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guinea-pig16 · 11 months

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Late Night || Part 3

This is part 3 of Late Night, so if you'd like context I'd recommend reading part 1 and part 2! Fic is below the cut, please enjoy!

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Word Count: 2,300+

Warning: angst, suggestive thoughts

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Monty’s fist shot through his mirror, shattering the glass and splitting the wooden frame, the lights around the edges flickering in a panic.

He was pissed. He was pissed beyond words.

He let out a roar and grabbed his bass guitar, lifting it above his head, he splintered it against the floor, making it let out a horrific whine.

Monty tore apart his green room. Nothing was spared from his fury. Families walking around outside were directed by Bots to steer clear of his room. Velvet rope closed off the area, a smiling Monty cut out explaining that he was resting and would be back shortly. The shredded chair that had been thrown through the plexiglass of his room disagreed.

Hours passed and Monty finally slowed his rampage. The PizzaPlex had closed by this point, and the MopBots had finally been able to come by and begin sweeping up the broken glass and splintered wood outside of his room.

He stood there amid his destruction, body heaving in air to cool his overheated gears.

Why?

Why did this have to happen to him? Why was he always second place? Why was he always the second favorite, left behind, discarded, no one’s first choice?

Why did you choose Freddy over him?

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It was after your last shift when Monty came to find you, to try and cheer you up, find out who was bothering you, and make it go away. He had reached the entrance and saw you walking away. He had just begun to call for you when Freddy appeared.

Monty had stopped in his tracks. He doesn’t know why, but he hid, and watched as Freddy spoke to you, and led you away, back to his room. He doesn’t know why, but he followed behind silently, seething as he saw how uncomfortable you seemed. He watched as the both of you entered the room, and he watched through the crack in the curtain as you professed your love to Freddy, him doing the same.

And he watched as you two kissed.

He tore his eyes away soon after.

He couldn’t think, he couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel.

It seemed as though his servos had been ripped out of his body, his metal plating wrenched open and his wiring tangled and torn. And it hurt. It hurt so bad. He shouldn’t be able to feel pain, but this ache in his chest said otherwise.

Monty slipped away from the window and silently trekked back to his room, numb. There was a word for this, wasn’t there? A word that encapsulated what he was feeling. He wracked his mind for it, but it continuously slipped from his grasp. What was it?

He stumbled into his room and stood there. He looked around at his belongings, eyes empty. His gaze drifted over his couch, his neon sign, his arcade machine, his chair, his bass guitar, and then finally, his mirror. There, taped to the edge of the mirror was a photo strip, of you and him, smiling, making silly faces, him ruffling your hair, and then you laughing as Monty slammed his head on the ceiling of the booth. Numbly, he grabbed the photo strip and looked at the last picture.

Had he not been clear enough? All the times he hung around you during work, all his jokes, all the touches, and the looks. Had you not noticed how he would go star-struck at your smiles and laughs? How he would gaze at you in awe when you would rant about your favorite things, how he would memorize the way your eyes would light up like the brightest stars in the sky.

Had he realized too late that he was in love with you?

Monty’s chest tightened as he gazed at the pictures of you.

Oh, how he wished to hold you… How he wished to hold you close and whisper how much he adored you, how he would do anything for you. How he wished he could look at you with all the love and adoration he holds, and see you look at him the same way. How he wished he could kiss you passionately so you would know exactly how you make him feel. How he dreams about you at night… How he imagines you… pressed against his wall… bodies so close together…his mouth on your neck, your short breaths, his hands wandering roughly. Your arms wrapped around his neck as one of his hands wanders lower, lower. The sound you would make, how he would smother it with a rough kiss… Oh, how he wished he could ruin you…

…But he can’t now…

…Because of him.

Monty’s face drew back into a sneer, his hands beginning to tremble.

Oh, how he hated him. That stupid, popular, fucking bear. It’s Freddy’s fault this happened. It’s Freddy’s fault he lost you. It’s Freddy’s fault he’s alone. It’s Freddy’s fault that he’s always second place. It’s Freddy’s fault. It’s Freddy’s fault It’s Freddy’s fault It’s Freddy’s fault It’s Freddy’s fault It’s Freddy’s fault-

That’s when he snapped.

Monty’s fist reared back.

And he imagined it was Freddy’s face peering back at him as his fist connected with the mirror.

