#crying throwing up absolutely destroyed never the same they make me SICK | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harry-writings · 3 years ago

Text

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

838 notes · View notes

jaeminscoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Hide and seek | J. Jh

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst

Warning(s): Dubcon, yandere themes, possessiveness, knife play, reader endures all forms of physical abuse, heavy use of the words princess and doll, implied kidnapping/drug usage/pregnancy, lmk if i missed any

type; drabble : 1.01k

A/n: this drabble is a pure work of fiction and does not reflect on the characters' real life personalities. I do not condone to any of the behaviour portrayed in this story neither do i think it's something to lust over in real life. These sort of themes are hot just to read in fictions so they should be kept as fiction itself and never implemented in real life.

You suppress another set of sobs threatening to erupt from your throat as your 'lover' rammed into you for the nth time that night.

As pleasurable as it might have seemed in another scenario, here all you could feel was pain.

Open wounds painted your skin. Brown, purple, red scars adorned the tissue as though to colour the artwork made by him. Your insides hurt from the constant tossing and throwing you went through.

Your abdomen begged to get some sort of soft touch from all the rough whips, kicks, slashes and hits it endured. Your bottom hurts even worse. Having more open wounds than you'd like to think you had. Your body had turned into this pitiful canvas that craved for some sort of rest, love, and alas, some human touch.

"you know i hate hurting you, doll. You just look so ethereal with my marks on you, I can't help myself" Jaehyun mused. You knew better than to speak up. At the same time you knew better than to stay completely quiet; you let a whimper escape you, earning a groan from the lad behind you.

"you're enjoying this, right babe? You love this as much as i do, correct? Tell me our feeling's mutual" He growled, his hands finding home atop your ass, fingers applying pressure into the open words that decorated the skin, opening them enough for the crimson liquid to surge out, enough for your cries to finally let loose.

That seemed to add onto Jaehyun's pleasure all the more, him applying even more pressure due to your ignorance posed to his question.

"Don't you love this, princess?" he asked, a little more craze added to his tone to make it evident that he wants an answer.

"Y-ye-.. Yes, Jae.." you breathe out nimbly, not having it in you to form a sentence, let alone a word due to exhaustion and the weakness that came with whatever drink he'd offered you that morning. Or the drink he'd offered after breakfast. No, maybe it was the one before lunch. You don't remember.

All you remember was finally building up the courage to run away from Jaehyun for the first time since he'd brought you to this unknown location. Only for that courage to falter the moment Jaehyun's sing-song voice called out to you from one corner of the house, summoning you and inevitably, getting you into the situation you're in right now.

It's unknown how Jaehyun found out about your motives. Maybe it was the fact that you'd avoided drinking the liquid he'd usually force down your throat. Maybe it was because you were acting normal. Maybe it's because you failed to showcase that you were lethargic from the drinks. Or it could be the fact that he somehow managed to hear the lowest of rattle produced by the chains on the door that kept the two of you shut, secluded from the monstrous world out there as he'd coin.

"Atta girl.. I know you love this," His voice dropped ridiculously low, picking up pace once again only moments before he'd reached his high, forcibly pulling you into yours too.

Nothing about the high had you feeling the slightest of bliss. If anything, you felt destroyed. Weak. Broken, which; you were sure you were after all the hits you've endured. All the cuffs that's pulled on your wrists. All the bats that've made contact with your body. Worst of all, all the kicks and punches Jaehyun had given you.

Disgusted, knowing how his essence had coated your inside, mixing with yours which you were sure would produce an innocent being which you'd inevitably grow to hate because that thing came from the monster behind you, who'd pulled up his pants and was buckling his belt.

His fingers found suite inside of you once he was half dressed, earning a blood curdling scream from you and the intense burn the south of your body produced,

"Just like that baby, scream for me. Scream while I secure myself in you."

"Think of it, our child would look absolutely stunning, don't you think?" he groans at the idea as you thrash around, wanting to be as far as you can from him. This only upset him. Why didn't you want his child?

And just like that, it all comes to a stop.

"It's no fun if you just stay quiet and weep around.." he mumbled out loud enough for you to hear, bile collecting itself at your throat as you wonder what other sick idea he'd want to act out in this small span of time. Your muscles cried, cried and cried for all it could. Wanting nothing more than to rest, rest forever even.

"I know!"

You jump as Jaehyun suddenly gets up and stands at the foot of the bed, pulling you harshly by the arms before discarding your being onto the floor, "Hide and Seek! Yes, we'll play hide and seek!" he exclaims excitedly.

"If I find you, then well, I fill you up until I'm sure you bear my child. If you manage to hide from me, then I'll let you go, " That made your ears perk, he'll let you go?

"Y-you will..?" you ask softly, not wanting to pull at any of his strings, failing to look him in the eyes. Jaehyun crouches down to be eye level with you, his hands pursue you to look at him, "If you win, well yes." his grip tightens,

"Now let's start the game, shall we?-" he gets up, brushing away invisible lint from his pants that hung loosely around his waist,

"-you have 5 seconds to hide" Jaehyun's face contorts into a psychotic smirk as he watches your eyes widen, scrambling to get onto your feet only to fail and fall back due to the immense muscle pain, you cry out trying once again, knowing he was playing dirty. You watch as his eyebrows twitch with amusement, lips drawn into a wide smile as he leans down to look at you cower away from him,

"Run."

631 notes · View notes

scarofthewind · 4 years ago

Text

Too Far || Slashers x Reader

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

A/N: I had two requests that were kind of the same, which I will have below. Warnings, there is angst! Enjoy!

Request 1 by @brideofcthulhu10 : Hey! First of all I wanna say I absolutely love your slasher fics, very detailed, you have a lot of talent! (I mostly dabble with Lost Boys on my blog!) Anyhoo, I'm not sure if I sent this yet, but I was wondering if you could do Brahms reacting to an S/O who's usually very patient with him crying because of an outburst? Like she's his caretaker who usually can handle his fits, but one day he goes too far screaming in her face, breaking things, and she just falls apart?

Request 2 by anon: Hi!I was thinking of a request if you wanna do it ofc, with Michael Myers when he is stressed out about something and maybe neglects or takes it out on s/o and she gets reallyy sad and goes for a walk at 3am and he Wakes up and not seeing her makes him feel guilty and sad and starts getting a panick attack just when she is returning and comforts him,im sorry if I’m being so specific I just wanted super angst with fluffy ending with Michael being super needy 🥺 sorry if i bother you

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

Brahms Heelshire:

You had never seen him so angry over something so small in the time that you’ve been with Brahms. Not even being able to recall what the fight was about, you stood there in the center of the room that had been utterly destroyed. The lamps that were on either side of the couch were beyond repair, the book case was tipped and all it’s remains were scattered on the floor and the glass topped coffee table had long been broken. Brahms circled you like a feral animal, the glare in his eyes made you look to the floor in fear. You jumped when you heard another object being broken behind you and a coaster went flying by your head from behind you, hitting the wall in front. The small dent in the wall from the coasters collision, reminded you just how strong Brahms was.

“You can’t do anything right!” He shouted; the sound of glass crashing followed his words. “Why do I even bother keeping you’re pathetic ass around?!” He shoved past you, moving down the hall to grab the coatrack and throw it to the floor. One of the ends broke off and rolled towards you but you didn’t dare move, or even breathe. Your heart pounded ferociously against your chest and you wondered how you hadn’t had heart failures yet from all the stress he puts you through.

“Honestly, I should just get rid of you.” Brahms continued his rampage, breaking things and ripping paintings off the walls. You had become so numb to his usual rampages, that you were surprised when you found tears pooling out from your eyes at his words. Suddenly turning around, he walked over to you and you did your best to tune him out. His words cut like a knife and all you could do was stare forward and pray that this would all blow over.

But even then, prayers have their limits. “Why can’t you understand that I can’t stand you? You’re nothing but a good fuck and that’s all you will ever be!” That was the icing on the cake. A gasp so silent, it cut through the quiet air, left your lips and that’s when Brahms realized exactly what he’d done. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and the anger was gone, replaced with a guilt and fear of abandonment. His hands moved to cup your face but you almost tripped moving back, his eyes widening at your actions.

Everything he said was a lie; you both knew it, but he still thought them up somehow and felt like unloading them onto you in that moment. “(Y/N), I didn’t mean it.” Brahms felt sick watching as you backed away from him into the nearest corner he managed to maneuver you in. All the thoughts in his head came to one conclusion: There was nothing he could do or say in that given time that would make you want to stay.

“Please, listen to me.” He begged, his eyes holding so much fear you almost didn’t recognize the man before you. Brahms reached out to you gently, touching your shoulders and then your neck and then your face. “I didn’t mean any of that. Please forgive me; don’t leave me.”

Your throat was dry and you had nothing to say, all you could do was stare. “I love you, baby, please talk to me.” You felt his thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks and his lips pressed kisses to your forehead. Brahms knew exactly how much he had fucked up and the guilt and shame were eating him alive. “My god, what have I done?” You tensed as he pulled you into a tight and possessive hug. Your arms stayed by your sides, not moving an inch as the words and his face full of anger, kept replaying in your head. “Don’t leave me okay? I can fix this; I’ll fix it, I swear, my love.”

Meaningless. Everything felt meaningless.

But you had nowhere to go and you loved this man, even with all his issues. So, you swallowed any pride you had left and hugged him back, hearing him sob just a bit as he swore up and down that you wouldn’t regret it.

Michael Myers:

You couldn’t remember how you managed to get out of Michael’s grip while he was sleeping, but somehow you ended up outside in the freezing cold of night, walking down the sidewalk. You had managed to snag one of Michael’s jackets on your way out the door and thanked god it covered you well enough.

It wasn’t like you and Michael didn’t fight; you did, a lot. Tonight’s was just different and hurt you in more ways than you thought possible.��

“Can’t you fucking leave me alone for once?” Michael’s voice was harsh as he moved away from your hands that were on his back. You realized he’d been under a lot of stress lately and he hadn’t really been himself; you were only trying to help ease the tension.

“Sometimes I really hate you and I think ‘why in the world, did I end up with her?’.” You remember that being the moment your heart sank to your stomach. The cold glare in his eyes was real, not like all the other times he’s done it.

The moon made your shadow look odd as you watched the pavement before you, every now and then glancing around to see if anyone else was up. Your already puffy eyes burned with the feeling of tears again and you managed to choke them down. “I should’ve let your father kill you. I would be a free man right now.”

You made your way around the block, making your way back home. “The only time you’re worth it is when your warming my cock.” You stopped, having arrived back at the front door. Your fingers twitched at the doorknob and you wondered if it was really a good idea to go back in. Michael had apologized after the fight and resulted in him not letting you out of an arm’s reach. But still. Was it worth it?

The second you opened the door, the air felt wrong. Shutting it behind you and taking your coat off, you realized why. Everything was torn apart. The furniture was all over the place and some pieces were broken, the TV was shattered and various pictures on the walls were on the ground. Loud sounds of footsteps came from upstairs when you shut the door and Michael practically tackled you.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. The man who put on a ‘Mr. Tough Guy’ act was now trembling in your arms, pulling you closer to him with each passing second. “Michael.” You said calmly, gently stroking his back with your hands. You heard him sniffle and your made a mental note to remember this moment.

“Look at me.” Your voice was calming and you were there. You didn’t leave him like he thought. His eyes met yours and you reached up and brushed his tears away, moving his hair from his face and cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

He shook his head, his mouth too dry to speak from all the yelling he did while you were out on a walk. He’d woken up to your side of the bed cold as ice and all he could think was that you finally left him. He tore the house apart looking for you and when he couldn’t find you, he broke. This mountain of a man who hates showing one ounce of actual emotion, broke.

“That’s good. Can you tell me why the house looks like this?” You asked him, being very careful with your words as his hands once again pulled you against him.

“I-I was looking for you. I thought you left me.” His body shook as though the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. “You aren’t leaving me right?” His voice was so weak it was hard to remember what this man was actual capable of.

“Of course not, Michael. I couldn’t sleep and needed some fresh air.” You cooed, peppering kisses along his jaw and chin. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him, nuzzling your face under his chin and letting him hold you close.

“I’m so sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean any-” You shushed him, wrapping our arms around his back.

“I know you didn’t mean it.” Your words were music to his ears and he pulled back enough to bend down and press a kiss to your lips. “Let’s go back to bed, okay? We can clean this up in the morning.” You told him as your lips parted; you led him upstairs and to your bedroom, not leaving his arms for the rest of the night.

#brahms the boy #brahms heelshire #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms: the boy 2 #michael myers x reader #Michael Myers #Halloween #slasher imagines #horror x reader #horror imagines #[✉️].request #🥲.angst #🍰.fluff

2K notes · View notes

darthwheezely · 4 years ago

Text

i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

taglist or people that may like this! DM to be added or removed @cappsikle @lumosandnoxwriting @whizboingies @virgohufflepuff @officialwizardwheezes @amourtentiaa @softlyqoos @breadqueen95 @thehufflepuffwife @george-fabian-weasley @lupinsclassroom @haileymorelikestupid @sarcasticallywitty15 @band--psycho @gcdric @vogueweasley @harrysweasleys @slytherinsunrise @thisismynerdyself @loony-loopy-lupinn @writingsomewrongs @pineapplesandpinas @valwritesx @amxrtentias @theweasleyslut @oh-for-merlins-sake @alyssamalfoy @bisou-doux

“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

“Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader #bill weasley #charlie weasley #Ron weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley

311 notes · View notes

buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

Text

Black and white - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry is a vampire and he’s been trying to keep you safe by distancing himself.

