#sadfanfic

[icepower55]

Cycles of Revision

I wrote this two-shot months ago, felt ashamed of it, tried to rework it, didn’t get anywhere in reworking, thought oh heck, let’s just post it. I’m trying to be less of a word perfectionist and to accept that I’m still learning and growing. It’s not perfect, but it’s here, and it’s a labor of love and a new style of writing.

For @blankfishxx​, because I adore you!

“Are you listening to me, Scorpius? I’ve told you, over and over, to clean this room. Look at it! This is–”

“Let him rest, Hermione.” Scorpius spies another pair of knees, the indent of movement under dress slacks. “Hatty will do it tomorrow.”

Hatty, the paid house elf: a compromise between his parents that feels more passive aggressive than cooperative.

“Scorp’s had a long day of practice.“ Dad’s voice sounds light, but even without seeing his face, Scorpius can imagine the lines marring his forehead. “He’s probably tired.”

His parents knees are parallel, and still. Very still. The air crackles with something. He can’t ever find the name for it, but it’s like how animals can sense an incoming flood. That’s how he feels about his parent’s fights. Intuitive. Primal. A sixth sense.

PS: This is not a happy Dramione story, but it is hopeful!

PPS: Let me know what you think

AO3

[kingquackdaddy]

Down the Drain | Tom Holland

Type: One Shot

Relationship: Tom x Female Reader

Summary: Tom breaks up with the reader, and she does not handle it well.

Warnings: DARK suicide, depression, lowkey heartbreaking, angst

A/N: I don’t really know where this came from. Let’s not question my sanity at this point, ok?

**The mood board is mine, steal it w/o credit and I will cut a bitch. xx**

“I-I just think we need a break.” The words echoed in your ears. This man, standing in front of you, you thought he was the one. Now, you didn’t know what to think. His voice cracked, tears obvious in his eyes. Why was he doing this? Why now? After 5 years. “Ok,” you breathe out, hoping to at least keep some of your dignity. You sling your bag over your shoulder, and leave standing tall, not even thinking of looking back. It wasn’t until you got home that you broke down. Stripping down to your underwear, you crawl into your warm bed. You couldn’t bear to go through your drawers for pj’s. There were too many pairs of his sweatpants, and too many of his T-shirts that smelled like him. Instead, you just sink into the depths of sorrow, that welcomed you gladly.

For weeks, you didn’t eat, and what sleep you did get kept in you dreams of him. He kept haunting you, not wanting to let you go. Your apartment door opened, but you didn’t respond, you just laid there, staring at the ceiling. “Y/N?” A soft voice asking for any signs of life. “Love, are you alright? Tom wanted me to come check on you.” It was Harrison, your ex’s best friend. He took in your state in utter shock. The dark circles under your eyes, your hollowed cheeks, the vacant expression in your eyes. So different from your usual vibrant, curvaceous self. “Hon, you can’t do this to yourself.” He came and sat on the edge of your bed. The bra you were wearing showing every rib. His fingers grazed against them, not believing his own eyes. Haz left the room, and went to the bathroom to turn on the water. He came back to you, lifting your fragile body in his arms. “Do you think you can manage now?” You nod in response, tears falling down your pale cheeks. He left the room, leaving you to clean yourself up.

“Tom, mate, it’s bad.” Harrison spoke once the line connected. “What do you mean? Define ‘bad’?” Worry present in Tom’s voice. “She hasn’t left her bed, she hasn’t eaten. She’s so sad, mate. I would have never thought she would end up like this.” “Well, what is she doing now?” Tom asked. “I ran her a bath for her to get cleaned up.” Tom’s blood ran cold. “YOU LEFT HER ALONE IN A BATH? GO CHECK ON HER NOW!” He yelled at his friend. Realization swept over Harrison, as he ran into the bathroom. The porcelain tub overflowing with water, and your body buried underneath. “Oh, Shit! No!” He pulled you out, and flipped the faucet off. “Dammit, Tom! She’s not breathing!” Haz was beside himself. “I’m in the car. I’m on my way. Try giving her CPR.” Tom tried his hardest to remain calm. Harrison nodded to no one, and set the phone on the wet tile. The compressions were hard and fast, nearly cracking your exposed ribs. Water fell from your mouth, and you sat up, coughing and gasping for precious air. “Oh, thank god!” Harrison cried, pulling your naked frame into his arms.

“Damn,” you whispered, hoping you wouldn’t return to this life. A distraught Tom appears in the doorway, his fingers running through his hair as he takes in the scene. You wouldn’t dare look at him. Not like this. “Come on, Darling.” He extended his hand for you to take. Reluctantly, you accept it, trying to stand without slipping, and pull a towel from the rack. Tom helped you into one of his T-shirts you had, and put you back into bed. “I’m so sorry,” He whispered, once you were settled. His fingers pushed your damp hair off your forehead. “For what?” You spat back at him. The gaze you held could have easily killed a man. “It was stupid, I know, but it was a contract. I didn’t want to do it. You know I love you, Y/N.” Sobs began to escape his lips. “Wait, what?” The full story was coming to light now.

Tom slowed down, and exhaled deeply before explaining. “This film I’m doing, they wanted me to be single. They thought, if I had my full fan-base back that it would mean the film would do better. It was in my contract, I didn’t know what to do.” Your head pounded with every word he spoke. “So, I’ve been in agony for god knows how long, and just tried to kill myself, because of your fans?” He flinched at your question, tears staining his cheeks. “Don’t think this hasn’t messed me up too, Darling. I’ve been almost the same way.” “Then why did you do it? Huh? Is this role that important to you? Am I worth so little to you?” Venom dripping from your mouth. “No, you mean everything to me! I just didn’t know what to do! Please, I’m sorry!” He cried, cupping your cheek in his hand, and pressing his forehead to yours. “Tom,” you breathed.

You had craved his touch. It was addictive. “I don’t know what to think, or what to feel. It all just hurts so much.” “I know, I know, Love. Please, just take me back. I’ll spend the rest of my life, taking everyday to show you how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you.” He begged, desperate for you to say yes. Your mind raced with questions you couldn’t answer at the moment. Releasing a deep, emotional sigh, you spoke through your tears. “I need time.” Tom’s face pulled back from yours. Hurt made his presence known in Tom’s dark eyes. Your heart raced in agony as he got up to leave.

“No!” He stopped in his tracks, and his head snapped back to look at you. “Please, don’t leave me. Could you hold me? Please.” Your soft, pleading voice cracked. Tom’s head bobbed up and down in a soft nod, and he carefully crawled into bed next to you. His strong hand touched your body ever so delicately, worried you would shatter like the porcelain doll he imagined you to be. Turning, you bury your head into his chest, releasing soft sobs. The grip he had on you tightened, hoping to provide you with some comfort. A silhouette appeared in the doorframe, and the voice spoke softly. “Hey, I’ll be off now. I ordered some chinese food. It should be here soon.” Your frame shifted back to him. “Thank you, Harrison.” His hand rubbed your back sympathetically, and he kissed your head before taking his leave. The dark night was spent in Tom’s protective arms, as you doze off into the best sleep you’ve had in quite some time. “I love you,” The quiet words, whispered in your ear even in his sleep. And he was determined to prove that to you.