choose you.”

 “And have you told your wife that?” You counter, folding your arms again.

 “I wanted to see how you felt first,” he confesses. “I was leaving either way, or so it seems. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

 “Draco,” you sigh. “Worry about your family for now. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

~

 Though the night is calm and peaceful, a storm brews in Draco’s mind at the thought of walking inside of his home. He sits outside on the front steps, encased in darkness, when it occurs to him that the home shouldn’t be dark.

 Curious, he stands and pushes open the front door with no resistance. It should’ve been locked. Flipping on the lights, Draco chokes back a sob. The home is empty of any presence of anyone other than himself. No photos on the walls. No dishes in the pantry. No drawings or lesson reports on the table from Scorpius. Everything lay bare and abandoned and sad. Everything but one envelope sitting on the small kitchen table, now devoid of any flowers or vases.

 Dear Draco,

After hearing of your escapades with Y/N, I’ve taken Scorpius away. I don’t know for how long we’ll be gone, or where we’re going, but I will not be a second option. I’ll allow you to decide: Me, your wife. Your son. Your home. Your career. All of your dreams. Or her.

Should you make a decision, send my owl immediately, as I’m sure she will have no problem finding me.

With all the love in my heart,

Your Wife

Astoria Malfoy

[gyuluster]

a special night | fluff

oneshot | relationship! au | 1.37k words

s u m m a r y : an intimate insight on the first night of choi soobin’s wedding, consisting of kitchen floors, witches and an eternity of love.

c o n t e n t : FLUFF!!! SO MUCH FLUFF!!! established relationship, soobin is hella nervous reader leaves him, reader is dazed af, just so much fluff ion know what more to tell y’all

a u t h o r ‘ s  n o t e : dedicated to @soobmint​ because her dream scenario is literally the cutest shit ever perhaps cried over it!! anyway ily furry char and i hope y’all enjoy!!!!

CHOI SOOBIN OPENED THE DOOR TO FIND THE WEDDING SHEETS BARE.

He wondered whether his eyesight had failed him - the sun had long set, a noticeable lack of light in his bedroom. He might not have perfect vision, but he would know if the love of his life was in front of him.

But you were not there.

Soobin pondered over the options: maybe you had gone downstairs, looking for a midnight snack because heavens knew you both did not have the time to rest in the whirlwind of activities. Maybe you had gone out for a little walk, perhaps reflecting on the events of today, the consequences of it all.

Or maybe you had taken the keys while he was inside the bathroom, and made a run for it in his new car.

Thoughts swirling still, he left the rose-filled bedroom, and descended down the stairs, nervous hands on the bannister.

Of course, he knew you would never commit such an action against him. Years of loving each other had proved his rather doubtful self-esteem, but when you take a huge step, one can’t help thinking the worst.

A quick turn from the hallway, the groom checked the living room, leaving after finding it empty. The anxiety grew within his gut, the latter option becoming a little too real.

Stop it. You know ____ is better than that.

Soobin entered the kitchen, his mind taunting him further until his lips nearly trembled. 

But then his nerves disappeared when he looked over the doorway, beyond the dining table and in the expanse of the room.

There you were. 

There you were, sat with your back to him, your voluminous white dress spread all around you as it twinkled under the moonlight, gleaming through the wall-length windows. You hummed a melody Soobin knew of all too well, blessing his ears as you swayed your head along to the tune. 

The groom let out a breathy sigh, a smile escaping his lips as he leaned against the doorway. Look at you, he nearly voiced out, watching you idly enjoy your own company. He almost felt guilty for thinking about any other situation. Here you were, simply basking in the light of the stars, who no doubt relished the idea of shedding their shine on you. If Soobin possessed his own light, he would spend eternity radiating it on you.

Why did he not realise? Should have known it was a little trait that you had, settling yourself upon the kitchen floor and just...be. Sometimes you would not do much but just ponder over the existence of occurrences in your life. Most of the time, though, the little seating in the middle of the kitchen would be the time Soobin would ask you of your worries, and you would spill your concerns to him. It was incredibly easy to confide in this man, see, when his silence was so relieving, and his words so comforting. 

He dared a step toward you, and then another; he was slow - soft, as to not disturb you, nearing your dove-coloured figure. Beside you, he settled himself on the cool marble, crossing his long legs, careful not to tear his tuxedo. His knees brushed against yours, and he almost felt like a little boy again when the mere touch sent shockwaves down his body. 

Turning to you, he found himself dreaming along to your humming, eyes rooted to your veiled face. Even half-masked he found you so alluring.

You both sat, cherishing each other’s company under nature’s light, you murmuring Soobin’s few favourites and Soobin simply admiring the way your voice harmonised with his calming nerves. Funny how one person’s every trait can be a remedy for another’s soul.