Warnings: vampire!Henry AU, blood, smut

A/N: this was requested by anon waaaay back in october 😅 It’s finally here!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The bell rang as another customer entered the shop, but I was too busy jotting down the books Miss Gayle was buying that it took me a minute to raise my head to greet them. When I did, I immediately wished I’d just ignored the sound, despite the fact that it was both absolutely impolite and completely out of character for me.

Nonetheless, it was done, and I scrambled to replace the smile that had fallen from my face at the sight of Henry with another one, albeit a visibly plastic replacement. It was nothing like the ones I usually greeted my customers with, and by the way Henry flinched and Miss Gayle raised an eyebrow, it was easy to see that I was in no way comfortable with the new arrival.

“I’ll be with you in a second,” I barely acknowledged him, turning back to the nice old lady who had kept her weekly visits to my shop ever since I first opened it. It was times like these where I’d wish I actually had people working for me. “That’ll be 35 dollars, Miss Gayle. Do you want a receipt?”

Eyebrows still raised, she simply fished two twenties before handing them to me, just as I handed her a five back. She always tried to leave me with some sort of tip, but I’d known her well enough by now to be able to anticipate her antics.

“You’re impossible, dear,” she’d always tease me, to which I’d laugh heartily. The only difference was that today, after our usual banter, she chanced a glance at Henry, who was trying to pretend to be busy while looking at some bookcases, before turning back to me. “Give him a chance. He clearly cares about you, and you need someone to do so, so you don’t end up like me, all alone with only this store to keep you company.”

The unrequested advice took me by surprise, and I froze in my spot, staring back at her with her receipt still in my hand. It was only when she reached out to take it from me that I snapped out of it, hopefully blinking my confusion away from my face.

It wouldn’t be the first time I seriously considered the possibility that Miss Gayle was actually a witch.

“I think you’re misreading the situation, Miss Gayle. But don’t worry, if it’s any consolation, so have I.” She frowned at my words, undoubtedly pondering over what I could possibly mean, but I tried to keep a smile on my face as I walked her to the door. Any excuse to keep myself away from the man waiting for my attention.

When the bell rang again, signaling her leaving, I sighed, trying to mentally prepare myself for whatever the hell was about to happen. But before I could even turn around to face him, Henry’s voice cut through my whirlwind of thoughts, declaring, “She’s right, you know that?”

I hummed halfheartedly, not wanting to turn around and deal with this, but knowing it was better to get on with it already. “Right about what? About you caring for me? I don’t doubt that, Henry, but I also don’t think I was wrong in what I told her. I clearly misread whatever it was we had going on, because I thought you had taken me out on a date and I thought you had been too nervous to take the first step and kiss me goodnight, so for the first time in my life I gathered enough courage to initiate a kiss, only to be rudely pushed away before you disappeared for days.”

It all came out in one jumbled speech, my need to get those feelings out making me run over the words while I tried to get through this to save me the embarrassment of having to relive that night again. It was all I’d thought about for days, and just when I was finally about to get over it, he just had to waltz back into my shop and throw me on a loop again.

“Look, I don’t mind that you don’t reciprocate my feelings and I don’t mind that I made a fool of myself that night. Did it suck? Yes. A lot. But what really hurt was the fact that that stupid risk I decided to take was miscalculated, because even if I considered the idea of you not reciprocating my feelings, I never thought you would simply allow it to destroy what I considered to be a good and strong friendship. Because that’s how I saw you, first and foremost. As a friend.”

I took a long breath as I finally averted my eyes from him, trying to force myself not to cry in front of this man and become even more pathetic to the one person who I wanted to impress more than anyone else in my life. God, this crush was going to destroy me, just how weak was I?

I didn’t really expect any sort of response from him. What could he say after all of that? Still, it took me by surprise when he interrupted my string of self-deprecating thoughts. “I don’t want to be a friend.”

My heart started to pound inside my chest, my eyes suddenly meeting his again. As much as the sick part of my mind wanted to tell me that he was saying he didn’t want to have any association with me anymore - he did avoid me for three days, after all - rationally, it was clear that he meant something else entirely.

Henry’s P.O.V.

I watched her eyes grow bigger, her breathing becoming more laboured. I could hear her blood pumping more rapidly on her veins, calling out to me, but for the first time since we met, it was easy for me to ignore it. I didn’t want to lose her, in any shape or form. All of my attention was focused on her and her reactions, because I needed her to believe in me.

“You weren’t wrong. It was a date, or at least I wanted it to be a date. And I did chicken out when it came to kiss you goodnight, but it wasn’t for the reason that you’re thinking.” She was frowning, clearly trying to understand what I was hiding, but this wasn’t the time or the place. “Give me another chance,” I whispered, reaching out for her hand when I heard the bell over the door of her bookstore ringing again, signaling the arrival of another customer. “Go out with me tonight. I promise that I’ll explain everything.”

Her brows furrowed deeply, I knew she was having a hard time deciding to trust me again, to put her heart on the line once more. And I hated myself for putting her in such a situation. I hated that I’d wrecked her self-esteem, made her doubt my feelings for her.

Which was why I knew that I was making the right choice by fighting to stay in her life.

“Okay,” came her answer finally, yet not at all in a firm tone. It broke my heart, but I understood. “Come and pick me up after I close the store. I’ll be waiting.” And with a simple nod, she dismissed me until later.

Fair enough. I knew she had things to do and that she needed time to go over the repercussions of what I had just admitted, but a part of me was scared that being apart would simply make her second guess her decision. Still, I needed to respect it. I owed her at least that. So I left her to her own devices, trusting that when I got back to the store she would really be there for me to pick her up.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I spent the rest of the day unable to concentrate on my work activities. Everything I did, my mind brought me back to Henry and those two very pungent moments when I was with him. The night of our “date” and this morning.

My gut told me I hadn’t made a mistake in accepting his request for an explanation. Even during those days apart, I knew there was a reason for his behavior, I just… I knew it. I couldn’t explain it, especially since we didn’t even know each other for that long. But it was the same thing that made me trust him implicitly. The same feeling in the depths of my soul that recognized him somehow, that made me start to fall for him during long conversations over coffee in my bookshop.

Still, my mind begged me to run away, to protect myself. I didn’t need to go through this again. Nothing stopped him from rejecting me again - in fact, that was very likely to happen. Doesn’t love work out just like… 1% of the time?

Just when I was starting to freak myself out, I heard my name being uttered from behind me, making me jump in the air. “God, make a noise or something,” I complained, a hand over my heart as I turned around to find him clearly trying very hard not to laugh at me.

“Sorry.” Narrowing my eyes at him, I simply noted, “You don’t look sorry at all.” He wanted to laugh again, I knew that, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes became peculiarly soft as he pondered over what to say. “You’re right, I’m not sorry. You look really cute when you’re scared. Can I kiss you now?”

I should say no. Right? I should totally say no. But I had been crushing on this guy for the last few months and in that second, all I seemed to be able to do was to nod, my breath hitching when he approached to cradle my entire face with his huge hands. God, he was so beautiful, even more from up close.

But just when the distance between our lips was about to become nonexistent, just when all I could hear was the blood in my veins being pumped on maximum speed due to the way my heart was pounding in my chest, he hesitated, breaking the spell.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispered almost against my mouth, so close that I could feel his cold breath on my face. “I shouldn’t.” I couldn’t really call it a clarification, since it only left me more confused.

Even worse, it awakened that awful, burning feeling of humiliation, that reignited the fires of embarrassment deep within my stomach. “Why do you do this to me?” His eyes grew big at the realization of my anger, like somehow, he didn’t expect it at all.

“Did you come here only to break me further? I can’t handle this, Henry. I don’t need this. Please, leave.” For a second, I thought he would, but I don’t know why. Nothing in his demeanor betrayed that would be his intention. If anything, it was the precise opposite. As the concern disappeared from his face, his expression solidified in a hardened mask that showed just how serious he was about whatever it was that he needed to say.

Henry’s P.O.V.

“No. I’m not leaving. Not until you hear what I have to say. Please.” I could see the hesitation on her, and I knew it was deserved. I deserved it. I knew it just as well as I knew that I didn’t deserve her.

But she did deserve an explanation, and I was going to give her that. And if she could find it in herself to still want me in her life, maybe we could be something more. God knows how much I actually wanted to kiss her.

“Not here,” I implored, needing her to give me just a little bit more of her time. “Can I please join you in your home?”

It took some time, but at last, she nodded, making sure the door of the bookshop was properly locked before silently making her way down the street, taking the path that I had followed so many times before, when I’d accompany her on her trajectory after work. But back then the air was lighter, there was chatter and laughter between us. Now, it felt cold, even colder than my skin.

Thankfully, we were by her house before long. She looked over her shoulder before moving to unlock the door, like she wanted to make sure I was still there. There was absolutely no way I’d leave her hanging like that again, especially since she had found it in her to continuously give me another chance.

“Thank you,” I peeped when she invited me in, quickly assuming the seat she pointed me to. I was even more thankful for the fact that she still chose to sit by my side on the sofa, instead of pulling a chair to keep some space between us. Maybe she liked to be in a close proximity to me just as much as I did with her.

“I… don’t know where to start,” I began, suddenly self-conscious and doubting everything I’d decided on my way here again. But then she shrugged, and the realization that I was about to lose her before I even had her was enough to get me to suddenly blurt out, “I’m a vampire.”

At first, there was no reaction at all. She remained seemingly unfazed, arms crossed in front of her chest, expression thoroughly unreadable. I would be sweating if I could, but as it were, I just started babbling even more.

“Please, don’t be afraid. I’d never hurt you. I promise. But that’s why I’ve been keeping away, I… I feel so attracted to you, but I couldn’t let you fall for me without knowing who I truly am. And this is who I truly am. Still me. Just a little bit older than you thought.” Still no answer, until suddenly she cut the silence that had fallen in the living room with a long drawn-out breath, before exclaiming, “I’m not afraid.”

That was literally the last thing I thought she would say immediately after I admitted my secret.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“You… You’re not afraid of me?” He repeated, clearly not believing what I had just said.

“No.” After a few seconds of silence, he ended up cutting the tension in the room with a request.

“Then tell me what you’re thinking.” As bizarre as the situation was and as confused as my feelings for Henry were at the moment, I couldn’t help but to joke, “What, you can’t read my mind?”

He pursed his lips, clearly unamused but at the same time relieved that I wasn’t angry or afraid of him. I took a deep breath, still looking him dead in the eyes, before admitting, “I’m thinking… that I really want to fuck you.”

That caught him by surprise.

“You want me?” I had to huff, rolling my eyes at his stupidity. How could someone be this unaware of social queues? Or, better yet, of his own attractiveness?

“Yes, I want you. And I’m done holding myself back from getting what I want.” And with that, I climbed on his lap, tugging him down to meet my lips by the collar of his shirt. He was cold, colder than he should be, but I don’t think I would have noticed if I didn’t know who - or actually, what - he was.

He tasted like mint, and a little bit like coffee. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t something this ordinary. And I especially wasn’t expecting to like it so much. But suddenly, he grasped my hips, stopping my unconscious slow grind against his crotch. “I’m not sure you’ve completely understood what this means,” he started, and I had to laugh.

“You drink blood, right? What else is there to understand? I like you, Henry. I’m not gonna suddenly stop liking you over something like this. Now please, can you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for this for so long...” I don’t know if it was my words or my pouty face, but something made him grab me with a new vigor that had me screaming in excitement.

“I knew you were perfect for me,” he whispered as he rubbed his nose on my cheek, making me giggle with delight. The absolute sweetness of the statement had my heart skipping a beat momentarily.

“Then kiss me, you idiot.” Thankfully, he did just so. And although I could still feel his restraint, I now understood what it meant - and it was so much easier to deal with when I had his lips to distract me.

When I had to pull apart to catch my breath, he kept his mouth on my skin, slowly tracing a path from my jaw down to my throat, and when he got to my jugular, he stopped, simply inhaling while I felt his mouth water on top of it. “You ever wonder what I taste like?” I teased, running my hand through his curls, and he pulled away to look me in the eyes, first in concern and then in lust.

Henry’s P.O.V.

“All the fucking time.” Instead of being afraid, the little mixen bit on the lower lip I wished I still had between my own teeth, before remarking, “That’s kinky.” It had me roaring with laughter until I felt the need to attack her mouth with mine again.

“I’ll show you kinky.” After she had to separate from me to catch her breath once more, I traced the path her blood followed down her neck until the neckline of her dress, before softly pulling the sleeves down on each side so I could lave her collarbone and shoulders with my tongue, too.

“Do you want a taste?” She whispered, the question making me freeze for a second, my fingers pressing even tighter in the soft skin of her hips. I could feel her heartbeat under them. She was so… alive. Perhaps that’s why she made me feel like that, too.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you for that.”

“You’re not asking.” I tried to find something, anything in her eyes that showed me a sign of humour, but there was nothing. She was honestly doing this. I hesitated for a while, until she used the grip she had on my curls to pull me down against her neck, that she exposed even more to me by throwing her head back. “Please.”