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Monty’s chest heaved as he panted, a motion programmed into him if he overheated. He looked around his room, mind finally clear from his mindless rage. He winced at the shattered window and noted his missing armchair. His couch was split in half, each part sitting in opposite sides of the room, both parts equally shredded to bits. There was stuffing, splinters, and glass littering the floor, making Monty grateful he was an animatronic and it wouldn’t hurt to walk around in it. His speakers had been ripped from the walls, one he could tell he’d put his foot through, and the other… From a glance out his window, he could tell it’d met the same fate as the chair. His curtains were nothing but rags at this point, shredded to a pulp. His vanity table had been reduced to wooden scraps, and his vanity chair had been twisted into a metal pretzel. And his bass guitar… Damn, he wished he hadn’t destroyed that… The body had been smashed to bits, the neck twisted and bent. And finally, his mirror… that was the only part of his rampage he remembered. There was a clean hole right through the center of the mirror, and the wall behind it. Monty looked at his fractured reflection in fragments left in the splintered frame.

God, he looked worn out... If he were a person, he knew there’d be bags underneath his eyes. He let out a sigh. Thankfully, it seemed he didn’t damage himself much during the rampage, from what he could tell he’d only really scratched the paint off himself.

He looked around his room again, thinking. Man… I’ve really gotta stop doing this… It’s always a pain in the ass to get new furniture… And now I’ve gotta get the window replaced, that’s a new one. I don’t think I’ve ever smashed that window before… He thought as he began to pick up larger chunks of debris to throw away. Least I can do is pick up a little for whatever sorry ass has to-

Knock, Knock.

Monty stopped and tiredly looked back at his door. Speak of the devil… He thought as he straightened and walked towards the door. Man, what even was he going to say to whoever had to clean this up? He hadn’t done anything this bad in a long time. He stood in front of his door, mulling over his words. The door slid open.

“Hey, look, sorry about the-” Monty started, and then froze. Cold washing through his senses.

You were standing in the doorway.

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You had already prepared yourself to see the worst when Monty opened his door. You’d been here for plenty of his tantrums before, so you were accustomed to seeing his room completely trashed.

But you weren’t expecting this much damage. You had to keep yourself from gasping as you caught a glimpse behind Monty.

Jesus Christ, he broke his fucking window! That shit is plexiglass! How did he manage to break plexiglass!? You thought as you quickly scanned Monty’s body for injuries, sighing internally when all you saw were some dents and scratches. Monty was still looking at you like a deer in headlights as the two of you lock eyes.

“...Um… Hey Monts… I just came to check up on you after the uh… well you know.” You say awkwardly, gesturing to the mess behind him. He turns his head to look at the wreckage, and you swear you saw him wince slightly.

“Yeah… I was just uh… Blowing off some steam…” He says, running a hand through his mohawk. You raise a brow at him.

“...Some helluva steam then. You do realize you threw your chair and speaker through plexiglass right?” You wave a hand to the outside of the greenroom where bots are currently sweeping up the broken chair, speaker, and glass. Monty stares at his feet. Your gaze softens and you cross your arms.

“Monty, what’s wrong? You know you can tell me, right?” You say softly. Ever since you started working here, you were the only one who was able to get Monty to talk about his feelings. After every tantrum, every rampage, you were there with open ears, ready to listen to whatever was bothering him. You didn’t mind, he was one of your friends after all.

Monty finally looked you in the eye again. You could almost see the thoughts running through his head as he stared at you. You observed him as he thought. He looked tired, almost defeated. You could feel sadness radiating off of him, so palatable it almost brought tears to your eyes. What on earth could have made him feel this way?

“...Y/N… I-” Monty started, leaning closer to you. But he was quickly interrupted by the sound of jogging footsteps, and a familiar voice. Before you turned around, you saw Monty’s fist tighten.

“Monty! I see you have finally stopped. Are you feeling better, my friend?” Said Freddy as he approached the two of you. You turned and smiled brightly at Freddy, unknowingly causing Monty to frown, rage beginning to bubble up once more.

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Monty watched as you turned your attention from him to the bear behind you, giving Freddy a gorgeous smile. He watched as Freddy smiled back and placed a hand on your shoulder, you unknowingly leaning into the touch. And he watched as Freddy turned those wretched blue eyes to him, them filling with concern. Oh, how he wanted to rip those eyes out of his stupid face.

“I’m fine.” Monty sneered, causing you to raise an eyebrow at his attitude.

“...Ah, that is wonderful to hear, Monty! You had all of us worried today. It lasted much longer than usual, you see…” Freddy said, uncomfortably, shifting slightly in place. Monty glanced behind him.

