#sobs this is my first time writing him I’m probably so rusty forgive me I hope it’s oKAY EEEE

[weeping-gospels]

“ Hmmm ~ . I bet you’re wondering why you’re here. “

The unmistakable voice of a demon rang out from nowhere in particular, looming over the otherwise silent atmosphere and oozing off invisible walls. What appeared to be a beautiful scenery of nature blanketed in a wintery frost was authentically nothing but a ruse — for lack of a better term, a dream.

The boar man was trapped in his own slumbering conscious. A perfect opportunity for the dream demon to take advantage of his mind, twisting and sculpting it to form a dream Enmu created rather than the free will of Inosuke’s regard.

After all…the mastermind of a dream held the key to limitless possibilities. And fortunately for Enmu, he had managed to ensnare the wild boar in his own little cage, easily becoming the virus to infect his mind scape once the blood demon art seeped in.

“ You were getting quite rambunctious out there, causing such a nasty fit..I didn’t want you to disrupt the others while they were at such hard work with preparations. So, I took it upon myself to keep you here!

Isn’t it nice? It’s so quiet and peaceful, so serene..a quality you surely need.

No worries about your physical body. You’re sleeping like a baby…falling deeper and deeper, wrapped up cozily in my playground of dreams ~ . “

He wouldn’t reveal himself. No, not yet. He wanted to observe more. He wanted to delight in all of the demon slayer’s delicious reactions before making a grand entrance.

@whirling-fangs

[yourturntosimp]

Hey there! I loved the Keiji x Reader x Alice so could I request some more? Yandere of course, just them finding out Reader snuck out in the middle of the night. Male or gn is fine!

Could I also claim Heart anon? He/It/They pronouns!

A/N: I'm sorry in advance if this one sucks bc i'm rusty as hell NBVCVBGNH-- glad to have you here, Heart anon! (Also, i’ve only noticed this js before i’m posting, but i’m sorry that this one is so short!! i write in google docs so i dont rlly think about how the hc length transfers over to tumblr formatting <///3)

TWs: paranoia mention, Keiji is mean, unnecessary amputation mention, mention of leg breaking

♡ Keiji is probably the first to notice when you leave ♡ i feel like he’s probably a light sleeper, and also chances are he was either in the middle of a nightmare or already awake– ♡ he’ll let you think you’re sneaky for a bit, waiting to get up until he hears the door, window, etc close, and then he’ll wake up Alice-

♡ which took a minute bc mans could probably sleep through a tornado–

♡ and ofc, once he figures out what’s happening, Alice starts freaking out ♡ bc you’re outside??? On your own??? In the middle of the night??? ♡ he’s hurt that you’d try to run away, but his main concern is your safety ♡ Alice strikes me as the “handyman who may not know what he’s doing but it works out in the end” type sooooo ♡ they decide that Keiji will go get you, and Alice will just stay at home and make sure that you wouldn’t be able to even dream of running away again ♡ if you left through the windows, good luck doing that again while he’s jamming them shut–

♡ have fun trying to leave through the door when he’s changed the locks, and now it locks from the outside as well ♡ don’t ask how he did this in a timely manner, im doing my best <///3

♡ Now, Keiji is more annoyed where Alice is scared ♡ like, seriously? They treat you so well, and you have the nerve to run away from them?? ♡ since he’s less panicked than Alice, he’s able to concentrate more on thinking about where you’d go

♡ and considering how none of his “friends” have contacted him to say you’re with them,,, ♡ he narrows it down to either your family (if they live nearby), or an actual friend that he’s let you keep ♡ and since he also hasn’t gotten any panicked texts from Alice about your family sending the police their way,,,

♡ you’re on your way to a friend’s place, 100%

♡ so of course, he does the only sane thing to do

♡ just when your friend’s front door comes into view, so does Keiji-

♡ and he doesn’t look very happy with you tbh

♡ you can’t even try to babble an excuse, turn to run, or do anything before he’s got you by the back of your shirt

♡ of course, he would never raise a hand against you in public! no, never

♡ but he will mock you for being such a dumbass ♡ did you honestly think that they wouldn’t notice? that’s a bit rude, isn’t it? ♡ the way i’m getting annoyed from my own writing fucking bye–

♡ you really thought you would be able to escape with no means of transport? You do realize that cars are quicker than,,,well, you, right?

♡ you realize how much trouble you’ve caused? Not only did he and Alice have to wake up in the middle of the night to come find you, but you’re not even thankful for it, are you?

♡ if you think he’s bad, Alice is arguably worse–

♡ he almost starts sobbing when you two get back <//3

♡ the way he’s worried about you would be sweet if the circumstances were different and you weren’t being taken back to being held captive in your own home–

♡ where were you???? Do you have any idea how worried he was???

♡ you could’ve gotten hurt, or kidnapped, or killed, or something worse, and how would they have helped you out of any dangerous situation if they hadn’t noticed that you were gone?

♡ but because he’s the nice one, he’ll forgive you, this once

♡ you must’ve been half-asleep, right? Or you just sleepwalked? Or you were just confused? Because surely you wouldn’t do anything so reckless on purpose, right? ♡ it’s alright, though, because now they’ve got new safety measures to make sure you don’t make the same mistake! ♡ don’t complain, because he initially proposed just chopping off or breaking your legs to stop it from happening again <333 ♡ the only reason this didn’t happen is bc Keiji deemed it as too harsh for a first-time offense and also cleanup would be alot of work this late into the night–

♡ mhm yep Alice is still the nice one idkwym--

♡ good luck leaving home ever again after this little stunt, btw

♡ bc that friend who you tried to run to? ♡ they’re either mysteriously too afraid to speak with you or whatever method you had to contact them is just cut off altogether

♡ on the bright side, at least your boyfriends are so willing to excuse your actions! And now they’re spending even more time with you, isn’t that nice? ♡ i’d advise against being inconsiderate of their generosity, though ♡ after all, if you even think to try something like this again, they’ll have to actually go through with Alice’s idea

♡ and i don’t think anyone wants that, so it’s best for you to just stay placid for now <333

[magioftheseas]

A Smile In Fragments

Summary: When Komaeda first woke up, Hinata didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe he wanted Komaeda to scream, maybe he wanted Komaeda to cry, or maybe... Maybe deep down, he wanted Komaeda to smile at him and accept his situation with that carefree calm he had been stuck on for months now.He got that in the worst possible way.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Suicide attempt which results in copious gore.

Notes: This is another old-ass wip that I finished up and posted, which means it was written pre-dr3. Back in the day, I was curious about Amnesiac Komaeda AUs set post-sdr2, so I tried my hand at it. This is what happened. Yeah. It’s, uh, pretty rusty but I guess I have some amount of fondness for it.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

Just Komaeda smiling at him was enough to make him snap.

“What,” Hinata snarled, stalking forward as the boy in the sheets faltered. That damn smile wilted but Hinata only felt his anger flare burning hot before his eyes. “What the hell were you even thinking?”

Komaeda hesitated to answer and Hinata loomed over him, fists shaking at his sides and glare absolutely poisonous. That the other couldn’t dignify him with some self-righteous answer was even worse. “Do you even understand the shit you’re in right now? Did you honestly think pulling that stunt would make anything better? I was trying, alright? I was trying to help you only for you to just...”

He stopped, trembling with fury and unable to even say it as he shut his eyes. Komaeda made a noise. A familiar sound that has Hinata nearly lose his temper and commit an act he’d regret... But instead, he lets out a heavy sigh and gives Komaeda a look of disgust.

His look drops when he sees how Komaeda’s reacting—how he’d been reacting ever since Hinata started yelling at him.

Komaeda looks terrified—sincerely, purely scared in a way that Hinata had never seen before. He’s back against the wall, knees tucked between them like a barrier and arms pressed close against his chest. His body’s wracked with tremors, his eyes wide like a child’s, and Hinata’s anger utterly dissipates back into worry.

“Komaeda...?” he asks, voice softer with a bit of a waver. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I’m... I’m sorry...” Komaeda manages just as the nurse bursts in.

“Hinata-san,” she says and Hinata has to tear his sight away. He hears Komaeda stifle a sob, and the seriousness in the nurse’s eyes doesn’t stop him from flinching. “We need to talk.”

--

When Komaeda first woke up, Hinata didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe he wanted Komaeda to scream—his plan failed after all, tremendously so because not only were they all still alive, but he was still alive as well...and the only person who really died was never living in the first place—or maybe he wanted Komaeda to cry—I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, but how likely was that—or maybe... Maybe deep down, he wanted Komaeda to smile at him and accept his situation with that carefree calm he had been stuck on for months now.

Instead, Komaeda shut down as soon as he woke up. He shut them out.

He was in poor condition upon waking and needed to be nursed, so it didn’t require much effort on his part. The rest of them avoided visiting him, too, except for Hinata who was desperate enough to want something...and maybe a little bit anxious because he remembered the last time they left Komaeda alone to his own devices. Not that it mattered, because even when Hinata tried to be polite, Komaeda seemed content to ignore his existence. Like he really was the Ultimate Nobody.

