#doomed love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anastasiaskarsgard · 6 months

Note

Can you write some smut soon? Your story called whore is seriously so good. I’ve read it so many times. The drunk girl at the bar is so realistic

I do not know why this ask inspired me to write about the Marquis and his girlfriend the cop but here it is. I really tried to show the feelings they have and the turmoil. I think for these two to even attempt to continue with this, they’d have to have irrational attraction and neediness. Almost a kind of madness.

Sorry to say this isn’t smut. It’s steamy, but I feel like it’s good this way. I have some smutty goodness I’m working on for these two.

Enough of me blabbing… enjoy!

Making her way through the cavernous mansion, she decided she’d tell him that she was aware of who he was and that it wasn’t right. She’d tried to say as much in a text message, but decided any type of connection or trail was unwise, but ghosting him was beneath her.

So here she was, showing up unannounced, at god knows what time, to tell it to him straight.

Stepping inside the parlor shed been lead to, she thanked his staff and closed the door behind her. Deciding to spit it out, before she lost her nerve, she let it all out.

“Vincent, I’ve come to end whatever it is we have. I know who you are now, and as a public servant, I cannot continue associating with you.” Biting her lip, she waited for his response but he just continued gazing out the window with his back to her.

After a very awkward couple minutes, he turned and made his way towards her, with an almost predatory look in his eyes. “Say that again, but this time to my face.” He stated, coming to a stop closer than he’d ever been before.

Invading her space.

His smell surrounding and intoxicating her.

“I…. I…”

He smirked arrogantly at her, leaning his face in even closer to hers. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was very physically appealing. She closed her eyes reflexively. "You what?" he growled, as his hands slipped down to grab her waist.

"I don't think we should be doing this," she forced out finally, trying desperately to ignore how gorgeous he was and how irresistible he was with his close proximity.

"You want this. I want you. I’ve never wanted anyone or anything so much in my life.”His hands drifted lower, coming to rest on the small of her back. She felt his thumbs tracing lazy circles, and she shivered before she could stop herself. It was like electric current swimming through her bloodstream, electrifying every inch of her body. He leaned even closer- he couldn’t contain a genuine chuckle, when she shivered, and he looked into her eyes so open and vulnerable, it broke her heart.

“Sit.” He commanded, and she did without thought, obediently sitting on his white leather sofa, prettier than any art that adorned his walls.

He couldn’t get over how perfect she was. He had the best of everything, and she was no exception. This was beyond infatuation or even obsession. This was love. He was sure of it, and he was terrified.

He’d tried to resist, but he kept seeing her that day in the hospital; dressed in that gorgeous gown and tiara, singing terribly to that sick child. Even with her less than stellar performance, the purity and kindness that shined from her, made it the most beautiful thing he’d witnessed in all his existence.

Taking a seat beside her, and taking her hands in his, he was amused to see her eyes close expectantly.

He paused, and licked her bottom lip.

Her eyes snapped open, and he pulled away from her. A dangerous, sexy smirk played across his lips, and she felt her face grow red.

He never failed to fascinate her. She’d just essentially broken up with him, yet she was sitting next to him, getting licked.

Throwing all caution to the wind, she grabbed his face and pulled him into a searing kiss. Running her fingers down his jaw, she pulled away to see his reaction.

What met her, was the most seductive irresistible look, she’d ever received. Heat she could practically feel, radiated from his eyes.

“You still want to say that you don't think this is right?" He wrapped his arms around her and tightened his grip on her body. "Tell me to stop, cuz I am no longer able to on my own." His lips were so close to hers that she could almost feel them. That heat that he exuded was taking over her rational thought. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Tell me you don't want me, last chance, I’m yours to control.”

She realized what was happening, and she wasn’t sure if she should allow it. She was a police officer and he was the leader of a huge criminal network. Hired assassins; serial killers.

She pulled away.