Damn, how long did it last? He had blacked out during his rage, the only thing he remembered was punching the shit out of his mirror. After he saw… Monty growled lowly at the memory, and watched as Freddy subtly pulled you closer to him. You put a hand over Freddy’s, and looked at Monty, concern filling your gaze.

“Monty, what’s wrong? There’s clearly something bothering you. Come on, you can talk to us…” You say, reaching a hand out to him.

Monty considered your hand for a moment, and looked between you and Freddy. He looked at your concerned expression, and then looked at Freddy, and was slightly surprised to see the same look. He didn’t think Freddy cared that much. Maybe… Maybe he could tell you. Tell the both of you. Maybe you would understand. Maybe Freddy would too. What if… What if you felt the same way? Maybe he and Freddy could agree to…

No.

Monty froze.

Y/N chose Freddy, remember? They left you in the dust, gone, discarded.

He shuddered slightly.

F o r g e t t h e m .

Monty was silent for a moment, before he straightened and glared at you and Freddy, causing the two of you to take a step back.

“I’m fine. Now buzz off before I make you.” He snarled, before slamming his door shut. He stood there and waited until he heard the two of you walk off, listened to the hesitation in your footsteps.

…Why did he do that? He was just about to talk to you, let you know how he felt. What stopped him? Monty ran a hand over his face and began to walk across his room to sit on the remnants of his couch when he stepped on something that wasn’t glass or wood. He stopped and looked down.

It was the photo strip of you and him.

He stared, and then leaned down and picked it up. He held the strip gently in his hands as he looked at the picts of you and him. There was still time to get to you and Freddy. If he ran he could catch up, explain himself. And then he knew you’d be able to help. Figure out a way where you both could be together. And maybe he could learn to get along with Freddy, if only for your sake. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone-

As if.

Y/N doesn’t care enough about you to do that. How could you be so naive?

Monty stilled, staring at the strip.

You don’t need anyone, you’re better off alone.

F o r g e t a b o u t t h e m .

T h e y n e v e r c a r e d a n y w a y s .

Monty blinked, his vision going blurry for a moment.

Right. They didn’t care, did they?

What was he thinking?

Monty looked once more at the photo strip, and then shredded it to peices, feeling familiar rage bubbling up in him once more. A snarl ripped out of him.

Oh yeah, he remembered the that word now.

His eyes glew red as he began his rampage anew.

Betrayal.

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Hi hi hiii !! I hope you enjoyed! Sorry if this wasn't what you hoped for, or expected from me, I've been having crazy writer's block recently and have been busy with graduation stuff. I'll be working on a part 4 and maybe 5 soon though! I promise I'll get to an actual proper Monty x reader soon!

Thank you so much for your support! XOXO <3

tagged people:

@dokoni-mo @softiejae @quietlyignoringyou @johnwicks-tie

#fnaf fic #monty gator #monty x reader #glamrock monty #montgomery gator #montgomery gator x reader #angst writing #gim fic #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #glamrock freddy #fnaf x reader #fnaf fandom #glamrock freddy x reader

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brokentvs · 29 days

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Who wants an AU where Phoebe is trying to cling onto the memory of Melody but can’t because when she took her soul out of her body she quite literally lost a piece of herself??

#phoebe spengler #ghostbusters spoilers #ghostbusters frozen empire #angst writing #mckenna grace #melody ghostbusters frozen empire #ghostbusters frozen empire spoilers #ghostbusters #incorrect ghostbusters quotes #author #fanfiction

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abiiors · 10 months

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haunt // bed - pt. 1

a/n: a while ago, i wrote do me a favour after which i said, i would write a matty hate sex fic. well this is it (and perhaps a bit more than anyone asked for), read dmaf again if you want to refresh your memory, or don't. there are 3 parts to this + an epilogue. i also know very little about western weddings, so ignore the inconsistencies lol.

a note about the banner: the photo in it is only meant to describe the dress, not the race, body type, hair colour, etc of the reader <3

minors dni! part 2, part 3

wc: 2.7k

see u in an hour xx

charli’s text flashes on your screen, illuminating a small corner of the dimly lit room. it’s not that late in the day, in fact, it’s quite early—only about 10 am. you’re supposed to be hurrying around the room, checking for any last minutes things you might have forgotten. you won’t be back home until tomorrow after all. yet here you are, surrounded by the things that should have been packed in your bag last night.