It made him angry enough to stop trying. But he still worried—that traitorous niggling feeling digging under his skin like a parasitic worm and aggravating him to the point where he felt like he was going to go insane. But there was nothing he could do, right, if Komaeda wasn’t going to acknowledge him—there was nothing he could do...

But, god, desperately and shakily pressing torn bits of fabric to Komaeda’s head in a frenzied attempt to stop the bleeding—if there was really nothing he could have done to prevent this...

“Don’t, please don’t die,” he begged, heart pounding. He already called Naegi in hysteria but Hinata was terrified at the bleak, real possibility that it’d be too late. Komaeda’s eyes were already fluttered shut and blood was still pulsing and slicking his trembling fingers. “Please, Komaeda, stay with me, stay with me... I-I can’t...”

It’s only by the time the others get there that Hinata realizes he’s been crying. He tries to wipe the tears away but ends up smearing Komaeda’s blood on his face instead. In seconds, he’s hyperventilating as Naegi takes his shoulders and murmurs to him: it’ll be fine don’t lose hope Komaeda-kun will be fine, you saved him Hinata-kun it’ll be fine...

In the end, Komaeda is saved. Hinata washes away his blood from his hands. And when Hinata hurries to go visit him, Komaeda turns and gives him a smile.

--

Komaeda smiled at him again when he entered. But this time the smile was tinier, more fearful—and the more Hinata thought about it, the more the smile from before seemed more for the sake of platitude. And yet he got angry.

This wasn’t the time to feel guilty over it. But he should...

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I...” I wasn’t aware of your condition. But I say something like that, and he’ll know I meant it. The yelling part. I did mean it. But I wouldn’t have been like that if I knew... Does that even mean anything? Does apologizing mean anything? What am I supposed to...? “I’m sorry, Komaeda. Do you really not...”

“I forgive you.” Komaeda’s smile was still meek, but also a bit wider, and Hinata didn’t know if that was good or not. He shouldn’t get conceited when Komaeda still seemed so unsure and insecure. “From what I can tell, I think I’m at fault too... You did say you trying to help me, so... Ah, it’s fine. I just ended up startled, because...you know...”

It’s not like you would even know why I’d lose myself like that... You don’t even know who I am anymore... And it’s weird that he’d be so sheepish about it, too, because it’s not like Komaeda chose to conveniently get retrograde amnesia when he did. Hell, the amnesia thing was probably the furthest thing he was aiming for and that was...

Just fine. As far as Hinata was concerned, when things don’t go Komaeda’s way is preferable to otherwise. Komaeda’s way was twisted and distorted and could invariably lead to disaster. Hinata was aware of this from experience, though he was also aware he didn’t fully understand it. It was entirely possible he never would. Still... “Is there anything you want?”

“Huh?” Komaeda looked at him, his head at a bird-like tilt and wide doe eyes. “I’m...sorry? I don’t know if I can answer that question easily...especially when I’m not entirely sure if I can trust you. Yet, at least.” He looks almost apologetic and Hinata really doesn’t get that either. But finally, Komaeda’s looking a bit bright again, and it’s more of a relief than he cares to admit. “So the nurse did explain what’s wrong with me, right? Recently wrong, I mean. There were problems before... Ah, but I don’t know if you know about that so I’ll just stop here. Did she tell you or not?”

“You don’t remember,” Hinata states it bluntly, his throat thick as Komaeda nods in response. “You’ve experienced trauma that resulted in you losing your memories. You... You don’t remember me anymore, do you?”

“No, I don’t,” Komaeda says, his smile sad. “Nor do I remember how I got here. But I’m not completely a blank slate if it means anything! I remember some things that happened to me before—like once, I had a dog? Ha-ha, something like that... There are still holes in the memories, sadly, but at least they’re still there. If it helps, I think one of the last things I remember is getting an acceptance letter.”

“An acceptance letter? For where...?” Hinata was already dreading the answer. Komaeda chewed on his lower lip with a soft hum.

“Some esteemed academy... But I don’t recall the name...”

“Was it Hope’s Peak?” Hinata’s stomach drops. “Y-You...don’t remember Hope’s Peak?”

“Was that the name of the school? That sounds about right.” Komaeda didn’t sound so sure despite his chipper tone. “Sorry, my memory stops there. But since I’ve been diligently explaining my delicate situation, perhaps you could fill me in a bit on the things I don’t know? It’d only be fair, after all...” He holds up his left wrist, tracing the bandages around the stump as he observes it in plain curiosity. “I’m not entirely sure how I got this. The nurses won’t tell me and to be frank, I highly doubt it was from the incident that resulted in my amnesia. It’s a bit healed over and... I think that acceptance letter was a while ago...before this. I’m not sure, but do you know?”

“I-I...” Hinata hesitates, blatantly. “I-I wasn’t there...when you lost it... S-Sorry...”

“So you don’t know? How disappointing.” Komaeda sighed. “Isn’t that so unfortunate? How am I supposed to write? My handwriting’s awful enough as it is and... Oh. Right. Your question. No, I don’t remember going to school at all. I just remember getting accepted.”

“Do you remember anything after that?” Hinata asks. “Like...your classmates? School assignments? F-Field trips?”

“Hm. Those are some generic questions. I get the feeling you’re hiding things from me...” But Komaeda grinned cheekily as Hinata froze for a moment. Komaeda laughed it off like it was no big deal. “Ah, it can’t be helped. But no, sorry. I barely remembered the school’s name after all. Oh, wait, I do remember being on a boat... Actually yeah. I was on some kind of boat.”

“Do you like boats? You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Hinata blinked hard to dispel the image, but Komaeda turned to him with realization clear in his gaze and face lighting up. “That’s right! You were there, weren’t you? You have the same eyes from earlier, though I see you cut your hair... Funny, didn’t you never want to see me again? You were quite cold, you know...from what I remember. What else were we discussing?”

“It’s not important,” Hinata says, voice quick and thick. “None of those things are important anymore. I didn’t mean anything I said back then. That... That’s not me anymore, so you mustn’t worry.”

“Oh...” Komaeda looks a bit disappointed, but still a bit hopeful. “Um. I don’t remember you introducing yourself...”

That’s because I didn’t. Not back then. I didn’t deem it important.

“What’s your name again?”

Hinata swallows. “Hi...Hinata. Hajime Hinata. I was...” Your classmate? But that’s not true, is it? I was never in that...

“My friend, right?” Komaeda asks, and Hinata’s chest seizes up for a moment. And Komaeda looks bashful too, rubbing at his shoulder with a light blush on his face. “I really am sorry... I must have worried you a lot to make you so angry... Though I don’t know how good my words are when like this. But really, I sincerely appreciate you caring so much. Especially since our first meeting didn’t go so well... But since you’ve changed, I guess... We’re friends now?”

You’ve got that wrong. I didn’t understand you. I don’t even know if I can forgive you. Even though you’re alive now, I feel like things have never been more complicated. I don’t know what we were, but it sure as hell was not...

“Or I’m wrong,” he hums, halting Hinata’s thoughts with a self-effacing sigh. “For all I know I could have just been a troublemaker you got saddled with. Isn’t that more likely?”

Hinata doesn’t answer, but Komaeda gives him another sincere smile that takes his breath away. “But I still like you, Hinata-kun. You must be a really kind person to worry so strongly over someone like me. I don’t have to remember our exact relationship to notice that; especially when you were so fired up earlier. I’ll try and do my best, so don’t fret so much, okay?”

I...I may never understand this person...

--

“I don’t want to go back.”

The words were simple, clear, and concise. And yet, they didn’t make any sense at all.

“Komaeda,” Hinata groaned, reaching for the other only for him to avoid his hand. Komaeda’s stare remained—those same wide doe eyes and lips pulled into a neutral straight line—but Hinata grew more agitated by the minute.

The wind blew, ocean waves crashing below, and when Hinata’s eyes drifted from Komaeda, they landed immediately on the edge of the cliff not too far behind the two. The idea appeared in his head and soon sank to his gut, and Hinata nearly begged as he attempted to grab Komaeda. “Come on...!”

“If you’re going to take me back,” Komaeda murmured, face unreadable as he continued to evade his swiping hand. “Then I have no choice.”

“Please, please don’t...”

“Hinata-kun.” It was the first time Komaeda had said his name in months, and it sounded raspy. Awful. Hinata hated the way Komaeda said his name. But he still missed it. And that just made it worse. “What do you think will happen? Good luck or bad luck? Make a prediction—just like you did the first time we met. Hopefully, you won’t be wrong like last time.”

Hinata shouted his name, fear breaking through his anger as he launched himself forward towards the other. He missed Komaeda by mere centimeters and he only saw a blur of white and blue before there was only the barren cliff before him.

Whatever shock he would have gone into was shattered when he heard the soft, muted impact from several feet below.

--

“Oh good morning, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda brightly greeted him, waving his good hand once he saw Hinata standing blankly in his doorway. Hinata wasn’t sure how he looked, and Komaeda gave no comments to it, but there was a slightly concerned way to how Komaeda tilted his head and smiled a bit more. “It’s a bit early... Is something wrong?”