Or tried to. He quickly grabbed the back of her head, and brought her to him again. His touch wasn't gentle- it was demanding, passionate, and rough. But that was how she expected him to be. He was never hesitant, and she had never realized before just how much she admired that quality. Reading his record, he was called cold, ruthless and evil, but she couldn’t see any of these qualities in him. Every inch of him radiated a tantalizing warmth and passion- it was invasive, and powerful. She was utterly lost in his kiss. All her concerns and reservations were gone from her mind. Only he was there. Only them.

He was just as lost. It was divine; the actions that he had previously thought were overrated were turning out to be even more satisfying than he could have ever imagined. Although he’d had his fair share of women, none compared to her. The electricity he felt from just kissing her, was more pleasurable than full on intercourse with others. He was hopelessly lost.

Neither were sure what exactly was going on; neither one was really in a condition to stop and consider what they were doing. All he knew was that he had to have her, and all she knew was that no one had ever made her feel more beautiful.

He tasted as crisp as she had imagined: like the freshest spring water with a hint of mint, or starlight, or the steam from a coffee cup, or a million other beautiful, wonderful things. The feelings he excited in her were almost painful in their intensity. She ignored the alarms going off in her head. She silenced her voice of reason.

Soft, feathery kisses rained down on her neck.

He was so close to her; everything was blurring, no sight, no sound, no thought was real except for the ones pertaining to him. She was lost and she didn’t want to be found.

Hand sliding up her back. Searching hands tangling themselves deep in his hair. Her mouth had given up resisting, and it was as though she surrounded him, the kiss so all consuming.

He was biting punishingly on the skin of her throat, smoothing over each nip with a soothing tongue. Even though he was practically laying on top of her now, as she laid half-on half-off the couch, she couldn't bring herself to tell him to stop. "You will be the ruin of me” she whispered heatedly, "I know I should push you away, but I can’t seem to do so.”

He stopped for a moment, gazing down into her eyes with an unreadable calculation in his expression. Then he grabbed her face in his hands, and attacked her lips again, violently and challengingly. "You will never," he said against her lips, the headyfeel of his shallow breathing absolutely intoxicating. “Do anything of the sort. You are mine."

She wanted to resent his possessive claim, but as he caught her earlobe between his teeth, she couldn’t lie to herself. She loved how sure he was of them, despite the enormous probability of it blowing up in both their faces.

Neither cared as they hurtled themselves toward a future that was impossible to be.

All he could feel was her lips on his skin, and breaths coming out in little pants all around him.

All she could feel was his steady heartbeat under her palm, and his lithe form pressing against her.

Hot.

He felt so hot.

Safe.

He trusted her completely.

They both were completely consumed by the other.

Nothing else mattered.

Like falling.

When someone fell from a great height, and was aware that it all would be over once they met the ground, is that all they focused on? She highly doubted it. She was certain they gave themselves over to the moment, lost within themselves, or in this case… each other.

There was no fighting this.

They couldn't ignore it.

He kissed her again, softly and gently, his lips passing on some unspoken plea. Desperation, reverence, obsession and utter contentment wrapped in a moment.

He’d never let her go. He’d make her understand. He’d never hurt her. He only wanted to make her happy. Rationality and an ingrained natural manipulative nature presented so many problems. His tactical mind realized the impossibility of a happy ending, but he pushed all reason aside.

He only focused on how he felt right now, with her. This moment.

Indescribable.

The moment could never be stolen.

No one would understand them together.

Maybe they could keep it a secret?

A deadly, beautiful secret.

Throwing that thought away completely, he knew he’d never be able to deny her. She could only be his in every way, and everyone would know.

But would that put her in harms way?

He wouldn’t allow himself to think on it now.

The only thought that ran through his mind was how breathtaking she looked, her hair a mess and her face flushed from his ministrations. Lips swollen from his kisses, and chest heaving with exertion. He couldn’t find a single flaw or imperfection on her.

The feel of his hands caressing her side. Squeezing her, worshipping and appreciating all she had to offer.

The slide of her dress falling from her form as she was lifted into his warm embrace.

The warmth of his bare skin against hers as he crawled across her form.