the dress, laid out on your bed, feels like a weapon; red silk slippery enough to slide between your fingers effortlessly. “a wily vixen”, that’s what charli had called you when she'd seen you in it for the first. the thought of that day—bridesmaids dress shopping with four other excited girls—brings a small smile to your face.

everything laid out here is a weapon really; your four-inch, sharp heels, the delicate and dainty diamond jewellery, the makeup you plan on wearing—blood red lipstick, a perfect shade match for the dress. an expensive crystal bottle of the same perfume you have used for the past six years.

familiarity breeds contempt. familiarity is also an excellent knife to twist in someone’s gut. because everything here, today, is meant to maul and wound him.

see you in an hour babe, love you. you write back and chuck your phone onto the pillow where it bounces a little before nestling between its creases. you stare at it, maybe your body still yearns for a call that will never come? no more can’t wait to see you up there. no more cheeky selfies in a state of half-undress. just a smooth, black screen.

right then…time to get going.

charli has been flittering around the room for the last twenty minutes. her white dress fits her like a dream, her makeup is a work of art and her excitement about marrying george is so palpable in the room that at least one person squeals or sighs every five minutes.

most importantly, the smile on her face is a permanent fixture. and every time you look at it, a warmth spreads through your body. she deserves this—the happiness, the celebration. the happily ever after. no matter how your marriage ended, you won’t stop believing in it for her.

“so!” charli walks over to you and takes your hand, “how do i look?” she twirls and the dress swirls around her, the tiny crystals catching light and making her shimmer like starlight.

you laugh in response, “like george is about to go into cardiac arrest the minute he sees you!”

the pair of you giggles like teenagers. you can so clearly picture it before it has even happened. the joy and love that will shine on george’s face; his excitement, quiet yet infectious and for a brief moment you’re transported back to your own walk down the aisle.

small, unsure steps, worried about falling flat on your face in those tall heels, but all of that had evaporated the second you had seen his tear-stained face. and the bright smile that had bloomed a split second later.

but that’s how long the ache lasts; a brief moment. it’s bad enough that you’re going to have to be civil to him, there’s no need to make it worse with unnecessary nostalgia.

besides, there’s her to think about.

she in question is a beautiful, leggy blonde who is at least seven years younger than him. not that you’ve seen either of them today…yet. it’s only because you and charli got drunk one night, four weeks before the wedding, and she felt bad about keeping it from you that matty had a plus one. and that’s how you fell into the rabbit hole of scrolling through this girl’s Instagram profile at two in the morning.

if you thought you knew his type, you would be dead wrong. physically speaking, she is the exact opposite of you—someone who looks like they belong on a giant billboard in times square, perfect and stunning. then there’s the more questionable aspects of her feed. the flat tummy tea adverts and the paid partnerships with various brands that are always under fire for being unethical.

but that’s the ugly green monster rearing its head. it’s not like you aren’t known for indulging in vanity every once in a while.

she will be here today, no doubt, clinging onto his arm like a decorative little thing—woah, where did that snide thought come from?! you shake your head to yourself, at least a little embarrassed. he’s not even here yet and he’s already screwing with your head; pushing you back into old jealous and insecure habits. someone clears their throat.

nora, one of charli’s longtime friends, has her champagne glass raised. a toast. she takes a deep, shaky breath and smiles tearily at the room, about to give her sentimental speech when a resounding knock echoes and cuts her off before she has even begun.

five heads turn to the locked door and you happen to be standing closest to it.

‘i’ll get it,’ you tell no one in particular, hand already on the doorknob. the possibility of it hits you way too late.

it hits you right as his clean-shaven face comes into view.

it has been ten months. ten months since you gave up the last name healy and changed it back to your maiden name on all your official documents. it had felt like a form of catharsis, getting it done with such urgency back then. but you also remember the days when you would be asked to state your full name and stagger a little at how odd it sounded to no longer have healy in it. to not have a ring around your finger to fidget with. no one to hold you at night.

but back to now. back to here.

it’s not hard to see that he has changed a lot in the last ten months. he looks serious; not necessarily sombre—it’s his best friend’s wedding, after all—but mature, more grown up. the grey in his hair, in his beautiful curls, is now much more prominent. the crow's feet around his eyes are more or less the same (and it sends a small pang through you; has he not laughed recently?). his mouth holds—held—a faint smile that’s already slipping, already morphing into a thin line. the exact same face that you woke up to for years now turning into a mask of carefully arranged neutrality.