My eyes trailed down the curve of her shoulder as I felt my fangs starting to grow. A swipe of my tongue over them confirmed what I already knew: they were ready. With one last look into her eyes to see if she wanted to back out, I leaned over her and pierced the neck of my beloved, sucking just enough to allow me to taste the magnificent essence that kept her alive before I retreated and lapped the few droplets that still escaped the punctures.

The sight of her breathing hard, making her breasts jump up to my face as I kept her safe in my lap was enough to get me completely hard. “Bed. Now.” That was the only warning I gave her before I rose up from the couch with her clinging to my body, legs wrapped around my back. She giggled against the kiss I stole from her lips, undoubtedly tasting a little bit of herself, before keeping on with the trend of endlessly teasing me for her own amusement.

“You know, I don’t really feel like sleeping right now.” I growled at her continuing giggles, squeezing her ass to grind her against my hardness. I wanted to know just how thoroughly fucked she’d be.

“You’re not going to sleep any time soon, darling.” Reconnecting our lips, I followed blindly in the direction of what I assumed her bedroom to be located, only stopping to let her catch her breath because she pulled away. I would have to be better at remembering that she needed that.

“You never told me what I tasted like,” she breathed out against my lips, buying herself more time to get some air into her lungs. It made me laugh, the question sounding absurd considering everything, but this is precisely what I loved about her.

“Like fucking candy, how about that?” She screamed as I dipped her back, laying her down on the mattress before climbing over her again. “I really want to know if it’s the same down there.”

She clinged to me eagerly, legs wrapping around my body as her hands made quick work of my shirt. It felt intoxicating to see just how desperate she was for me, just how she reciprocated my own desire.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The second I was laid bare for his eyes to take in, a sharp inhale resonated through the room. I could feel his eyes trailing down my body, drinking me in, and it made me dizzy with desire. “You’re so beautiful.” His voice was barely over a whisper, and still, I heard it in my very soul.

But then, a thumb was running over my lower lips, teasingly opening me up to his gaze, and I mewled at just how great it felt to be this exposed to him. “And so wet,” he added, using that same thumb to collect some of the moisture I could feel starting to drip from me and then rubbing it all over my pussy.

“What are you gonna do about it?” I asked, trying to muster all of the defiance I could find, but my body was weakened by my need for the man hovering above me - and he knew. He just knew he had reduced me to a needy, whimpering mess, and he was loving every second of it.

His thumb found my clit and he massaged it for a bit, eyes trapping mine in his hypnotizing gaze as he pondered over my question. Until, finally, there was an answer. “I want you to touch yourself.”

Okay, this wasn’t what I was hoping for. But still, I could see the hint of nervousness in his eyes, even if buried under deep layers of desire. So I was happy to oblige, my own hand slowly traveling down my body until it met his, right when he raised the thumb that had been just touching me there up to my lips.

“Open up.” My eyes fluttered shut as my mouth dropped open to accept the digit, and I eagerly swirled my tongue around it before sucking, while my own fingers slowly explored my dripping opening. I don’t know if it was the action he was getting on his thumb or if it was the vision of me dipping two fingers inside of myself and moaning around him, but in a second he had pulled both his and my hands away and had lunged himself at me.

“Eager, aren’t we?” I joked, fully enjoying that for at least this millisecond, I had the upper hand again. Henry didn’t seem to mind, if the way he licked his lips and delved to bruise mine in a breathtaking kiss was any indication of it.

“I’ve dreamed about being in your bed for so long,” he admitted, and my heart grew twice its size at the thought of him actively wishing for this, just like I’d done when I laid in this bed hundreds of nights ever since we met.

“How long has it been?” I asked, hugging his body closer to mine, already addicted to the way it felt to have his weight over me. “Ever since you’ve… done this before, I mean.” Henry chuckled, but didn’t immediately answer as he kept himself busy by littering my collarbones with kisses and lovebites, making me offer my chest up to him. When he grasped one of my breasts in his large hand, I couldn’t stop the loud moan that echoed around the room as my heart beated wildly right under his palm.

“I don’t even remember,” he finally answered, but by then, I had all but completely forgot what I’d even asked. He was slowly but surely messing with my mind and my ability to hold coherent thoughts, all I could focus on was the feeling of his cold hands running over my sweaty skin and his lips licking every inch of me. “It doesn’t even matter. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

Henry’s P.O.V.

The whine she let out was clearly a complaint and a request in itself, making me chuckle against her delicious skin. “Soon,” I promised, nearing the place I was longing to be. “I need to feel you cumming on my lips, first.”

The sigh she let out as I buried my nose on the small curls just over where her fingers had been buried made it clear that she wasn’t about to complain about my plan, at least for now. Still, I needed her to give me the time I needed to fully appreciate this, so while I caressed her thighs to allow myself the space I needed to work with, I negotiated, “I promise I’ll make you feel so good.”

She didn’t seem to doubt when I stuck out my tongue and gave her a temptative first lick, immediately groaning at the incomparable sweetness and diving in for more. She gasped and wrapped her thighs around my head, like she wanted to make sure I wouldn’t leave her hanging, but I was sure I’d never leave the space between her legs again.

Sweet, so sweet and wet. I’d spent so long imagining her taste on my tongue, both of her blood and of her juices, and now I knew that she truly was sweet all over. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have to pretend I hadn’t tried the god’s ambrosia for the rest of my life, so I sincerely hoped this really meant she truly wanted me forever.

I lost myself to the activity of exploring her pussy with my tongue, eyes closed to better imprint the taste and the sounds she was emitting into the depths of my memory. I was so into my meal, the lapping sounds of her drenched cunt surrounding us and only adding to the powerful symphony of her moans, that when she came, covering my face in her release, I was taken by surprise.

“You know…” She started, as soon as she was able to catch a breath while I sucked the juices dripping from her. “This isn’t the type of eating I expected a vampire to be so good at.” That made me look up to meet her eyes, and the second I did so, taking in the humorous glint in them and the way she pressed her lips tightly together to contain the laughs that were certainly threatening to escape, I lost it.

“I don’t think I ever laughed so much during sex.” I nuzzled in her neck, before depositing a quick kiss on her pouty lips. Her tongue came out to lick them as soon as we parted, like she was chasing away her own taste that I knew was still present in my mouth.

“Then I don’t think you’ve been doing this the right way.” I felt her tiny hands pressing on my shoulders, and it took me a while to figure out she was trying to invert our positions. When I did get it, I allowed my torso to fall on the soft mattress by her side, hands immediately flying up to caress her body as she climbed on me.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

I groaned as I heard those words, paired with the gentle rock of her wet cunt over my still clothed member. How could one resist such sensuous sin? But I had more pressing needs in the moment, and as I had to remind her, “The night is still young. As tempting as that is… No, don’t look at me like that. Do you have any idea what you do to me, you little minx? I have to be inside of you now.”

Her eyes made it clear that she didn’t feel all that terrible about my denial, but still, she asked, “Later, then?” Chuckling, I brought her down to whisper in her ear, “ Believe me, we have all the time in the world. You’re not going to sleep anytime soon. I’ll keep you in this bed forever, if I have my way.”

I heard her suck in a breath and I took advantage of the brief moment of surprise that rendered her immobile to drag two fingers along her folds before curling them in. “Oh, wow. Now that is a sight.” Just the tone of perplexity in my voice had her clenching around me, and when I began to laugh yet again, she brace herself on my chest and groaned, “Are you going to fuck me or keep staring?”

I looked up to meet her eyes, making sure she was looking directly at me as I pulled my fingers out and licked them before grabbing a hold of my member and running it over her pussy. “Take a guess.”

The moment that we became fused in the corporeal sense, it became clear to me just how entwined our souls already were. There was no escaping our connection, not anymore. “Does this feel good,” I teased her as she released a particularly high moan, fingers gripping my shoulders tightly as she threw her head back and tried to keep riding me. I took this opportunity to nibble and nip at her jaw and neck, teasing myself with the feeling of her blood pumping right underneath my open mouth.

“Yes, yes,” she screamed, picking up her movements as I kept fucking myself up against her, too. “Deeper, harder, please, Henry!” The desperation in her voice had me roaring, and in a quick movement I had her under me again.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” I whispered under my breath right when she grabbed a hold of my locks and pulled me to meet her lips again. “Are you ready?” I knew she was close by the way she was moaning, and all it took was for her eyes to meet mine so I could feel her clenching around me. “No falling asleep, remember? Or maybe you want me to keep going even if you do end up passing out.” It was just a joke, but her whine made it very clear that she didn’t mind the perspective.

“Don’t worry, angel. I’m right here. I’ll give you everything you want, I’ll be everything you need. For the rest of your life.”

“I know.”

#my fics #henry cavill smut #smut #henry cavill #henry cavill reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill reader insert #henry cavill header inserts #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill oneshots #henry cavill headcanon #henry cavill headcanons

289 notes · View notes

xhanisai · 4 years ago

Text

Confront the boundary line of good and evil in my heart

AO3 / FFN

Summary:

It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!'

~(x)~ . . . Tick. Tock. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir! I didn't mean to- I just- I just completely broke down and she was right there and I needed someone-" "It's okay, Bug. I understand, don't apologise," Tick. Tock. "It's not okay at all! You've wanted to know for so long, so patiently and I have always said no- and then look at me now! A hypocrite! This is probably a huge sucker-punch for you and I hate that I've always kept on hurting you back then but now, this takes the cake-" "N-No, I'm fine, honest...really. What matters is your happiness and wellbeing-" "But what about you!?" "..." Tick- "...Kid, talk to me, please. The way you're staring out into space is scaring me." The subdued, raspy voice belonging to the ancient being of destruction went unheard. The boy in question continued to observe the empty space in front, sitting on top of his bed with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms folded in front, hiding the lower half of his face. If one were to enter the room, they would instantly freeze from the glower of the boy's fiery emerald greens that were begging to pool with unshed tears and the aura of his stone-cold demeanour. From the waft of his internal turmoil, even a blind person would be able to pick up that he was currently the host of bad luck. "...Adrien...I want to help, I want to understand, so talk to me!" Once again, Plagg was left ignored, leaving him no choice but to float back down to his pillow and direct his pleading kitten eyes at the blonde, his tiny heart shattered from the state of his chosen. Alas, even he was helpless, his feline ears and whiskers drooping with sorrow. 'But you won't understand. You never did and you never will. No one will ever understand.' Adrien didn't even flinch, didn't even bat an eye. He was a statue of apathy and aloofness; though deep down inside, he was a maelstrom of agonising pain. Oh, so much pain. It was excruciating. He wanted to suit up and claw through the rooves of Paris whilst screaming in anguish. He wanted to find every billboard that had his face on it and tear through it all like paper. He wanted to shred and pulverise his useless, traitorous heart along with its despicable feelings and emotions. But most importantly, he wanted to rip the magical ring off his finger and throw it into La Seine with all his might and then cry for the rest of eternity. And he hates that he feels that way. Absolutely, ridiculously, hates that he feels betrayed. Self-loathing and disgust have taken over his body like a puppet and rendered him completely useless, like a toy forgotten at the bottom of the box, never to see the light of day ever again. The feeling of uselessness and pure shame replaced the blood running through his veins and numbed him to the point where he was equivalent to a powerless machine. He felt his throbbing heart fall deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!' The younger, softer, naive part of himself which was usually tucked away within the dark, hidden crevices of his heart, screamed as if the rest of humanity's lives depended on it. It was taking Adrien everything to keep him out. 'Is it too much to ask for only one constant in my life? Is it too much to ask for one thing to remain the same? Is it too much for anyone to stop keeping me at arm's length!?' . It is. . It is. . Deep down inside, below the platinum chains and iron bars of solid, concrete denial, he always knew that Ladybug never considered him as close as he did with her. And why should she? Just because he performed an act of common, proper human decency and helped an old man get his walking stick back? Just because he was gifted with the power to destroy anything he touches in order to save the day? Just because he knew how to fight possessed villains alongside her? Just because he's in love with her? . "I'm literally the worst." Adrien finally spoke out loud ever since he returned from...that patrol many hours ago. Despite his words, his soul couldn't help but weep and pray that it was all one huge, cruel nightmare. A twisted, sick joke that whatever deities out there have concocted up just for him. Anything! Yet, this was his reality. "I disagree." The boy snapped his gaze towards the kwami, his brows furrowing for elaboration on the little God's part. "I may not be human but I do have feelings and I can empathise. I've existed from the beginning of time and I've witnessed many, many things in my lifetime." Plagg then floated towards him, settling on Adrien's arm so that he was face to face. "You're not in the wrong here, kid. It's okay to feel like this-" "No, it's not!" Adrien's sudden outburst had the kwami shoot away in surprise, the boy instantly turning baffled at his own harsh reaction and then visibly paling even further. He caught sight of his own reflection on a nearby mirror, cringing at the monstrous mess that looked back. With a frustrated sigh, he leapt off the bed, solemnly treading towards his windows, fingers digging into his upper arms as if he was hugging himself. . The luminous moon that shone through the night sky, what was once a beacon of freedom in the past, never looked so unappealing to the distraught hero. His usually glittering eyes were vacant, devoid of any joy and hope whilst his lips were etched in a permanent frown. How many fake smiles and empty words of wisdom did he force out in front of his Lady earlier on? He's lost count. And how many more times will he have to keep doing that, knowing that there will always be another person out that there that Ladybug trusts more than she'll ever trust him? . "I stand by with what I said," Plagg quipped once more, his host quietly surprised with how the little God managed to get so close without him realising. "The two of you have been thrust into a messy situation with very little guidance and a whole bunch of rules which only complicated it further." He then directed his eyes from the moon to the boy. "Yes, I agree that Ladybug's decision in confiding with someone about her identity was a good idea, but as a result of that, it's brought you so much pain. You are not the worst and it's okay to cry it out. It's okay to tell her how you really feel." He placed one of his tiny hands on Adrien's cheek, ears and whiskers still weighed with melancholy as the boy allowed his eyes to prick with tears. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. "It shouldn't hurt- I...I shouldn't be so selfish! Even if she never told me, I was able to tell that she wasn't able to handle her civilian life any longer, especially after becoming the Guardian- I'm supposed to protect her and be by her side! Not throw a tantrum like a three-year-old just because I'm not the one she decided to tell about her secret identity! And then adding my own stupid feelings and insecurities to her plate? I'll be a burden!" The dam was broken and the overwhelming feelings within Adrien cascaded like a tsunami. "You have plenty on your plate as well-" "But I'm used to it, she isn't. I was born and raised to deal with these kinds of things anyway so it's a no brainer for me to shut up and accept it all with a smile-" He paused abruptly, a wet gasp escaping his throat as he leaned against the glass for support when even more realisation sunk in. 'I have been dealing with so many responsibilities ever since I was born...and that puts us on the same boat...so why couldn't she have confided with me then?' Adrien dropped to his knees, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he tried to fight back against those negative thoughts and questions. 'Why am I never good enough? Not for Maman, not for Père and now...not for Ladybug...?' 'Why am I even here then?'