The cool, smooth, crisp sheets at her back and down pillows beneath her head.

In was in that moment, she realized that it didn't matter what happened in the future. Now was all that mattered.

She didn’t care what anyone thought of them, because there wasn’t much she would not do for this man.

Dangerous.

Neither one could bear the thought of there being no us.

Theirs.

Nothing seemed so innocent or pure as both their hearts becoming one.

Their bodies one.

To find your soulmate and know you are loved….

Beautiful.

Arousal reaching a fever pitch in both of them, the need for each other drowned out any other thoughts or reservations.

The shedding of all final garments, left the two lovers bare to one another. They took a moment to appreciate the other before joining together with a blissful gasp.

Never had he felt such happiness.

Never had she experienced such security.

Two people came together that day, but they did not become one.

They became three.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #marquis de gramont #the marquis #vincent de gramont #Marquis de Gramont imagine #doomed love #soulmates #tragic

60 notes · View notes

sweetingseva · 1 month

Note

hiiiii :)

I would like to understand how donatella didn’t die from Jacks kiss (not in lengedandy or finale) because since Evangeline was jacks true love and should be the one making his heart beats for the first time, tella shouldnt have died ? Another thing, why jacks heart bet for tella even though she wasn’t his true love as Eva really is. I’m so confused 😭

Hello! 😊

It seemed like fate that Donatella was going to fall in love with Legend. Although she wasn't interested in the Caraval games, she was interested in mysticism of Fates.

At the end of Legendary, Donatella made Jacks start to beat because, she was never destined for him. She was never going to fall in love with him. All the other girls that Jacks had met had loved him and he must have had, too, which is why none of them lived and none of them were his true love.

Aurora twisted what that "true love" meant. It meant it would be the one person who would never reciprocate their feelings.

That is why Tella survived and made Jacks's heart beat again. It is another chance to mock him, another method to hurt him. 💔

I hope this clears up some of the confusion! Let me know if you have any questions 😊

#ouabh #once upon a broken heart #ouabh spoilers #tbona #the ballad of never after #tbona spoilers #acftl #a curse for true love #evangeline fox #jacks #prince of hearts #jacks x evangeline #evajacks #aurora valor #stephanie garber #doomed love

29 notes · View notes

lyralit · 2 years

Note

Forbidden/doomed love 🫶🏻

"this is the last time."

"don't go yet."

being introduced officially and realizing their lover is part of the enemy

holding them longer now because they can't later

"I saw you earlier."

"are you hanging around []? because you know..."

"it's all a façade."

seeing each other from across the room, smiling, and ducking your head

"ugh, I've missed you all day."

"you could always defect. take my last name."

"is it twelve yet?"

"I have to go."

"you know you can't message me then."

"I waited six hours." "she couldn't just wait for me!"

doomed love but one person puts everything and the other puts nothing

but also healthy relationships. cause adsdfghjgf

meeting on a double blind date

they have a year before the other is booted across the world.

"I wish I could scream it to the world." "if only."

leaving physically but having actually never left.

#forbbiden love #doomed love #lyralit #writerblr #creative writing #writblr #writing #writers block #writers #writing prompts #writing ideas #lovely person <3

363 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

“I think you’ve been holding out on me, Red.”

They’re the first words either of them have spoken in hours, but Keith doesn’t react much. He stays where he is, laying next to Lance on the floor of his room, staring at the ceiling, wasting time.

It’s nice.

“‘M not red anymore. You are.”

Lance hums. He reaches down to entangle his hand with Keith’s, never taking his eyes off the ceiling. Keith smiles.

“Meh. Semantics. Only one of us is an impulsive hothead, and it sure isn’t me, red paladin or no.”

Keith scoffs, cutting a glance to Lance only to find him pointedly looking away, teasing smirk on his face.

“Yeah, right. Which one of us was it to run out into a horde of Empire soldiers and scream distractions at them with shitty Dreamworks references during yesterday’s mission? I can’t remember.”