“charli,” he whispers roughly and then clears his throat, “here to check on charli.” and just like that, he steps past you and into the room where he’s engulfed into a hug by the bride (and slapped on the bum by another bridesmaid but you ignore that for now).

pointedly, you also ignore the sting that comes with being sidestepped so easily.

you stand by the door, back still to the room, for a second longer than necessary. it doesn’t even register that you’re letting the warm spring air in. is this really how little seeing you impacts him? it must have. because if he’s here then she is also here.

“tell him i’m fine!” charli’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you shut the door softly. “and tell him not to meddle, i’ve got my girls.” she looks at you over his shoulder and throws a wink. your gut tells you it’s nothing but a charity gesture, just trying to gauge the tension between you two. guilt gnaws at you—she shouldn’t have to play peacemaker, she shouldn’t have to worry about two adults behaving themselves.

“only doing my duty here,” matty raises his hands defensively, “keeping the groom happy.”

the rest of them tease and taunt him playfully while you take the time to admire—no, simply look at—his suit. it’s nowhere near as nice as the one he wore at your wedding, of course not. but it’s beautifully made, tailored to fit and accentuate his muscles. and there are a lot of those now, that much is evident from the way his sleeves stretch over his biceps. he fills it out nicely, not that he didn’t before, but something about the fabric straining across his arms does funny things to your stomach. funny, you thought that feeling was a thing of the past. then there’s the navy trousers that compliment his backside rather nicely.

there’s a part of you that is appalled at all these observations you have been making but there’s another part—bored and much more matter-of-fact—that reminds you that there’s nothing under those clothes that you haven’t seen, touched, licked or sucked before. there’s nothing new. he is still the same as he was before, just now with a few extra muscles.

“go away,” charli’s nudges him gently toward the door. “we’ll be out in fifteen.”

he hugs her just before he leaves, dropping a friendly kiss on her head. after everything you’re glad no one had to pick sides in the divorce. you’ve at least managed to hold the friend group together, even though the same can’t be said about your marriage.

matty leaves just like he came in, sidestepping you and making sure he’s looking straight ahead. there’s a brief second however—a fraction of one really—when he slows down and breathes in. his adam’s apple bobs roughly and his face struggles to hold the blank expression.

but it must have just been you projecting right? no one can go through that much in half a second.

“there you are, darling,” denise walks in on you mid-smoke. “i was looking for you.”

she’s in a beautiful pink dress that brushes her knees and makes her look ten years younger than she is. you blush slightly at having been caught smoking; it’s a recent habit, not one she would be aware of, and you don’t want her to judge you for it.

“denise,” you try to hide the half-smoked cigarette, “you look beautiful.”

she pointedly looks at your hand and laughs. “my son does enough of that.” then she straightens up, as if bringing matty so casually into this conversation was a mistake. you suppose it was—it does make your heart skip a beat.

“i just wanted to say hi, darling,” she adds hastily, “and look at you…” her eyes scan you from head to toe, linger on your face for just a second before she smiles again. “simply stunning.”

“thank you.” your voice comes out in a whisper, fighting to get past the lump in your throat. you didn’t think there would ever come a day when she would have to so formally stop by to ‘say hi’. yet here you are, almost a pair of estranged mother and daughter.

“i don’t…” she starts but shakes her head minutely, “i don’t want to condescend you. but are you okay? with matty bringing that girl, i mean.”

that piques your interest. “that girl?” you stifle a little giggle. “sounds like you don’t like her…”

denise shrugs, leaning against the wall and looking at the bushes in front of her. “she’s okay, i guess.” then she takes a bit to smooth out her dress. “but she’s not you.”

“dearly beloved…” the officiant, charli’s godfather, begins, which you tune out instantly. weddings are lovely and romantic, wedding speeches are dull and boring. besides, like it or not, something else has captured your attention.

you stand behind the bride, holding the ring she’s supposed to put on george later. and right in front of you stands matty, holding the matching platinum band in his hands. adam and ross stand behind him, smiling and occasionally laughing along with the rest of the guests. you tried it at first too, to only keep your attention on george—who looks very handsome and beams wide the whole time—but it’s impossible when you feel your ex’s piercing stare right on you.

you would have thought he would stick to the little ignoring act from before. instead, his eyes have lingered on you from the second you walked down the aisle as a part of the processional. tracking your every move, every small step. frankly, it’s insulting. does he think you would ruin the wedding as some sort of diabolical revenge against him? you scoff internally; of course, he would think such self-centred thoughts, it’s just all about him, after all.