"Adrien...you don't need to put a mask on when you're with me. Cry it all out. I'm not gonna sit by and watch you destroy yourself from inside out because of your inability to address your true feelings. I'm right here, I'll even destroy all the wretched butterflies that dare to come by- so please, let it all out," "I can't! If I do, I'll never be able to go back and nothing will be the same again-" "And if you don't, then things will change for the worse and trust me, kid, that is the last thing you need." Finally, Plagg's words unravelled the obstacles that slowed down the flood and Adrien couldn't help but give in. His body shook and a whole new fresh wave of tears pooled down his eyes, teeth biting down on his lip to prevent the sobs from bursting out. . "...It hurts Plagg...it hurts so much! I love her...and I trust her so much but it hurts! I know she trusts me on a level and I know that multiple times she's mentioned that I'm irreplaceable but dammit! Why does it all feel like a lie!? She did the right thing in telling her civilian best friend, she finally has someone to look after herself- but why does it feel so wrong? Why is my heart in so much pain? Why can't I stop crying? If Ladybug won't lean on me, then what am I here for? And if I can't lean on Ladybug...who...who do I have?" . "...I may not be much and I may talk about nothing but cheese...but you'll always have me, kid," "I want to believe you, I want to so badly, Plagg...but I can't. I feel so alone...I've always been alone... ...And I'll always be alone..." . . . A couple of hours ago, just shy under midnight on a lone, hidden rooftop, if a curious civilian looked up, they would have seen Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in an embrace. However, what they would have noticed first was the absolutely broken, heartwrenching expression Noir wore... ...As if his entire world has fallen apart... . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Just wondering if I should make a sequel and give these two poor cats a happy ending~

#my writing #my fanfic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic #ml fanfic #ml spoilers #takes place after gang of secrets #basically a possibility of what could happen when chat finds out that ladybug told her identity to someone else #super angsty #adrien agreste #chat noir #plagg #ladybug

119 notes · View notes

chokemeanakin · 4 years ago

Note

Heyyy first wanna say that I love you!! 💜❤️🤎🧡💙🤍💚🖤

Next, I’ve been really sick lately, like haven’t been bail to take down food for a solid week, and in and out of hospital for the last two weeks, so could you please write up an Anakin small fic or head canon or just anything with a really sick reader, but she finds it hard to exsept help? Your fives have been keep me alive I swear haha

Okay LOVE YOU💖💖

YOOO IVE BEEN WANTING TO DO THIS FOR WEEEEEEKKKSSS you literally read my mind !!! 😆😆😆 (also I’m so sorry that you’re terribly sick, I’m sending you all my love and I hope you get better soon. I love you too boo thang ❤️) HERE WE GO:

(Also fun fact whump is my area of expertise so if this gets to be really long I apologize — it’s just hard for me to narrow stuff down, anyway, enjoy)

Anakin x Sick (fem) Reader Headcanons:

Gif from @swprequels

The minute you get sick, you immediately shut yourself into your room and hide from the world.

You hate people seeing you at your worst, most vulnerable state. So weak, and needy, and messy and in pain. You’ve always been the type to push people away, no matter how sick you get, because you just can’t let them see you like that.

But like.... imagine you’re new to the temple or something. You haven’t been there for very long, and you still don’t really know your way around. And you wake up at night with the worst stomach pains, like writhing around in bed and crying and begging higher powers for any kind of relief sort of pain.

And you somehow manage to wrench yourself onto shaking legs and dig through the bathroom cabinet, only to find that you have no medicine that can help you.

The next logical step is you go to the medbay, but you have no idea where that even is. And so you’re left to drag yourself down the halls to the only other person who you can think of to help you, the only other other person you want to see right now.

Anakin opens the door shirtless, rubbing sleep out of his bleary eyes. You wish you could feel worse for waking him up when he was obviously sleeping, but your stomach is twisting and turning and a layer of cold sweat is forming over you and you need his help. So you swallow your pride and stand there as he asks, “Y/n? What’s wrong, baby?”

He doesn’t hesitate as he gently ushers you into his room, holding you up as he leads you to the bed. You’re glad, because you don’t think your legs can hold you up for very much longer. And he’s kneeling in front of you, taking your face in his hands and wiping away your tears as you clutch at your stomach and tremble beneath him.

“I-I don’t feel good,” is all you can manage before wincing at a particularly painful stab, shuttering as the nausea worsens.

He’s so worried, eyes scanning over every inch of you. He’s less soft now, and more action as protecting you and figuring out what’s wrong is his first priority.

“What hurts?”

Everything hurts, but you settle with the most pressing offender. “My stomach.”

His eyes drop to your arms, which are wound around your middle like you could squeeze the pain away. You’re hunched over, shivering violetently, skin pale in the darkness. Very obviously sick, although now he has to decide whether it’s bad enough where it warrants a visit to the medbay. His heart twists painfully.

“When did it start?”

“A couple hours ago.”

“Did you eat something?”

He’s rubbing his thumb along your cheek, capturing each cold tear as they’re occasionally squeezed out of your eye.

“Not that I know of,” you whisper. “I had the same as everyone else.”

“Okay,” he says after a moment, then stands. He keeps one hand gently cradling your face as he reaches behind you and pulls the blankets back. “You wanna lie down?”

You want to say yes, but suddenly you’re hit with a particularly excruciating twist of the stomach, and you know it wouldn’t be a good idea. If you move even slightly, you’re pretty certain you’ll be spilling your dinner all over the floor. The thought has you moaning slightly, curled even further into yourself, shaking your head. “Can’t.”

“Alright. That’s okay. Do you think you’re gonna be sick?”

A terrible wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you force yourself to nod.

Anakin doesn’t even have to ask to know that you won’t be able to make it the bathroom. He wouldn’t want to subject that to you anyway, knelt on the cold tile floor before the toilet. No, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

So he takes his garbage can and makes sure it’s clean before setting it on the floor or in front of you, in case you need it quickly. You’re hanging your head, sweating and shivering and whimpering every so often as the pain builds and builds and washes over you in waves.

“It’s okay,” Anakin sits beside you, hand rubbing your back in grounding circles. “Focus on your breathing. It’ll pass soon.”

You stay there with him like that for a long while. At one point, you’re begging him for some pain meds, or anything that can take the pain away, but he has to refuse because you’re just going to throw them up anyway. He feels awful saying no, because you begin to cry again and lean forward.

He senses it right before it happens. With lightning reflexes, he snatches the bin off the ground and holds it under you just as you begin to get violently sick.

It’s not pretty, and that thought is knocking at the back of your mind as you clutch onto the rim of the bin, emptying your stomach over and over and over, barely able to catch a breath before you’re hit with another round.

Anakin sits right next to you through it all, dragging his fingers along the nape of your neck to gather your hair over one shoulder, rubbing soothing line and circles into your back, hushing you and telling you to let it out, that you’ll feel better once it’s over.

He’s right about that. Throwing up scares you, and you hate it with everything in you, but for the time being you feel a little better. Once your food stops forcing its way back up and you can finally breathe, there’s a moment where the awful stabbing pain in your stomach is quiet and you can open your eyes and lift your head.

“You think you’re done?”

You take a moment to assess your nausea, not wanting to be hit with a surprise attack and make a mess all over the floor. But for the time being, your stomach has settled and now you’re left as a trembling, weak, shell of a human, barely able to sit upright on your own.

You nod and wipe your mouth, disgusted with the contents now on the back of your hand. Your pajamas have been soaked in sweat, and you’re sure you look absolutely disgusting. You’re too weak to care a whole lot, but the shame still bubbles up in your chest.

Somehow he’s got a glass of water, and he’s handing it to you so you can swish and spit. “Small sips, angel.”

Anakin sets the bin down, running his hand over your hair once more before standing. The loss of his warm presence has you shivering violently, teeth clacking together. “You want a bath? Or do you just want to go to bed?”

You don’t think you’d be able to sleep with your clothes stocking to you like this, so you choose the bath. He kisses your forehead once, saying, “I’ll go run it now. Stay here in case you get sick again.”

You nod and he leaves, the sounds of the faucet turning and water splashing into the bath sounding from the bathroom. He comes back to help you up, hands fitting right onto your disgusting sweaty and vomitty body as he half carries you to the bathroom.

And then he helps you get undressed, lowers you carefully into the water, kneels by the side of the tub and holds your hand.

Your eyes are closed and your head is pounding, achey and queasy and tired. You know you have to wash up, but you can’t seem to lift your arms.

So he does it for you 🥺

Squeezing some shampoo into his palm, gently rubbing it into your hair, using his hand to shield your face as he carefully washes it out. Running his hands over your arms and the top of you chest with soap, lathering you up and then rinsing again. And then he’s squeezing water out of a cloth, running the damp material over your face to clean it of sweat and sick.

And when he’s done, he stands and promises to be right back as he takes the bin full of vomit to the communal bathrooms, dumping it out in the toilet and then washing it in the showers. It’s early hours of the morning so no one is there, but he’d do it even if people were looking at him like he was crazy. 🥺

And when he comes back, he helps you out of the bath and bundles you up in a big fluffy towel. Runs it over your skin and dries you up, and helps you stand as you request to brush your teeth.

And then he brings you back into the room and helps you dress in some of his clothes, a pair of his sleep pants that he has to tie the string extra tight so they’ll stay up, and roll the cuffs up to your ankle about 10 times until you can walk without tripping. And he’s also got some sleep shirts that he’s never worn, and you swim in that also so he rolls up the sleeves until you can see your hands.

And now all you want to do is fall back into his pillows and go to sleep, but he asks you to hold on a while longer so that he can get you some meds. And he has you take some pills, encourages you to drink some more water, (“slow, baby”), and then he helps you lie back and get comfortable.

And if you wake up later in the night to get sick again, he’s waking up right along with you, holding you and hushing you and being the sweetest person you could ever ask for.

In instances like this, you can’t help but need and accept his help. And he doesn’t mind giving it, in fact he wants you to come to him. Anything that brings you pain, he’ll destroy.

And he’ll make sure you eat as much as you can, and that you’re drinking water. Constantly asking you how you feel, if there’s anything he can do. Runs a cold cloth over your face to soothe the fever, and massages your aching muscles until you’re all better.

The voice he uses when you’re sick 🥺. He knows that any noise can hurt your head, so he lowers his voice and it’s so smooth and deep and rumbly. So soft and gentle 😭 the sweetest voice bc his baby is in pain and he just wants to take it all away 🥺🥺

In other cases where you’re sick, like you have a cold, you’re more stubborn. You shut yourself away as soon as you get the first symptoms, denying any hint that you might be getting sick, until suddenly he realizes he hasn’t seen you in days and stops by to find you buried under covers, surrounded by tissues, all lights off in your apartment, sleeping fitfully.

And so he’ll sigh a little, clean up your apartment and then sit and watch over you. When you wake up, you’ll groan and burrow deeper into the covers and demand he leave. But he’ll just tell you to be quiet and drink this water.

Demands you tell him the moment you feel sick next time, even though he knows you never will. And then when he gets you some medicine and food, your cheeks are red with embarrassment and fever as you bashfully accept them.

But ofc you’ll get over it soon because Anakin’s here now and you might as well be miserable in his arms. So you push the covers off your overheating body and reach across the bed for him, practically falling into his lap from where he’s sitting on a chair by your bedside.

And he just simply catches you and strokes your hair and hushes you as you bury your wet eyes and flushed cheeks into his chest, sniffling pathetically.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he’ll promise, and hold you in his warm arms and rock you until you fall asleep.