The boy did not even realise you had ceased until he felt his fingers being interlocked with yours. He blinked, and saw your soft gaze underneath the veil.

“The boys sang it so well today,” you said as a way of greeting.

He knew exactly what you meant. “Fairy of shampoo is your favourite song.” Stroking your fingers, he let a smile work his way onto his lips. “I would be damned if those goons did not perform it at our wedding.”

He heard your chuckling underneath the veil as you turned, facing him fully. “I’m sorry for not being upstairs. I know I must have given you a shock.”

Soobin hurriedly dismissed this, squeezing your hand. “Don’t say that. I was just surprised, that’s all.” He cocked his head then. “My love, what’s wrong? There’s always a reason if you’re sitting here.”

Your own nerves only festered with the endearment. “Ah, nothing big. Just thinking.”

“Anything particular?” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on your face. “Oh you know…” your thumb began stroking the planes of his hand. “That we’re married.”

Soobin did not need to see your face fully to sense your joy as his own heart fluttered with your words.

Married. Committed the last act which declared his attachment to you, his undeterred love for you and everything you represented. It was an extraordinary thing, finding someone who you wished to live with your entire life.

“Crazy isn’t it?” he agreed, looking out to the long windows, and the moon twinkling at him in greeting. “That I am your husband.” He smiled back. “And you my wife.”

“The witch has finally captured the prince for eternity!” you crowed, earning a soft laugh from the man before you. “It is time to put you in the cage of doom!”

“Perhaps I can still escape from this,” he mused, which only had you gasping in mock irritation.

You scoffed, staring at him through the veil. “You’re stuck with me now, Choi Soobin.”

The groom did not banter back, like you had expected.

Only held onto the hem of your veil as he raised it slowly, unravelling your face. His breathing hitched just a little at seeing you washed in moonlight, eyes glistening as if you held an entire galaxy inside them.

He swiped away the fabric, holding onto the hem as he parted his mouth.

“Let’s hope it stays that way forever, my love.”

Suddenly, you felt as if the world had stilled.

It was only an inkling, but you hoped to every celestial power that the universe worked in your favour tonight. Life is hard, the times are difficult but just tonight, you wished that this very night would last a lifetime.

Soobin may have been the realist in the relationship, but becoming married certainly made him wish for a fairytale. It was why when his heart sent a request, his mouth recited in action.

It was why he closed his eyes, and leaned in, brushing his lips against yours. 

The celestial powers had answered your prayers. Time suddenly ceased to exist, everything was no more save for Soobin’s plush mouth upon yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss. 

You instantly melted beneath his touch, hands clutching his face as if it were a lifeline, your saving grace. The man, despite his shy demeanour, was certainly no monk, with the way his lips moved against yours, in a hypnotic rhythm only you knew the steps of. It was as if you were made for him, his kisses, his every little show of affection which brought you to ruination. 

Soobin at last pulled away, slightly breathless. He rested his forehead against yours, abandoning the veil and resting his slender fingers upon your face, eyes still closed.

“God, ____,” he gasped out, chest rising unevenly. “I just...I love you so much.”

If this whole day had not brought you to tears, this panted declaration certainly did.

A few tears escaped your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You better, or the witch will not be amused.”

Spluttered chuckling left your beloved’s mouth, fanning your own. “Then I hope this will change her mind,” he whispered, before capturing your lips once more.

And as you both settled there, upon the cool kitchen floor with nature’s light shining on you both, Soobin radiating his affections, you knew within your very soul that this, him, everything associated with him, will leave you more than amused.

It will leave you forever happy.

[dahlia-coccinea]

Are the second generation really meant to mirror the first? I'm helping my sister revise for her end of unit test on it and it's mentioned quiet a bit in her notes but from what I've read (though tbf though- I'm reading certain parts for revision) I'm not really getting the vibe of that tbh. Can you help me understand why people may think this. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I'm certainly not an expert on the book and the criticisms about it - I read about it purely for my own enjoyment and there are many interpretations I’m probably not aware of. 

First, I would say they aren’t exact replicas or mirrors but are more like echos or perhaps extensions of the first generation. Certainly all the baggage of the previous generation is placed on them. Catherine Linton and Hareton Earnshaw are much easier to connect to the first generation then Linton is, in my opinion, but some critics have tried to do so - mostly in asserting that there is a love triangle between them similar to Heathcliff/Catherine/Edgar. There are a number of connections that critics make between Hareton/Cathy and Heathcliff/Catherine and some have been told a million times but I’ll try to cover the ones I remember. Let me see if I can keep this organized and not get too off topic. 