Lance’s smile grows. “I can’t remember either. Funny, that.”

Shaking his head in fond exasperation, Keith lifts their entwined hands so they’re no longer in between them, but resting on Keith’s chest, for no reason other than he feels like it. Lance doesn’t stop him.

“Funny, indeed. Goober.”

“Anyways, you changed the subject. You’ve been holding out on me.”

“There’s nothing about me that you don’t already know.”

It’s a little more than Keith meant to say. A little raw, a little bit too much of his chest spilling out into the minimal space between them. A little too honest.

“I know.” Lance’s voice is still teasing, but there’s an edge to it. A wordless acknowledgement that he heard what Keith really said. “That’s how I know I’m right.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll bite. How’ve I been holding out on ya?”

Long brown fingers wiggle out of his hold as Lance squirms into a new position, resting on his side with his head propped up on his elbow, in order to give Keith a Proper Look of Admonishment.

“You’ve got a set of pipes, and you never told me!”

As much as he tries, Keith can’t quite stop the corners of his mouth from flicking upwards. It does not escape Lance’s notice, if the flick to his ear is any indication.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, Kogane, you walking mess. You can sing! And you never told me!”

“I can do no such thing. I sound like if a rotting egg could wail about its condition when I try to sing, believe me.”

He lets an extra amount of Southern twang bleed into his words as he rattles off the stupid idiom he heard his Pa say time after time when he grew up, even though he thinks it makes him sound dumb. Lance pauses, visibly holding back laughter, though, so it did what Keith meant it to.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Lance says, voice shaking. “Oh my God.”

Keith grins wide enough that his canines poke out. He can’t help it.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ ‘bout. ‘M only talkin’.”

A hand shoots out to cover his mouth, not moving even when Keith bites it none-too-gently.

“Stop,” Lance says sternly, but his eyes dance with mirth. “I’m trying to chew you out and you’re making me laugh. That’s illegal.”

Keith raises his eyebrows, inclining his head.

Speak, then, you loser.

“Thank you.” Lance says primly. “Okay. Back to my point. You’re full of shit, Kogane. I know you can sing. I always thought so, but I heard you singing to yourself last night, when we were finishing the last of the reports. What have you to say in your defense?”

Lance’s hand is still very much pressed to Keith’s mouth. He crosses his eyes looking at it, then looking back up at Lance pointedly.

“If I take off my hand, are you going to answer honestly?”

Keith shrugs. He’s sure Lance can feel his grin.

“You’re insufferable,” Lance laments, but takes his hand away anyway.

Keith mourns the loss of Lance’s skin pressed so closely to his, and then pretends that he doesn’t.

“So what if I can carry a tune?” he says, instead of reaching out to bodily wrap Lance’s limbs around every inch of him, like he so desperately wants to. (But they have a deal. Not yet. One day, Keith will never have to hold back again, and he will never stop touching Lance as long as he lives.

But a deal’s a deal. They have a war to win.

Not yet.)

“Singing’s your thing.”

“Just because I’ve written a song or two –”

“– or forty –”

“– doesn’t mean I have monopoly on the music industry! I want to hear you sing for real, not just under your breath. Please?”

Keith can’t say no to Lance regularly. It’s honestly a problem. (Not that they don’t still argue – they definitely do – but once Lance became aware of the power he held over Keith, he didn’t hesitate to abuse it. He knows all he has to do is smile wide and tilt his head and make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal and boom. Keith folds. Every time.)

But this time, Lance doesn’t stop at a pleading grin and a bit of begging. Oh, no. He opens his already big brown eyes as wide as they’ll go, eyebrows pinched and sad, pupils dilated – how the hell he does that on command Keith will never know – and blinks slowly.

“Please, Keith? One song?”

“Goddamn it – fine, Lance, Jesus. Put those damn things away. Christ.”

