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darknights-beloved · 27 days ago

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you shall not cause yourself to wither, not in my embrace, not while i still hold you

(and not forever, not even after death)

"It is I who cherishes those hands and holds them with my own. Happy birthday, my darling. I am immensely proud of you." i dont know how this ended up as my birthday fic, but here we are <3 maybe its all the years of growth im grateful for, and here i am.

diluc x reader

wc ⸺ 8.4k

cw; hurt/comfort ◞ implied abusive ( ? ) family ◞ afab! reader ◞ self indulgent (appearance mentioned - dark hair, dark pupils) (personality - heavily implied introvert mainly, adhd and traumatized if you squint) ◞ implied trauma (nothing too explicit. just vague details.) ◞ depression/anxiety ◞ tw self harm (/other mildly suicidal themes) ◞ established relationship (husband and wife. uses of 'husband' 'wife') ◞ once again self indulgent ◞ reader with questionable parents (abusive, overbearing, narcisisstic...etc) ◞ reader is mainly feeling numb due to emotinal trauma catching up w/ them ◞ somewhat melodramatic (in my eyes at least) ◞ mention of pills/medicine ◞ terms of endearment ◞ kissing and holding as always ◞ any and all backstory is mostly vague this is for my broken souls who suffer because of others and are not kind to themselves. pure comfort from here on out. needless to say that it is strictly sfw! hopefully, im not forgetting any other warnings or missing something, if so please reach out! <<<<

synopsis; to cherish someone is to ache for them, more so as they ache. you've hurt yourself and diluc's heart aches deeply. you dont deserve it you both know it - and yet there it is, the stubborn ache that your husband will conquer (even more so stubbornly) and replace with a loving, gentle ache of tenderness instead. - in other words, diluc ragnvindr, comes back home to the manor to see his wife anguished by the troubles of her mind and other factors playing a part in doing so. he takes care of you with nothing but devotion and protectiveness and worry for the night as he will tenaciously every single day of his life no matter how much you think you dont deserve it.he'll show you how beautiful you are.

Diluc drew in a shaky breath of air as soundlessly he stepped into the stillness of your shared chambers.

His eyes rove over your figure, laid upon lavish crimson sheets with your head burrowed into the soft pillows and fast asleep. Dark, black locks of hair tousled, splayed in contrast stark against the gentle white of the pillow. You were huddled by the comfort of the bed he had always lovingly arranged for your every night’s rest, sleeping soundly. You were safe.

His shoulders relaxed as he made his way forward to your sleeping figure, taking a closer look at your tired form. For now, he wanted to push any worries present aside and focus himself on you. He tugged at the tips of his glove, each finger until it was made easy to pull out. Then wearily making move to cast the leather fabric aside to the dresser, bare and calloused hands reaching out to you and gentle fingers coming down to weave through your soft hair. Another breath leaves his lips.

You were safe.

⸺⸺⸺

Just this morning, you were with him ── happily chatting away by the coffee and snacks table as the two of you shared a pleasant breakfast prepared by no other than Adelinde. You had a small cold too due to the yearly season so the head maid made sure to whisk up a warmer, nutritious meal than usual, suited to ease the strain and drain of your sickness.

Unexpectedly, later, the moment was interrupted by a particularly probing businessman who unabashedly demanded the master’s attention from the distillery’s staff. To say Diluc was vexed with the sudden incident – no less while the two of you were peacefully enjoying yourselves – was to put it mildly. It took about an hour just to deal with the man and another to shut him up completely and shoo him away until he disappeared from the Windwail Highlands itself.

the moment he returned, however, he failed to catch sight of you anywhere in or near the Winery. He questioned his staff and most of them only had short, uncertain answer. But you were gone, this for sure.

You didn’t tell him, or anything. The maids were already done cleaning up along with your much hardly eaten breakfast, discarding away the leftover food as they washed the plate in the sink, simply going about their usual duties. It was nothing all too surprising; you usually tended to skip this meal of the day and in consequence he’d chide you for the lack of care you hate for your wellbeing sometimes. But today, he had gotten you to sit down and eat with him. Despite all the food he set onto your plate, perhaps all you had eaten was a small bun or so. Did the incident with that snob put you off? If so, he had barely constrained himself on throwing his fists at the bigot before lest you’d disapprove of his actions, but he’d most certainly like to punch him now. You were often wary of social attention and the attention he got as Duke of Mond certainly didn’t help.

He looked around the walls of the manor, searching for you with soft yet urgent calls of your name only to hear no reply. No reassurance. You must be in your shared room, yes? No. By his desk, sitting in a position that was very likely to strain your neck later as you draw fond sketches of him? No. Outside. You must be outside. He didn’t check outside yet.

“Master Diluc.” The head maid cleared her throat gently, a trace of concern etched onto her features.

Diluc halted his aimless pacing around the Winery by the doorway of his office, with a solemn expression. “Where is my she, my wife? I’m looking for her.” He stated forthright, eyes searching hers for an answer.

“Where is she?”

But the way the older maid averts her gaze slightly, an ounce of hesitation weighing her silence makes his chest tighten.

“She hastily left just half an hour ago, saying something about taking care of or accompanying her parents somewhere. To…lunch, I think.” Diluc’s eyebrows furrowed but Adelinde’s expression remained flat. “She did not inform us where as she scrambled to the door last-minute.”

“Parents…?” Diluc echoed quietly with a tone that could only be identified as a mix of caution. Anyone with eyes good enough could tell that he didn’t like what he was hearing. “Did she take her coat?” Mondstadt would only get windier by nightfall. Your cold would worsen.

“No, I don’t believe so.”

A pause.

“And you did not attempt to make me aware of this?” His jaw ticks.

“She had advised us not to bother you.”

An exasperated sigh left his lips gruffly the moment her words reached his ears. He simply turned, marching towards the hanger by his office, snatching the coat off it roughly by the collar as he sloppily slipped his arms into the leather sleeves.

“You shouldn’t have listened.”

That was all, he abandoned the conflicted maid and strode urgently and purposefully away from the winery, off to Archons knows where and hopefully catch sight of you.

⸺

Diluc’s thoughts were scattered. Partly because of his concern and frustration, for good reason too. He was sure his jaw would tense up painfully later from how much he was clenching it. Your faring with your parents was…strained, to put it mildly. Generously, too. He could not bring himself to trust them around you. He knew he was being stubborn, to not take your reassurance when you tell him you are able to handle things on your own. But how could you not even inform him of your departure? He’s more than just concerned; he feels mad and a little hurt. You always, always if called outdoors on any occasion, leave him with a sweet kiss of goodbye and a “I’ll return safely, dear” that the man was always accustomed to.

And today, you had not just disappeared onto any happy occasion, but you were with your parents. Your parents. People who never failed to repulse him by endangering you emotionally or physically by their selfishness, unresolved conflicts and troubles and own lack of understanding.

Then there’s you, with a benevolent heart with unfathomable empathy that hidden away in its core. And the Ragnvindr could never quite bring himself to understand how on Teyvat you could still care for them at times. He’s had his own fair share of family drama; or mayhap more than just what can be considered a ‘fair’ share but he knew for sure and in clear, unforgiving black and whites that anyone who do not even had a shred of decency and respect towards you simply doesn’t deserve to be in your presence.

He could never ensure your safety around them. He trusts you, truly he does, but he’s not a fool. He doesn’t trust them. Ultimately, Diluc only seeks definitive reassurance from you, the fact that you are indeed safe.

⸺

Hours later, and he’s restless. He’s scoured half of Mond and not even a knight dare question him, not wanting to be met by the scorching glare in the Ragnvindr’s red eyes. Caught up by a few pig-headed noblemen on the way or a few drunkards by the tavern who seemed to be causing their daily trouble who delayed him. He knows he shouldn’t prod like this in your affairs but your affairs with them were nothing but trouble.

Your husband remembers the many times you’ve been alone with your parents and then when you finally return to his arms, you don’t tell him about your stay with them. It’s always a vague answer. If he asks you what happened, it’s always “we’re doing good” “it’s fine” and he could never shake off the unease that crawled up his back at those words.

Only when he was met the outrider’s words of reassurance that she had seen you heading back to the Winery much later did he give up on his search. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, more than eager to get back home to you–

“Master Diluc, a fight has broken out in the bar between two knights! No. Wait. Three.” Charles panted, running towards Diluc the moment the barkeep spotted the Master in view. “- drunk knights.”

The Ragnvindr gritted his teeth, silently seething. “Those…imbeciles…” Charles panicked slightly, with a slightly confused expression on his face.

Diluc just sighed deeply, reigning in all his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “There’s no use talking about it. I will tend to them shortly.” This was taking much, much longer than he could ever be pleased with.

⸺⸺

Dusk had fallen. He hadn’t expected you to sleep so early, not when you always wanted to hang by his side all night alongside him as he did his paperwork. And were it not for the mishaps of his day he would’ve arrived home to you earlier so.

However, his frustration melted away seeing you safely tucked into the sheets as his heart beats calm down significantly in relief. He had scarcely been able to focus on anything but you. It really, really wasn’t like you to sleep early. You must be tired if you’re not going to stubbornly push yourself to stay awake. Shrugging off his coat, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Any questions he had can wait for until after you’ve had your rest.

The truth is you’ve been uncomfortable for days now. Weeks. Only recently had you been progressing well. There's a hollow look in your eyes. No matter how hard you try to feel okay and how much ever his heart aches at the sight, it's as though a fragment - a delicate, precious fragment - of you is missing. His darling.

And the thought of you ever being sad or disoriented destroys him.

Diluc tries not to let the weight of his sinking heart be the focus of his mind now. As soon as he refreshed himself, changing himself into a loose set of nightclothes – a flame flickers and dances at the tip of his finger as it lights a candelabra that stood gracefully on the nightstand, the small flame soon burning down from the top of the wick. He set aside the ornate on the nightstand, along with his vision. His movement were deft as a hunter’s as he carefully reaches out a hand to check your temperature. Your forehead…feels warm. Not too warm. A soft sigh escapes him. He hopes you’ve at the very least eaten when you got back and taken your nightly medicine. Though, noting the stiff outdoor apparel that still clung to your skin as you slept, he knew you would have likely done neither.

At one glance itself, it was easily to tell you had mostly collapsed into bed the second you had returned home.

“You must be tired...” he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is still stuck to you, red eyes swimming with concern as they drift over your figure while he carefully sat against the headboard, mattress sinking slightly under his weight. “you’ve worried me, dear.”

Worried is an understatement.

His arm comes to wrap around the side of your waist and pulling you closer to his side to which you unconsciously lean into his warmth, seeking his presence even in your sleep. Roughened fingers come down to caress the softness on your cheeks, only to feel almost something wet brush against his skin. His brows knit together as he felt damp tears against your cheek – a clear sign you had been crying.