Getting sick on Republic Cruisers is the worst. When that happens, you’re either on your way to or back from war. And so usually people are busy and running around, or exhausted and beat up. The ship is cold and everyone has their own problems to worry about, but you feel like ass and you just want to be alone with Anakin.

He feels awful when he sees you, and will order everyone out of the pilot’s room. And then he’ll clear the passenger seat off, urge you to sit down, wrap you up in as many blankets as he can find, and when he can only find a couple, he’ll sacrifice his Jedi robe. And you’ll nuzzle deep down into the cacoon of blankets and inhale the scent of Anakin’s robe, fall in and out of consciousness as you’re lulled to sleep by the soft sounds of the ship.

Anakin wishes there was more he could do for you in these instances, but the food isn’t good and there’s not usually any medicine. So he’ll keep a hand on your knee, or let you hold his hand in your lap as you sleep, and he’ll send a little surge of peace and soothing energy through the force and into you.

Will 100% find an excuse to carry you off the ship when you land, and then spend the rest of the day lying with you and tending to you and trying to make you feel better 🥺

He’s so caring and so protective and sweet. His gentle side really comes out, because his #1 thing is that he needs the people he loves to be safe, so if an illness is hurting you he will do anything he can to take the pain away.

Yes, he can’t take care of himself sometimes. But the minute you’re feeling a little under the weather, suddenly he has a PHD in medical science and he’s nursing you back to health like an expert 🥺

Also he’ll never deny you kisses when you’re sick, even if you warn him he might catch it, he just hushes you and kisses you softly on the lips. Then on the chin, then the nose, then the forehead.

Will always brush off your inability to accept help. If you say “no” or “leave me alone” or “I’m fine go away” he’ll just roll his eyes and plant himself there. Bc no matter how stubborn you can be, he’s even more.

And when you keep apologizing, obviously feeling awful for having him take care of you, he’ll just hush your worries and hold a tissue to your nose and go “blow.”

And then he’ll stay with you and watch over you until you’re all better. And even when you get back into the swing of things, he’ll watch over you like a hawk while you’re recovering 🥺🥺

You might get shy and ashamed and embarrassed when he tries to help you, but he doesn’t mind. You’ll just have to come to accept the fact that he’s always going to be there for you, to help you and hold you and make you all better ❤️

Sweet boy is so good to you 🥺🥺🥰

Taglist:

@a-sterism @artiza-n @anakinswhore @monamourani @haydens-moles @anakinlove @ani-skyvvalker @wirelesswaterbottles @anakinsbestgirl @sarahb1024 @etherealsanakin @lucasfilms77 @lolquarth @jedi-general @anakinsslag @dripobi @anakinsprincess @babykinskywalker

Join the Taglist!

#ani fluff #soft ani #anakin skywalker #Anakin x fem reader #Anakin whump #Anakin x sick reader #Star Wars fics #Anakin Skywalker x fem reader #Anakin Skywalker whump #Anakin Skywalker x sick reader #Anakin whump headcanons #Anakin headcanons #Anakin Skywalker headcanons #Star wars sick fic #Anakin sickfic #Anakin Skywalker sickfic #sickfic #whump

265 notes · View notes

bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

Text

“Darkness,” Shigaraki x Reader

Summary: getting sucked into the League of Villains

Yandere Shigaraki ?????????

Warnings: none

The darkness.

The darkness was all you saw as you went down the alleyway, the lingering feeling of loneliness and betrayal as your feet hit the wet pavement below you.

You kept your hood over your head to protect your face, you didn’t want to risk being seen and arrested as the villain you are.

But the way your heart ached, you didn’t want to be like this. You just got sucked in and you managed to try and escape Shigaraki’s hold on you but he’ll be out searching and yanking you back in.

He used you to his advantage because of your devotion to him. The amount of love you carried for him, he used it all as the selfish man he was. He didn’t care about you, he didn’t care about anyone. You were a game piece.

That is until he paid close attention to your actions, to your feelings and suddenly it had hit him. He’s never had someone show him this amount of love and dedication, it turned him into a lovesick puppy when it came to you.

It was overbearing at times, the way he would absolutely kill anyone or anything for you. He’ll do everything in his power to make it known he was deeply in love with you.

And you just needed to escape. You needed space.

Dabi had crossed your mind many times but even though he was more of a friend to you than Tomura, he wouldn’t hesitate to snitch out your location to the boss and have you tortured for escaping once again.

The rain began to sprinkle down, the clouds making it look much more darker as the moon hid behind the storm. You felt cold but it was better than being under his cold stare, under his cold gentle touches.

You loved him but he was starting to suffocate you.

Your mind settled on one of your good friends that didn’t live too far. Tomura didn’t know this friend so it was a good place to go to and hide for a bit until you were ready to go back.

As your feet splashed against the small rain puddles, walking up the small staircase to their doorstep. You raised your fist, knocking on the door and glanced around to see if anyone was watching, if anyone was following you- it wouldn’t be unusual if there was someone watching your every move.

Suddenly the door opened, catching your friends gaze and they practically dragged you inside the warm house.

“What are you doing here? Are you okay?” They asked as they looked over your current state, you were a mess and soaked.

You shrugged, taking off your sweater that was damp and they had taken it to go throw it in the dryer as you stepped over to the couch and took a seat.

“Sorry just need a place to stay for the night or two.” You lightly chuckled, shaking your head at the thought of it- this was madness.

“Of course, I’ll go get some clothes and towels for you.”

The night went on, you ended up falling asleep in the spare bedroom until you were woken up by a sudden crash down the hallway. The sound made your body jolt up on the bed, glancing over at the shadow that stood in the doorway.

“It’s not nice to run off without a word.” The familiar voice spoke and your heart dropped as he stepped closer, the only light was the tv but you could make out his face.

Once he was in front of the bed you were laying on, all you could see was him soaked in blood and it had made you gasp, knowing what he did and you moved yourself to back away from him.

“Tomura.. what did you do?” Your voice was shaky, you were terrified, you never seen him act this crazy and you were genuinely scared for your life.

“I did what I had to, c’mon you’re coming home.” His voice was gentle yet you can sense the crazy tone on his tongue with a bit of sarcasm as he reached his hand out towards you.

“You just killed my friend in cold blood and you want me to go home with you? Are you fucking insane?” You stared at him in disbelief and his mood quickly changed.

His blood boiled at your attitude, calling him insane wasnt the smartest idea as he grabbed your arm and yanked you towards his soaked body, the tears falling from your eyes and it had made him soften up. His bloody thumb swiped your tears away along with smearing blood on your cheek.

“Y/N.. I love you with all my heart. Now let’s go.” He didn’t take no for an answer, he lifted your body up and over his shoulder as you struggled to get out of his grip.

“Keep fighting and I’ll just have to destroy your ankles.” This was the first time he threatened you with his quirk, making you stop squirming and accept defeat.

The way down the hallway and out of the house, all you saw was blood everywhere. It was on the walls, the floor, even on the ceiling and you were horrified. Sure you were a villain, you have killed before but Tomura was just acting completely out of character.

He laughed to himself, walking out of the house and throwing you into the passenger side of the car, mumbling under his breath but you couldn’t make out the words he was saying as he got in the drivers seat.

His body turned towards you, grabbing a hold of your chin as he kept his pinky raised and smashed his lips on your roughly. The way his rough skin brushed on yours, it made you sick to your stomach especially after what he had done. He noticed your tensed up state, pulling from yours mouth and gave you a pout.

“C’mon, baby. No need to be so upset, everything I do is for you.”

“Killing my friend wasn’t for me. You did it for your own satisfaction.” You mumbled, watching him give you a evil grin and patted your cheek playfully before he started to drive down the road.

“Maybe but I have to admit, losing you is something I don’t ever want to deal with. You’re stuck with me! Where’s that love and devolution you had for me when I wasn’t interested in you, hm? Now that I give back the same feelings, it’s like you’re uninterested.” He raised his voice slightly, making you glance over at him and he started to laugh to himself.

You’ll always love Tomura but not once did you even think about being this insanely in love with him. You’ll admit that at points you would kill for him but would it be one of his friends? No, it would more likely his enemies or someone in the way of his plans and success. This was different and he couldn’t even see that.

“Tomura..” You felt the sadness washing over you, you didn’t know what to do at this point and you didn’t want to set him off and push him to kill you to because deep down, he would if he needed to.

The car abruptly stopped in front of the hideout, sighing under your breath as you willingly got out of the car and stepped inside of the place. Some of the villains were still awake, their eyes turning towards you and Tomura’s bloody state.

“Bedroom.” He mumbled towards you and you nodded as you walked past everyone, not even bothering to say a thing.

You were upset, defeated, sad and angry but there wasn’t much you could do. You were stuck, you were sucked back in his tight grasp and even though your heart ached for Tomura, you wish he would snap out of it and be who he was before.

Once you stepped inside his bedroom, you kicked your shoes off and went to go sit in the chair that was in the corner of the room, Tomura was close behind you but he turned into the connected bathroom and turned on the shower, acting as if nothing had happened.

“Come here.” He ordered you, making you hesitate before rising up and following him inside the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

You remained silent as he took off your clothes, you wanted to cry, you wanted to scream at him but there was no use. None of it would make a difference, you just put up with it. You let him bring you inside the shower with him, feeling the hot water run down your body and your eyes stared at the tiled wall until he grabbed onto your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I just want you here with me, that’s all.” It was like he was answering the questions inside your head, like he was reading your mind.

“Instead of suffocating me, you could simply communicate and love me properly.” You whispered, your sad eyes staring up into his and a smile came across his lips.

“What’s the fun in that? Thought you loved the chase.” He ran his rough fingertips up, combing your wet hair back from your face, admiring you almost.

Tomura had given you a genuine look, full of love, full of kindness and full of hope. You couldn’t help but get sucked back into his loving stare, your knees getting weak and that’s when you knew how truly insane you are- to still be here, not phased as the blood washes from his body.

“Just don’t run off again.” He said quietly, his wet hair falling over his eyes and you stood there, remaining silent.

All you did was nod your head, reaching up to caress his face and you hesitated before slipping your arms around his neck and embracing him in a tight hug.

This was toxic, you knew it was but the warmth you felt when he was his normal loving self was the reason why you loved him so much.

I wanted to write Shigaraki as more crazy and lovesick but I’ll probably do another one along the line, this one turned pretty cute.

• Main Masterlist •

• MHA Masterlist •

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki headcanons #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki fluff #Shigaraki imagines #Shigaraki fanfic #Shigaraki x reader #Tomura imagines #Tomura x reader #Tomura fanfic #mha headcanons #mha imagines #mha fanfic

157 notes · View notes

official-weasley · 3 years ago

Text

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, minor angst

Chapter 16

Charlie

“Charlie, mate.” I took my eyes off Ren for a split second to let Andrew know I acknowledged his voice. “What’s going on with you and Rhylee?”

“What do you mean?” My eyes still on the dragon, my wand in the air, levitating his dinner towards him.

“She seems…distracted.” Andrew chose the last word carefully. “And as if she’s avoiding you.”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged my shoulders. “Haven’t noticed.”

“Don’t give me that. What’s going on?” He persisted.

“I noticed it too. She’s a little off lately.” John joined the conversation. “What’s up with her?”

“As I said, I don’t know.” I said through my teeth as Ren started paying more attention to us than his meal.

“Has something happen between the two of you?” John didn’t stop.

Ren finally jumped for his piece of meat and I turned to them.

“Look, I am not having this conversation for the third time this week.” I rubbed my fingers against my temples. “Peter asked me the same thing yesterday. And Evan and Theo the day before and I am sorry to disappoint you but I don’t have an answer for you.” I went to grab the box with food and walked past him to go feed the next dragon.

I wasn’t lying and they weren’t wrong. Something was going on with her. She missed work twice in the past two weeks and she has been avoiding me to the point that it was obvious to the rest of our team.

I gave her two days off so she could go to London as she insisted on talking to Nick. I don’t know if she actually did it because I haven’t seen her until the second she had to show up for work again.

She doesn’t talk to me and if I say something at work, she simply nods her head and follows my order. She never makes eye contact and eats at a separate table from ours. She hasn’t been out on a Friday or Saturday ever since that party and she doesn’t really talk to anyone if she absolutely doesn’t have to.

All and all, she looks completely miserable.

I don’t know what to do about it. Peter tried talking to her, being her boss, but she said she was fine. I knew he wouldn’t get a word out of her, at this point, I don’t think even I could.

I miss her.

Her energy at work and her playfulness. The way her laughter fills the room and how she ignites something in my chest when she smiles at me.

I haven’t seen any of that since her two days off. I don’t know what happened between her and Nick, if she ever made it to London. It was frustrating because, for the first time, I felt as if I couldn’t read her. The look in her eyes was foreign to me. She didn’t feel guilty like that morning when she woke up at my place. She wasn’t happy either. She looked tired, to be honest, and full of regret.

I just wish I would know what for. I tried talking to her a few times but she always made some dumb excuse and hurried off to Merlin knows where. I was concerned for her. As her co-worker and as her friend. I miss talking to her and going for a run and I hate that she completely isolated herself from everybody and I hate it even more that I am struggling to get through to her.

“Don’t you think you should talk to her? Ask her what’s wrong?” John disturbed my train of thoughts.

“You think I didn’t try that?” I chortled.

“She looks miserable. We have to do something.” Andrew scratched his head, thinking.