Lance has him wrapped around his finger and he knows it, as evidenced in the mischief in his smile and smugness in his cheers. He scrambles to his feet and practically sprints to the other side of the room to get his guitar. By the time he’s back, Keith has pulled himself up and sits upright, back to the wall and legs crossed at the ankle. Lance grins, big and wide and excited, settling down beside him, mirroring his position, except instead of leaning on the wall he’s leaning on Keith. They’re the same height, like this, Lance’s ridiculously long legs no longer giving him an advantage.

“One song,” Lance promises, although Keith doubts he’s being honest. “You have one in mind?”

Keith nods, smile turning a little sad. “Yeah. One my Pa used to sing all the time.” He hums the first few lines, and Lance’s eyebrow raises.

“Really? Your Pa was a Miley fan?”

“How come that’s so surprising?”

Lance shrugs, grinning as he puts the capo on the third fret, adjusting the pots a tad. “Dunno. Just figured your rugged, rootin’-tootin’, horseback-ridin’, cowboy Pa would be blasting Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson. Maybe throwing Dolly Parton in the mix. Miley Cyrus is a bit of a surprise, is all.”

Keith sighs, letting the sadness that always wells up in his chest when he thinks of his Pa run down his veins. Lets it fill him up slowly, run its course.

It used to kill him, that sadness. He used to break his own aching heart into pieces with it, using the jagged edges to defend himself from anyone trying to get too close.

He glances over at Lance, absentmindedly strumming his guitar as he watches Keith attentively. Patiently waiting for him to gather himself, or maybe even just sitting with him in the silence.

He’s become much more fond of his sadness, his jagged pieces. He’s come to know that they’re parts of him, good parts of him, as much as they’re him at his most broken.

“I think this song reminded him of my mom,” he says quietly. “He always had one foot on Earth and one foot wherever she was. She – she took a part of him, I think, when she left. I never knew him before, obviously, but he always looked, to me, as if he was waiting. He taught me the names of the stars before he taught me my own name. I think everything he did ached for her.”

Lance hums. “That sounds like a lonely way to grow up.”

“I think it was. I think I forgive him, though. I think I forgive them both.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Lance reaches over and squeezes his hand, once, twice, three times in quick succession, and then starts playing. The first few chord progressions play, hesitant and sad, and Keith takes a deep breath, voice cracking as he sings the first few lyrics.

Flowers in hand, waiting for me

Every word in poetry

Won't call me by name, only baby

The more that you give, the less that I need

As he sings, he wonders how much truth his father found in the lyrics. His Pa was never much for pomp and circumstance. He bought what they needed. Did what he could. He cared for Keith, surely, but Keith can’t imagine him waiting with flowers in hand, poems spilling from his lips. Can’t imagine him putting so much sweetness in his words, in his actions.

Everyone says I look happy

When it feels right

Did his mother ever plan to stay? Did she know in her heart that being with Pa was wrong – that Keith’s very existence was wrong – and that’s why she left? Couldn’t bear to stay and watch them grow? Couldn’t bear to live with her mistakes? Was Keith her greatest regret? Was Pa?

I know that you're wrong for me

Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

I brought you down to your knees

'Cause they say that misery loves company

It's not your fault I ruin everything

And it's not your fault I can't be what you need

Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me

I'm everything they said I would be

When Keith was a kid, and he didn’t understand the lyrics, he’d sing along. He knew the song was sad, and that Pa was sad when he sang it, but that was as far as his little mind could reach. He didn’t know how to make his Pa feel better, but he knew that when he sang or hummed along Pa would put a fond hand on his head and keep singing, and he liked his Pa’s voice. When he got older, and the lyrics started to mean things, he grew wary. For a while, he even thought his Pa was the one to leave his mom, but that didn’t make sense. It didn’t line up with the way sometimes Pa would sit for hours by the door. Waiting. But he couldn’t wrap his head around the words – why would you ever do something you knew was wrong for you? That you knew would hurt you?