You avoid crying. Resent crying. You didn’t like crying in front of anyone. Even in front of him, sometimes. Just as he was physically strong for you, you’ve always wanted to be his emotional rock in turn and perhaps to a fault. His protective instincts kicked in, alarm bells sounding loudly in his brain as he wipes away the dampness with a warm finger and strokes your hair, trying to soothe you in your sleep. He whispered your name softly, with a mixture of tenderness and worry. He wanted to wake you, ask you what was wrong, hold you but he didn’t want to disturb you.

His mind raced with possibilities at what could’ve caused such an emotional reaction from you at this. He was sure, without a second thought, that it had something to do with your family. He was sure of it. You disappear in the late morning, don’t inform him about a word of your departure, when he’s back you’re in bed early and there’s tears staining your cheeks. The very thought of you crying alone in bed only makes him bristle in more than just one protective instinct. Such nightmares you of all people should not have to endure. And yet…

He struggles to shake out of the darkening thoughts that start to cloud his head and tries to focus on your breathing. He couldn’t help but wonder just what had caused you to cry. Was it something that happened while you were out? Yes, he could be wrong, but his intuition was nagging at him badly. Mind racing with a million possibilities, he forced himself to push the same thoughts that haunted him and lurked at the back of his mind earlier this same day.

You still had your cold. He knew the best thing he could do right now was let you rest and recover as much as you can. He hesitated for a moment and decided to watch over you until you were awake again, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead as his heart aches with a mixture of concern and affection.

Feeling his warmth, you shudder slightly. A welcome contrast to the cold your body feels right now. Despite his best efforts of keeping, you undisturbed, you couldn’t help but stir awake as your body recognizes his presence and awakes your senses. Though he wasn’t too surprised when he felt you awake.

His heart stills as your eyes flutter open, momentarily frozen in his movements.

“oh, you’re back..” his heart clenches when he sees your hand discreetly try to wipe any tears you thought was there, only to feel your cheeks warm and dry. A flicker of realization passes through your expression. You don’t look at him directly.

“why didn’t you wake me? I was wondering if you’d be concerned about my sudden disappearance.” You murmured quietly, watching his brows furrow slightly. There’s a pang of guilt in your heart. Of course he was worried.

“You’re exhausted.” He frowns slightly, his tone firm but caring “Needless to say, your cold. Why would I wake you up?” “And I was half mad all the day, not knowing where you were or if you were okay.” He withheld a sigh, feeling you snuggle up against him. But when you coughed into your fist, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. You should’ve rested. You should’ve informed him, or something... He normally would’ve rolled up his sleeves and give you a stern talking to but you didn’t even seem all that fully awake.

However, you felt his frustration melting away as you gingerly laid your head on his shoulder, only making him hold you tighter in a protective embrace. “Where have you been, my love?” he continues, his tone softening as worry whelms any other emotion he feels right now. “What’s happened, hm? You did not even care to inform me? You should know you’re not inconveniencingme by something as plain as that, darling.”

“besides, you’re still sick” he stresses, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.

You stiffened at his gentle scolding, though you knew it came from a good place. A protective place that wants to keep you safe. Though, it was not out of fear nor anything alike, but more of guilt. You could be reckless sometimes, you knew that. But this time, it was more than just recklessness. You knew that and that made you feel guiltier.

“My parents had called for me-“ you reasoned weakly, as though an important excuse. A proper justification. “They don’t like it when I turn them down. You know how they are…” averting your gaze, your own tone softened much more “with me, with us…”

Your eyes drifted to the wall across, a sort of dull white. A thoughtful on your face as you recounted the incident with them.

What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with them quickly turned sour. The food sat in your stomach uncomfortably the whole walk back home, your guts churning with the need to just shrink away. It was pathetic, really. You were supposed to be strong. And yet,

“They get suspicious quickly.”

You felt another cough coming on, stifling it to no avail as you bring your knee to your chest and your husband’s worried gaze doesn’t relieve at all. The way you said it, it makes him stomach churn. He knows how they are. But he knows you too. You’re being vague. A little too vague than usual.

Though hearing you excuse their overbearing behavior simply because they’re your parents makes his jaw tighten. “They do not own you like that, my flower. You shouldn’t have to drop everything and run to them whenever they call. Especially when you’re unwell..”

He pauses, his gaze studies you as he tries to get a read on your expression. Your eyes are still, not so subtly, avoidant of him. He could see the weariness in them, the obvious pallor in your cheeks. It didn’t help that you were trying to hide the effects of the cold from him either.

“You have to take better care of yourself, my love.. And you need to set boundaries with your family…you can’t let them keep guilt you into things like this. I won’t.”

He reaches out and pulls the blanket over the lower half of your body, feeling your faint shudders and shivers.

“I know…I do, I just...” your voice falters and you feel your words failing you. It wasn’t just this situation and you know it. How to describe the tumultuous rage of emotions in your heart when your mind violently blocks all your feelings? It’s stuck in your throat; it’s almost choking you and you hate it. You also hate that he can see it, that it’s worrying him, deeply.

(oh if only you knew where his worry was coming from…) albeityour doubts and fears were the most stubbornest things about you and you loathe it.

And how can you reassure him when it’s so clear that in your eyes a spark is missing, a spark he’d do anything to reignite until they smile and shine so brightly yet softly as though a sea of stars were poured into the darkness of your pretty pupils.

His heart hurts. Gods, you’re usually so talkative. He loves listening to every word that falls from your lips, music strung by your pretty voice. But now you’re awfully silent and he doesn’t miss the way your lips tremble every time there’s but a syllable on the tip of your tongue. Albeit the silence is unnatural in every aspect, he doesn’t push it.

It hasn’t just been weeks and both of you know it, pretending will only get someone so far. It’s been months and it hurts. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. The past few weeks were only more prominent, the numbness stronger and more palpable compared to the days before that. You’re falling apart and he keeps picking you back up, with gentle and nonetheless steady hands. For Archon’s sake, you’ve even demanded him why. Why didn’t – couldn’t – he just give up on you already? What makes him so patient, so kind, so caring? To stay by your side with the softest of smiles and go to the point of exhausting himself to keep you safe and cared of. Loved. Was he even tired at all?

Instead, you snuggle up just a little closer to his side and Diluc’s expression softens a tad bit more. Both arms now come to wrap around your smaller figure, as if protecting you from the world, from your fears. He turns to face his body to you somewhat, his chin propping itself right above the top of your head as he takes in your scent to ground both you and himself.

“I missed you..” you breathe and his heart clenches at how timid it sounds. No matter how much you may try to conceal your emotions or hide your thoughts from him, sometimes its as thought he knows more about you than you do about yourself. And in times you forget who you really are, he is more than happy to remind you.

“I’ve missed you more, mein liebe.” whispers he in return, his voice a little more quieter.

“we will take care of this later” he promised, pressing his lips to your right hand with absolute reverence. “for now, let me take care of you..”

He felt you shuffle nervously in your place, your left-hand stiffening under the blanket. His brows furrow, alarm bells sounding in his head as he sensed you were conscious of your movement, intentionally keeping it away from him. He knows sometimes you avoid his kisses out of your own insecurity but never quite deliberately and without being aware of what you were doing.

He felt his stomach sink as his hand searched yours underneath the soft blanket.

“Darling-?” he caught your hand in his fairly quickly, concern immediately etching onto his face as he feels you tug away from him.

“What are- “ you tugged your hand again as you hid the upper half away underneath, and he saw the panic rise in your eyes like urgent flames with only one instinct in mind.

“it’s nothing.” There it is. Your tone, it was uncomfortable and you cursed yourself for it. “Can you not do that- “

Your efforts were to no avail. You watched in helplessness and panic as his fingers brushed against a rough scrape with your broken and abrased skin around it, his blood going cold as he felt his heart lurch with ripples of shock electrocuting it so - on your ring hand no less where a red rose carved diamond rests on your ring finger. His heart dropped to a million pieces as he felt you quick, desperate protests, flying out of your mouth instinctively.

“W-wait…Diluc! D-don’t…. I didn’t-“ To hide this from him. His eyes darkened.

“What have you done?”

The words sound strangled in his throat; each syllable being forced out as though it were he was forcing out pointy daggers out of his esophagus instead. His held your hand firmly but gently – the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause you more pain.

“I-“ but the words were strangling you, too. Each cutting through your throat as you tried to force out your own set of daggers. You weren’t as strong as him. Not that you could find a coherent word in your head to word anyway. You had caused yourself harm, again.

His thumb silently traced across the scratches, cut deep but not too deep. Perhaps just deep enough for it to sting in the cold air, for you to wince at the touch and gentle tracing of his finger – for it to leave a small scar behind and to swell around the edges. The sight were knives twisting at the guts of his heart, hurting him more than it could hurt you. He slowly rubs against the slight swell, feeling your hand tense under his touch. One cut just below your pinky, another on the opposite side of your wrist and one in the middle, below them.

Those were three cuts.

He felt a wave of despair and anger wash over him, a roaring fire that burned furiously in his eyes, with emotions too loud to identify and some he could’ve even name. Hopelessness and sadness mixing alongside it. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly and you know you can’t escape even if you wanted to. His eyes trail over the self-inflicted wounds, swimming with anguish and then slowly but inevitably - unshed tears. He grits his teeth.

“I don’t understand.” His eyes search yours, and it almost seemed as though you didn’t understand either. “I thought you were doing…better.”

You’ve hurt yourself. Did you see that? Feel that? And yet, the only thing that seemed to be your main concern now was the fact that you were caught. Not the fact that you slit open your delicate, petal-like skin. Skin that’s soft, so perfectly in contrast to his callous ones. He has scars and he hates it. And If anyone ever dared to scar you or do so much as lay a fingertip on your body in the wrong way, he’ll do away with them. Severely. Anything the poses as a threat to you or any danger that stalks you, he’ll have absolute zilch hesitation in obliterating them completely. He’s all too familiar with the dangers of this world and what’s to come. But the thought of you being the one to hurt yourself, to wound your undamaged skin and treat yourself in ways he would kill were it anyone else’s hand scarring yours was torment to say the least.

“What have you done...” he pleaded, pulling you impossibly close and eliminating any space between you as though even a gap would be enough to stop his breath. “…to yourself...?” Your breath hitched and you were at a brilliantly pathetic loss for words.

"I was sure you were long past..." he paused, the words choking on his throat. It felt like poison in his tongue and he could neither spit it or swallow it down. "self-inflicted injuries..." "I'm sorry" you shivered against his chest "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I just.."