“...Nightmare. I had a nightmare.” With those words out, he stumbled to get close, nearly tripping in his haste to reach out and grasp Komaeda’s still elevated hand. He squeezed it once, briefly, and pulled his hands back to wipe his clammy palms off his pants. “Sorry. I... I just had to make sure for a moment.”

“It’s fine...” Komaeda pulled his hand close, curling it against his chest. His worried smile remained on his face, and Hinata tried not to stare at the bandages wrapped around his head. There were scars there before, from previous hospital trips, and Hinata can only imagine how much worse they’d look now with where his head had bashed on a rock.

“Um... Hinata-kun?”

Hinata’s gaze snapped back.

“I’m sorry,” Komaeda spoke with such ease, and yet, so much regret. “I’m really, really sorry. I just... I feel like I should beg you for forgiveness.”

You should, but I won’t be happy when you’re like this. It’s...

It’s fine.

“Komaeda...”

Even if I won’t ever understand, even if we’re just back at square one again... Even so...

“I should’ve said this earlier,” Hinata said, forcing a smile. “Welcome back.”

Komaeda blinked at him, but he smiled once more. It actually wasn’t half-bad. It might’ve even been a little lovely.

I can keep trying a little while longer.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Dean Winchester x reader

Requested by anon/ Summary: You fake your death to protect the Winchesters and meet again years later

A/N: I’m a little iffy with this one. Not sure if I like it. I’m sorry if it sucks. I guess I’m a little rusty after not writing for a few days :( sorry for any mistakes 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

I am currently taking requests for:

The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Elijah Mikaelson

Damon Salvatore

Criminal Minds:

Spencer Reid

Derek Morgan

Supernatural (I’m only up to season 2, so please don’t request something with spoilers)**

Sam Winchester

Dean Winchester

Outer Banks (Netflix):

John B Routledge

JJ Maybank

Rafe Cameron

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

You knew your abusive father was out of jail and would be heading your way pretty soon and he wouldn’t stop until he found you and killed you. You were the reason he spent years in jail and he was looking for revenge. Nothing standing in his way. If he knew you were with the Winchester brothers, he’d kill them too. You knew you needed to protect them, just as they had done numerous times for you on hunts. It was time for you to pay up and protect them. Even if it means never seeing them again. You loved them, especially Dean and would never forgive yourself if anything happened to them because of you. So, you started plotting your own death. You’d made a deal with Bobby and begged him to help you. You would be “Going on a hunt on your own.” However, it would “end badly” resulting in your death. Bobby would be the first to hear about it and would inform the boys of your death. Then, you would slip into the darkness until it was safe to come out. 

“Bobby, what the hell is going on? Why did we need to come over here?” Dean asks, walking into the home, Sam following behind. 

Bobby motions to the couch, his voice sad, “you boys should sit down.” 

Sam looks at Dean and back at Bobby before sitting down. 

Dean follows suit, “What’s wrong Bobby? You act like someone has died.” Dean chuckles, jokingly. However, he immediately stops when he sees the look on Bobby’s face. He knows you’d gone on a hunt by yourself. It was an easy one, he knew that. However, he didn’t want you to go but you’d reassured him you’d done this hunt a million times and would be able to take care of yourself. He let you go without another word. 

“Bobby?” Sam asks. 

Bobby slowly sits across from the boys, “I’m afraid it’s y/n.” 

Dean shoots up from his seat, “you’re lying.” He shakes his head, “I just spoke with her. She was fine.” 

“I’m sorry Dean.” Bobby whispers, “It ended up being a trap.. She’s gone Dean.”

 Dean shakes his head again, “No… no. This can’t be happening..” 

Sam stands, his eyes filling with tears. You’d become a sister to him. He pulled his brother into a hug and Dean let go, sobs wracking his body as his whole world fell apart, the love of his life, gone. Never to be seen again, “She can’t be gone… no…” 

~ 5 Years Later ~ 

The two Winchesters walked through the crowded street heading toward a lead on a hunt. However, someone caught Dean’s eye crossing the street. It couldn’t be, his mind was only playing tricks. Dean shook his head, closing his eyes, before opening them. The woman had turned and that’s when he saw you. It had been 5 years but he would be able to point you out in any crowd. Dean didn’t even bother speaking to Sam or looking as he crossed the street. A car driving down the road, slammed on their breaks, blaring their horn. Dean held his hand out in an apology and continued toward you, “Y/n!” 

 “Dean, what the hell?!” Sam called out, confused. 

“Move! Excuse me!” Dean called out, moving through the crowd. However, when he managed to get across the street, you’d vanished in the crowd. He frantically looked around but didn’t see you again. 

“Dean, what the hell man? You almost got yourself killed!” Sam said, catching up to him. 

Dean looked around again and then looked at Sam, “I saw her man. Like clear as day.” He points to the street, “She crossed the street and walked this way. It was her Sammy, I’d know her anywhere.”

Sam looks around as well, before looking at his brother, sadness in his eyes, “Dean.. she’s been gone 5 years. She’s dead. It must have just been your mind playing tricks.” Sam puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Let’s go..” 

Dean finally gives in. Sam’s right; she’s gone. 

~ 

You’d heard him call out your name and quickly hid. You watched from behind a building at him and Sam. He’d looked the same he did 5 years ago, maybe even hotter. He’d buffed out and grew out his facial hair. He looked good with facial hair. It took everything you had not to run out to him. It was better this way though. If you came back now, he’d probably never forgive you. Your father had been dead 3 years and after you killed him, you went back to Kansas to explain everything to Dean, but he’d already moved on. Another woman on his arm. So, you left him be. He’d moved on and you were too late. 

~

Dean stares up at the hotel ceiling, his arm under his head. 

“What’s on your mind?” Sam asks, sitting on his bed. 

“Sammy, I swear it was her..” Sam sighs, “Dean, I know you miss her, but it’s been 5 years. She’s gone, you know that. There’s no way it was her. It was your mind playing tricks.” 

Dean sits up, “Sam, I know what I saw.” 

Sam holds his hands up in defense, “Okay, believe what you want. I’m not going to argue with you.”

 ~ 

Dean and Sam sat at the small table at the Bar and Grille. They needed a beer after the day they’d had. Dean sipped his beer, glancing around the bar. That’s when he notices a man walking up to a woman at the bar. He whispers something in her ear and before the man can touch her, she’s pinned him against the bar, an arm pinned behind his back and his body bent over the bar. His eyes are wide as he watches the scene unfold. It was like a flash back of when he first met you. 

~

“Hey there, how about we get out of here?” He whispered in your ear. He’d watched you all night, throwing back beers and whisky and knew he needed to talk to you. His hand went to your lower back and that’s when you turned on him, pinning his arm behind his back, “Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.” He liked a woman who knew how to protect herself. 

He glances over his shoulder at you, flashing a smile, “my apologies. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you?” 

You’d slowly let him go and he’d turned to face you, “Dean Winchester.” 

You blushed when you saw him. You were hooked then and there, “I drink whisky. Think you can handle that?” 

Dean nods, “Oh baby, I can handle anything you throw at me.” 

~

He knew it was you. He slowly stands from his table and crosses the bar to get to you. You’d scared the poor guy off and was now alone. He clears his throat as he gets to you. He tries to stay calm, finding his voice, “Let me buy you a drink to make up for him being an asshole?” 

You froze on the barstool, that voice sending a shiver down your spine. You slowly turned to face him, standing from the stool, your eyes already filling with tears, “Dean Winchester…” You shook your head and smiled at him, “I drink whisky… you think you can handle that?”

His bottom lip quivers as he sees that it’s really you. He steps closer to you, chuckling, his hands cupping your cheeks, and leaning in close, “Oh baby, I can handle anything you throw at me.” He whispers against your lips before smashing his lips against yours. 

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ 

Supernatural tag list: @fanficscuziranout​ , @taylordrunkonwhiskey   , @losers-club6​

*if your name is crossed out then tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you :( 

[royalbluehues]

I Promise.

Title: I Promise.

Author: royalbluehues

Warnings:  No warnings.

Pairings: William Schofield x Reader

Author’s Note: For Come Back To Me, I’m not satisfied with what I’ve been writing so it’s been a lot of writing then deleting, but I got a quarter of a page written and should be up by the end of this week.

Until then, I’ve written this to sate everyone’s needs for Will. Would you be interested in seeing a drabble for Tom? Let me know. 

Thank you for all the wonderful comments and hearts I’ve received these past two days. I’m muy happy. :)

You were running to the railway station, bumping into people as you went who were coming from there. You nearly collided with old men and women, with mothers sobbing into their handkerchiefs as they led their younger children by the hand to home. With the parcels you brought with you cradled in the crook of your right arm, and your right hand stationed at the top of your hat to prevent it from flying away with the gusts of wind that blew to the east, you thought only of him.

The air was frigid, and you had even left in such a hurry that you had gone without your coat. The white high collared shirt your wore did nothing to keep the cold from seeping in, but you soldiered on. 

“Oh!” You let out in an irritated tone when you saw another small incline. You began to make your ascent, feeling the strains in your calves as you continued on.