La-la-la

I'm everything they said I would be

It wasn’t until the fire that the song really started to make Keith afraid. He’d stopped singing by then – no Pa to cheer up – but Pa had sung it so often that it was almost constantly playing in Keith’s head. He started to worry, as he bounced from home to home – was he like his mother? Always the first to leave? Dragging people down to his miserable level? He already knew, by then, that he ruined everything, disappointed people, refused to be who they needed him to be. He couldn’t even pinpoint why he made such a mess of things, only that every time someone asked something of him, a hot bubble of rage would explode up from his stomach and he’d set his jaw and swear to do anything else. He heard what all the adults said about him – he was a menace, a mess, a problem, a demon child. Every muttered curse made him determined to be worse than whatever they gossiped about. He was everything they said he’d be, and he relished in it as much as he wallowed in the pain of it.

I'll put you down slow, love you goodbye

Before you let go, just one more time

Take off your clothes, pretend that it's fine

A little more hurt won't kill you

By the time that he made it to the Garrison, he’d been convinced he was unloveable. Even with Shiro, even with Adam, he’d been sure he was just going to end up a carbon copy of his mother, a faceless ghost who entered people’s lives only to leave, only to ruin them. He was angry and scared but would never admit to it, always prepared to grab his bag and run at the first sign of trouble.

Tonight, mother says, "You don't look happy"

Close your eyes

He falters, startling as Lance’s soft harmony suddenly mixes with his. He shoots Keith a small smile, tapping his foot to the beat, reminding Keith that he’s here, Keith’s not alone, they’re singing this song together, this time.

I know that you're wrong for me

Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

I brought you down to your knees

'Cause they say that misery loves company

It's not your fault I ruin everything

And it's not your fault I can't be what you need

Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me

I'm everything they said I would be

The chorus doesn’t hurt so bad, the second time around. Every painful word is soothed by Lance’s voice, a step lower than his, singing right along. It’s a cooling reminder that Keith is not his mother. He is not his father. He is not a well of misery, dragging others down with him, he doesn’t ruin everything, he’s not a fallen angel. He’s just Keith. He’s rough around the edges and he gets mad easily and he pushes too hard and he often forgets he’s not alone anymore, but he is also good and kind and hardworking and, most of all, part of a family. He has people he loves and who love him, and he will do anything and everything to protect them, even if everything is really hard and the decisions he has to make sometimes break his own heart, and that will never change.

I know that you're wrong for me

Gonna wish we never met on the day I leave

I brought you down to your knees

'Cause they say that misery loves company

It's not your fault I ruin everything (everything)

And it's not your fault I can't be what you need

Baby, angels like you can't fly down hell with me, oh

He used to think that love was a fool’s game. Unattainable. He was so sure he’d end up aloof and uncaring – taking what people gave and needing less every time. So sure he’d grab an angel — someone whose smiles were endless and abundant, who gave every inch of himself for others and still dug around for more, who was self sacrificing, who doubted himself, who flirted and teased and loved with every part of his body and cared so, so much, someone with a roguish smile and playfully manipulative brown eyes – and drag them down to hell with him.

Angels like you can't fly down hell with me

But he forgot, in his fear, that there’s no such thing as angels. He’s not going to tarnish something perfect and untouchable. Perfect doesn’t exist. And his angel – not his, not yet, not while a war rages around them and makes everything hard and complicated and unfair, but the angel he’s waiting for at the end of the line and who’s waiting for him – his angel is just as much of a mess as he is. His angel argues even when he knows he’s wrong because he’d rather die than admit it, his angel runs into problems without half a thought for his own safety because he forgets his worth, his angel stumbles and flirts and causes intergalactic diplomacy crises with a thoughtless wink. His angel is already in hell, with him.

Keith’s everything they said he would be.

But so is Lance.

And as Lance plays the last chords, laying his head on Keith’s shoulder and letting his guitar slump in his lap, as Keith hears his whispered “thank you for indulging me”, as Keith squeezes his hand once, twice, three times in succession, he thinks –

He thinks he’s pretty satisfied with that.