Sorry doesn't cut it and you know that, you should. You don't miss the way he seems to tremble too, as if he was also scared just as you are. Red eyes that can't tear its burning gaze away from the various self-inflicted cuts on your wrist and forearm. Red eyes that swim with frustration, worry, concern, sadness, and fear all at once. Red eyes that seem to be fully set ablaze now.

“I didn’t mean to repulse you…. or anger you.” No, of course not. If anything, you meant to demean yourself. The thought made him feel all the more helpless, yet more protective.

“No, angel. What you’ve done has done more than just repulse me. It’s hurt me.” He lets go for a second, scrutinizing each cut as his heart swelled in muddled and screeching emotions. “You’ve hurt yourself.”

Your tears finally fall, the weight of his words pushing the droplets down your cheeks. Now you see. You have given into those urges again. Something you have both fought tooth and nail to shake yourself away from. Something he thought he’d succeeded in doing but as your stomach churns do you slowly realize whatever pain you endure hurts more than what’s just. Because he cares, cares beyond what would be fathomable.

“You don’t deserve this.” His thumb gingerly hovers over the wound, his heart heavy and mind unable to focus on anything but the weight of his suspicions made reality. More so than what his initial anxiousness was for. He doesn’t understand. He simply doesn’t. You don’t deserve even a fraction of this. “Come here.”

Your shoulders slumped slightly. You’ve sliced open your skin because no one would care and you could feel the thrill of pain and numb all emotions. Where’d you get this from? When had that ever become reality? Was it the moment you had fought with your parents again, when they overlooked you and your efforts and you felt all that hurt all over again?

"Sshh..." he coos, despite yourself. Despite himself. He encircles his arms around your waist, and you can really feel it. His heartbeat was stuttering. He really is trembling. "...my darling..."

Your eyes sting with more fresh hot tears at the hardly stifled crack in his voice, the way he tries to stay strong for you. But just as your cuts bleed, his heart bleeds more at the sight of it all.

A hand makes its way to the back of your head, holding you tightly and keeping you leave locked in his desperate embrace. Weary red eyes flutter close. Fingers thread through your hair again and Diluc holds you a little tighter - just to ground himself. Just to remind you and himself that the both of you are here, together.

He tries to let it sink in, that you had gone and does this to yourself again. You didn't in the past year. And he wasn't there beside you. He's frustrated, mad at himself. He wasn't there to shield you, to protect you and he could've. If only you told him, if only he....

Your spouse lets out a slow, unsteady exhale. He pulls back to look at you more clearly. Dark circles under your mildly bleary eyes and your nose flushed red from crying. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he feels your shoulders loosen slightly. His hand comes down, tracing the back of your wrist, along your pinky to your forearm. His frown deepened slightly, heart squeezing when you winced. The bruised skin have swelled up around the marks. His chest tightens as he inspects it closely.

"My darling..." He breathes, bringing the mistreated hand up to his lips as he peppered the most featherlight kisses. Right below every cut, above and all around as if to make them disappear with his lips alone. "Who made you do such a thing?” and did I fail you? But he dares not speak the questions that plague him, it’s on the tip of his tongue though – not so steadily balancing itself if it weren’t for him biting his own emotions back.

Because more than anything, Diluc is scared. He is really a scared, worrying lover of all things, trying to take care of you with all he is capable of (and oh so much more) and protect you with all he is. All he wishes is for you to let him.

Feeling the way you tensed up at his questions, as if your senses were on high sensitivity, he backtracked. His hand moved to your soft, silky hair that cascaded down the front of your shoulders messily as he stroked the stray locks tenderly. “Why? You don’t have to pretend with me, I love you more than words can articulate.”

You looked up to his eyes again, taking in how soft such a hardened gaze can become for you. This time from a slightly different emotion. You know what he's asking, pleading for.

“Let me in. Talk to me. Please.”

"I'll try.." You can't promise him. Not this time.

"No." But he won't let you.

“I think you need to understand this clearly. Everything will be okay sooner than you’ll know it, I will make sure of it. No matter what happens, I’ll always be beside you.” he sucks in a breath through his teeth and his eyes flicker to your hands once more. The right one, unscathed while the left…was the opposite. His heart contracted.

“Wherever I am, whenever. You have me. I’m yours, my love. And I want nothing more than to keep you happy and safe. To see that precious smile of yours.”

A shaky breath leaves his lips as his sternness cracks and overflows with emotion. "Because I can't bear to see you like this, my sweet..." Diluc brokenly whispers. He tries to swallow down his sadness, but it's painfully prominent in his eyes. He doesn't mean to make you feel guilty, it's not his intention at all. But he needs you to understand just how much he cares about you; he cares more than what he can handle sometimes and it hurts.

It hurt to see his dearest hurt herself.

"Whatever did you do to deserve such pain, such...hurt?" he demands in a broken whisper, gently cupping your cheeks up to him. "hm? Was it ever your fault? Your wrongdoing?"

No. No, no it wasn't. It wasn't. Your heart breaks along with his and all you can manage this moment is a strained sorry - a word he shakes his head at.

"Don't apologize." His jaw clenches slightly. "Don't apologize to me."

Your hand gingerly reaches his at his distress, you squeeze it as it rested atop your cheek. "For all the pain I've caused you." You murmured, watching his eyebrows knit together.

"It's only my pain because you've caused yourself pain." He interjects roughly, his hand quickly interlacing with yours as he kisses your knuckles gently. You sigh deeply.

“Don’t you understand?” you breath hitches as he pulls you impossibly closer to him with his eyes full of ache. “Everything I do, I do for you. You deserve so, so much more sweetheart. I’m…scared.”

Your hand comes to instinctively wrap around his and you hold onto it firmly. “What, why?”

“I can’t lose you…” His fingers dig into your hips lightly and your press your lips against his chest, right atop where his heart is. “Not to pain. Not to grief. Not to sadness. Not to doubt, not to paranoia. Not to death.”

“You won’t. I promise you won’t.” you assured with the same desperation as him, looking up at him with apology “I don’t even know what I was feeling, it just….it just happened.”

“I know. I know you don’t.” His heart swelled from the kiss and he felt ache tighten his chest again. “I know its hard but you can tell me, come to me if there’s if there’s anything even remotely bothering you. I’m here, sweet darling, and I’m solely here for you. You know this, don’t you…?”

You let out a heavy sigh, averting your gaze. “…not always.”

“Then I would remind you.” A finger delicately tilted your chin up, bringing your eyes back to your husband’s burning gaze. “I know not always. But it’s alright. I’m your husband – not just anyone. Your lover, yours. I want to be there for you. It’s my duty, my honor and privilege.” Burning with conviction and firm love. “You have to let me.”

Your throat constricted with unvoiced words, too many of them. All jumbled up. But he didn’t force a reply out of you, didn’t force a promise out of you no matter how much he wanted a conclusive reassurance from you.

“You don’t have to promise me that you won’t do this again. Just tell me you’ll let me take care of you.” his voice dropped to a delicate whisper; the next words fragile as they were precious. “…my love?”

So were yours. “I’ll…let you take care of me.” You reluctantly muttered and that was all he needed. His lips found your own, and no matter how many times he’s kissed you, he could never be prepared for how his heart sings, soars and swells all over again.

Whatever happened will be discussed once you’re in a better state of mind and ready to talk. For now, all you need is rest while your husband dearly takes care of you.

⸺⸺

The fireplace lit the dark manor, its halls illuminated in the warmth of its light and heating up the distillery to a comfortable temperature. It was silent, not too silent, just perfectly silent. Maybe it was the rare quietness in your mind that made you feel this way. Calm, oddly enough. Your thoughts not screaming at your emotions for once, your head not heavy on your shoulders.

The only sound was the crackle of the firewood or the broth boiling small bubbles in a pot over in the kitchen. Or Diluc’s disapproving hums and soft take of breaths as he carefully unfolded the dressing pad of the square bandage and gently pressed it atop the streak of your swollen wound. And never mind your barely stifled coughs from time to time…

The smell of classic chicken soup wafted in the air; broth filled with luscious ingredients that Diluc lovingly prepared for you. Your cold was still mild and you couldn’t even feel it in the tranquil of the moment. When everything else faded out and it was just you and your husband, while your head rested on the cool mahogany table and left arm stretched out for him to examine, to take care of. To put to rest what pain you’ve inflicted because of those who hurt you. Were you to allow it, he’ll find them later, strip them of everything they hold dear were it not for your patience.

“Does it hurt?”

You felt his fingertips caress the top of the bandage; eyebrows knit together with a hint of lingering frustration you knew he wouldn’t be able to shake off that easily. “No, it doesn’t.”

He hummed, somewhat distracted. Your eyes wandered around for a bit, before you finally lifted your head up to properly get a light read on his expression. He’s been quiet for some time.

“So…. aren’t you going to say anything?”

He sighed deeply, squeezing your wrist gently as he looked you firm in the eyes. “Please don’t take this lightly.”

His eyes trailed over your wounds once more, his eyes stuck on the same spots. The ointment he had applied was cooling to your skin, the burning tinge of the scrapes fading away from your skin. He holds it, tenderly, holds it. In his own scarred hands, more scarred than yours, bloodstained even but he holds it with a reverence that shines in his gentleness, his care.

Carefully, he lifts your petal soft skin to his lips and lets his faintly chapped lips brush against your knuckles just delicately enough. You still, heart pounding in your chest as he peppers them along your wrist to the very last mark below. It’s times like these, your heart to scream “He loves you.” And he does.

“Thank you.” at your whispered words, he looks at you and brushes your cheek with the softest smile. “for what, my sweet?”

“For taking care of me!” You exclaimed with a hint of defensiveness for his playful innocence, knowing he only wanted to lighten your head up a little. “You know that…”

“I know.” He confirms as you clasp your hand, a more serious expression on his face. “But that’s no such thing to thank me for.”

His feels your hand squeeze his and his eyes soften again with a soft grumble following afterwards. “…but you can thank me by letting me in more, hm, baby?”

“…right.” Your face flushed a soft red immediately, a shy smile twitching at the corners of your lips immediately and his gaze only softens more at the sight. His fingers brush against yours as he slowly pulls away – turning to the kitchen. The air smelled good. The soup must be ready.

“You need to eat now.” He grabbed a black catlike-shaped bowl (one he specifically bought for you at the market, telling you how it reminded him of you). Catching your pout however, he shakes his head lightly with a fond smile. “Darling, you had barely touched your food at breakfast today. As for lunch…well, I want you to forget about lunch. And then; your cold.” He said with a pointed look. Your cold wasn’t even that of a big deal. “Just sit there and look pretty, I’ll be done here soon.”