“I’ll try talking to her again. Perhaps I can get through to her this time.” I sighed.

If my co-workers were concerned for her, I had to do something about it. They know I still have feelings for her and they are not going to stop pressuring me until she is back to normal.

The thing is, I’m afraid that that might not happen. What if I ruined everything by sleeping with her after that party? What if she completely shut down because of it?

I wish I could somehow stop my feelings. The whole thing was getting out of control and I was powerless over it. I was hoping that by her not talking to me, my feelings for her would go away but they didn’t and I hated it. I just wanted to be there for her. Help her with whatever she is dealing with.

She has been avoiding me to the point that I can’t even help her with the dragon case. I don’t even know if she made any progress or if she got the trial date yet. I felt horrible about the whole thing and it was making me sick. It also made me desperate and it was time for me to do something about it.

The next morning I woke up and saw that the sky was cloudless. I dressed up quickly and without making myself some coffee like I usually did, I hiked to my sunrise gazing spot. I hoped she would be there so I can catch her alone. It might just be the only time she would be willing to talk to me.

I stopped right before reaching the peak. I was getting nervous. I couldn’t help to shake the feeling that this all had to do with me and I wanted to be the last person to make her sad. I wanted to be the guy to put a smile on her face not make her cry herself to sleep.

I inhaled sharply and let the fresh morning air fill my lungs and made my way to the top. I was right. She was there, at our usual spot.

Ever since we became friends and I learned how to control my feelings and got over my guilt, we have been coming here to watch the sunrise together. It was the best way for us to bond and it was private. Even though it hurt thinking that we were nothing more than friends, I longed for those moments again.

I wanted her to be able to talk to me. I, out of all people, know how it’s like when you bottle something up and not talk to anybody about it. I wanted to be her friend if I can’t be more.

“Thought I might find you here.” I said in a soft voice, careful not to startle her.

“I was just leaving.” She started to get on her feet.

“Don’t.” I tried grabbing her wrist to stop her but she stepped away from me.

“Rhy, you have to tell me what is going on.” I looked at her but her eyes were looking at everything around me.

“Just…leave me alone, Charlie.” She dusted her pants and started walking away.

“I can’t do that.” I tried snatching her hand one more time and this time I succeeded.

“Yes…you…can.” She said through clenched teeth. “Now let go of my hand.” I loosened the grip and she took a step backward.

“Okay, that’s enough!” I raised my voice.

I didn’t like it but it made her look at me. She was on the verge of tears and I could sense she was looking for a way to escape. I will not let her get out of this so easily. She can’t go on like this.

“What in the bloody hell happened to you in those two days that you said you will visit Nick?” She flinched when I mentioned his name.

“It doesn’t matter, Charlie.” She spoke after a few seconds of thinking about what to say. Probably to feed me another lie. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t.” I took a step closer to her and she instantly took one backward. “I’m your friend and I’m concerned for you. Our whole team is. You have to let us help you.”

“Help me?” She let out an incredulous laugh. “The last time I checked I can take care of myself just fine!” “You don’t look fine to me.” I bit my tongue after saying that but it was the truth.

She looked paler than usual. Her hair was all over the place and she constantly looked tired.

“Thanks for the compliment.” She scoffed and started walking downhill.

I ran after her. I can’t let her get away like this. She might be done talking but I wasn’t even halfway through. I don’t care if we both miss work, I am getting to the bottom of this. I put my hand on her shoulder and turned her around. She was skinnier too as if she hasn’t been eating for days.

“You will tell me what is wrong or I’m firing you.” I had no idea where that came from but I was getting desperate.

I didn’t know how else to convince her to tell me what was making her not talk to me, be late to work, and destroy herself like this.

“Look…” She sighed and bowed her head. “I can’t repeat what happened between us, Charlie.”

“I didn’t know I was coming on to you.” I blinked at her. “I just want to talk to you, friend to friend.”

“As I said…” She swallowed hard. “I can’t.”

“You are trying to throw that night in my face and it’s honestly insulting.” She looked up at my words. “You know I know you better than that so stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, Rhylee. You are.” I tightened the grip on her shoulders. “I want the truth, Rhy.” I lowered my tone and lifted her chin for her to look at me but she was avoiding my gaze.

“I went to see Nick.” She finally said after a long pause, still looking away. “I told him everything.”

“Okay.” I said slowly.

I wanted her to continue.

“He took it pretty hard.” Her eyes started to water as she reminisced on it.

“Did you…”

“Break up?” Her eyes finally locked with mine and the wish of it being true sparked in her eyes. “No.”

That made my heart stop.

She was staying with him?

Or should I rephrase it.

He was willing to forgive her?

I mean, good for him, perhaps Bill underestimated him but I can’t deny I was hoping that this would be her escape ticket. Somehow, I still thought that we might end up together.

This is a fucking nightmare, isn’t it? I can’t believe that she was going to stay with him after everything that happened between us. It might only have been one night but I know that neither of us saw it that way.

“He…” She bit her lip.

“What?” I encouraged her to speak.

“He told me that he’ll stay with me if I stop talking to you.” She blurted out.

I let go of her. She was joking, right? I was in complete shock. He gave her an ultimatum and she took it? She actually obeyed him. She chose him over me?

She chose him over me…

If the information that they didn’t break up broke my heart, then this fucking shattered it.

“What?” I breathed.

I didn’t know how to respond to such bullshit.

“You wanted the truth and here it is, Charlie.” She cried.

“Oh, yes! I see how happy your choice makes you!” I pointed at her face which was beginning to be soaked by her tears again.

“What do you want me to say?” She barked at me.

“Oh, I don’t know…” I put my hands on my head. I wanted to scream, I was so angry. “How about you admit to yourself that you are not happy with him and move on with your fucking life!”

“You’re the one that needs to move on, Charles!” She shouted at my face.

I started breathing faster and I felt as if I couldn’t move, as if someone stupefied me. What was going through her head? Why would she want to torture herself so much?

“You’re going to say that you’re happy with him?” I knew I should stop talking but if we were going to shout in each other’s face we are going all the way.

“Don’t do this, Charlie.” She begged.

“Are you happy with him?” I repeated the question. “Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”

“You don’t understand.” She shook her head.

“Then fucking enlighten me, why don’t you!” I was the one who raised my voice now.

“How would you feel if your partner told you they slept with someone else? It’s only natural in the way he reacted. He loves me and he is willing to forgive me if I do one simple thing for him.”

Was she seriously defending him?

“One simple thing.” I laughed sarcastically. “Tell me, Rhylee…” I scratched my chin, bowing my head. “Who’s your closest friend here?”

There was a moment of silence. Another tear ran down her face. She didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.” I bobbed my head. “He asked you to stop talking to me and just like that…” I snapped my fingers. “You obliged. Not even telling me. Not even warning me.”

I pressed my lips together. I was so furious.

“Were you ever planning on telling me this? Or did you think I would simply let it go? Ignore the fact that you are late for work. That we are all worried about you. That you lock yourself in your hut the second we are done with work? That’s not life, Rhy.”

I stepped closer to her again. She was just standing there like a child being scolded by their mother, looking at the ground. She knew I was right. She knew she was making a mistake but she blinded herself, trying to convince herself that she made the right choice.

“When was the last time you were in a relationship?” She asked calmly. “In a serious relationship, with real problems not just a one-night stand with some bimbo from the neighboring village?”

“6 years ago.” I bit my cheek.

“Then don’t pretend you know what I am going through.” She turned around and started walking away.

“You deserve better.” She stopped at my words and looked at me over her shoulder.

“Excuse me?” She asked, pretending she didn’t hear me.

“I said that you deserve better.” I repeated myself.

“Life isn’t a fairytale, Charlie. Sometimes we simply can’t get what we want.” She wiped a tear off her face, her gaze on me just for a second longer before she turned her head and ran down the hill.

I didn’t stop her this time. I knew it was meaningless. I knew she made up her mind. But there it was again. The silence that was supposed to be filled with words. Her eyes that were saying she wanted to tell me more but couldn’t. What was stopping her? Why was she so determined to stay with him?

I don’t know what hurt more; the fact that she gave up our friendship to stay with the guy she cheated on or the fact that I now know I lost her forever.

Probably both.

I turned around and sat where she was sitting before and stared into the distance. I wasn’t observing the sunrise. To be honest I didn’t even notice it. I was distracted by the pain in my chest.

By my broken heart.

By the fact that I will never be with her and I was beating myself with the question…why?

Why did she choose him?

#harry potter fanfiction #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #the weasleys #weasley family #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley imagine #the burrow #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #bill weasley #harry potter #wizarding world

27 notes · View notes

lunarkittens · 4 years ago

Text

now you’re on your own (won’t you come back home?) (1/?)

Word Count: 2,760 (In this part)

Rating: T

Pairings: Gen

Summary: Dean doesn’t believe in fate. But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail saying Sam’s in the hospital. Pre-Series.

Dean doesn’t believe in fate. He can believe in a lot of other things, sure. Ghosts, ghouls, demons. Those are things he’s seen, things he can’t deny because they’ve been right before his eyes, have even tried to kill him a few times, but fate? Destiny? Give him a break. If any part of Dean’s life has been fate, he’s gonna need to talk to the guy in charge and maybe knock a couple of his teeth out, the fucking asshole. How’s that for fate?

But it is a strange coincidence that the one time Dean is ever in California, pointedly trying not to think about his little brother who’s hours away in Palo Alto, he gets a voicemail from Sam.

The mere shock of seeing his name on his phone makes him blink hard, like he must be imagining it, but he closes his eyes and opens them and pinches himself and it’s still there, still says Sam on the screen, still says he left a voicemail and all of a sudden Dean feels sick, his heart rate skyrocketing into the triple digits easily. He considers ignoring it. Sam left, after all. Looked Dean right in his eyes and still left, slamming the door behind him, like Dean never meant anything to him at all. Screw Sam.

But this? Two years into it?

Sam wouldn’t call him unless it was an emergency. The voicemail is from half an hour earlier, when Dean had been wiping sweat off his brow with his sleeve while a fire roared in a dug grave. Bye bye, bitch, he’d muttered, lingering a bit longer than he normally would. So this is California, he thought. He closed his eyes and felt the night air. Closed his eyes and wondered if he could maybe feel Sam somehow, his energy distinct in this great expanse of a state that crawled down so much of the West Coast. He came up empty, no energy, no little brother, and got in the car.

He didn’t want a motel, he wanted to gun it out of Cali ASAP and get the hell away from redwood trees and mountains and dry heat before he did something crazy like show up at Sam’s dorm or start crying. As far as he was concerned, California had stolen Sam from him.

There was no wanting to see the sights after that.

And then he’d gotten back in the car and seen the voicemail. Shakily, Dean presses play.

“Hey Dean.” Sam says. Dean shifts in his seat, ready to focus, to absorb. It’s been two years since he’s heard this voice, heard it say his name. However angry he still is, however sad, he wants to savor it.

Sam says his name the same way he always has, the exact same intonation, but he’s sighing it this time. “I don’t know if....Hell, I don’t even know if you care, or if you’ll even listen to this...and you don’t have to call me back, but well...You used to get pissed if I didn’t tell you stuff like this, so here goes. I’m at the hospital.”

Dean tenses, fists gripping the steering wheel tightly. “They’re gonna have to remove my appendix. I was really sick all day and my friend rushed me here. I’m fine,” Sam rushes to say.

“But I just thought...I don’t know why I called. Be safe out there, okay? I know you know what you’re doing, but just- God. Stay alive, okay?” And then there’s a silence that hangs in the air, just waiting to be filled before Dean hears Sam sigh and the voicemail ends.

Okay, fine. Palo Alto, it is. Dean puts the car in drive and intends to fully ignore the speed limit the whole way there, letting Led Zeppelin keep him awake.

When he gets there, and fuck it took a while. Why is California so fucking big? What if he had been on the East Coast? He calls three hospitals and finds the one Sam’s at, pulling into the parking lot and going inside.

It’s weird, when the receptionist asks his name and there’s nothing fake this time, no fake ID to pull out, nothing to lie about. He’s just...just himself. Dean Winchester, here to visit his brother.

“He finished surgery earlier.” The lady says to him.

“I’ll go ask the doctor if you can see him, but I’m sure he’s unconscious.”

“That’s fine,” Dean says. “It’s just kind of my job to look out for the kid, you know?”

Dean doesn’t know what it is, but something in his voice makes the lady look at him more intensely than she had a minute ago.

“Yeah,” she says, voice full of a meaning Dean can’t understand, the way that sometimes happens with strangers. “I do.”

She comes back a few minutes later while Dean sits in a rickety waiting room chair made of wood and she tells him where to go to find Sam. He wonders what friend of his took him here, can’t help but think that it should have been him instead. Him taking care of his brother, and no one else. Where is this friend of his, anyway? Who dumps someone at the hospital and doesn’t still around?

Dean distantly remembers as he makes his way to Sam that Christmas is soon. College kids go on break, leave for the holidays and come back after. He’ll have to ask Sam about it, if he’s been all alone. He won’t ask Sam to come back, already knows how that’ll go.

It doesn’t stop him from wishing for it.

Dean gets some of the worst coffee he’s ever had and pairs it with a plastic wrapped sandwich and some chocolate chip cookies from a vending machine he sees on his way to the room. Odds are Sam is gonna be unconscious for a while and Dean might as well have something in his stomach while he waits for Sam to wake up.