you raise an eyebrow at him. what’s your fucking problem?

he smiles back; an arrogant curl of his mouth that turns his face from sweet to insufferable within a matter of seconds. you, his eyes seem to say, you’re my problem.

well too fucking bad then…

you huff and look away to the side at the guests. it’s only about fifty people from both sides. just family and friends—a lovely kind of intimacy the couple had asked for. you smile at george’s parents who sit in the first row. his mum dabs at her eyes, clearly overwhelmed with emotion. and behind them sit denise and tim. right next to her.

she’s exactly what she looks like on her instagram page. dainty and beautiful, picture-perfect elegant. her whole face looks like it could be hand-crafted by the gods (or very expensive surgeons according to the snide little voice in your brain) but her eyes are bone dry.

that’s because she doesn’t belong here, your brain chimes in. not among your friends and your family.

well, ex-family…

her name doesn’t immediately come to the forefront of your mind. all you know from that drunken night is how charli made you block all her socials at the end of it. as if you were going to go back to them again and again. as if you have no purpose in life other than obsessing over your ex’s new girl.

she sighs, then looks out the window with a bored expression on her face and you have to focus your attention back to the bride and groom before you do something drastic. not before you catch matty looking at you from the corner of your eye, however.

not just at you…he’s staring at the plunging neckline of your dress that shows off your cleavage wonderfully. with the big window to your side, it’s so clear to see every little detail of his face—his teeth gnawing on his bottom lip (he’s unaware that he’s doing it. you know that for a fact). his pupils that are blown out wide, making almost the entirety of his eyes look black; dark and hungry.

your mouth curls into a smirk, arrogant enough to mirror his own. well, this is interesting.

matty’s mouth presses into a thin line. even now, after you caught him so red-handed, he’s trying to deny it. but you don’t miss his ears turning the telltale shade of pink.

“...and i promise to love you for the rest of my life.” george’s voice breaks on the last word, the tears flowing freely but he smiles through all of it. in front of you, charli’s shoulders shake. they haven’t even put the rings on each other yet and they’re already emotional. it makes you laugh, and surprising, you feel the tears escaping your eyes.

i promise to love you for the rest of my life. that’s what matty had said too. i promise to dance in the kitchen with you and do all my silly little romantic gestures. i promise to never let you fall. i promise, i promise, i promise…

so many of them unkept, so many of them just pretty words spoken on a perfect day in front of a tearful audience.

“i do!” charli squeals before the question is even finished, making everyone laugh. a wet chuckle escapes you at her infectious joy.

“do you, george, take charli to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the officiant asks.

“i do,” he says patiently and charli sticks her tongue out at him.

you sincerely hope they stay like this for the rest of their lives—polar opposites who complete each other. not people who are so similar, they don’t know how to exist in the same space anymore.

matty smiles, first at the couple and then, shockingly, at you. husband and wife he mouths.

jarringly still, you smile back.

i would love to hear what you think 🤭

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trusthevillain · 7 months

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"Who you're gonna hate after I'm gone?"

#villain prompt #villain arc #villain #villain x hero #hero x supervillain #hero x villain #writeblr #angst writing #angst prompt #villain angst

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luvmake · 9 months

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❝THINGS SAID BETWEEN KISSES.❞ PART I

part II

tag me when used! <3

— "Do that again, please."

— "I missed the way you taste."

— "Don't start something you can't finish."

— "For someone who hates me, you're not pulling away."

— "There's no one like you, darling."

— "Is that a new lip balm?"

— "Don't act so shy now."

— "Tell me you love me too."

— "You look so pretty like this."

— "Can we keep doing this?"

— "Aren't you afraid of getting seen with me?"

— "Please, don't leave this time."

— "Are you sure about this?"

— "I'm sorry I can't love you the way you deserve."

— "Take me away, please."

— "I needed this, needed you."

— "I can't let you go."

— "Ask me to stop and I will."

— "My heart is all yours, love."

— "Your lips are all stained."

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celestialwrites · 3 months

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stabbing/being stabbed prompts & dialogue⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

(inspired by @que3rduckling’s day)

@celestialwrites for more!

♡ character gets attacked in alley after leaking files.

♡ they could feel the coldness of the blade as it seeped in, contrasting the feel of the warm blood flowing out of them.

♡ “what happened, are you okay?” “yeah, i’m great, only lightly stabbed.” “you were STABBED?” “lightly.”