Your pout soon turned into a soft, somewhat bashful smile and his heart skipped a beat. He really knows how to worm his way into your own heart, and you’ve come to trust it with fondness. “Alright, fine.”

Soon, he placed the bowl of steaming chicken soup along with a silver rose engraved spoon. It was that pleasant, comforting warm color that the broth held – along with the perfectly diced vegetables and meat in it. Looking at the food only did you rather surprisingly realize how hungry you were. Skipping meals were a norm for you, something both your and the head maid would highly disapprove of. But something was different. He wanted you to eat. He wanted you to enjoy the taste of the food, thus the carefully homemade meal. It wasn’t cooking for another for the sake of it. He wanted you to love even the first bite and thus the effort. That felt different from the begrudgingly cooked meals you were given from your mother in the past. It was her responsibility. This was different. This was Diluc and he wanted you to eat.

“What going on in that head of yours, my love?” He inched it a little closer to you before his hand came up to gently pat your head, pulling you away from your thoughts. He lifted your chin, eyes carefully scanning if you were hesitant. When he found none, he let go. “don’t keep yourself waiting.”

“I was just…thinking.” You dismissed, shaking your head lightly in reassurance, taking the spoon in your hand while he dragged a chair closer to you and sat beside you; offering silent company.

Every spoonful made your heart and stomach feel full and warm. It tasted so good. So good. The flavor invaded your tongue, the spice a small comfort to your now weakening cold. He rubbed your back the whole time, just silently staring at you with concerned care swimming in vermillion eyes, making sure you were okay. Additionally, also making sure that you’d finish the bowl completely…maybe have seconds. No, definitely– he silently added to himself as he stood up from his seat, abruptly deciding to brew you some warm ginger tea as well. Now that he thinks about it, there were some fine assorted dark chocolates in a cabinet, too.

⸺⸺

“Let’s get you into something comfy, yeah?”

You hummed softly in response to your husband’s words, your eyelids already drooping with the weight of sleepiness and tire. The warmth of the food seeped in too close to your heart like a comforting flicker of flame, spurring sleep. Everything was slowly but surely catching up to you – most prominently – exhaustion.

Your eyes flickered across his figure, moving diligently as he rummaged through your closet for your night clothes. The warmth of the food felt oddly lingering, lulling in a way. The pillow that helped your back rest was fluffed to your satisfaction, only more soothing to your weariness.

Once you saw him reaching for your clothes, an idea came to mind. “Can- can I wear your shirt?”

Your voice came out unsure, your heart jumping, albeit he had sternly taught you to be nothing but open with what you wanted with him.

Diluc froze, short-circuiting for a second at the unexpected request. He paused in his rummaging; he was surprised but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. He turns to look at you with a soft smile.

“You want to sleep in my shirt, my love?”

Your eyes flicker elsewhere hesitantly before returning to his again, then to his smile. It was almost as though he was proud of you of voicing that aloud, despite the shyness that seeped into your tone. Well, if anything, it only made him further smitten with you.

“Uhm, yes?” You confirmed with a nod, waiting for his reaction. His shirt alone and the soft fabric wrapped around her body along with his arms would be enough healing needed right now.

A warm, tender smile stretched out on his lips instantly as you confirmed your words, his heart aching with happiness at the simple request.

“Of course, dearest. My shirt is yours to wear.”

Instantly, he moved to his side of the dresser, rifling through his clothes and uncaring about the mess he’s making through the neatly folded clothes. He pulls out a soft, well worn-shirt. He makes his way back to you, the clothing clutched in his palm as he hands it to you.

“Let me help you.” before any protests could come flying out of your mouth, he gently helped you remove your top. Your heart calmed at the sight of his beam, relieved by his eagerness and enthusiasm.

“there now, careful...” he focused softly, making it certain that the bandages do not disarray as he pull the top over your head carefully. You let him take your top off tiredly while he set it aside to the laundry and you trying not to disarray the bandages too much over your injuries as you slowly donned the shirt.

With that he gently laid you down into bed, grabbing the covers to pull over your legs. His eyes raked over your figure, hugged loosely by his much larger shirt. He was suddenly made aware of how small you were compared to him. With a gentle kiss to your nose, he whispered ‘beautiful’ – reveling in your soft giggles afterwards.

Then he grabbed both of your hands in his gentle hold, pressing his lips onto every inch of the skin from your wrist to each of our fingertips. Just to feel your hands in his, hear your laughter for a little longer before sleep. It took his breath away every time he absorbed the fact that your hands – smaller, softer than his could ever be, chose to held his. It was definitive he’d protect them without question just as he’d protect your heart and soul. He just wanted you to be happy, he simply wanted you to be…

“Comfortable, sweetheart?”

You smiled contentedly, tucked back in into the comforts of the soft sheets. “yeah. Comfortable!”

“Now lay down, my love.” But despite your sleepiness, you really didn’t want to. You wanted to stay awake beside him, even for a few minutes. But knowing Diluc, he would use his vision to warm his hands to an impossibly unavoidable sensation of comfort, rubbing your back soothingly until sleep lures you into unconsciousness.

Your husband couldn’t stifle the smile that stubbornly clung to his lips as he gently pushed you into the mattress again when you tried to sit up once more, lifting your hair back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’ll sleep with you.” leaving each other was the last thing on the both of your minds.

“Yes, you will.” You happily smiled as he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping a protective arm firmly by your waist as he brought you close to his chest. “but not yet...” you cheekily added, making his smile widen reluctantly.

He cocked a brow at your words but before he can even part his lips to speak, he’s suddenly met with a plethora of kisses to the lower half of his face and you trying to squirm out of his hold

“You’re tired. Stop that.” He chastised gently when you tried pushing his hands away with a small frown on your rosy lips. Diluc adores your kisses and he, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, was nothing more than your darling lover and more with every kiss you pressed unto his lips and body. But you needed your rest now and Diluc was also a stubborn man in that fact.

“But I didn’t kiss you all that much today.” You sighed, slightly muffled as you pressed more kisses to his cheeks and jaw. He blushes so very easily and his pale skin doesn’t do the man any favors either.

“You can kiss me plenty, tomorrow.” He cupped your face in place, squishing your cheeks together gently as he chuckled at the adorable sight of you, followed by a reluctant sigh. “After you’ve had your rest, my love. Go to sleep.”

“Fine-“ you grumbled slightly but he booped your nose, making you laugh softly again. “Hey!!” you clasped his hand in protest, holding it in your smaller one.

“don’t be mad at me, mein liebling. I just want you to have a good night’s rest after everything.” Lifting your hand up to his lips, he brushed a kiss against your knuckles. He swears it’ll be the last kiss but he can’t seem to get his hands or lips off you all too much. Despite his playfulness, the sternness in his eyes are clear and no doubt he’s still worried about you. He would be worried about you for days until he truly felt you better yourself both mentally and physically. But a few laughs spilling from your lips every now and then was the only thing that felt like it could ease the heaviness in his heart.

For now, he wanted you to have a good night’s sleep. To simply close your eyes and rest.

“I know, I’ll sleep..” you sunk deeper into his embrace he held you, no more fighting the pull of slumber. With a tired smile, Diluc tightens his arms around you gently, feeling your breathing and heartbeat steady against the rise and fall of his own chest.

“good girl. I love you. I love you so much.” His lips met yours once again and tonight, you couldn’t doubt him or that he was yours to love as you were his to be held. Your eyes flutter close. “I love you too, Luc. I love you very much too.”

Hands that were once soaked in unfathomable volumes of blood, hands that are calloused and far too roughened to lay skin to skin upon soft, silken ones such as yours, hands marred with scars big and small, some faded, some deep. Hands that run over yours gently feeling the ring that sits on your finger before reaching up and raking gingerly through your hair, lulling you to slumber. The only next thing that falls from his lips is a soft “goodnight” as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, failing (and successfully so, in your lover’s eyes) to the bear the brunt of catching sight to see the tears that quietly forms in your lover’s eyes as his thumb brushes once more against your wounds. Only as you slip into the deep slumber your body and mind longs for does the tears slip from the desperate grip and grasps of his restraint.

Your skin does not deserve to be marred. Not like his, at least not like his. Not like this. He’ll show you how beautiful you are all over again, no matter what. How utterly darling you are. He’ll remind you so.

a/n: im not sure if i wouldve finished it without you, aurora. i know you're dyslexic but the emotion in this fic could not exist without being dedicated to you first.

#the library #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin diluc x reader #genshin x reader #i am terrified just by the cw itself i am making it sound like i wrote a whole serial killer film (newsflash: yeah! thats right! i didnt.)#i just wanted to make it very and i mean very clear to let the reader know what they are reading #no surprises #genshin impact x reader #diluc genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #tw self h4rm #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc angst #genshin impact x you #diluc fanfic

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angie-s-g · 1 year ago

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💜💚HAPPY REVERSE BIG BANG, LET'S CELEBRATE!!💜💚 So this year I had the chance to collaborate with the amazing Roseclaw who wrote a cute SangCheng fic based on my art.

Hold Me Like a Grudge SangCheng Rating: T Words: 15k Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern setting, Trapped in Elevator, Diabetes, Hurt/Comfort, They are the ones hurting each other emotinally, But Huaisang has some medical issues as well, Hypogycemia, Second Chances, hospitalization.

Summary: Jiang Cheng is ready to give his big presentation at work. He left his apartment prepared for almost anything the world could throw at him. Almost anything. He was not prepared for his ex appearing out of nowhere to catch the same elevator as him.

Read it HERE

We both love this fic so much that I just HAD TO make more art for it! I hope you guys enjoy it a lot and leave Rose some lovely comments! 💜💚

#sangcheng #the untamed #nie huaisang #jiang cheng #mdzs #cql fanart

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silverynight · 1 year ago

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My sciatica is bad today! Please can I have some emotinal comfort, how would the hashira help Tanjiro if he had bouts of back pain from overdoing his training? Many thanks if you do this post and if not then I love your stories! And wish you good health so you don't end up in backpain hell like me. ╥﹏╥

Hope you feel better soon, nonnie!

***

Tanjirou doesn't take himself into account; he usually overworks himself to way past his own limits and ends up exhausted, hurt and in pain.

That particular day Tanjirou's back hurts; he tries to hide it, pretend nothing has happened so he doesn't get scolded by Shinobu herself, but it doesn't work. After the first few minutes he grimaces in pain and Aoi is already glaring at him for being out of bed.

Of course the Pillars find out and suddenly Tanjirou has nine worried swordsmen taking him to one of the recovery rooms. Shinobu makes him drink something for the pain and to get him to sleep for a while. By the time he wakes up, his hashira have made him tea, lunch and (under the butterfly girls supervision) they give him a back massage and help stretch.