The doctor is around, greets Dean, says Sam is gonna be just fine, just needs to rest undisturbed, spend some time recovering at home. Says if Sam had gotten there any later, his appendix would have burst. The thought makes Dean shudder.

Sam looks young. 20 but to Dean he’ll always look 15. His hair is still long, his face serene in sleep from pain medication, and as much as it hurts to admit, he doesn’t look like a hunter at all. His features are too soft, not angry or hardened enough. It’s all Dean can do to not reach a hand out to stroke Sam’s hair, caress his forehead. That’s his Sammy. He thinks back to the voicemail, back to Sam saying, I don’t even know if you care. Of fucking course, Dean cared. How could Sam even think that? It was Sam who’d left-

And then his father’s voice, hard and absolute, comes booming through his head like a crack of thunder.

“If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back,” And Sam’s eyebrows furrowing, as if he’s holding back tears, and Sam’s look at dean, it hadn’t been angry after all, now that he thinks about it, it had been- Oh, Sammy. Never.

Never.

Dean hangs his head and leans forward. He can’t tell in this hospital gown, but Sam looks okay. A bit skinny, hair a little too long, but hey. That’s Sam. At least California hasn’t changed him that much. He’s got a nice tan about him, a glow that looks sallow in the hospital lighting but Dean knows would look glorious in the sunlight.

Dean falls asleep in the hospital chair an hour into it, stomach full and head at an angle that’s gonna pinch later, but he had a long drive and Sam is here right where he can see him and that’s more than Dean’s had in a long time, and some restless part of him that never lets itself lay down and sleep is actually at peace for once, so he closes his eyes.

He tries not to think of Sammy all sweaty and shaky, sick and pale and clutching his abdomen, and then it hadn’t even been Dean who was there for him.

Dean wouldn’t have even know about this, not ever, not if Sam hadn’t decided to call, and why did he? Dean intends on finding that out when Sam wakes up. Why now?

Did Sam ever miss him? He sure missed Sam, when he’d let himself admit it. There are ghosts like the ones he sees every day, but there’s another kind of ghost too. Ones that are entirely human and still alive but haunt him all the same, and Sam’s been one of them ever since he left.

And there’s no bones to burn, nothing to salt or destroy, just Sam with him every step of the way, just haunting him all the way from California.

Sam wakes up not long after Dean does, groaning and blinking hard, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light, rubbing them. Dean almost laughs, the familiarity of the expressions. Sam’s woken up the same way his entire life, and Dean tries to get rid of his smile. he’d almost forgotten how awkward this was gonna be, having to interact with each other. Dean had gotten used to seeing Sam, had been sitting here for a while, but Sam was probably still stuck in yesterday, hadn’t expected Dean to even care, if his voicemail was anything go by, let alone be sitting next to him.

Sam looks around and when his eyes fall on Dean, he startles, hand on his chest.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You scared the hell outta me,” he says, and Dean laughs.

“It’s not funny.” Sam says. “I thought you were a ghost or something.” Dean puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder with careful pressure.

“Not dead yet, Sammy. got a few years left in me.”

“You got more than that,” Sam says, stretching in bed and wincing slightly.

“And what about you?” Dean says. “Your appendix just decide to go AWOL?”

“Ugh,” Sam groans. “Dude, yeah. I was doing some reading, trying to get ahead for next semester, you know? And then I just felt this...pressure, on my side. Whatever, I just ignored it for a while. Then I started throwing up, and I just couldn’t stop.”

“Dude, gross!” Dean says, making a face to offset how bad he feels for Sam. Sam smiles at him, and they’re silent.

“How’d you get here?” Dean asks after a minute.

“My buddy Kyle hadn’t left the dorms yet so I called him and he dropped me off. It’s a lot cheaper than an ambulance.” Dean nods.

“And where’s Kyle at now?”

“Home. Everybody’s gone home for break. Believe it or not, it’s almost Christmas.” Sam says, smiling and shaking his head, mostly to himself.

“I know it doesn’t look like it, though.” Sam says, and yeah, no white Christmases here, that’s for sure.

“Where the hell are you staying?” Dean asks. Sam shrugs.

“Same place I did last year,” he says. “Pay extra to stay over break. I’m not the only one there. There’s a lot of international students who can’t get home.”

“Who’s gonna take care of you?”

“I am,” Sam says. “It’ll be fine. It’s pretty basic stuff. I am an adult, you know.”

“Sam, cmon.” Dean scoffs.

“What?” Sam says, defensive.

“We’re not doin that, okay? You just got surgery. You’re not gonna be by yourself.”

“Well, who else is gonna take care of me?” Sam asks. Really? Dean wants to ask. Is he really asking that?

“Really, Sam?”

“No, tell me. What- You’re just gonna put off hunting for a month and nurse me back to health?” Dean swallows hard.

“What if I did? Huh? What if I came down here just so I could do that?” Dean holds his gaze defiantly, jaw clenched, and Sam raises his eyebrows. He deflates, catching Dean off guard. It makes him raise his eyebrows.

“Dean, come on.” Sam says gently. “You can’t do that. There’s people out there who need you.”

“That’s really rich, Sam.” Dean bites out.

“That’s really rich coming from you. Just shut up, okay? You’re damn right people need me. One of them just so happens to be sitting in this room, and he just got a piece of his body cut out of him a few hours ago. I’m needed here.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam! Okay?” Dean says, standing up now.

“Come on...Tell me. If you don’t want my help, say it. Tell me there’s not a part of you that wants me to stay and wants me to take care of you like before.” Dean swallows hard against a growing tightness in his throat, a burning in his eyes. He stares at Sam with a focus and intensity that could start fires.

“If you tell me that you don’t want me here, I’ll get right back in the car and leave. You won’t ever have to hear from me again. But you have to say it.”

Sam’s eyes are wet. He’s losing the same battle Dean is fighting right now.

“I’m not gonna say it,” Sam says softly. “You’re not gonna hear it. Not from me. I can’t...”

“I mean, you- You left us, Sammy,” Dean says more gently, more open and devastated than he ever wanted sam to hear him sound. He sits down now, posture nonthreatening.

“I mean, how am I supposed to-“

“Dean,” Sam says, firm enough to cut Dean off but not angry, not enough to start a fight. “You don’t understand.”

“I think I understand just fine-“

“No, Dean. I’m not gonna let Dad do this to us anymore! Do you see what’s happening? No more misunderstandings. I left him. I never wanted- I didn’t want to leave you. But then Dad said I couldn’t come back, and you didn’t say any different, and I thought you didn’t want me around anymore either, so I never called, never texted. I didn’t expect you to come, okay? I thought you’d delete the voicemail without even listening to it.”

“I thought you’d washed your hands of me, Dean. I was alone.” Sam scoffs.

“I mean, really alone. I used to always have you. If I didn’t have anything else, I knew I had you. And then I didn’t. So don’t say that- Don’t act like I ran out on you. I wanted to take you with me.”

Dean turns that over in his mind, can’t believe it’s true. It’s too much, gives him too much hope. He knows all too well about the dangers of hope. It’s too heartbreaking and amazing in equal measure. He thinks about going back in time and leaving with Sam, working a job and sharing an apartment with him in California, drinking cold beer on the beach and quizzing sam before tests, eating ice cream and going on summer road trips.

“Sam,” he says, pushing away those thoughts. “You know I would never leave Dad.” Sam nods, a tear falling onto the sheets.

“I know.” He sounds defeated.

“And you also know,” Dean begins. “That I’d never abandon you either. I got the voicemail and I-” Dean scoffs. “I must have broken every traffic law out there trying to get here in time, and- and you’re staying with me, got it?” he says, pointing a finger at Sam.

“We’ll find a place for the month and get you better. You gave up your right to argue when you started crying all over your little hospital dress.”

“Asshole,” Sam snorts. “Now I really don’t want you to take care of me,” he jokes.

“Too bad! It’s gonna be Nurse Dean all month long, surgery boy.” Sam lets out a little laugh, and Dean relaxes a little bit.

“Dean,” Sam says, serious again. “A month. How are we gonna pay for a month? And dad- How are you gonna explain this to dad?”

“Dad doesn’t bother me much about hunts.” Dean shrugs. It’s the truth.

“He just calls, asks if I finished ‘em. Always tell him I did because I do. He’s not gonna press me for details. And payment, well. I know a guy who’s got us covered.”

Before Sam can even open his mouth to ask, Dean’s pulling out a fake credit card and showing it in all its shiny and fraudulent glory.

“Burt Maximoff is a very generous man.” Dean says, grinning. Sam snorts again, shaking his head, but he’s smiling fondly all the same.

A month.

#spn #supernatural #sam winchester #dean winchester #long post #sorry i don’t have a new ao3 acc to post on yet so it’s on here...LMAO #i have more parts the second one is almost done i haven’t finished it yet though :’) but i will #i love sick!fic...#it’s 100% gen too! so no worries #this is set when sam is 20 and dean is 24!! so two years before the show starts #i hope everything makes sense i wrote this in my notes app and i cant reread it anymore i cant see #come back home fic

66 notes · View notes

mvnvgedmischief · 3 years ago

Text

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter: 4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster.

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings.

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky, no one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place.

He didn’t have time to think about the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to put all of that out of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time.

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack.

“Sirius–”

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection.

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.”

“Remus was saying that some of the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.”

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked.

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?”

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he needed to start acting like it.

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground.

“Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–”

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded.

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future. We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.”

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned.

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation.

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite. Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time.

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can.

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change.

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.”

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus.

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad.

“No, I would suggest you start over.”

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior.

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

23 notes · View notes

yan-twst · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Let's imagine that yandere Riddle, Leona, Azul, Vil and Malleus set the wedding date and have planned the perfect wedding. How would react to their darling running away before their wedding? What happens when she is returned to them?

warnings: general yandere themes, a LOT of mentions of violence / physical abuse. like, a LOT

riddle rosehearts

how dare they?! HOW DARE THEY DO THIS TO HIM?! he's hysteric, yelling at everyone to find his beloved and searching himself, still in his wedding suit

he'll tear down decorations in a fit of rage and desperation- how ungrateful could his darling be?! now he looks like a fool in front of his mother and friends, having to postpone the wedding-!

he will find them, trust me. he will use every resource he has to do so; he's so angry he could probably overblot if he began throwing around Off with your head

when he finds them... oh. it's bad. he's never been one for physical violence, but he's in a blind rage- his magic staff will definitely strike against his chained-up darling until they bleed. he cannot believe they would dare do this; are they so ungrateful and stupid they cannot accept his love?! he'll teach them a lesson in obedience

good luck to the makeup artist who has to cover all the wounds and bruises left on riddle's darling's body, showing clearly on their wedding attire, because the poor darling will be shaking and crying the whole time

leona kingscholar

this. is not. the time. to play. he's boiling in rage when he's informed his soon-to-be spouse has gone missing by the servants in the castle; so angry he probably turns them to sand with a mighty roar

so he's a failure again, huh?! he's gonna have to go tell farena that the greatly expected wedding is temporarily off?! his darling thinks the can escape their fate?! no. of course not, he won't allow this

a signigicant amount of furniture is either destroyed as he orders servants to find his beloved, but he eventually goes himself: he will find them. he doesn't even change out of the traditional wedding garb

when he finds his darling, the wedding will have to be set back even more- because the state leona left them in was so deplorable a wedding simply couldn't happen. farena is told that leona's beloved had actually been sick and feverish and wondered off, and is now getting better- the king believes it.

in reality, leona's bethroted is indeed bound to bed, but by how bad off leona left them. bruises all over their body, deep scratches, chains digging into their wrists and ankles- the second born did not hold back any of his rage.

and next time they even try to test him... well, he might not limit his rage to them only- so if they care about their loved ones, they will smile through the upcoming wedding and say "i do"

azul ashengrotto

he's an absolute mess when the tweels inform him his darling has gone missing. no. no. NO! not this day; the wedding he'd been planning for so long, his perfect day...! the day he'd bind his darling to his side forever- this cannot be happening. IT CANNOT BE HAPPENING

how far can his darling get from the ocean-surrounded venue? the answer is not much, and azul knows this. even through his tears and screams, he orders the twins to find his darling- he's too out of it to go himself

he's really breaking down, screaming and crying, smashing decorations and clutching his legs in a fetal possition. he failed they're gone they don't love him they're gone he's a monster-

when the twins drag his darling back, azul's anger intensifies, but at the same time, he's relieved. but his relief is brief, immediately burried by intense anger- before anyone can react, his hands are around his darling's neck

no matter how much they beg, he'll scream and cry at them- guilt tripping them, calling them horrible things- while they desperately gasp for air, until they pass out in his arms. azul is a mess, but je needs to be wed as soon as possible, to have his darling be his: he'll order the twins to fix the venue and tell the guests the wedding has been moved to tomorrow.

his darling will obey this time- even if that entails having them under threats tje whole wedding.

vil schoenheit

his scream can be heard through the land. this was- this was supposed to be his special day- he was going to be the shining star along with his darling- SO WHERE ARE THEY?!

he'll immediately make rook, his man of honour, take off to find them. he's so angry at how fucking ungrateful his darling is being, he'll tell rook to not worry if he harms them- in fact, rough them up. they deserve it- how dare that ungrateful misserable bug escape this special day?!?!