The similarity of their characters: At first glance you have the repetition of names - “C” and “H” appear repeatedly. Most apparent is that Catherine Linton is named for her mother. Hareton, although obviously an old family name since its been carved above the threshold of the Heights, it does feel intentional in furthering the connection between “C” and “H.” I’ve always found it interesting we have this scene from Cathy II and Linton in Chapter 14, that seems to directly call out the C & H connection:

“We found two in a cupboard, among a heap of old toys, tops, and hoops, and battledores and shuttlecocks. One was marked C., and the other H.; I wished to have the C., because that stood for Catherine, and the H. might be for Heathcliff, his name; but the bran came out of H., and Linton didn’t like it.”

Funnily I don’t think the H is for Heathcliff, I think its more likely meant for Hindley, but of course Heathcliff has been semi-assimilated into the Earnshaw family by being given the name Heathcliff, which was the name of a deceased child. To me at least, none of these feel unintentional, it feels fated since we have these repetitions noted by the characters themselves.

Cathy doesn’t only share a name with her mother, she lives in her shadow. We know from Nelly that, “On the anniversary of her birth we never manifested any signs of rejoicing, because it was also the anniversary of my late mistress’s death.” Edgar seems to cherish her in part because she is a remnant of her mother, even displaying many similar characteristics, although Nelly is quick to note Cathy is softer and more genteel - which makes sense considering she grows up with a loving father in a calm environment that lets her do as she pleases. She doesn't grow up with the harshness of the Earnshaw family, and Joseph's ranting, and it also seems that Nelly may have softened and become more maternal as years have gone by. I’d say she does become more and more like her mother after living at Wuthering Heights though. 

Some really great parallels between the two Catherine’s dialog have been made by Ann Dobyns - I’ve posted a few excerpts from her essay here if anyone is interested, it’s a bit more in-depth than this needs to be though.

Hareton has many parallels to Heathcliff as well - this is intentionally done by Heathcliff who, upon Hindley’s death, speaking of his plotting says, “And we’ll see if one tree won’t grow as crooked as another, with the same wind to twist it!” Heathcliff and Hareton have such an odd fated destiny, from the moment Heathcliff saves his life by catching him as his father dropped him over the bannister of second floor. Hareton from the start fears his natural father, “squalling and kicking in his father’s arms,” Nelly even fears Hindley will “frighten the child into fits.” Worlds different the description of a scene of very typical father/son affection described by Nelly during Hindley’s funeral when she says little Hareton, “played with Heathcliff’s whiskers, and stroked his cheek.” Or earlier when she had asked Hareton if he liked Heathcliff and he says:

“Ay!” he answered again. Desiring to have his reasons for liking him, I could only gather the sentences—“I known’t: he pays dad back what he gies to me—he curses daddy for cursing me.

In Hareton’s mind Heathcliff is more a protector than his father, and I suppose in many ways he is better than Hindley’s random obscene violence. As wrong as it is that Heathcliff denies Hareton his inheritance and an education, I think it does say something (not entirely sure what) that he is never physically abusive to Hareton in the way Hindley was with him. Hareton doesn’t ever show any real fear of Heathcliff. 

Heathcliff has his own complex feelings towards Hareton, definitely preferring him to his own son - he tells Nelly, “Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation? I’d have loved the lad had he been some one else.” So it seems we have the daughter of Catherine and the wished for son of Heathcliff. Lockwood even mistakes Hareton to be Heathcliff’s son momentarily in Chapter 2.

Some other parallels - Heathcliff notes the similarities between them later on in a discussion with Nelly:

“He’ll not venture a single syllable all the time! Nelly, you recollect me at his age—nay, some years younger. Did I ever look so stupid: so ‘gaumless,’ as Joseph calls it?”

“Worse,” I replied, “because more sullen with it.”

On other occasions Nelly talks about how Heathcliff liked to induce horror from those around him and “he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness.” Hareton behaves similarly - in one scene after being taunted by Linton and Cathy, he throws Linton from the room to the disgust and fear of Cathy in Chapter 23:

...Earnshaw burst the door open: having gathered venom with reflection. He advanced direct to us, seized Linton by the arm, and swung him off the seat.

“‘Get to thy own room!’ he said, in a voice almost inarticulate with passion; and his face looked swelled and furious. ‘Take her there if she comes to see thee: thou shalln’t keep me out of this. Begone wi’ ye both!’

“He swore at us, and left Linton no time to answer, nearly throwing him into the kitchen; and he clenched his fist as I followed, seemingly longing to knock me down. I was afraid for a moment, and I let one volume fall; he kicked it after me, and shut us out.”

Similarly, when sitting next to him, Lockwood says, “My neighbour struck me as bordering on repulsive.” Even Nelly, who I��d say is typically biased towards Hareton, upon seeing him says he “seemed as awkward and rough as ever.”  Lockwood also describes him as being “almost haughty,” similar to Nelly’s repeated references to Heathcliff’s ego and “proud heart.” 