♡ “i’m feeling very attacked right now.” character says as they were getting stabbed.

♡ character confessing their undying love to their best friend as the blade pierced their chest.

♡ “i feel like you’re flirting with me.” character A states as character B swings to puncture.

♡ the deep crimson red of his blood clashed with the light colour of the floor as it splashed along it.

♡ character rips out blade as their wound heals instantly.

♡ “it’s almost like you’re going after my heart, at least take me to dinner first.”

♡ character running for their life as their best friend chases them with a knife.

♡ characters making intense eye contact as one dives a knife into the other’s heart.

REBLOG TO SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL WRITERS<3

big thanks to @que3rduckling again (please go check them out!!)

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wisteria-whump · 11 months

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there's nothing like making your character(s) give literally everything they have and make huge sacrifices in a last ditch effort to solve a big problem and then it doesn't work so now your character has just lost everything they had left to live for and all of the resources they had to solve the problem and the problem is also still there and probably aggravated from their attempts.

#whump prompt #whump #whump prompts #whump writing #whump idea #whump blog #whump scenario #tw whump #whump tw #writing #angst prompts #angst prompt #angst #angst writing

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harrrystyles-writing · 1 month

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Hmmm, meu primeiro pedido de concept.

Quero um angust com os números 10, 12, 15 e 16

Bem dramático do jeito q eu gosto.

Frases: Você foi uma perda de tempo." "Você me fez me odiar./Quando você deixou de me amar?/Como faço para você me amar de novo?"

Aviso: Angústia.

NotaAutora: @nihstyles que goste meu amor, deixei ele bem dramático 🥹🥹

🌼 MASTERLIST 🌼

HARRY CONCEPT #21

— Que porra é essa? — S/n gritou assim que olhou a foto no celular de sua dama de honra — Isso é real?

Era seu noivo sentado em uma poltrona com uma mulher nua o beijando.

— Foi tirada ontem a noite. — Sua irmã tristemente respondeu. — Na despedida de solteiro dele.

— O que?! Ele não pode ter feito isso comigo. — Ela tentava se mexer, mas o enorme vestido branco impedia de fazer muitos movimentos.

— S/n, você está bem?

— Lógico que não, cadê ele? Está no outro cômodo?

— Não! Ele já está no altar esperando, você vai até lá?

— Eu preciso, porque não vai haver mais casamento. — Soltou um suspiro longo, tomando coragem para a situação mais constrangedora de sua vida.

Não era para terminar assim.

Houve uma época em que tudo era perfeito, uma época onde S/n era uma noiva feliz e Harry não a traíu.

Ela gostaria de poder voltar no tempo.

— O que faz aqui? Eu já não disse que não era mais para aparecer. — Seu coração apertou-se ao vê-lo entrar pela porta lateral de manhã.

— Eu só vim pegar algumas coisas.

— Faça isso rápido. — Rispidamente retrucou. — Vou sair daqui a 20 minutos e não quero você aqui.

— Eu tenho muitas coisas não vou conseguir tudo nesse tempo.

— Eu não importo, só quero que você suma da minha casa, eu ainda estou sendo bem boazinha deixando você pegar suas coisas ao invés de queima-lás.

— Da nossa casa, essa ainda é minha casa. — Afirmou com convicção.

— Não, esta não é nossa casa, ela deixou de ser um lar, logo após você ter dormido com outra mulher.

— Eu já te disse que isso nunca aconteceu.

— Ah! Sim, só foi um beijo estúpido na sua despedida de solteiro?! Não foi assim que você descreveu? — Ironizou, jogando sua xícara na pia,todo o apetite de café da manhã havia sumido — Mas eu vi a porra da foto, ela estava nua em cima de você, Harry.

— Olha, eu não vou entrar nessa discussão de novo, estou cansado.

— Que bom, porque já estou cansada de ver suas lágrimas falsas de perdão.

— Não precisa ser tão rude comigo, eu ainda sou um ser humano, sabia? E você tem me tratado pior que um animal.

— E como eu deveria tratar um traidor? Que simplesmente me fez passar a pior coisa da minha vida?

Não restava mais nada além de pura amargura e ódio dentro dela nesse momento.

— Eu sei que mereço ser punido, eu sei, no momento que eu vi a stripper lá eu deveria ter acabado com tudo,eu sei, mas todos estavam animados e bêbados e ela acabou me beijando sem mesmo eu querer isso, me perdoa por ser um bêbado estúpido, quantas vezes eu preciso dizer que eu nunca quis aquilo, mas o que você anda fazendo me machuca muito, parece que todo o amor sumiu. — Seus olhos estavam vermelhos, prestes a chorar. — Quando você deixou de me amar?