it's a nightmare to reschedule everything; vil's dream wedding is a huge ordeal, with ice sculptures and a gigantic venue, live music, everything he dreamed of. ruined. RUINED!

when rook drags his darling back, bruised and nicked by arrows, vil won't even think before he's painfully digging the heel of his shoe into their face. did they want him angry? Because he is PISSED. he'll kick his darling- elegance be damned! he'll make them suffer as much as he suffered by their actions!

perhaps his darling will behave in the rescheduled wedding, not only because they're in so much pain (but all bruises and scratches have been masterfully covered with makeup), but due to the fsct vil shoved a deadly but slow acting potion down their throat- if they want the antidote, they better behave until after tje reception... wouldn't it be painful to lay in pain for a few days as their insides dissolve?

malleus draconia

he was... excited for his wedding. nobody had ever thought he would marry- not even him, but there he was, dressed in traditional thorn fae wedding garb... and his darling missing

everyone- even lilia- is terrified. angering malleus is a terrible idea; the powerful mage could probably kill everyone in the wedding- hell, maybe the town- in a burst of anger. every single fae in attendance is doing their all to track down the runaway

malleus is indeed angry- almost to a dangerous level. he can't help but make everything near him burn in green flames as he seeks his beloved. how stupid are they, a mere human, to think they can escape him?!

when he finds them, he'll remind them why people fear him. painful electric magic courses throughout their body, torture that makes them twist in pain, hell-hot green flames burn at their body, and every type of pain malleus can think to inflict makes his darling scream. he'll heal them up just enough so they can walk and make them return to the chaotic wedding venue

nobody dares say a thing while the celebration continues- even when malleus' darling has multiple wounds and bruises, their attire is burnt in places and torn in others, and they're crying the whole ceremony. everyone is too scared to invoke malleus' wrath again; his darling won't find a single ally in this wedding

#twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia

399 notes · View notes

jensengirl83 · 4 years ago

Text

Regret and Redemption Chapter Three

Summary-Reader has left Dean after he was caught cheating. Dean tries to prove that he can do better and wants the reader to come back home.

AU Mechanic!Dean x reader

Word count-2592

Warnings- Angst, heartbreak, language

A/N- series cover designed and mad by @talesmaniac89

It had been a little over a week since Y/N had gone by their home that morning to get her belongings. Dean had been served with the separation papers; she knew that because he had blown up her phone with calls and texts that she hadn’t answered. She couldn’t talk to him; she was taking the separation as hard as he was, except none of this had been her fault. Or had it been? She had been pondering over their whole relationship for the last week. She had wondered if some of the reasons he cheated could have been her fault. Had she not been attentive enough? Could she have spent more time with him and less writing her novels? The scenarios had played over and over in her head, always with the same outcome. If he had a problem he should have come and talked to her, not screw his secretary and God knew who else.

Y/N had managed to find a decent apartment across town. She had picked this one simply because of the distance it was away from the home she had loved. She still couldn’t believe this had happened to her. Dean had been such a loving husband in the beginning. Y/N could see the decline in his behavior now that she looked back on it. She wished there was something she could have done to keep her marriage intact, but it was too little too late now.

Dean sat in his office staring at the separation papers that he had gotten a few days ago. His heart ached every time he looked at them. She was serious and didn’t want to be his wife anymore. The thought made him sick to his stomach. He had never felt so lonely as he had the last week she wasn’t there when he got home. The empty side of her bed had been taunting him every time he walked in the room. He had been sleeping on the couch since she left, not able to sleep in their bed alone. Dean picked up his phone and sent her another text. She hadn’t responded to him since she walked away the morning he trashed the house, but he was going to keep trying.

Y/N stood in the kitchen of her new apartment when she heard her phone ding. She knew who it was, but she wanted to make sure. She should have never unblocked his number, but her uncle advised that she needed to let him have a way to contact her for their legal proceedings. She opened her phone to look at who had texted her.

Dean: I love you Y/N and I’m sorry.

She had been right. She wanted to cry and scream at the same time. Her heart ached as she missed her husband, but she also was beyond angry at him. Her emotions had been all over the place the last week. The nights were the hardest. She had not slept alone in over six years. Even with what he had done, she missed his warmth at night. He had betrayed her, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t once loved him with her whole being and missed the feeling of his body cuddled behind hers. She had been brought back from her daydream by the sound of her phone.

“Hello Dean,” Y/n said with annoyance evident in her voice.

“Hey sweetheart,” Dean said, hoping she wouldn’t hang up on him.

“Please don’t call me that Dean,” Y/N sighed. “We aren’t together anymore.”

“Yes, we are Y/N! You didn’t file for divorce. You filed for separation,” he said, a little annoyed himself.

“Obviously you got the papers but decided not to read them,” she said harshly. “We are legally separated, Dean. That means we are not considered married, but not divorced.”

“What the hell is the point in that?! Why not just file for divorce?” Dean asked her, not understanding the point.

“Because my uncle and my publicist thought this would be the best thing right now for tax purposes. It’s just until my new book comes out and we can figure out what we are going to do with our assets,” she said, “then I will file for a divorce, Dean.”

“You sure that’s what you want, Y/N?” Dean asked her through clenched teeth.

“No Dean, this isn’t what I wanted! I wanted my husband to love me and be faithful to me, but that was obviously too much to ask of you!” Y/N yelled through the phone.

“I do love you Y/N!” Dean shouted back.

“You know how much I wish it would have been enough?” Y/N said through tears as she hung up the phone.

Dean threw his phone across his office after she had hung up. Her words had destroyed him, the truth in them cutting to the bone. He realized at that moment that he hadn’t loved her enough. She hadn’t had his whole heart in a long time and that had been his fault. The booze and the ego boost he had been getting from other women had taken a spot that should have been completely hers.

The next week had flown by and Y/N was grateful. She had been so busy with her publicist getting everything ready for her book launch that she hadn’t had time to ponder on her situation much. Her publicist had set up a book launch party at a huge venue in Kansas City. She didn’t want to throw a party with the mood she had been in, but her publicist said it would really help get the word out. The release party had been scheduled for the following night and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She decided to go to bed and try to get some sleep so she would at least look like her life was together the next evening.

She woke up the next morning with a horrible feeling of dread. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt like something was going to happen that night. She tried to shake the thought away as she made her way to the shower to get the day going. She had to get all dolled up and that took time and the venue was a four-hour drive. Luckily her publicist had hired her a private car so she could relax on the way there.

Y/N had caught up on her emails and went over her itinerary on the drive, anything to keep her mind occupied. Dean had always accompanied her to this type of thing because he knew they sometimes triggered her anxiety. He had at least been good to her in that way. If only he hadn’t betrayed her and broke her heart, she wouldn’t have to do this alone tonight.

Y/N could feel the anxiety building as they pulled up to the venue. There was already a crowd that had formed outside and all she could think was that she would rather be home. She held her breath as the driver came to open her door for her to step out. She took his hand as he helped her out onto the sidewalk and into the throngs of people. In all the hecticness of trying to get inside, she hadn’t noticed the sleek black Impala parked across the street.

Dean stood back in a corner with a whiskey in his hand as she walked through the door. She looked absolutely beautiful. His heart pounded in his chest, and he hoped she wouldn’t make a scene when she realized he was here. He knew what these things did to her anxiety and he wanted to prove that he still loved her and wanted to be there for her, to show her that he could be the man he was when they had first started dating. He silently prayed that he could prove himself to her.

Dean watched her for a while as she made her way around the room. Y/N had always been the sweet ‘girl next door’ type. No one around her could tell how uncomfortable all this made her, but he could. He could see the nervous twitch in her hands and hear how her voice would rise an octave as she spoke. He had always found that so endearing about her. She would never see herself as the beautiful, intelligent, joyful woman that she was. He had taken that joy from her and he would never forgive himself for that.

“Hi, Y/N! I am so excited to read your new book!” a woman she didn’t know had said to her.

“Thank you. I really hope you enjoy it,” Y/N said with a nervous smile. God, she hated to do stuff like this.

“Hey Y/N. I’m looking forward to the new book. Where’s Dean?” she had heard someone ask. Y/N was frozen to her spot. She didn’t want to talk about her failed marriage to people she barely knew.

“I’m sorry I’m late sweetheart! Traffic was just awful,” his voice had her spinning on her heels. There stood Dean in his three-piece suit.

“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to give him a hug. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about their marriage.

“Y’all mind if I steal my beautiful wife away for a minute?” Dean asked with a fake smile.

Everyone nodded as he linked her arm through his and walked her to a more private place to talk. He could feel how tense she was and knew most of that was because of him, but he knew she wouldn’t make too much of a scene.

“What the hell Dean?!” she asked as they rounded the corner into an empty hallway. “How did you even know about this?!”

“I got an email. You forgot to unlink my email from your list on your itinerary,” Dean said with a small chuckle.

“Dammit! I knew I was forgetting something... but why did you show up?” Y/N asked him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“I know how you get when you have to do this stuff. I wanted to be here for you and I’m sure you didn’t want to answer questions about us tonight,” he said, trying to be honest with her.

“Sure Dean, you showing up here is all about me,” she said as she rolled her eyes.

“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart...” he was cut off by the glare she was giving him. “Sorry, Y/N. I’m telling you the truth though. I was worried about you and I want to try and prove to you that I’m sorry,” Dean said sadly.

“Dean, I don’t know what to tell you. You broke me. I will never be able to trust you again,” she said as she looked away.

“I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m just asking you to give me a chance to prove that I know I fucked up!” Dean said, almost begging her.

“It won’t change anything Dean. We aren’t going to ever be together again,” she fought back tears as she said those words.

“At least let me play your husband for the rest of the night. I don’t want everyone knowing what’s going on until we have everything figured out,” he said as he reached out his hand.

Y/N looked at Dean and to his hand quite a few times before she finally took his hand. They walked back out to the main hall to the crowd of people that were there for her. She had to stop and talk to a few people as Dean looked around the venue. It had been decorated a lot like their wedding reception had. That thought gave him an idea as he excused himself and snuck to the sound booth.

Y/N had been talking to people for what seemed like an eternity. She had finally made her way to the bar that had been set up to get a drink. Y/N had never been much of a drinker, but she felt like she could use a gallon of it tonight. She had been looking around to see if she could find where Dean had gone when his voice beside her made her jump.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean said with a laugh.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t expecting you to be right beside me. What were you saying?” she asked, taking a drink of her whiskey.

“I said that the night is almost over, and we haven’t danced,” he said to her with that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Yeah, and we aren’t going to,” she said, looking out at all the people on the dance floor that had been set up.

“Don’t you think people will find it odd that you didn’t dance with your husband? Considering we have always danced together at these things,” Dean whispered in her ear.

“Fine! No funny business Dean. I want to get this over with and go home,” Y/N said as she held her hand out to him.

Dean led her onto the dance floor. He placed her arms around his neck and then slid his hands down to her hips. He started to lightly sway them to the beat as he looked over her shoulder and nodded. Y/N had noticed but didn’t care to ask. He had probably just seen someone he knew. The notes to the song faded away as the notes to the next one began. It had only taken her seconds to recognize the melody: “Wild Horses” by The Rolling Stones. It was their wedding song, the first song they had danced to as husband and wife.

Dean felt her tense as the song began to play. He had hoped that hearing it would bring back good memories and make her miss what they had. He wrapped his arms around her tighter to hold her to him, afraid she would run if he didn’t. He could hear the sniffles and feel her tears on his chest. His heart was breaking, this had not gone as planned. He hadn’t even finished his thought when she pulled away and ran for the door. Dean was right behind her; he grabbed her arm as she was reaching for the car door.

“Y/N, please just wait!” Dean begged her.

“No! How could you do that to me? Did you really think that playing our wedding song was going to make me come back to you after what you did? Let go of me!” she yelled as she yanked her arm away from him.

“Baby, please! I miss you, Y/N! I fucking miss my wife!” Dean shouted as she opened the car door to get in.

“You should have thought about that before you cheated on me, Dean! Please, just get away from me,” she said, completely defeated.

The look on her face and the desperation in her voice made him step back. He stood on the sidewalk and watched as she disappeared. This had completely backfired. He just wanted his wife back and would do anything to prove it to her. He knew what he had to do, but was terrified to make the call. Dean pulled out his phone and dialed the number and listened as the phone began to ring.

“Please don’t hang up! I really need your help!” he pleaded to the person on the other end of the phone. “I know I have no right to ask you, but she will listen to you. Will you help me please?”

@flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove @hardcoresupernatural @msmarvelouswinchester @lyarr24 @deanmonandnegansbitch @akshi8278 @midsummereve1993 @sutton2001 @emory91 @halesandy @miss-nerd95 @ellewritesfix05 @bxbyizzy @winchest09 @adoptdontshoppets @defenderrosetyler @hobby27 @whatareyousearchingfordean @talesmaniac89 @deanwanddamons @atc74 @superfanficnatural @smol-and-grumpy @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @xhannahbananax03 @coffeebooksandfandom @nihilismworld @winchester-wifey @mrsfox79 @malfoysqueen14 @moron225 @deans-baby-momma

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester series #dean au #mechanic au #supernatural family #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn famdom #spn family #reader insert

171 notes · View notes