———

part one

255 notes · View notes

asgoodeasgold · 2 months

Text

Happiness is slipping away from Charles and Julia as faith and guilt comes between the two lovers. "Save me" begs Julia, but they are doomed. Oh my heart, this scene is so heartbreaking 😭.

🎶 "Faith" by Adrian Johnston, Terry Davies & BBC Philarmonic (original BR score - see link below)

📷 Brideshead Revisited (2008) my edit

🎶 reel:

On set still (from bluray):

Score:

youtube

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #brideshead revisited #julia flyte #charles ryder #evelyn waugh #period drama #faith #guilt #doomed love #Youtube

24 notes · View notes

anouri · 2 years

Text

it starts with bloodshed, always bloodshed, always the same running from something larger than yourself story

giovanni gasparro // roberto ferri // richard siken

#web weaving #roberto ferri #giovanni gasparro #sorry about the blood in your mouth. i wish it were mine #violent feelings are good so i have heard for your health #what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?#love as consumption #love as violence #doomed love #mine #hands #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: injury

459 notes · View notes

treethymes · 3 months

Text

Amor de Perdição (1979, dir. Manoel de Oliveira)

#7/100 #amor de perdicao #doomed love #manoel de oliveira #100

15 notes · View notes

sitp-recs · 6 months

Note

okay i totally understand if you have no idea what to make of this... but do you know of any fics that have fine line by harry styles/im your man by mitski vibes??? like the fic is lowkey filled with doom and regret and melancholy and is overall kind of miserable but like draco and harry find love and its like not gonna heal everything magically but theyre gonna pick up the pieces of their lives and theyre eventually gonna be okay

Hi anon! That’s a really interesting ask, I wasn’t familiar with either song but I looove the gritty, melancholy “doomed lovers” vibes. I feel like apocalypse AUs are perfect for that so I’ve included some. I hope you enjoy these, some are angstier/darker than others but I think they all fit the bill nicely:

Intelligence by aideomai (T, 6k)

“I don’t believe it,” Ginny said, voice low with venom and fury. “Did you know?” “I knew there was a spy,” Hermione said.

Silence series by RurouniHime (E, 10k)

It was his battle, yet he never hurt me, and he could have.

The Taste of Magic by @romaine2424 (M, 10k)

As the world's atmosphere changes, magic starts to disappear. Only a "lucky" few will stay in the magical world until the earth begins to heal.

Put a Price on My Soul by lamerezouille (E, 12k)

Harry has become used to being a whore in the crapsack Wizarding World that’s now governed by Voldemort. Everything changes when Malfoy becomes his new pimp.

Two Zinnias and the Scent of Lemon by @the-starryknight (M, 16k)

The Ministry didn’t turn bad overnight. Harry didn’t suddenly turn rogue either. Between covert Legilimency links and Polyjuice disguises and running and running and running, Draco has forgotten what it is like to have a safe harbor that isn’t a person. If there’s an art to fighting back, then they’ll find it hand in hand.

The Seventh Life by @corvuscrowned (E, 18k)

If Draco had looked the other way, he may never have seen him again. But Draco turned, because he always would have turned. He found him, because he always would have found him - in life, in death, or in Paris.

Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)

Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.

All the Ashes Like Leaves by @firethesound (M, 21k)

Nothing about being the Chosen One had prepared Harry for this. With most of the population blinded and man-eating plants running amok, he can only stay close to his friends as they make their way to safety. Not that he’d call Malfoy a friend, but the end of the world does rather make their ongoing feud seem trivial. And it just figures that it took nothing short of an apocalypse to make Malfoy seem like less of a git.

The Boy Who Died by @magpiefngrl (E, 27k)

Harry dies in the forest. Sixteen years later, he comes back to life.

If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared. Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

Bonus: my favorite WIP!

In The Dark by @bixgirl1 (E)

In the aftermath of an apocalypse, Harry receives an order to find and bring Draco Malfoy nearly a thousand miles, to the tenuous safety of Hogwarts. But more than distance separates them from their goal.

#asks #anon #Drarry reclist #melancholy #doomed love

23 notes · View notes