Please, you silently prayed, please let him still be there. Please.

Your heart was hammering, your heels clicking loudly underneath you, reminding you of a lame horse lacking the ability to move any faster.

Out of all the blasted days in the world, Lady Shelly had to make a sudden appearance at the shop you worked in to surprise all her workers with a check-up on how her business was going.

You had even pleaded with one of the other girls to help you, but was dismissed with a look of indifference. The entire hour Lady Shelly was there, you were biting on your curled index finger with impatience and restless until she walked out the spotless glass doors, the ostrich feather in her hat bouncing each time she took a step.

By that time, it was half past one, and he would be leaving the station sharply at two. Unluckily for you, the distance between the shop and the station was about a 25-30 minute walk. 

So you did what you could only think of that would help your case, all proprietary out the window, and ran.

And once you made it to the top of the hill, panting, you nearly cried out in relief when you saw the familiar sign that read ‘Station Hill’. 

You bolted down the road, passing a horse drawn carriage, and hearing some comments about your lack of propriety, and another about how running would cause you fatigue.

Upon seeing the small red brick building, you saw the train’s smoke and heard the clamor of the men in trolley cars beside you as you ran by it. 

When setting foot on the platform, you whipped around madly for any sign of him amongst the last group of men that boarded the train. The train whistled, signaling for its final call.

“All aboard!” The conductor yelled from a window, waving a hand up in the air as the last few men entered the cart. 

Shaking your head, you looked around for any sign of him. “No, no,” you said desperately to yourself.

The wind was strong,your black skirt lifting and ruffling around your ankles angrily. Blinking and in a panic, you headed towards the conductor, “Sir, please, you have to help me-”

“Madam, I will have to ask you to kindly step back,” he told you, his dark eyes boring down at you as he gripped the railing leading into the cart.

“No, no you don’t understand- I wasn’t able to leave on time- his name is Schofield!” you jabbered quickly, desperately clutching onto the parcels in your hand, “His name is William Schofield. He had to have shown some form of documentation to have boarded, you must have seen him-”

“Madam,” he interrupted sharply, stepping on the second step inward, “We are on a tight schedule. Please step back.”

With a trembling lip and a look of desperation, you took a step back, watching as the conductor slid the door shut. 

You felt a tightness in your throat, eyes watering as you trembled from the unbelievable interaction.

Countless of terrible possibilities flickered through your mind, countless of “what if”. 

Was he mad at you? Did he think you would never present yourself?

What if he didn’t leave without a scarf? What if he were to get ill? Would he write to his mother and tell him you never showed? 

And the gut wrenching question that loomed over your head made your stomach turn sickly, the very question you have never allowed to enter into your thought until that very moment, What if he were to die and you would never see him again?

Wiping at the tear that fell down your cheek, you shook yourself out of your dreadful reverie, and walked to the first compartment. You banged on the window, grabbing hold of the young officers attention leaning against it.

You blinked away the tears that blurred your vision, and stood on the tips of your toes as one the boys shimmied the window down.

Their looks ranged from confusion as you desperately clung at the window sill, “Miss, the train’s about to move-”

“Is William Schofield there? Please!” You begged, “I-I wasn’t given the chance to say goodbye-” The young officer, retreated, making you cry out and another wave of dread washed over you, “No! Please come back-”

“Oi!” He shouted loudly into the hall of the cart, “Oi! Is there some chap named Schofield ‘ere?” He leaned his head further in from you line of vision.

“Eh?” You heard him ask in his thick Cockney accent, “Well then bloody ask around, you daft dolt! His girl’s out ‘ere crying her eyes out!”

Your lip trembled more, as you stepped back, hearing as the train geared up, and feeling as the steam beneath the train expanded around you. The young man came back, languidly leaning out the window, hand dangling freely, “He’s in one of the last carts, ma’am.”

You took his hand and kissed it in gratitude, feeling your chest blossom with hope, “Thank you!” you sobbed, letting go as you ran, head turned towards the windows.

“William!” You called desperately over the loco-motor’s churning, “William!”

And you just barely heard it above the noise when the train moved slowly forward. Your name.

His head was popping out from one of the last windows, and he was waving his right arm to get your attention.

You nearly wanted to collapse from you mixture of emotions, and you let out a strangle of a sob as you moved to him, “William,” you gasped out. When you reached him, you grabbed hold of his hands, “Will-”

“You came,” he said, his blue eyes searching your own, “I thought you wouldn’t come-”

“I’m sorry, I was held up,” you said in a rush, moving along with the train, “I was going to come earlier- Please forgive me- Lady Shelly came and I-”

“It doesn’t matter now.” He told you calmly, “You came.” 

You had forgotten about the parcels until they nearly fell out of your arms, “Oh,” you exhaled shakily letting go of his hand to briefly hand the items wrapped in parchment, “I brought you some things to take with you, I- Oh, William.” You let out sadly, looking at the distance ahead of you at the cut off before the train exited the station. It was moving a bit faster now.

You looked at him, noticing how handsome he looked, donning his officer’s hat and wearing his army greens. If only you could have made it on time. If only the war would have never started.

“You’ll write me?” He asked somberly, reaching for your hands once more, looking into your eyes as you picked up speed.

You nodded vigorously, tearing up again, “Everyday. Promise me you’ll return to me. If not for me, then for your mother and your sisters. They need you,” you hurriedly spoke, breaking into a slow jog.

“For all of you,” he promised, bringing his lips to the backs of your hands, “I promise.”

You looked down to see a small bar on the side of the train, and you stepped on it without a second to lose, and William’s hands took either side of your face and kissed you.

His thin lips pressed against yours tightly, as if it were the last time he would ever see you again. He let go before bringing you back to kiss him again. You transferred tears to his cheeks and sobbed loudly in between.

The back of the train was beginning to underpass the small overhead of the station:

you were losing time. When he pulled back, you were shaking again, “You keep your promise, then. You keep it, do you hear me?” You croaked, “I love you. You have my heart, so return it to me safely.” 

He kissed your entwined hands nodding, his large eyes filled with unshed tears, looking at you with a thousand unsaid words, “Always.”

You let go of him, opposing every atom in your body screaming not to, and hopped off the rusty bar, and onto the last bit of platform Cookham’s station had to offer.

Your hat had fallen, probably when you stepped onto the train’s bar, but you could care less. As the train carried on, carrying roughly around a hundred men, William also took everything you had with him.

You watched until William’s distance from you grew, and until you couldn’t hear the gears turn or the whistle blow. You stood still for minutes after it left your sight. 

Your heart felt heavy as you mulled over his words, I promise. 

William was not one to break his word. He would come back to you.

You breathed out shakily, the heat from your breath wafting above you in the cold air, blinking tears that were threatening to fall, and grabbing a fistful of your skirt.

Always.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[smooshjames]

forget you not (ii)

your voice a serenade and it sings to my heart (or: concerts, closure, and an la sidewalk)

word count: just under 4k

a/n: part 2 of forget you not is here! again, i didn’t write any of the songs mentioned herein; all credit for the music in this story goes to little mix. links as always to the songs mentioned in this part: x, x, x, x. if you like what i do, consider buying me a coffee! it’s never obligatory but the support would certainly be appreciated. if you can’t/don’t want to donate, don’t worry about it!! i’m just grateful people take the time to read my work!

warnings: more angst teehee, an obscene amount of italic text

previous part: here

Your break seemed to pass in no time, and then it was time for mic check. You noted Courtney and Shayne sitting in the front row and wondered silently if God was punishing you for something you’d done. Maybe this was karma from a past life.

Doing your best not to look at him, and pushing down the absurd hope that he’d be looking back at you if you did, you went through mic check as quickly as possible and made your way back into the safety of the dressing room. With mic check done, the concert would begin in less than an hour, and you were starting to reconsider singing Towers. The front row of the arena was close enough to the stage that you’d be able to see him even with all the stage lights, and you weren’t sure you could sing the song if you had to actually look him in the eye while you did it. It was one thing to know he was in the room, another entirely to actually watch his reactions.

But Carly had already gotten Michelle to coordinate with the sound people and the backup dancers, and you didn’t want to have to force them to go back on all that. You couldn’t back out now.

That knowledge weighed on you up to the start of the show, and then you got your game face on. You had no time to dwell on Shayne once you were out of the dressing room, doing warmups as you made your way to the lift below the stage, performing your pre-show ritual which involved some call-and-response singing and a lot of hugs, and then getting into position on the lift which would bring you up from beneath the stage floor.

You could already hear the audience cheering and talking, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sound of it. You counted out the beats in your head as the intro music started, the lights began to flash, the dancers got into place, and the lift began to rise.

“Make way for the G-O-double-D-E-S-S.” The mantra of your newest album, and the way you began your show. The band harmonized this phrase a few times before the song, and the concert, began in earnest.

It went well. You were right; you could just make out Shayne’s face even through all the stage lights. But for the first few songs, you were so occupied with remembering your choreography and making sure you sounded good that you could sort of forget he was there.

And then it was time for Towers, and your heart fell into your stomach.