— No momento em que eu vi aquela porra de foto prestes a entrar no altar!— Às lágrimas quentes borravam sua maquiagem. — Quer que eu me importe com seus sentimentos agora? Você pensou nos meus sentimentos quando me traiu? Certamente não pensou enquanto bebia e via uma stripper nua na sua frente ou quando todos naquela igreja também viram aquela foto, então por que eu deveria ser boazinha com você? — Apontava o dedo indicador para ele. — Você me fez me odiar. — Soluçou. — É isso que uma traição causa em uma pessoa.

Harry se odiava e odiava mais por ela o odiar agora. Ele fez a única coisa que prometeu que nunca faria. Ele quebrou seu coração.Ele disse que ela era o amor da vida dele e depois a fez sentir completamente o contrário. Agora nada poderia consertar seu erro.

— Aqui estão as chaves, o aluguel vence dia 09, pague certinho e não teremos problemas. — O senhor de bigode entregou o molho ao Harry.

— Muito obrigado. — Sorriu educadamente antes de fechar a porta.

Vendo aquele apartamento vazio, ele quis chorar, tudo parecia estranho sem ela, ele precisava daquela doce voz para dizer que tudo ficaria bem. Ele nunca quis magoá-la, Harry desejou nunca ter ido à casa do Matt naquela noite estúpida, porque aquele beijo não significou nada, mas isso não importa mais, porque custou tudo a ele e dói demais até para admitir.

As coisas do novo apartamento finalmente estavam no devido lugar, mas ainda percebeu faltar algo. A dor no peito só aumentou assim que ele deitou-se exausto na cama para dormir, mas não conseguia, ele precisava dela, ambos eram para estar em lua de mel agora, mas nunca aconteceu por sua causa dele e sabia que do outro lado da cidade ela estava tão triste quanto ele.

Harry precisava tentar uma última vez, nem que fosse para sair de coração partido, ele vestiu seus sapatos de corrida e correu por quase toda a cidade até ir de encontro a porta dela.

— Oi... — Seu sorriso era tímido assim que S/n atendeu a porta na oitava vez que apertou a campainha.

— O que você veio fazer aqui?

— Eu precisava ver você.

— Tchau, Harry. — Revirou os olhos, indo fechar a porta.

— Espere. — Ele colocou o pé a impedindo.

— O quê?! — Sua voz já estava um pouco alterada.

Ele percebeu seus olhos inchados, ela chorou.

— Eu preciso te perguntar uma coisa.

— Perguntar o quê?

— Como faço para você me amar de novo? — Quase como um sussurro questionou. — Você é a melhor coisa que já aconteceu comigo, eu não quero ficar sem você.

Sua expressão não mudou, em outra vida seu coração até podia palpitar ao ouvir essas palavras, mas agora era só dor que preenchia seu peito, ele fez isso com ela. Harry era tudo para ela, seu porto seguro, sua alma gêmea, mas agora não passava do homem que quebrou seu coração.

— Você foi uma perda de tempo.

Não era assim que se consertava as coisas, ele simplesmente não podia só chegar e dizer o quanto a queria, assim ele só estava piorando as coisas e a machucando ainda mais no processo.

— S/n, por favor. — Harry ajoelhou-se implorando. — Eu faço o que for preciso para ter você de volta, pode me tratar como quiser, pode me xingar e me fazer de capacho, eu faço tudo com tanto que no final do dia eu possa estar com você, olhar para você, eu não consigo viver sem você.

— Eu não consigo mais confiar em você, sei que você diz que foi só uma noite e só um beijo, mas você é um traidor, você beijou outra pessoa um dia antes de se casar comigo, como eu posso querer uma vida com alguém que é capaz disto? Vá embora, Harry e faz um favor a nós dois não me procure mais. — A porta foi lentamente se fechando, mas a dúvida em sua mente a consumiu a fazendo perguntar. — Harry?

— Sim? — Ele já estava pronto pra se virar e partir.

— Valeu a pena?

— Você sabe que não.

Muito obrigada por ler até aqui! Se gostou fav, reblogue ou deixe uma ask, isso realmente é muito importante para mim 🥺♥️

Taglist: @little-big-fan @say-narry @umadirectioner @harry-sofrida @lanavelstommo

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