They also give him a lot of kisses on his lovely cheeks until the sunshine giggles and cheers up a bit.

Despite disliking the chaos, Aoi can't deny they do know how to take care of Tanjirou.

#demon slayer #anonymous #asks #ask silverynight

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certified-muppet-enjoyer · 2 years ago

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At this point. My stenny story isn’t safe. I uploaded a artwork of them on TikTok, it did take me a while to make. Everyone is saying hurtful things in the comments. To where i had to turn off the comments. Istg, i can’t draw the things that comfort me without people saying things that hurt me emotinally, through a screen. I just can’t post stenny at this point. I’ll still post stenny on tumblr, i meant not on TikTok. I just don’t understand.

#stenny #vent

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notladylikes · 2 years ago

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she stands in front of a room full of young women, desperate for change, for solace, for something to come and snatch them from the hells they've become accustomed to. her heart aches for these individuals, born of strife and heartache, filled with cracked ribcages and rotting flesh, signifying the death of their girlhood. it would be easy to give up on them. decide that they were a lost cause and there was nothing she could do. but she wouldn't. not now, not ever. mackenzie reaches forward and grasps a young girl's hand, a teenager but just barely, and whispers that it's going to be okay. she kneels down, eye level now, and holds her hands forward, wrists up to show the tattoos that had been emblazoned into her skin. a reminder of past trials and tribulations and how she got to the point in which she was considered 'better off'. the past still haunts her, clings to her like a shroud that's always omnipresent, in the back of her mind and threatening to take over, but she resists. mackenzie was a fighter, and that's something she wants to teach these young souls. "are you the bird, or the cage?" two tattoos - darkened ink placed upon her wrists. one is a cage, the other a bird. she'd gotten them when she was just shy of sixteen, a forged letter from her parents ( both dead and gone by that point ) and a dream. it all seemed so far gone when she thinks of it now. the child doesn't speak, her voice is not her own and she doesn't feel comfortable expressing herself in a room full of strangers. mackenzie's heart breaks for this individual, knowing that there's been so much trauma in each and every one of their hearts that will take ages to heal. if only it was instantaneous. if only. but nobody was ever that lucky. a trembling finger reaches forward, brushes a thumb over the tattoo of the cage. she doesn't need her to speak to feel the resistance behind her eyes. mackenzie nods, fighting back her own tears. "which one would you like to be?" she asks again, this time trying to hide the emotins that were welling up inside of her. she will cry for these children, for these babies who have been forced into an upbringing that has brought them nothing but pain and suffering. she knows why the caged bird sings, unfortunately. there is a little look of confusion as the teenager now ponders the question, like a heavy weight's been placed upon her shoulders. mackenzie would shoulder it if possible. take the grief from inside her bones and release it into a blackened abyss where it could no longer hurt anyone. she is trying. but then there is a momentary sigh of relief when the bird is picked, and mackenzie feels a swell of warmth settle into her body. "i will do everything in my power to help you get there, sweetheart. and that's a promise." she says, reaching for the girl's hand and giving it a firm but gentle squeeze. where there is hope, there is potential for change. and she will fight to get them just that.

#drabble. mackenzie james fraser.#drabbles.

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inside-a-sinners-mind · 1 year ago

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Hi. I mean, Hell-o.

Whats in the word Hi? To many beginnings, and how many goodbyes? I never say goodbye, i dont do funerals, and i dont go to graves. Death is the permant fear of me., and the craziest thign is that im not afraid to di, but im more afraid that live will go on without me and that no one will even notice that im no longer living. Im existing, im a hollow damn near empty shell of whom i used to be. Pain. it didnt change me, emotinally was already dead inside form the lack of love or care. or maybe i was just blind to those who truly loved me, and now that everything around me reeks of failure do i truly start to see that everythign in me is spewing hatred for the living and those whom can be free. I have hoped for many things in life but the one thing i wanted was to be loved. Just honest love, someone to look at me every single day and tell me that i will always come back for you, and mean it. TO Never be the joker or butt of the jokes for loving someone and proudly looking stupid. I have had it too many times...or so i thought. Maybe this was the hardest chess games and queen beat rook everytime because i started to focus on me. ho selfish, yup ho, the word that everyone uses to describe me because i finally comfortable in my body. only took me 28 years, to find clothes that fit and were me, not somones handme down, or my mother butt floss, or my cousin who idolized the most, for not letting me slide. Actually all of them Osss, they kept the world spinning for a sinner like me, someone who knew all the darkness but always kept the light in. until i was alone with one friend, laughing and having a spill of lemonade telling them the horrors i thought was normal. I never knew a better Bear, Kitty, and Taco Flavored kisses, but my Lonely island was the one i never thought was an oppenant, she was literally my everything, and i lost it all in one swing, because i need to let it out. She did what she thought was right i guess, but i had never used my hands to cause harm...since i was provisioned that way. I hated the pool but them it became my transperncy circle. I could lay in the water and be clean, but it somehow triggered me to be dirty. I never think about savannah, because all i remeber is 3 reds and a little boy who just wanted to swim, and a little girl who wanted to know what the biggest secret was. Kuriousity, Kills every searching soul link, when i search for it i find it. Never takes me long, Ol' Red, was the athemn that i didnt really understand, Love will always be the weak link in human society; show me affection and my legs fly, and all rational thinking goes out the window. To be loved, to be free, to be me, something i can never be again, for i couldnt breathe, but i made it, but i couldnt see, but you made it, i still feel him lingering, but hes a ghost, but i,....like it never happened all over again, like my words were taken from me, just like the churches silenced the little women, i was never allowed to repeat, what has forsaken me. I am not lost, or depressed, i am just not who i used to be, and that isnt alright with me but i can not change the past. I can not become her. prideful, powerful, strong, and had every sense of home. Now i wonder the streets like a lost pug with tears flowing for the thought of a persons voice. I hear them everywhere but i never see them until i know a voice before a face, and its like magic, i see the picture of them where, how, alone or not ,safe or not. Sage, the name is not a familiar of mines, but shes hurting, she lost but she wasnt always that way, she drank the pain until it bled into a point but i know that she is better now, hurling to the skin to spit out the poison, she cnat take it anymore, will the hunted, bart the brother, and a friend of a sandmine, the past cant be, so be kind AjC because those who werer not kind to you will bring you boutiful of blessing, ease the pain not with dirty water or nonremembrance for you were the first to help me see that

IM THE SH*T

SURPRISED.....yeah metoo.

#imjusttheMF'reader

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hollowscreekmuses · 7 months ago

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"Yeah,"Avery nods, he bit unsure about the that one chick comment, but he figure Jesse probably has seen the girl around and that's what he means but it, "She's pretty cool..."he adds, thought, he knows its just chit-chat and they are both just trying to ignore the elephant in the room, once more. Avery tilts his head as he watches the other, not saying anything more, he didn't think Jesse had forgotten about him, sure, the man left in a hurry without a goodbye, but they had a connection, Avery haven't forgot about it, he was sure Jesse haven't either. It was just a figure of speach. "I don't know!!" he yells back, and he whises this was a conversation, not a screaming match, but here they are, "That you are my friend? and you don't want to see that happening? that would be good!" he huffs out , he knows Jesse meant something by it but it still stung to hear him say those words, "I was telling you what could happen!" he shakes his head, everything is confusing and emotinal and Avery wishes the stupid wolf was not messing with his emotions like this, because, damn! "Come on, now!" Avery actually chuckles at that, in the middle of the upset and tears, he's now actually chuckling, "I'm supposed to be the--raging rocker against society, Man, not you," he half jokes, shaking his head, "I don't know if that's what I want," he notices Jesse coming closer and to be honest, he does need that comfort, but he's not gonna ask for it, because he knows, one hug, he's gonna break down...again, "But I want to be able to choose, I want to--live. I haven't even--" he pauses, rubbing his face, to get rid of the tears, "This gonna sound so fucking cheesy to you, but , I don't know, I haven't even--I don't think I've had, anyway, fall in love, maybe I want that, maybe I want a family, I don't know! I want to be able to choose, though!"of course he has no clue at this point his coment hurt Jesse too, he was just meaning the people he left behind at home the ones that won't know what truly happened, because Jesse was here now, so he was considering (hoping) he'd be a part of his life once again. He's a bit taking back by that scream, it felt--angrier than before, Avery feels the wolf, creeping, getting upset doesn't help. "NEITHER DO I! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" he screams back in frustation, a growl escaping the wolf's lips, not in a person is annoyed kinda way, an actual animal sounding one, the man was growling, Avery takes a hand to his head, pulling his long hair back, he lets his hand rest on the top of his head, "Fuck!" he huffs, "Sorry. upset, the wolf..." he shakes his head, "Look, we're both trying to figure this out okay? and no offence, I know you mean well, but I'm the one that has to live with this! and I kow it affects you too but--let's just, take it easy, please," he pretty much pleads again, because he doesn't want to lose it, not at Jesse. "Okay," he knows how it sounds, but he belives Jesse, despite everything he is his friend, he doesn't really think he wants to see him gone, "Let's just not? okay? lets just not, because I can't--Wolf's getting restless, you're yelling, it makes it restless, so just stop. just fucking stop, before--I can't lose it, I can't!" was he freaking out? yes. Yes a little. was that helping the wolf? not one bit.

Avery nods, he's glad Jesse gets it, that's good because its just so hard to explain, "It's not the same, man, you know how much I love that old man," he's still so full of guilt, those blue eyes, staring back at his with a look of confusion on his face... "Now you're starting to sound like him! after everthing you know what he did? he come up with fucking excuses! he's been there, he got in the middle of my fight, should had knowned better, but he's wrong! I should never, ever, had layed hands on him, ever!" and again he feels his eyes getting watery, shit, "The thing you guys are forgetting is that the era of Axel Moore is over, he's old, man! I fucking punshed an old man!" it if wasn't so painfully, it was actuallu funny, out of everyone, he goes pick up a fight with an elder. It's not like you stop being his son it hits him, not in bad way and now he's fully sobbing, "I wish I had. I know, he'd probably just hug me and say its okay, but it's not, it's not okay, Jesse, none of this is-O-fucking-Kay!" He keeps nervously running a hand trough his long hair, though he stops suddenly, Avery stares at the other, "Oh but I am serious!" he moves, faster than a human can, Jesse needs to listen, he needs to know he's dead serious about this, he stops right in frond of the other, the wolf grabs a hold of his old friend's shirt, he pulls him down, he just wanted to get on eye level, there was no agression here, "Listen to me" Ave says, the same ice-cold look one his blue eyes, "I'm dead fucking serious," his hand tights around the fabric of Jesse's shirt, meeting his eyes he goes on, "I'm promising to try, the key word her is try, I'm doing my best, but it takes a while, in the mean time I'm nothing but a fucking time bomb, if, if I ever come at you, before I can get my control in order, you're gonna shot me, I don't care. Just, defent yourself, I can't--I could never..." tears roll down his cheeks, "I could never live with myself knowing I've truned you into this or even wrose! promise me!" he asks, now both hands are tight against Jesse's shirt, a clear plea of desperation coming from the newly turned wolf.