“We’ve got a little bit of a treat for you tonight,” Alexis said. The audience quieted slightly as she spoke, obviously wanting to know what she was talking about. “We’re gonna take it back a little bit. We haven’t sung this live in quite some time, so forgive us if it’s a bit rusty.”

You heard the familiar drumbeat of Towers begin to play. The audience started screaming immediately, obviously recognizing the song right away, and you grinned despite your nerves. For the time being, you managed to keep your eyes off of Shayne. You focused instead on Carly as she began to sing the first verse of the song.

And then it was your verse, and you stared out at the sea of nondescript shapes that made up the majority of the audience; you could only see the first few rows before they became dark, vaguely person-shaped forms. “It’s a shame, you’re to blame, ‘cause once you owned my heart,” you sang. It sounded a little wobbly, but overall it was okay.

You made it through the first line of your verse before your eyes betrayed you. You couldn’t stop yourself any longer; you looked at Shayne.

He was staring directly at you. You couldn’t make out much of his expression, but it seemed… pained, like he was sad.

The sound died in your throat and you heard the audience murmur as you stopped singing. You looked from Shayne to the rest of the audience and then to Carly, who was nodding in an attempt to be encouraging. You took a deep, shuddery breath, frantically trying to get your shit together. You could hear the audience trying to help you by singing the lyrics you were missing, and you were vaguely aware of Alexis and Piper holding their microphones out to the crowd in encouragement, but everything was sort of blurry.

You kept your eyes locked on Carly. You would not look at Shayne. You couldn’t. You knew that he was hearing you, and that would just have to be enough. You opened your mouth to sing again.

“I still feel love when I see your face, but all these tears I can’t erase.” Luckily, you had only missed a couple of bars of the song and were able to pick up just about where you had left off. You hoped the audience would just chalk it up to what Alexis said before the song started; it had been a while since you’d sang Towers live. “Sorry heart, I’m sorry heart but we’ll have to start again.”

And then, like an angel from heaven on high, Piper began to sing. You had a momentary reprieve to collect yourself and take a deep breath. Since performing this song was so impromptu, there was no choreography for you to remember, nothing to think about as Piper sang her bit.

The second chorus was yours, and you weren’t sure what came over you but you looked at Shayne again as you began to sing and this time, you didn’t stop. You didn’t look away. Maybe it was all the pent-up emotion finally being released, or maybe it was just the energy in the room making you braver than you might’ve normally been, but you held his gaze through the chorus: “you never brought me flowers, never held me in my darkest hours. And you left it so late that my heart feels nothing, nothing in towers. Once we were made like towers. Everything could’ve been ours, but you left it too late, now my heart feels nothing, nothing at all.”

You felt a tear drip down your cheek as you sang, but you forced yourself to push through it. You were sure the audience had probably noticed the shaky quality of your voice by now.

You continued to look at Shayne while Alexis began singing the bridge. You thought you saw him reach up and wipe at his face like he was wiping away a tear, but that was probably a trick of the stage lights. It had to be. Why would he be crying?

As the final chorus began and Piper belted out her high notes, you watched him in sort of a daze. He reached up to swipe at his cheek again, and then he stood up and started walking toward the exit. You lost him in the crowd almost immediately.

If that was what closure was supposed to feel like, then closure was pretty fucking useless.

***

The evening air hit Shayne like a freight train as he stumbled out of the arena and into the night. He took in a gulp of air and wiped at the tears on his cheeks, letting out a pitiful noise of frustration and anguish. He sat on the edge of the sidewalk. He bowed his head between his knees, ran his hands through his hair, and tried to remember how to breathe.

It had been going alright, all things considered. He felt a little bit like he was getting the shit beat out of him as he watched you grind on backup dancers and sing about love and moving on and strength and how you didn’t need a man, but other than that he’d been having fun; the show was good, not just from a musical standpoint but from a technical standpoint as well. He could tell that you and your bandmates had put countless hours into learning dance routines on top of singing everything, which was really impressive. Costumes and special effects made the show feel complete.

And you had been utterly ethereal, silhouetted by stage lights and grinning as you walked around the stage like you owned it. It had seemed, for a while, that you were having the time of your life. That you’d forgotten he was even there.

Your bandmate -- Alexis or Piper, he couldn’t be positive which -- said you were doing an older song, and Courtney reached out to grab his forearm like she’d just won the lottery. When the intro started playing, she shot out of her seat to sing along. For the first few seconds, it was fine. Just another song.

When you started to sing, though, you looked at him, and he felt his heart ripped from his chest and stomped into the ground like it meant nothing. You seemed so sad, so angry, so accusatory. And you had every right to be, he knew.

But it was when you stopped singing, when you made that little sound that he knew meant you were about to cry, it was then that the room slowed and shrank around him. The air was punched out of his lungs and he couldn’t seem to get any more. He felt like his world had gone off-kilter, like he was careening at lightspeed into the sun.

You tore your eyes away from him and looked at Carly, who nodded at you. You seemed to find your voice again, and oh, it was like fire curling out from his ribs and up into his throat. He was utterly transfixed by you; he couldn’t look away even as one of your other bandmates began to sing.

“You never bought me flowers,” you sang, and you were looking at him again, all that sadness and fire behind your eyes. He felt his throat spasm around a sob, felt his eyes burn. “Never held me in my darkest hours.” God, you were right; he’d fucked up so monumentally. “And you left it so late that my heart feels nothing, nothing in towers.” This was when the tears started to fall.

The rest of your words were sort of a blur. All he could focus on was your eyes boring into his.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stood up and rushed out, and now here he was, close to hyperventilation on a gross LA sidewalk.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Courtney asking where he’d gone, making sure he was okay. He typed back that he had just needed to get some air. He was grateful when she didn’t reply.

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure how long he sat on that sidewalk. He didn’t want to go back inside. He wasn’t sure if he could see you without dissolving into tears all over again. He wanted to go home; or, even better, he wanted to go to Damien’s and cry on his couch and eat ice cream until he couldn’t think straight. But he knew Courtney would be worried and disappointed if he left early, and she would push him for a reason, and he couldn’t tell her. This was her favorite band. 

He didn’t want to change her opinion just because he was still pining over a relationship that ended years ago.

He sniffled, stood up, and dusted off his jeans. Before he went back inside, he sent Damien a text asking if he could come over after the concert. Damien’s answer came quickly; sure, he wasn’t busy. Shayne let out a sigh of relief and made his way back into the arena.

You didn’t look at him for the rest of the show.

***

Luckily, the concert ended sooner rather than later. You and your bandmates waved and called goodbyes as you disappeared beneath the stage floor. Shayne, anxious to get out of the arena, was out of his seat as soon as the house lights turned back on. He rocked up on the balls of his feet while Courtney gathered her stuff.

Once she was ready to go, Shayne began pushing through the crowds toward the exit. It took a while, but he finally managed to get out of the building with Courtney in tow.

“So, did you like it?” she asked as they walked back to their cars. Shayne stuffed his hands into his pockets and did his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

“Yeah, it was pretty good,” he said.

“I thought it was great. I was so surprised when they sang Towers; it’s one of my favorite songs by them. And they all sounded so great, too.”

Shayne tuned her out for most of the walk, too deep in his own feelings to give Courtney his full attention. Once they made it back to their cars, they hugged and went their separate ways.

He’d never been so anxious to get to Damien’s.

He was greeted, as usual, by the cats. They meowed up at him and twined around his legs, almost like they knew he was upset. He leaned down to scratch behind their ears. Damien shouted a greeting from the kitchen.

Shayne didn’t respond, just toed off his shoes and went to sit down on the couch. He leaned back against the throw pillows and closed his eyes for a while, lulled into a sort of trance by the sound of the sink running in the kitchen.

Shayne turned up on Damien’s doorstep with hunched shoulders and red-rimmed eyes. He reached for the doorknob and, as Damien had said he would, found it unlocked. Zelda and Freyja swarmed around his legs as he entered, purring and twining around him. He smiled softly down at them but didn’t stoop to pet them. He was pretty sure if he crouched to their level he wouldn’t be able to get back up; the exhaustion and sadness and disappointment in his system felt so intense, so bone-deep and pervasive, that he was fairly certain he might keel over unconscious any second.

He shuffled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, groaning into one of the throw pillows. He’d only been there for a minute or so when Damien emerged from the bathroom. Shayne heard his friend suck in a sharp inhale at the sight of him and realized that Damien probably hadn’t heard him come in. “Sorry,” he said, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Damien replied. “I just didn’t realize you’d get here so fast. You want something to drink?”

Shayne thought for a second and then decided against it. “No,” he replied. “I’m not thirsty.”

Damien didn’t respond, though Shayne did hear his footsteps receding into the kitchen. He came back after a few seconds with a bottle of water. Once he had made himself comfortable on the couch and taken a long drag of said water, he peered at Shayne for a long moment. Shayne didn’t look back at him; he was fixated on a point off to Damien’s left, and he was only half-aware of his surroundings, anyway. He didn’t need to look at Damien’s face to know what he’d find there: confusion, disappointment, probably some anger.

