Content Warnings: unrequited love, just real Ouchie tbh
Word Count: 357
This was a request from my lyrics prompt list
@amourtoken asked for number 8
“I’m yours to devour til my last breath.”
divider by @bernardsbendystraws
Will meant it. He meant it with his whole fucking chest, his whole fucking soul, with every fiber of his being and everything that made him. He meant it. You were his everything, his shoulder, his rock.
So obsessed it was damn near detrimental. Try as he might, he just couldn’t let go. No matter how much it fucking hurt, he ignored the cuts on his hands, the excruciating ache of the blade in his heart that you placed there for safe keeping, the water filling his lungs as he drowned over and over and over and over and over and over again. All of it. He convinced himself he could endure it for you, so you could have someone there to catch you when you fall, or when you shatter into a million little pieces.
As long as he had his best friend, it’d be worth the pain—nevermind the flow of bodies and the indentations they left in your bed that he’d fill when their infatuation dissolved.
But he was beginning to erode, so slowly at first he hardly noticed. Will thought the cracks in his skin were just veins peeking through the ink. When he touched one, it gave way, exposing raw nerves and things of himself he’d never seen, things that should be inside him. He panicked and began flailing, searching for you along the shore.
A glimmer of hope, like a beacon in the dead of night you stood with an outstretched arm, hand only mere centimeters from his. Will desperately reached out, only it was the wrong hand. It was no longer there—disintegrated in the water surrounding him; so he tried the other, but this one crumbled the second you touched him.
He didn’t understand your utter lack of concern. Why were your eyes so cold and distant? Why weren’t you mirroring his panic?
His outstretched hand cracked before his eyes and as he took hold of yours, Will watched in abject horror as it crumbled. Nothing but a pile of dust in your hand.
You recoiled violently, disgust plastered on your expression.
Will’s mistake. He didn’t intend to dirty your hand.
Content warnings: right person wrong time, implied alcohol consumption, cheating, ouchies
Word count: 1.2k
This was a request form my lyrics prompts
Anon requested number 13
“I don’t have a choice, but I’d still choose you.”
divider by @bernardsbendystraws
Rain pelted the glass walls and ceiling. Thunder rolled quietly overhead, adding to the already thick tension in the air.
“Why does me being happy bother you so much?” Will asked.
“It doesn’t. What bothers me is how easily you always move on after me, like our history means nothing. Like I mean nothing.”
Will stared at you baffled.
“You jump from person to person while I struggle to get even one person to look my way. And the first person in ages who does, breaks up with me an hour before everyone else shows up.” Your voice cracked. “And then you show up with her, and I can’t help but wonder what I did to make this shit so hard for me, to feel so undeserving of love I so desperately crave.”
Even in the dark, you saw the ever-present kindness and warmth in his eyes–the special, one of a kind love he still harbored for you accompanying, as always. A constant rekindling and extinguishing flame, each one burning brighter and hotter than the last. No matter how hard either of you tried, it just never worked. Each time the pieces almost fell into place, something destroyed the puzzle.
“We could just never get it right, could we?” Will whispered softly.
As you choked out a barely audible no, your eyes fell to his lips–the very same ones that once spoke the sweetest words to you and some of the most cruel; the ones who taste of poisoned wine that always left you breathless.
Will raised his hand to the side of your face, skin soft and warm against your cheek. Eyes fluttering shut, it was all too easy to melt into the caress.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Will spoke, his breath warm and laced with wine.
It’s wrong, you both know it, but it’s impossible to not close the minuscule distance.
Like clockwork, that all too familiar rush that only Will can provide floods your blood, warming you far better than any hot tea. It’s comforting hearing and feeling his breath catch, knowing you can still affect him just as much, no matter how much time has passed—but it’s so bittersweet because this is all it ever can be: a fleeting moment in time despite how desperately you’ve tried to make it work.
His hand slid to the back of your neck and pulled you closer. When you felt his tongue slip between your lips, you had to fight every instinct to climb into his lap. Will tried to tug you over, his other arm abandoning the back of the couch and wrapping awkwardly around your waist.
He was urgent, consumed with a carnal desire reminiscent of the first time you’d ever been together. You could feel the unspoken passion rolling off of him in waves and washing over you.
His hand snuck just under the hem of your sweater in a last ditch effort to crack you—but instead of breaking, you reached up and softly placed your hand on his throat. There was a low rumble under his skin before you gently pushed him back until your lips separated. You pressed your forehead to his chest, panting heavily. Beneath your fingertips, you could feel Will’s erratic pulse. Involuntarily, your hand flexed.
“Don’t do that.” Will rasped. “You know what that does to me, especially when it’s you.”
You dropped your hand, and all at once, everything became overwhelming. You tried to choke back the sob stuck in your throat, but it violently crawled its way out. Hot tears flooded your vision, burning your eyes as they fell freely.
Will immediately enveloped you, wrapping his arms tightly around you and cradled you impossibly close. He let you cry your heart out, tears and snot staining his hoodie and doing little to muffle your pained wails. The soft motion of his hand running up and down your back did little to soothe you, but the gesture was comforting.
His lips pressed to the top of your forehead, unintentionally deepening the cracks in your heart. Gently, he pulled you away, just enough so he could see your face.
“Hey,” Will said softly, his hand coming to rest against your cheek. “I love you, okay?”
“Will—“ You tried to wiggle out of his grasp.
“No, listen to me.” His thumb brushed away a stray tear. “Look at me.”
You regret it the instant you do—there isn’t an ounce of deception in his eyes, just an abundance of sincerity and honesty.
His other hand rests on your other cheek, now holding what used to be his entire world between them.
“I love you. I mean it. More than anything. I don’t ever wanna hear you say you don’t deserve love again, okay?” Will kissed your damp cheeks. “There is no one more deserving than you.”
You scoffed. “If that was true, I’d get to keep you.”
Will’s gaze flicked between your eyes before leaning in and delicately pecking your lips.
“Maybe one day we’ll get it right.”
He gave you one last lingering kiss then wrapped his arms around you once more.
The sound of the door creaking followed by a somewhat familiar voice startled you. You pulled away from Will and hastily wiped your face with your thumbs. In the doorway, Will’s girlfriend stood, her smile quickly fading into a look of concern. She asked if you were okay. You faked a smile and nodded, vaguely telling her you were just going through some shit. She then praised Will for comforting you despite your wavering friendship.
“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Good guy Will.”
Will turned his attention to her, asking if she was okay or if she needed something. She was fine; she just wanted to let him know she was turning for the night. He asked if she wanted him to join.
“No, that’s okay. Stay here with her. It seems like she could use the company.”
You waved her off, telling her you would be fine and that they should enjoy their time together. You could see Will trying to think of a reason to stay, but you insisted on him leaving with her.
“If you need me, don’t hesitate, okay?”
Will took your face between his hands again, fixing you with a soft, meaningful stare. His words felt weighted, like there was something else he was trying to say.
You nodded. He pressed a kiss to your forehead then gave you a sad smile, one that you mirrored. He gave you a suffocating hug then left you on the couch—cold.
When he reached her, he wrapped her in a hug and softly pecked her lips. You wondered if she could taste your tea.
The way he looked at her—absolutely smitten and obsessed—was similar to how he once looked at you. He wore that same soft smile every time she walked into the room. It’d be a lie to say you weren’t jealous, but deep down, you wanted her—mostly him—to be happy.
But even deeper down, in the aching ravines and caverns of your heart, you knew. Second place wasn't as satisfying as first. She would end up like every one after you, heartbroken and scorned; Will would end up back in your bed and the cycle would repeat.