"Willow?" Jesse repeated her name, brushing a hand through his curls, still clearly agitated as he took a couple of steps this way, then that, then paused again. He thought of the burger place Avery probably referred to. "Uh, I mean, not personally," he denied, shaking his head. "But it's probably that one chick." It was such a vague reference that he could literally be referring to anyone, but his mind's eye brought up a dark-haired girl with freckles and a round face. Honestly, absolutely a stunning piece of work he'd thought on more than one occasion, but that's where it all stopped. Jesse didn't blame Avery for taking a walk with her. "Yeah, I remember," he muttered, standing up straighter some as he considered Avery. They hadn't really seen each other in years- their last real hangout, well.. It may have been years, but it wasn't like Jesse just forgot who Avery was and what he'd been interested in and the path in life he'd always planned to go down. At one point in their miserable lives, they'd actually been best friends. Avery was the only other person Jesse could have gone to back then, if not his sister. But clearly, the other man thought he either didn't recall or didn't care, because he spoke of it all as if he needed to share these details of himself like Jesse didn't already know Avery was more interested in the composing side of things. Shit- once upon a time, he'd even been giving Jesse tips on how to play and that all came to an end once Jesse had randomly split one day.

"What the fuck do you expect me to say, man?!" he yelled back, arms spread wide in a helpless fashion. "You were the one who brought it up!" Jesse swallowed around the lump in his throat, unable to look away from the other man that seemed to just break down right in front of him. Full on tears and anguish and upset- all of it. He couldn't recall ever seeing Avery this way, this openly broken and lost. The instinct was there, to do more than what he was doing. He'd even taken a reactionary step forward, as if he meant to go to the musician and-- what? Comfort him somehow? It wasn't easy to hear that his friend, his best friend, actually had thoughts of that kind of thing because he couldn't see any other way. "All that is bullshit anyway," Jesse finally got out, though his voice felt weaker than before. "That's a corporate check list of what society claims will fulfill your life and it all means shit all- it's subjective, alright? Life is just life, you'll just make yourself miserable comparing yours to others, trust me." He spoke from personal experience there. But this wasn't the important stuff, he knew it wasn't- it gave him a moment's distraction away from the other heavy stuff that clearly had to be addressed and Jesse didn't feel like he was the best person to do anything about it. Who the fuck was he? How was he supposed to help Avery? But then Avery only mentioned how he would leave his dads, and his uncle, behind. Uh????!?! UH!?!?! See, this was why Jesse knew, ultimately, he could only count on himself. The man could be standing right in front of fucking someone and they didn't even THINK to include him as someone who might care or be affected if Avery left the world. It was as good as a bucket of ice being dumped on him.

Though, should he be surprised? He'd probably caused that himself by leaving. Jesse knew he didn't have a leg to stand on to be upset over some small slip like that, but that didn't mean he wasn't. "In case you haven't figured it out, I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS ALL FUCKIN' WORKS EITHER!" he shouted suddenly, far more aggressively than probably warranted from the situation and it was born from the hurt Avery had unintentionally caused. That instinct to try and comfort Avery had gone and he kept his distance. "No, I don't want you gone," he stated flatly then, though the words certainly lacked any feelings behind it. One could almost say he was saying it to be nice, the way it came out. But that was only because Jesse had closed himself off already- the truth was, he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it. He didn't want Avery gone. He didn't want to even think of it. He'd just been talking out of his ass before, trying to see where Avery's headspace was.

"Yeah, I get it," Jesse sighed, as Avery struggled to explain. Now that it was all out and said, he knew exactly what his friend described and how hopeless it all felt. In different ways, sure. "Shit, you know how many times I wish I would have slugged my old man?" he asked suddenly, the question bringing some levity to the moment. "He would have deserved it." Damn right he would have. "Axel can take a punch," Jesse continued, with an eye-roll. He knew Avery was torn up about it because it was his father, he loved his dad- probably never thought he could get to a point where he'd harm the man. Jesse couldn't relate to that, he'd certainly come to that plenty of times in his life but had never gotten the guts to act on it. "It's not like you'll just stop being his son," he reminded the other. While he could see Avery's stress over this, he also could see it was utterly pointless. Nothing but guilt eating away at the guy when in reality, he would absolutely bet everything he had that Axel had forgiven his son the second it happened. Avery would find that out some day, even if it wasn't something he could confront right now. "A gun?" Jesse's brows furrowed, head jerking in Avery's direction, clearly confused as to why that was being brought up. "Jesus- you're- are you fucking telling me to kill you?" he was astounded. "Ave- have you lost your fuckin' mind? You can't tell me you'll figure it all out and then advise me to get a gun. How's that supposed to make me trust you'll figure anything out? Christ!" No, none of this was a joke. Avery was honestly starting to freak him out.

#tw violence #tw suicidal thoughts #tw suicide #tw gun #did you said angst?#akjdjdhga #Jesse

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latestageyouth · 5 years ago

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Have some Remus angst idk man :/

Pairings: dukexiety

Word count: 745

Warnings: Remus, night terrors, screaming, crying, fear of abandonment (but that’s only like one sentence

To say Virgil was tired was an understatement. He had been awake for a day and a half because of a new role Thomas was cast in and tons of other thing's happening in Thomas' life. When he finally got to bed, the bags under his eyes matching his eyeshadow, he instantly collapsed onto the soft surface, promising the blanket to never leave her again.

Well, at least he didn't leave her alone. Remus was already in bed when Virgil walked in, sleeping peacefully, which was a rare sight to behold. Usually, Remus would toss and turn or cry, it was crazy how energetic this man was for an unconscious person. But it also warmed Virgil's heart to not hear screaming and sobs from his boyfriend, like he had heard countless nights before.

He carefully slipped under the blanket and Remus instantly cuddled up to him. For a moment, Virgil thought he had woken him up, but apparently not. He checked his phone one last time before putting it on a nightstand and cuddling back. Finally, some good night's sleep after tons of hard work. He quickly started to lose consciousness and was soon knocked out.

He doesn't know what time it is when he hears distant sobbing, almost like he was hearing it through a wall of some sort. Though, his dreams were always rather strange and eerie, so he ignored it. Only the sobbing got closer. It came and gone, surrounding Virgil with despair and panic. He tried to sleep through it, ignoring it once more, and surprisingly, it worked. He was too tired to be worrying about stuff. He finally drifted off into deep sleep after a while, still ignoring the distant sobbing, even as it got louder and more ragged.

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the bedroom, snapping Virgil awake instantly, alert of his surroundings. He wrapped his hands around Remus holding him close, his head on Virgil's chest. He still trashed around, kicking around him.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here, I'm here," Virgil repeated the same mantra over and over, gently rocking himself and Remus, who was still screaming and wailing, "Remus, snap out of it, sweetie, I know you can, it's okay, I'm here, it's okay, sweetheart."

Slowly, but surely, the screaming turned into sobbing, which led to Remus finally waking up fully and burying his head in Virgil's shoulder. Virgil rubbed his back, whispering into his ear, "Hey, that's it, it's okay, it's over, I'm here, Remus, you're okay," he brought his other hand to Remus' hair and began stroking it.

Remus sobbed, taking ragged breaths every turn he had, "I-I am, I just-"

Virgil shushed him, "Don't talk, just breathe, it's okay, you don't need to apologize, it's not your fault," he still gently rocked them back and forth.

Remus didn't say anything after that, only sharp intakes of breath being heard, mixed with sobs. A wet feeling began to sink in on Virgil's shoulder from Remus' tears, but he didn't mind. His priority right now was getting Remus to calm down, so he did exactly that. He used every comfort method he knew Remus liked, stroking his hair, rubbing circled into his hips, telling him about his day, singing with him, and more. And slowly but surely, Remus began to cry less and less, his breaths getting more even.

"That's it, baby, you're doing great, you're great, keep it up."

Finally, Remus stopped crying, now just holding onto Virgil as an anchor. He was still silent, which didn't sit right with Virgil. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Remus, sweetheart, please talk to me," he slowly stroked his hair, coaxing Remus to loosen up, "Why are you so quiet?"

"I...I don't wanna say anything wrong and...make you leave."

"Remus, look at me," Virgil positioned his chin so that Remus was looking at him, "You could never say anything that would make me leave. Grossed out? Sure, but I would never leave you."

Remus buried his head in Virgil's chest, hands fisted in his shirt. Virgil rested his chin of Remus' head. He continued to stroke Remus' back until the shorter man finally fell back asleep, soft snores muffled against Virgil's chest. Virgil slowly laid back down, careful not to wake his lover up. It wasn't long until he himself started to feel groggy. He pulled the blanket over them again, causing Remus to mumble something incoherent. Virgil patted his head, "It's okay, I'm here. You're okay."

#dukexiety #virgil sanders #remus sanders #tw remus #sympathetic remus #night terrors #emotinal hurt/comfort #uhh idk what else #oh right #crying #screaming #i guess #one shot

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tarlos-spain · 3 years ago

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Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Pairing: Tarlos no matter what

Chapters: 11 for the moment. Only one left

Words: 35,324 at the moment

Acknowledgments: Again I have to be greatful for the two people that are there for me and my crazyness, no matter the time, the day or anything. @lire-casander the one that helps me when the idea doesn't come, when the idea is stuck and makes every chapter to become greater and @morganaspendragonss What would I do without your traslations. You're the best, girl.

This story is not over yet, only one more chapter to go and then, lets go for second one

Sumary: Seeing Carlos after everything that had happened between them was strange for TK, but mostly extremely painful. He knew perfectly well that he hadn’t moved on from him because there was nothing to move on from; Carlos was the love of his life, and there wouldn’t be anyone else for TK. Things just hadn’t worked out and, almost as quickly as it had started, the magic burnt out.

TK had been sure not to see him—five months wasn’t enough to be able to look at the man you’d hoped to spend your life with and who had left you, and still feel okay.

He needed time, so much more time.

#Suicidal thougths #Self-Harm #Tarlos #Heavy angst #fanfiction #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Emotinal Whump #During 3x01 #Tarlos Break up #Hurt TK Strand #Sick TK Strand #Sick Carlos #Desperate Carlos #During season 3 #flashbacks #Emotional Shock #Tarlos always get back together

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living-my-future-past-life · 2 years ago

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*hissing in anger* I hate you...