“What happened?” Damien asked. That question was almost worse than the uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t know,” Shayne replied, and it wasn’t a lie. “I don’t… dude, I don’t fucking know. I panicked, I ended things, and she just… she just left. She didn’t even try to fight it.”

“Please tell me that’s not you trying to blame her for this,” Damien said, and Shayne could hear the anger creeping steadily further into his voice. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrubbed a hand over his face, and reached for the water bottle. He downed the rest of it and set it on the end table. With the water gone, he sat up and turned so that he could face Damien.

“I’m not. It’s my fault. I’m not stupid enough to try to deny that.”

“Well, you’re stupid enough to end a three-year relationship for no good goddamn reason, so at this point, I’m not a hundred percent sure where all of your brain cells have fucked off to.”

Shayne grimaced at the biting words as if Damien had taken a physical swing at him, unable to help the wounded sound that lodged itself in his throat. He didn’t try to fight it, though. Damien was right.

There was a moment of tense silence. Damien sighed and shook his head, and then his form softened; his shoulders relaxed and some of the ire left his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was harsh. I just… I’m just confused, dude. I thought you guys were happy. This is kind of coming out of nowhere.”

“The other day, we talked about getting married. And we both agreed that it was something we wanted.”

Damien’s brow furrowed. “Oh… kay?” he said slowly, sounding out each vowel. “That kind of proves my point, Shayne.”

“Today, I got home and she was sitting on the couch and she asked me how my day was and I panicked. Suddenly, it was just… too much. And I started talking before I could think about it. And from there it was like I was completely out of control, like I couldn’t shut myself up. The look on her face… that look is gonna haunt my fucking dreams. And by the time I realized what I had done, by the time I was about to get down on my knees and beg her to stay, she was gone.”

Another long few seconds of silence. Shayne realized with a start that he was crying. He took a shuddering breath and wiped at the tears on his cheeks.

“I’m scared, Dames,” he continued. “She didn’t fight it. She just… she just packed a bag and went. Maybe she wanted this, maybe she was waiting to tell me. Maybe she wasn’t happy. Maybe that’s why she didn’t fight.”

Damien looked at him like he had grown a second head. “You’re crazy, Shayne. She was… she is so utterly in love with you. Think about the shit you’ve gone through together. Do you honestly believe that she would’ve stuck around this long if she wasn’t happy with you?”

“I texted her after she left,” Shayne said. “Right before I texted you. I apologized and asked if we could talk more. She hasn’t responded.”

“Can you blame her?” Damien asked. Shayne shrugged feebly. “She’s probably with Carly right now. I’d bet any money Carly told her not to answer, and that’s probably for the best. Wait at least until tomorrow and give her a call. You both need a little time to calm down, but you can still fix this.”

Shayne nodded, but he knew deep down that it was done. You were done.

Shayne was startled out of his memories as, in the present, Damien sat down on the couch next to him. He opened his eyes and looked at his best friend, and he knew without having to see himself that he had the same expression as he’d had five years ago; shocked, distant, utterly devastated.

“You okay, man?” Damien asked. Shayne scrubbed his hand over his face and let out a long, frustrated sigh. “That bad?”

“You’ll never guess who I ran into today,” Shayne began. Damien didn’t say anything, just sort of cocked his head as a sign for Shayne to continue. “Y/N, of all people.”

Damien perked up at the mention of your name, but then shrank back down and made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat. “Was she at the concert or something?”

“Oh, not only was she at the concert,” Shayne said. He surged upward so that he was sitting up straight, feeling a surge of frustration course through him. “No, she’s in the fucking band.”

Damien’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped into a sort of shocked “oh” shape. Shayne nodded and threw his hands in the air for emphasis.

“So not only am I caught completely off guard seeing her again during the photo op or whatever, but then I’ve gotta watch her for the whole concert. And she sang this song that I just --” his voice died in his throat as he remembered the look on your face, that same look from years ago, so wholeheartedly hurt.

“I’m sorry, Shayne,” Damien said. It was clear that he wasn’t sure what to do. “Do you wanna talk more or do you wanna take your mind off it?”

Shayne sighed again. “I think I just need a distraction. Let’s find a comedy special or something to watch.”

Damien nodded and turned the TV on, scrolling through Netflix until he found something they agreed upon. Shayne drifted in and out of sleep for a while, exhausted from the emotional whiplash of the day, before he finally passed out on Damien’s couch.

***

He woke up to a sharp pain in his neck and the smell of bacon frying in the kitchen.

“Morning,” Damien greeted him as he entered. “Figured I’d make some breakfast.”

Shayne nodded his thanks and went to the fridge for some water, and then he sat down on a stool at the breakfast counter. His phone was almost dead, but there was just enough power to make sure he hadn't missed anything important. He checked his texts, listened to a voicemail from his dentist’s office about an upcoming appointment, and then scrolled through his emails.

There was one in his work inbox which caught his eye; the filming schedule for the upcoming week. He clicked on the email and scrolled down until he got to the attached document. At the top, Monday, he and Damien would be filming a guest Try Not to Laugh. When his eyes scanned across the page to see who the guest was, his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.

There, written in clear, bold print, was the name of your band.

And Shayne’s lungs were caving in all over again.

[manikas-whims]

Sasusaku prompt 93

A/N: Sorry it took me so long. I haven't written SasuSaku in ages and my writing is still kinda rusty.

So bear with me dear anon.

And prepare yourself for some angst and comfort..:3

Prompt: “Losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt.”

Title: Promises

Ship: Sasuke Uchiha X Sakura Haruno

Words: 1938

Rating: T

Sitting on a couch in the lavish, new apartment that he was relocated to, Sasuke Uchiha looked anywhere but at the unexpectedly quiet, pink haired kunoichi right in front of him. For a brief moment, his wandering mismatched orbs met the obsidian ones of a pale guy named Sai, who is supposed to keep an eye on him for his month long house arrest. The weirdly stoic man stared at him from the far end of the living room, where he was standing comfortably with a sketch pad and a brush in hand. Sasuke averted his attention right back to his ex-teammate. Ever since his pardon (courtesy of Kakashi) for his many unwarranted crimes during his years as a missing S class nin, he had noticed the subtle change in her behavior. Its understandable that they aren’t the same teens who were put together under team 7 yet Sakura was never this guarded around him. It was almost as if she was trying to keep their encounters to the bare minimum, only stopping by to do a quick checkup on his healing wounds and his lost arm. Usually Naruto was around them to diffuse the awkwardness in such situations but unfortunately, the hyperactive blond wasn’t available that day. Something to do with him bidding farewell to his friends from the neighboring lands.

There could be numerous reasons pertaining to her silent treatment but Sasuke didn’t have the patience to mull over all of them and figure it out by himself. The only other option he was left with was to confront her about it. But having hurt her more than once due to his resolve for revenge and revolution, he didn’t know how to strike a normal conversation with her. The last time he uttered something to her was at the Valley of the End, where he had sincerely apologized to her. From then on, it had been just her looking after him at the hospital, narrating fascinating tales about her experiences as a medical ninja whilst he barely nodded his head.

Sasuke sighed. It had always been a one-sided effort— him paying no interest to anything other than his goals as she worked hard on maintaining their delicate bond. But he didn’t want things to remain that way any longer. He didn’t want his soul to stay shrouded in the darkness associated with his clan. If not more, he atleast owed her just as much importance as she gave to their every second spent together. She was generous enough to forgive him for everything he’d done and accepted him with her warm smile. She had let her tormented heart trust him yet again so easily that he wanted to become a man worthy of her forgiveness.

“Sakura,” he tried, hoping his query will reach across her by the shear intensity of his gaze.

The said woman however, didn’t spare him a glance. She was too focused on patching a partially healed cut on the left side of his lower abdomen. “Sasuke-kun,” she replied simply, signifying that she had heard him, her other palm gliding along his bare torso in search of any injuries she might have missed before.

He was glad that even after years of separation she didn’t drop the endearing suffix whenever she addressed him. To a stranger it may seem like nothing but to him, the small gesture meant that she still regarded him with the same level of admiration she did years ago. However, her response didn’t help steer the conversation anywhere.

Sasuke shut his mouth tight, his tongue pressing against the inner wall of his cheek in annoyance. Had it been any other time where she wasn’t mad at him for reasons unknown, she’d have said a few more words, making this whole thing a lot simpler for the both of them. But that day, she just wasn’t in the mood to waste her energy in idle chitchat.

With the examination done, Sakura placed her palms gently on either side of his face and angled it up. A pair of onyx and mauve clashed with refreshing emeralds and Sasuke gulped, watching her send spasms of her soothing chakra through his ocular network. The strain in his eyes reduced comparatively and Sakura let go of his face.

“There. Now you won’t have to stay in Konoha after your probation ends.” The words slipped out of her lips absentmindedly and her pupils dilated in shock. Probably because she wasn’t supposed to say that directly to him.

