"You know that love really isn’t what they say it is, right? In the books? In the fairytales? Nobody comes and rescues you from your tower. Nobody fights off a big bad witch or even slays a fucking dragon. The problem is that everyone does what they can to make a show of it, to make love extravagant, like it’s a show that everyone has to watch. Why can’t love be… hidden? A secret? Since when did love have to be shouted from every corner of the room? And if they can’t see love, why do they have to doubt it – assume it isn’t there?"
Broken Yolk by Attica (http://m.fanfiction.net/s/4488280/1/Broken-Yolk)
"
That’s unforgivable. It absolutely is.”
His eyebrows rose to his forehead. “I didn’t know that not loving somebody was a sin.”
“It isn’t,” she said, feeling a flash of hurt, deep inside her, “but it should be.
"
Broken Yolk by attica
People, I encourage you to read attica’s fanfics. Everything she writes is just brilliant and so real and relatable.
"The thing with heartbreak is that you make peace with it after it happens, even though it continues to throb like a sore wound."
Leap Year (Dr/Hr fanfiction)
"She gets up and gives him a smile. It’s a smile that comes out of forcibly pressing your lips together so that your mouth doesn’t open… so that you can’t cry."
Leap Year (Dr/Hr fanfiction)
“I’m crazy about you and your lips helped prove it. You deserve better. You deserve so much better. I’m broken, I’m empty, I’m nothing.”
“I deserve you.” She said with force. “I deserve someone who feels the same way that I feel for them. I don’t want big fancy dates and gifts and all that. I just want what we have right now. I want that and nothing else.”
“But I can’t offer you anything.” He said hopelessly.
“I just want you.”
She took a deep breath and pulled the corners of her mouth upwards. Her smile felt stiff and abnormal. She tried different techniques; one corner higher than the other, teeth barely showing, wide grin, mischievous smile, seductive pull of the corner. At last she relaxed her muscles and her mouth fell into it’s natural position of her corners pointing slightly downwards. When did she forget how to smile? She thought it was like riding a bike; something you didn’t just forget. Apparently she had been wrong, because every smile she attempted seemed fake and foreign on her face.
It was driving her mad to be so close yet to know that he wasn’t hers. He occupied her mind every living second and she would fantasize about what he would say, what his lips would feel like, what she’d mean to him – and then she’d focus her eyes and move back into reality only to crash right into the knowledge that she would never have him. He would never be hers. All she would ever have from him were these stolen moments by his side at the kitchen table. She cherished them and hated them all at the same time.
It was ridiculous. Everything was absolutely bloody ridiculous. She had come to the point where she didn’t know if it was better to be close to him or to get as far away as possible. Pining for him when he wasn’t there may very well be torturous, but sitting next to him not being able to reach out, seeing his face so close yet not close enough – that really was the worst torture of it all. It was the bitter-sweet pain; the one she wanted and loathed at the very same time.
All of your senses are heightened as his lips, soft and gentle, yet insistent and unrelenting, move in rhythm with yours. With each breath, each touch, you feel music all around you, as though your hearts and bodies are composing a symphony meant only for your ears and his. You know he can hear it too because his pulse is racing and his other arm finds its way around you, drawing you even closer than before, a feat you didn’t think possible.
In moments you’re feeling light-headed and you know you have to breathe but you don’t want to stop, not ever. You’ve never been kissed like that, like you’re the most desirable woman in the world. You aren’t sure if it’s just the way he kisses or if he really feels that way about you. You can’t imagine it’s possible already, but you have never felt so wanted and you’d only spent a few hours with this man. You can’t imagine what it would be like to be with him, to be the one who makes him smile, the one he comes home to.You could know his favorite brand of soap, see his hair in the morning, guess which films he would prefer to see, and order his favorite Chinese take-away.