*soft and gentle* ... so much. With all my heart...

*angry*... You fucking bench

The curse of loving someone so deeply, but missing them so much and hating how your story is playing out... Anything you say about them comes out as a weird mixture of love and hate... Boy are emotions weird.

#lovelife #painful #love and hate #i hate him #i love him #love #witches #witch aesthetic #witch community #witchythings #emotinal #hurt/comfort

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adrenaline-roulette · 5 years ago

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He’ll save every one of us Chapter 6

Brian May x Reader with side notes of Roger Taylor x Original female character

Preview: “She suggested I drop my degree, and run off to Antarctica with her, so we could live out our lives with penguins. I shot that idea down rather quickly, which then of course resulted in her designing a plan to steal a penguin from the zoo instead. I have a feeling that moving to Antarctica was for purely selfish penguin related reasons, and not because of my crisis over exams.”

Chapter six: Broken inside

The taxi zipped through the busy London traffic, very nearly causing a collision on multiple occasions, though you nor the other passengers in the cab had it in you to mention the erratic driving. It was typical taxi driver behaviour really, they wanted to get you to your destination as fast as possible, in hopes of earning a decent tip, you were hardly in the tipping mood however. To anyone else, today could be described as the perfect day. You had woken up to clear blue skies, the sun shining merrily away without a cloud to be seen. Birds chirped gayly from their nests, as children shrieked with glee bellow. Yes, to anyone who wasn’t about to spend two hours sitting in a church, today was perfect.

Brian sat in silence beside you, his hand clasped tightly around yours, his knuckles turning white from the prolonged cramped posture. His suit fitted him well, and the bright orange tie he wore around his neck was exactly what the funeral announcement had requested. ‘The family has requested that everyone in attendance wear something orange, to remember Bree.’ You could picture the newspaper clipping clearly in your mind, it wasn’t something you could easily forget though, the death announcement of your best friend. You had been sitting at the small circular table in Brian and Roger’s flat, eating cereal at 3pm, when you flipped the page of the newspaper, finding yourself face to face with the obituaries. Only three days had passed, and those days felt both like a lifetime and as if no time had passed whatsoever. You knew Bree’s obituary would be published, but the shock you felt upon looking at it for the first time, nothing could have ever prepared you for that. Reading the announcement, taking in the details of where and when the funeral was to be held, made the whole situation all the more real. You had almost convinced yourself it had all been a terrible nightmare, and you would have believed that too, if it hadn’t of been for Brian constantly checking up on you, and for Roger’s zombie like state. Brian had found you that afternoon curled up in the kitchen, back pressed against the over door, with you head buried in your knees. He had sat with you for nearly an hour, just holding you, and whispering quiet reassurances into your ear.

As was protocol, you had worn a black dress, pairing it was the most outrageous pair of orange high heels that had ever existed. They sported three shades of orange, snakeskin, and sequins. Bree had loved them, and had worn them without your knowledge on many an occasion. Roger sat beside Brian, a black pinstriped suite, and orange scarf draped across his thin figure, he looked as miserable as you felt, all life having seemed to drain out of his eyes. Freddie and John had opted to take their own tai, promising to meet you at the church before the service began, they had tried to convince Roger to ride with them, but you had insisted he go with you and Brian.

**********

“Darling, are you sure you don’t want Roger to join us?” Freddie asked softly, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You shook your head no, before sighing deeply. “Fred, I think Roger needs me with him right now. He’s hurting just as much as I am, I think having someone there who was as close to Bree as he was, is what is best. For both of us.” Freddie relented after that, he knew when to pick his fights, and could tell this would be a losing battle.

You had Brian to comfort you, had since the very first second you stepped foot in the hospital, Roger however had suddenly found himself without a shoulder to cry on. Bree had been his go to when he needed someone to vent to as of late, and now with her gone, he was back to square one. Try as they might, none of the boys were able to comfort Roger, simply because none of them had experienced loss this way. You however, had. You were dealing with the exact same thing as Roger was, and he seemed to take solace in that fact. If he needed someone to talk to, he sought you out, which wasn’t difficult, as you had been spending all your time at their flat. And the moment you had told him to ride in the taxi with you and Brian, you could see he was about ready to cry once again.

**********

Sitting in the church, a coffin decorated in photographs of Bree’s life standing in the centre of everyone’s attention, it all felt almost too surreal. You were sat up the front along with her family, and you could hear her mother sobbing from a few seats away. You turned to look, and spotted Mister Skewes offering Misses Skewes a tissue, before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. You longed to have Brian beside you to do the same, or to comfort you in some way, however he, along with Freddie and John were stood towards the back, leaving seats for those who were closest to the family and to Bree. Roger sat somewhere in the middle, you had lost sight of him once you took your seat.

It was your turn now, Bree’s parents had asked you to prepare a eulogy for the day, and despite how much you wished you had said no, at the time you agreed. Your hands tremble as you make your way to the front, the papers you clutched tightly in your fists becoming crumpled. As you stood before the guests, an all too familiar scent hit your nose, and you felt the urge to cry overwhelm you once again. Bree’s perfume, you would recognise it anywhere, she wore the same perfume every day you had known her, no matter the occasion. All rational thinking leaves your mind as you breath in the scent deeply, looking up and over the many people. You almost expect Bree to have just walked into the church. You catch sight of Brian, his mop of curls making him stand out in the crowd, and he offers you a soft smile. Looking around once again, you spot the bottle of perfume sat beside the coffin, how you hadn’t noticed it before you’re unsure, but now you see it clear as day. The bottle is nearly empty, due to Bree’s constant use, and you want to envelope yourself in the smell for the rest of your life.

Finally, blinking back tears, you look down at your papers, and smooth them over, your voice shaking as you begin. “Bree was the kind of person you dream about meeting, she was larger than life in every aspect, but yet still one of the most down to earth people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Despite only knowing each other for a few years, we both always agreed that we must’ve been soulmates in another lifetime.” You pause and look up, tears beginning to cloud your vision. You spot Jake in the crowd, his head bowed, taking in your words, just as everyone else did the same. “I always knew I could talk to Bree about anything, she would be my first point of call after a heartbreak, or after an especially good date. No matter what, she was always there to listen, and offer advice. Her advice wasn’t always the best, and on several occasions, she suggested I drop my degree, and run off to Antarctica with her, so we could live out our lives with penguins. I shot that idea down rather quickly, which then of course resulted in her designing a plan to steal a penguin from the zoo instead. I have a feeling that moving to Antarctica was for purely selfish penguin related reasons, and not because of my crisis over exams.”

You take a deep breath, choking back the sob that so desperately claws its way up your throat. Tears were prickling at your eyes now, but you refused to allow yourself to cry in front of all these people. “I wish Bree was here with us all still today, I’ll miss our band rehearsals and concerts, I know for a fact that Tim’s place will never be the same without Bree singing along to every song that plays over the jukebox.” You smile softly, thinking back to all the times you had found yourself sat in that very bar, screaming your lungs out to each song that played. Bree, I love you, we all love you. You’ll be in my heart forever and will be missed eternally.” You ball the paper up in your fist, and step away and back to your seat. There was so much more you wanted to say, but your final words had come out strangled, and you found yourself struggling to breathe. Looking over your shoulder, you lock eyes with Roger, his pale blue orbs swimming with unshed tears. All you can do is offer him a half-hearted smile, knowing damned well that it wouldn’t do anything to help comfort him, you barely knew how to comfort yourself in this moment, let alone him and it was all you had to offer.

**********

The bright sun almost seemed to be smocking you as you left the church, it was such a stark contrast to the dark and bleak mood you currently found yourself in. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you made your way into the garden behind the church. Most of the guests remained to once again express their condolences to Bree’s family, before either making their way home, to the wake or just back to their lives in general. As they say, life goes on, with or without your best friend. You had done well, no tears had officially been shed on your behalf during the entire service, they had pooled at the corner of your eyes, but you had never allowed a single one to go any further, you flat out refused to cry any more, and hadn’t done so since telling Roger the news last week.

There’s a small wooden bench perched amongst some flowering bushes towards the back of the garden, and you take a seat there, swinging your legs back and forth below you as you look across the garden. Everything was beautifully green and in bloom, and in any other situation this would be an ideal spot to sit and think over how wonderful life was. The quiet is disturbed by footsteps rounding the corner, before the newcomer sits down beside you. “I’m so sorry my love.” Brian murmurs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, as you rest your cheek against his shoulder.

Brain had sent Freddie and Deaky off to go and find Roger, who had disappeared after the service, he was sure that the drummer just needed some time alone though he would prefer to know he was safe. “I kept telling myself this wasn’t real. I had myself convinced that Bree was just gone for a few weeks on holiday, and that she would be back, you know? But this, today, it’s finally dawning on me that she’s not on holiday.” You sighs, pulling away from Brian’s shoulder and blinking up at him. You had wiped off your foundation on his jacket by accident, leaving him with sa rather large mark on his new suit

“I know, I can’t quite believe it either. And I wish I knew what to say.” He whispers.

With a deep sigh, you clasp your hand around his, stroking you thumb over his knuckles. “It isn’t raining.” The statement seemingly comes out of nowhere, and leaves Brian with a look of sheer confusion. “The movies… It’s always raining at a funeral.”

Brain leans forwards, brushing a soft kiss to your lips. “What do we do now?”

“We move on. According to all the ‘dealing with grief’ pamphlets I’ve read, we’re supposed to go on with our lives, just like that.” You want laugh, the idea of continuing on as you would normally sounding like the most absurd thing in the world to you.

“And is that what you want to do?”

“What I want to do, is have a drink.”

**********

Today was not a good day, nearly a full week had passed since the funeral and you still refused to allow yourself to cry. Something which was becoming increasingly hard as the day wore on. This was your first time back in your apartment, you had spent the last near two weeks with Brain at his and Roger’s place, desperately needing the company, afraid of what would happen if you were alone. But here you were, once again alone, standing in what was once Bree’s bedroom. Brian had offered to come with you, so had Roger, but you had refused. This was something you had to do, you had to go through Bree’s things, and sort out what was to be kept, donated or thrown away. You had discussed how to do this with Mister and Misses Skewes, who were both too distraught to do the task themselves. They had told you to keep anything you wanted, and to pack up everything for them in boxes, they promised to be around within a few weeks to collect the boxes.

Going through her room was pure agony, you had started the day off with music blasting from the record player in the living room, but soon enough the memories of Bree dancing to the songs that played became too much, and you returned to silence. The silence was worse, it allowed you to hear your own thoughts, and right now, that was the last thing you need. ‘Why wasn’t it me?’ The voice in your head repeated, and you dragged your hands down your face, You had been asking yourself that exact question for days now, and at no point could you ever come up with a reason as to why you were still stood here, and Bree was not. Picking up Bree’s bass guitar, Penny, you scream, very nearly dropping the electric blue guitar. Bree had saved for months in order to purchase Penny, and the guitar truly was beautiful, and sounded magnificent!