Heathcliff further casts light on their parallels when he says he sees Hareton as the “personification of my youth,” adding that, “Hareton's aspect was the ghost of my immortal love, of my wild endeavours to hold my right, my degradation, my pride, my happiness, and my anguish.” 

The love triangle:  I know some critics have said the dynamic between the Linton/Catherine/Hareton is similar to Edgar/Catherine/Heathcliff - I don't particularly see this. Cathy II is forced into marriage with Linton and at that point doesn't have notable feelings towards Hareton, compared to her mother who knows she loves Heathcliff more and still does have a choice to make even if it isn’t an easy one. 

Still, there are similarities in their relationship in that both men (Heathcliff and Hareton) end up feeling the need to better themselves because for their respective Catherine. Nelly says of Hareton, “He had been content with daily labour and rough animal enjoyments, till Catherine crossed his path. Shame at her scorn, and hope of her approval were his first prompters to higher pursuits.” I think this is similar to Heathcliff deciding to run away after years of abuse and to risk everything, including his life, after hearing Catherine says it would “degrade” her to marry him. Hareton does seem to show some jealously over Cathy’s attention and regard of Linton, and again with the presence of Lockwood so I suppose it is sort of love triangle-y? 

I also think Hareton shows signs of a growing devotion, similar to what Heathcliff felt towards Catherine. He certainly seems to be enamored by Cathy from the very first time they meet - Nelly says he, “stared at her with considerable curiosity and astonishment” and was, “too awkward to speak; though he looked as if he did not relish my intrusion.”

Something I’ve mentioned before is that Lockwood says about Hareton and Cathy, “Together, they would brave Satan and all his legions,” which feels like a direct parallel to Heathcliff’s assertion to Catherine that, “misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us.” 

Also Heathcliff seemingly attempts to play the role Hindley played in his youth when he tells Cathy, “Your love will make him an outcast and a beggar.” It seems both Catherine and Heathcliff knew their love would result in the same situation as Catherine relays this to Nelly when she says, “did it never strike you that if Heathcliff and I married, we should be beggars?” 

There is also, of course, the similarity of social stature - when Cathy first meets Hareton, he has nothing to his name and lives almost as a servant at Wuthering Heights, similar to Heathcliff’s position while Hindley was master. Cathy, similar to her mother, is better educated and has more opportunities - there is no socially accepted reason that she would choose Hareton, seeing as he can’t give her money, status, or respectability. 

The circle of events and “The Butterfly:” It does feel, in my opinion at least, that it is no accident that our happy ending is the union of Hareton and Cathy. It couldn’t happen with just any couple or in any other way. It does feel that they are made into the semi-proteges of Heathcliff and Catherine, and the elements of the Linton’s allows for there to be peace between the two families. There is a kind of resolution and unification of their energies. 

This is probably the most common narrative of the connection between Hareton/Cathy and Heathcliff/Catherine, and that is rather than just a parallel, critics have noted that the story of Catherine comes full circle with their marriage. The first Catherine wrote out her possible futures on her window sill in the names: Catherine Earnshaw, Catherine Heathcliff and Catherine Linton. Her daughter ends up reversing these different identities being born a Linton, marrying a Heathcliff, and finally an Earnshaw. That can’t be merely a coincidence.

Critic Dorothy Van Ghent deemed Catherine and Heathcliff the “original two” and she said that with the civilizing of Cathy and Hareton, "the great magic, the wild power, of the original two has been lost.” Others say that while poetically it makes sense within the repetition, Catherine and Hareton’s relationship is “improbable” but I disagree. I really liked Carol Ramsden’s take on this that incorporates Emily’s essay “The Butterfly,” and makes the parallel between the 1st and 2nd generation - I have posted this before but to save myself the time of rephrasing it I’ll just post the quote:

In Wuthering Heights, we encounter a destructive principle at work in the love between Catherine and Heathcliff. The principle is manifested fully in Catherine’s mental collapse and Heathcliff’s vindictiveness. However, the love between Cathy and Hareton is allowed to flower and they are both, in their own ways, products of the first lovers. The principle of destruction, as in “The Butterfly”, is transformed into a creative energy. Ultimately, Catherine and Heathcliff are also not deprived of this creative energy. Instead of representing a pessimistic view of life, their love, too, comes to suggest that all things work together towards good.

I think that’s an interesting take, besides just a happy ending for Hareton and Cathy it almost feels like a happy ending for Catherine and Heathcliff? In some ways they burned up only to transform into something better. Not saying that is how it is meant to be read, but I do like it (probably because I like a happy ending). 

I feel like there are other points that I’ve forgotten? But these are what I remember at least.