Sasuke took in a long breath, his calm demeanor replaced by slight irritation. Was that what it was about? Him leaving the village as soon as he was back in shape? He didn’t want to believe that his friend and lover since childhood wasn’t speaking to him over something as insignificant as this. Throughout his trial, the five Kages as well as their subordinates discussed various forms of punishment for him but it was he himself who chose that in the end. He pledged to travel around the allied nations, aid each land in repairing all the damage and inconvenience he had caused as a miscreant and even handle other wrongdoers if he happened upon them during the journey. It was his first step towards redemption— a suggestion that the jury readily agreed to because everyone was excited to give orders to and make Sasuke Uchiha dance to their whims. And so, of all the people he’s acquainted with in the Hidden Leaf Village, he had hoped that his former team would be supportive of his decisions from then on.

“Sakura..” he mumbled, unsure of how to proceed. How was he supposed to convince someone who had always readily understood him without him having to explain a word of it?

“Don’t..” she said, bringing a hand up to stop him, “You have no idea.”

He motioned his lips to try and make her realize how necessary this was for him yet she shook her head and went on, “Do you know how hard it is when your genuine feelings are shrugged off as a mere teenage crush? Do you know how difficult it is when everyone expects you to give up on your very own emotions? Do you!?” her tone escalated and she lowered her head to obscure the fresh tears falling down her eyes, “No you don’t. You do not understand it Sasuke-kun, you can’t! No one can..”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, his only hand twitching to wipe her tears away yet he resisted the urge, afraid of her reaction to his touch— to the touch of the same man who had harmed her on more occasions than protect her..

“Losing you was the most unbearable pain I’ve ever felt.” She stated with a sob, tilting her head up to let him witness the honesty in her tearful gaze. “I can’t lose you again..”

It was true that he didn’t understand. He wasn’t able to comprehend how a woman as benevolent, loving and beautiful as herself came to give her heart to someone so malign like him. He knew it was rude of him to ask for more of her when she had always given her best but he had to do this. She could hate him for the time being– god how he wished she’d have a sliver of hatred for him hidden somewhere beneath all those thick layers of her affection but she didn’t. She was too good to have any sorts of negative emotions towards him.

“I must do thi–”

“Stop lying to me, Sasuke-kun.” She cut him off, a bitter smile gracing her cherry lips, “Just admit that I’m not enough for you to stay. That I never will be..”

For the first time since his return to Konoha, Sasuke’s composed countenance wavered, shock momentarily flitting across his face. Subconsciously, he covered the dormant cursed seal on his neck and turned his head to the side. He had always considered her the small but strong flicker of joy in his rather desolate life so hearing her belittle herself irked him. Had he known that his plans about the travel were causing her this much distress and self-doubt, he would’ve talked to her sooner.

“I admit it.” He spoke, turning his head back to flash her an earnest gaze. “I admit that I can never understand the anguish of your heart. And I do acknowledge your indelible love for me. I’m grateful, Sakura..” He said, wishing somehow his words would express the sincerity in them. “But I can’t answer your feelings right now. I..I’m not worthy of them..”

“Sasuke-kun!” she literally yelled in disappointment. It was her turn to get irritated at his self-loathing. “I told you that I don’t hold you responsible for any of that. We both hurt each-other and..I have put those happenings far behind.”

“Have you now?” he asked pointedly and she bit her bottom lip hesitantly. “Have you, Sakura? If so, then why won’t you let me do the same?”

Her lips quivered then, all her pent up fury and agony unleashing like a wildfire as she broke down into loud sobs. Sasuke noticed how shaky her feet were and immediately wrapped his lone arm around her waist, helping her settle down on the couch next to him. But she paid no heed to his act for she was too busy weeping and wiping her tears, struggling with the sudden shattering of her emotions. And Sasuke watched. He made sure to capture the whole scenario with the power of his eyes..to have a recorded evidence of how much he had bruised the heart of the only woman who had truly and unselfishly cared for him..loved him!

“I..what if you don’t retur–”

His palm instantly clamped over her tear-soaked lips, desisting her from finishing that ominous sentence. This was what he wanted to bring an end to— people actively doubting him. He wanted to prove that he was way above his past, hateful self. He wanted people to trust him like they used to when he was still a willing citizen of this village. But most of all, he wanted to restore that blinding faith she had in him. And for that, he needed to leave. It was mandatory for him to pay the price of sins and redeem himself.

“I will never cause you misery again. I swear this on my pride as an Uchiha. I won’t tarnish your your soul any more than this. So please..have some faith in me.” He spoke as tenderly as he could, reaching out his hand to hold her dainty palm in his calloused one and gave a squeeze in assurance.

The glassy eyes of the pinkette faltered at his words, a mix of shock and pride swimming in them. And just like that, she allowed her head to nod slowly, a timid smile curving upon her lips. She allowed her scarred self to have faith in him.

“I’ll be back to you. And then, we can figure work out this unspoken whatever I have for you..” he added, as if to solidify the foundation of his previous statements.

More tears cascaded down her cheeks— happy tears! And she squeezed his palm in return. “Then, I’ll wait for you. Always..”

Silence took over the room yet again, the two young adults exchanging their sentiments through their meaningful gazes. They were too lost in their own little world to even take note of the pale, ex-root nin observing them the whole time, capturing those sequence of events not just in his memory but also on a fresh page of his sketchpad.

A/N: Hope it was upto your expectations..:)

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Until Next Time...

~Manika

[kinghyra]

The sun, the moon and all the stars.

HINNY FANFICTION

Author’s message: Hey there. This is a Hinny fanfic set a few weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. I plan to turn this into a series that explores the change and complexities of Harry’s relationships. Naturally, I would start with Hinny as they are golden. It’s been a WHILE since I’ve written fanfiction (about 6 years), so apologies for my rusty skills. I plan to write a lot more now that it’s summer. Hope you enjoy! xx

“You actually are joking Perce…I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were-” Harry shook awake suddenly, gasping for air as the memory faded away. Reclining back into his soft pillow, he wiped away the beads of sweat trickling from his forehead. Harry stared at chipped paint on the ceiling, which was starting to reveal the wood underneath. His sweaty t-shirt clung to him and he shivered. Shifting to his side, he attempted to fall back to his slumber when he noticed the cold, empty bed beside him. Ron. He still hadn’t returned from his trip to Australia with Hermione.

Harry wondered where they were, what they were doing, whether they were missing The Burrow, or if they were thinking about him…A sick feeling rose up his stomach. He won’t ever forgive me, not after what I did. Unable to clear his mind, Harry grabbed his glasses and shoved them on hastily. A violently orange poster plastered on the wall directly in front of him greeted his new vision. Harry watched as the Chudley Cannon player whizzed past before circling back and waving to the audience around him. The smile rooted on his face caused the sick feeling in Harry’s stomach to rise again. When was the last time he smiled?

A shadow crept past him, diverting his gaze to the small owl perched on the windowsill. Its body heaved up and down in a systematic fashion and Harry turned his attention to his own heartbeat, which seemed to want to explode through his chest. Pushing his feet against the ground, he stood and wandered to the window. The endless fields swayed rhythmically to the breeze under the twinkling navy sky. Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and his breathing evened. Staring into the familiar made him feel leveled; he wished to remain like this forever.

The sudden urge to bathe in the familiar made him turn around and stride out of the room, down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. He could hear the wooden structure behind him groan as he walked away from it, but he didn’t care; he just wanted to be able to breathe again. A small part of him resisted- it willed him to return to the house inhabited by those he considered to be his family. It doesn’t matter, thought Harry, they probably don’t want that title anymore. The further he walked, the lighter he felt. Harry stopped at the top of a small hill and stared into the endless horizon. He stood there, watching the stars exchange secrets and wink around the waning crescent.

Years seemed to pass when he inhaled a waft of flowers. He felt the presence of something slender and small walking toward him. Rooted to the soil, Harry turned his head toward Ginny, who was now standing right next to him, staring ahead. Her crossed arms and knitted brows made him feel uneasy, but he did not waver. “You’ve been avoiding me”, she said coolly. When he failed to respond, she turned to face him squarely. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Harry felt her brown orbs pierce into his skin. “I haven’t been avoiding you”, he replied calmly. “You’re pathetic.” Ginny said. Flummoxed by her response, Harry turned to face her “Whaa..What?” Harry gasped. “I said, you’re pathetic. P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C!” Ginny bellowed. The wind stopped. The grass levelled. Harry caught sight of a few garden gnomes taking refuge in rabbit holes.

Although it was no laughing matter, Harry couldn’t help but smile. His eyes lit up as his smile transformed into a low chuckle. For a moment, everything seemed to go back to the way it was before. Ginny’s strong, hard expression softened, causing Harry’s heart to ache.

“Why do you say that?” Harry mustered, cocking an eyebrow. “No reason.” She replied, diverting her eyes. “Now you’re avoiding me” said Harry. They had switched positions in an instant. “I didn’t expect you to smile is all.” Ginny frowned. “I thought you were going to get mad or something. I just... I didn’t expect you to smile. I’d forgotten what it looked like. Ever since...” Harry’s heart sank. He had imagined this moment for weeks; he ran through every scenario in his head until it was about to burst, but he had never expected their conversation to turn into this.

Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, he felt his fears wash away. He stood taller and firmer. Ginny gaped; the boy she admired from an early age was now standing in front of her. “I’m sorry Ginny.” He breathed. Saying her name gave him strength to continue. “I’m sorry for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen. I have been avoiding you. I have been avoiding all of you. But that’s because I don’t know where I stand.” Harry sighed truthfully, looking down at Ginny, who was now fighting back fresh tears. “I would take everything back if I could.”

“Everything?” Ginny whispered. Harry nodded. “I wouldn’t.” Ginny said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “What?” “You know what’s funny? I came out here expecting to comfort you. I’ve been watching you for the past few weeks. You looked like a ghost, walking in and out of rooms with no will left to live. All I’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was ensure you were alright. Instead, I’m the idiot who’s sobbing while you’re there looking all calm.” “You calm me down,” Harry said instinctively.

It was time for Ginny to close her eyes and sigh. “I don’t want you to take everything back Harry”, she said, opening her eyes. “I know you’re haunted by guilt. But know that everyone who was involved made a choice. We all made a choice to be there that night. Fred made a choice to go out and fight for what he believed in. If you take everything back, you’d be taking away the hope you instilled in people. The bravery you sparked in them. The will that inspired them. You’d be reversing their attention back to the taunting memories of their families that burn through their minds. You’d be allowing fear and hate to win!” Ginny said, her voice rising as heavy tears fell to the ground. “And you’d be taking back those stolen moments that we shared at Hogwarts.” Ginny whispered.

Harry stood frozen with his heart in his throat. Tears surfaced from his green orbs. For the first time in a long time, Harry felt like he was truly seeing her- Ginny. The girl whose blazing words warmed his cold heart. The girl who endlessly stood her ground. The girl who made everyone feel safe, even when chaos ensued. She gave him strength when no one else could. She was alive and standing right in front of him, shining like an angel. She was familiar, she was his home. “We will be ok.” She said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his cheek. Harry absorbed her radiance and consolidated his newfound strength. He knew that no matter what happened next, he would be alright. Harry held her hand to his cheek and squeezed. “I know we will.”

[shipping-n-handling]

I don't know if you still do prompts, but if you do can you please do some fitzsimmons angst? pleeeeas? Thank you!

Hey anon! I’ll be honest, I haven’t gotten one of these in a while, so forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. Being out of college has not been kind to my writing skills ;) 

Here’s a scene from Jemma’s POV after all the Framework stuff and before the team is taken at the end of season 4. LOTS of angst, but remember - you asked for it!

Her hands shook.

Jemma let out a breath and gently gripped her knees as she struggled to regain her composure. They were back at the base, albeit temporarily, trying to sift through the rubble and figure out their next move before probably being arrested by the military. The thought of being incarcerated on top of everything that they’d been through during the past few months made her laugh involuntarily. The sound of it echoed slightly in the small conference room Jemma had suddenly decided to escape to. It was as if the universe, if she actually believed in such nonsense, was trying to break them. 

Once Robbie killed AIDA and took the Darkhold to the dimension he was trapped in, the gravity of everything that had occurred during the previous days and weeks threatened to overwhelm her. Suddenly, she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, the thought of returning to any semblance of a normal life within SHIELD seemed impossible. Mumbling some excuse and trying to ignore the way Fitz’s concerned gaze followed her, Jemma had rushed from the room and found the small conference room. She was proud of the fact that she managed to keep the tears from forming until the doors shut behind her. 

It was like her panic episodes after she got back from Maveth, only worse. Her breath quickened, her hands started shaking, and sweat began to form on her forehead as her heart worked overtime. Jemma closed her eyes and tightened the grip she had on her knees, trying to control her breathing to no avail. It was all too much. AIDA, Radcliffe, LMDs, the Framework, all the horrors she witnessed in that virtual reality, the way Fitz had pressed the muzzle of that cold pistol to her forehead, demanding that she renounce her love for him…

The sight of her hand plunging a knife into Fitz’s neck and watching the light leave his eyes…

It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. A small gasp escaped Jemma brought her hands to her head, trying willing the image out of her mind. Appearing after it; the memory of the man she loved callously shooting an innocent woman in cold blood. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t him. The way Fitz’s eyes radiated fury and pure, unadulterated hatred as he shouted at her to say she meant nothing to him, all the while pressing a gun to her head. It wasn’t him! She pleaded with her mind, begging it to stop. It wasn’t him! IT WASN’T HIM!

A small sob erupted from her throat as the tears rushed down her cheeks. Jemma brought her knees to her chest, the sounds of her grief echoing in the small room. The worst memory came suddenly before she could deny it, filling her mind’s eye like some sick projection. The small moment she had while listening to Fitz and AIDA in the holding cells. That tiny, minuscule moment that seemed to last forever in her world. The moment Fitz declared, in a voice that sounded every bit as broken as she felt, that the relationship he shared with her was dead. Though he asserted moments later that he was still in love with her, the blunt statement had struck her to the bone.

Jemma was no fool. She knew that all of them had gone through a traumatic experience that would likely take many years to heal from, if ever. She knew deep down that Fitz blames himself for all the horror that had taken place in the Framework, no matter who tried to tell him otherwise. She knew that it was that same guilt that led him to think that things between them were irreparable. But that moment, the split instant Jemma thought she had truly lost him, was worse than any amount of torture or any length of time in the Framework. She wished for death in that moment, numb to the idea that after everything they had gone through together, after all the blood, sweat, and tears she went through to bring him and the team back, it was all for her to lose him - yet again. 

Growing up, Jemma was taught by her mother to never let herself be defined by anyone else, least of all a man. And for the most part, she had honored that lesson. But Fitz was different. From the first moment they worked together at the Academy, she knew that her life would never be the same. Suddenly, they were no longer Agents Fitz and Simmons. It was Agents Fitzsimmons. Their minds worked together effortlessly, like a well-oiled machine. Their personalities clashed occasionally, but it was the kind of controlled chaos that inspired…well, inspiration. They orbited each other for years in perfect tandem, a force to be reckoned by experts in any field. Their friendship knew no bounds either; by the end of their first year, Jemma felt like she knew everything about Fitz, and he about her. Others joked about them being joined telepathically, but even that seemed like a little less than their bond. If Jemma believed in the idea of soulmates, she would declare Fitz was her’s. 

The thought of losing that, even for a moment, was like someone ripping away that part of herself. He was as much a part of her as she was to him, and the idea that it was not just anyone, but his creation and subsequent abuser that was taking him away was simply unbearable. Jemma knew - or at least hoped - that they will work through these issues in time, but she was finding that the interim was rather difficult to bear. Resting her head on the wall behind her, Jemma wiped the tears from her face as her breathing finally started to stabilize. 

She knew without a doubt that it would take a number of weeks, possibly months to be able to look at Fitz without thinking of that other version of him, or even of the LMD Fitz that tried to kill her; the one she had been forced to kill. Jemma swallowed, the memory of that still too fresh. For once, she welcomed the idea of going to a psychiatrist and wondered if the prison they were likely headed towards offered those services. Probably not, she reasoned. The team was likely to spend a long time in custody. With SHIELD all but destroyed and all the evidence of the havoc created by the Framework and the LMDs pointing at them, it would almost be a miracle if they weren’t shot on sight. 

The sound of soft tapping at the door nearly made her jump and reach for a sharp piece of debris, a habit that she still retained from her time on Maveth. Jemma’s heart ached when she heard the Fitz’s careful voice on the other side. 

“Jemma?” He called softly. “Jemma, I’m sorry, but we have to leave now.” His tone was a strange mixture of shame and concern, with a tinge of fear. She realized with a pang that he was likely afraid of the man he remembered being in the Framework. 

They would get through this, she reasoned. They had to. After all they’ve been through, after all that had come between them, Jemma refused to let this be the thing that tore them apart for good. She loved him, whatever kind of man he was after all the horror they had just endured. If Jemma knew anything at all, it was the man standing on the other side of the door, with his hands likely together and a concerned look on his face, had the purest heart of anyone she had ever met. No matter what evil came next, no matter if they were pulled apart during their time in prison, she knew that they would get through it, together. 

It was that thought that finally managed to push all the horrible memories out of her head. Standing up gingerly, still feeling slightly dazed from the fight a few hours ago, Jemma slowly walked over to the door and opened it to reveal Fitz standing there, just as she had pictured him in her mind. She smiled inwardly that despite everything, she still knew him. Her eyes found his trying to glance at anywhere other than her face, likely still thinking she wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him. Jemma tried to convey all the love and resolve in her own eyes as she nodded and placed a tender hand on his arm. 

“Lead on, Fitz.” She whispered with a small smile. His eyes focused intently on hers for a moment, as if finally hearing what she was trying to say. Fitz’s throat contracted as he swallowed and shifted his stance. After a moment, he placed his other hand over hers, like when the base had first been captured, in a time that seemed so long ago now. His eyes were still red and raw, but Jemma saw within them what she was searching for:

Hope.

Sliding her fingers in between his, the pair began slowly walking down the small hallways leading to what was left of the hangar doors, their hearts just a little lighter than before.