�� **********

“What would you like me to do with Bree’s bass?” You asked timidly, sitting on the small sofa in the hotel Mister and Misses Skewes were staying at in London.

Mister Skewes, or Andrew as you had been instructed to call him, turned to his wife Emelia, a pained expression crossing both of their faces. None of you knew quite how to approach this subject, you knew the clean out process had to begin, but the how’s and when’s were difficult to negotiate.

“Did you ever play dear?” Emelia asks with a gentle smile, sipping her tea as she looks at you expectantly.

You shake your head no, placing your own up of tea back on the coffee table. “Bree taught me a little bit, but I was never able to pick it up as well as her.”

“No one else in our family plays, Bree was the only one of us who was musically gifted. Please, you keep her guitar, do with it as you will, but please make sure it goes to someone who will appreciate it.”

**********

You can’t quite recall the last time you had driven Bree’s station wagon, if you ever had for that matter? You had your own car, and Bree was always happy to drive you to and from your gigs with your drum kit in the back, but for today, you needed the larger car, and yours just wouldn’t cut it. You drive through London, making the short trip to Brian’s flat, knowing he and Roger would be out at rehearsal for the afternoon. Thankfully, Brian had given you your own key once you had started spending all of you time there, which made this whole process that little bit easier.

You carry your equipment up the flights of stairs, making multiple trips just to bring everything up, but you don’t mind, the exercise keeps your mind busy, and helps to keep your tears at bay for the time being. You set everything up, and feel your anger bubbling in your chest. You knew this was the right thing to do, but the situation surrounding it was all wrong. The sounds of footsteps near the front door pulls you away from your thinking, and as the door swings open, four sets of eyes lock onto you. Freddie and Deaky are here, you haven’t seen them since the funeral, and you’re thankful that they’re here now, especially Deaky. “Y/N love, is everything alright?” Brian asks, his eyes moving from yours and focusing on your drum kit which was now set up in his living room.

With a sniffle, you grab the drumsticks out of your back pocket, just as Freddie swings the front door closed. “I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, and if it weren’t for the shocked look on Brian’s face, you would venture that no one had even heard you speak.

“Do what Y/N?”

“This! Music, the band! I can’t do it! Not without Bree!” You practically shriek, as you step closer to the four men, all who wore faces of sympathy and shock. During your time knowing these four men, at no stage had they ever seen you quite so worked up and emotional, and they had no idea how to react. “Roger, my drum kit is yours.”

You thrust the drumsticks into his hands, not waiting for a reply, before storming back to the sofa you had been stood at just before. With care, you pick up the guitar case, with Penny enclosed, making your way over to John. “Deaky.” You mutter, shoving the case towards the young man with a little too much force.

“Y/N, we can’t take these….” John begins, though you cut him off before he can say another word.

“I don’t want to fucking hear it Deacon!”

Freddie steps forwards slowly, as if he were afraid to approach you. “Darling, Deaky is right. We really can’t accept these. Music is a part of you, one day you will want to play again, just not today.”

You scowl at Freddie, your eyes dark with pure anger. “You just don’t fucking get it do you?” You cry, your voice cracking. “None of you fucking get it!”

This time, Brian steps forwards, holding his hand out towards you, long fingers extended your way. “What don’t we get Y/N?”

Taking a shaky breath in, you close your eyes and try to fight back the tears that had once again returned. ‘I will not cry. Not here, not in front of them.’ You think to yourself. “That was our thing, music, we did it together. You can’t understand what it’s like, you still have each other, you have your band still. I don’t! What have I got? A drummer, and a guitarist who never fucking shows up! Please, I just can’t have these things around me anymore. I never want to drum again.” You end in a whisper, and just as you do, the heavens open up, lightning filling the dark sky with white light, as thunder shakes the window panes of the apartment. Ironic really, it doesn’t rain for Bree’s funeral, but the day you end her dream of starting a rock band, a fucking monsoon hits.

Someone is trying to talk to you, but their words aren’t making it through, you’re lost in your own thoughts now. You’ve failed Bree, you know you have, all she ever wanted was to play music, whether you got famous or not she didn’t care, and she always thought you were an incredible percussionist. But here you are, hanging up that dream like it was your coat at the end of the day. If you didn’t have Bree to encourage you any more, why should you ever drum again? The joy of drumming came from Bree, you would bounce ideas off each other all the time. She would start playing a groovy little riff, and you would join in, throwing suggestions in at different points until you had something amazing. But that could never happen again, a least not with Bree.

Strong arms wrap around you, and you collapse into them, sobbing loudly as you openly cry in front of Queen. There’s no stopping the tears now that the flood gates have opened, you could no longer hold back the tears you had fought against, and you fell into Brian’s chest as the grief filled tears flow freely from you now. In one swift motion, Brian sweeps his arm up under your knees and lifts you up, carrying you through his apartment and towards his bedroom. Someone walks ahead of him, pushing the door open, then swinging it closed behind you both. Gently, he places you down on the bed, before laying down beside you, keeping you enclosed in his tight embrace, as you sob against his chest.

**********

As much as he hated to admit it, Brian knew this moment would come, you were strong, that he knew for sure. But you could only be strong for so long, before something finally snapped, and he had just been waiting for the moment to come, though he secretly hoped it never would. The others seemed to be waiting just as he was, they knew you could only cover your pain with a smile for a short amount of time, and after seeing Roger break down numerous times, they knew you wouldn’t be too far behind. Brian held you tightly, stroking his hands along your back, attempting to sooth you as best he could, but without ever saying anything. What good are words in this situation?

He had been expecting this all week, but had never expected it to come about this way, the last thing he ever thought he would walk in to, was you giving away your drums and Bree’s bass. He knew it must’ve been a near impossible decision for you to make, and if it was what you truly wanted, then he would help you find a good home for your kit and Penny. But he worried that it was a heat of the moment thing. He wished you hadn’t turned him away when he offered to help you pack Bree’s things, perhaps if he had been there, he could’ve stopped things from turning out this way? Maybe he would’ve been able to convince you that drumming was the best thing for you to do?

Outside his room, he can hear Roger, Freddie and Deaky talking quietly, though it’s too faint for him to catch what they are discussing. Likely they are trying to figure out what to do with the drum kit which now took up the better part of the living room. He turns his attention back to you, feeling your sobbing become more calm, with greater gaps between each cry. “I love you.” He whispers into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp, as he feels you slowly fall asleep against his chest. Leaning away carefully, he pulls the cover up over both of you, as he too drifts off to sleep, never letting you go.

**********

Waking up in Brian’s arms was not something you were unfamiliar with, however waking up with you both fully clothed, and tear stains on his shirt, that was something you were not used sto. Brian snores quietly, and you peel yourself away from his arms, pulling the blanket back over him as you stretch out your aching muscles You had cracked, it had finally happened, and honestly, you felt better for it. The rain continues to patter against the window, the sky now totally black, the street lights illusminating the wet road bellow. Moving silently around Brian’s room, you strip off your clothes from the day, tracking down a shirt, and sleep shorts in his dresser drawers, slipping them on, leaving your clothes in a heap on the floor at the foot of the bed. Brian mumbles in his sleep, before rolling over to lay on his stomach, his hair splayed across the pillows to conceal his face. You smile softly before making your way out of his room, and towards the kitchen. All the lights are off, leading you to the conclusion that Freddie and Deaky had left, with Roger either in his own room asleep, or perhaps having left with the others. Scanning the contents of the fridge, you find a cartoon of juice, pulling it out as you search for a clean glass. With a cup of juice in hand, you look out the window in the kitchen, your gaze turning to the yard that was considered to be part of the apartment complex. At first glance, it appears to be empty, until the faint glow of a lighter alerts you to someone being out there. Roger’s out there, alone, in the rain. You’re not sure how you know that it’s Roger who’s out there, but something in the back of your mind is convinced that it is.

Making sure to grab your key, you make your way downstairs and into the yard, finding the blonde stood beneath a tree, which barely shielded him from the rain, a lit cigarette between his lips. “Hey, I didn’t think you would be awake for a while yet.”

You shrug, as you make way over to him, standing beneath the tree beside him. “I guess I’m not physically tired as much as mentally.”

Roger seems to contemplate your words for a few moments before nodding in understanding. “Same here, I think. My brain feels like it’s working on overdrive these days.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, the feeling all too familiar. “Trust me Rog, I know exactly what you mean.” Wordlessly, Roger holds out his pack of smokes to you, and you happily take one, before lighting up the end with his offered lighter. “I’m sorry about this afternoon, I know this is hard on you too.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. You did exactly what felt right to you. And look, at the end of the day, I lost my girlfriend, you lost your best friend. You’re hurting a lot more than I am, I’m sure of it.”

You take a deep breath in, inhaling the smoke of your cigarette as you think of Roger’s words. “Do you think it ever gets easier?”

At that, Roger laughs, a grin spreading over his thin lips. “I think we just learn how to cope a little bit better.”

“I suppose I don’t have a very good coping mechanism at the moment.”

“It can’t be any worse than mine.”

“Well let’s look at it this way Rog, up until today I refused to allow myself to cry, and kept everything bottled up and to myself.”

Roger takes one final drag of his smoke, before butting it out on the ground. “True, but mine is no better. Brian put a lock on the booze cabinet because I refuse to do anything other than drink when I think about Bree.”

You run a hand through your damp hair, sending droplets of rain onto the ground. “Well shit, sounds like we’re both as fucked up as each other.” You step further into the yard until your standing in the very centre, no longer protected from the rain. There’s no thought to your next move, as you fall backwards, laying like a starfish in the wet grass.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Roger calls, crossing his arm over his chest.

“I’m letting go Roger. I’m letting go of everything!”

Slowly, he makes his way over to you, settling down cross legged on the grass by your side. Both of you staring up at the sky. The clouds were beginning to clear now, leaving room for the stars to peak through. Even the rain was starting to subside. “What are you letting go of?”

“I’m letting go of the misery that has been plaguing me for the past two weeks. Letting go of feeling like I could’ve done something to change what happened. Letting go of wishing it was me instead of Bree. I- I’m letting go of Bree.”

From the kitchen window, Brian looks down at his best friend and girlfriend, smiling to himself as he watches the two of you in the rain. The temptation to go down and join you both nagged at the back of his brain, however he thought better of it. Roger needed you just as you needed him for the time being. So instead, he went about setting up a pot of tea for when you both decided to come back upstairs.

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