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You know something aka broken pieces by emotionalcadaver is good when you read it again after some months and comment on it again, without remembering the first time...and say the same things in a different way😂
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Summary: Henry struggles to adjust to life following his dischargement.
Word Count: 1,442
Notes: Warnings for PTSD, mention of war, vomiting, mention of child death, and mention of suicide attempt. Henry Wilson is the name for the Shivering Soldier created by the lovely people over @henry-wilson.
He shot awake with a barely contained scream, legs tangling in the sweat-soaked bed sheets, body thrashing from side to side. There was a thunderstorm inside his mind; twisting winds and screaming and cold water and the roar of fighter engines descending from the sky and the rumble of bombs and above it all the little cry of a poor young boy as Henry’s hands shoved him to his death–
Shooting up out of the bed, Henry all but hurled himself into the tiny ensuite bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he was vomiting violently, entire body heaving and shaking with it, hands clutching the toilet rim, choking and gagging.
Wow, this was absolutely beautiful. All the feelings and troubles described in a such poetic, heartfelt way. The scene with his mother after what he'd tried to do made me tear up, and how he knew what Daisy would be like was so nostalgic. You write him wonderfully.
Can I submit a blurb/one shot request for my beloved Henry Wilson with the prompt “I'll be damned if anyone makes you feel like you aren't worthy of being loved.”
masterlist | 300 blurbs <3
pairing: henry wilson x reader
a/n: thank you so much for the request! haven't written for henry in ages so it was a total delight. um. it's kinda long. SORRY i just had fun writing about their friendship :,) for anyone unaware of darling henry, check out @henry-wilson . essential reading. thanks again and i really hope you like it!
It had been ages since you’d last walked on this beach. The salty air seemed so palpable, so familiar, you could almost taste it on your tongue.
You wondered why you had even wanted to leave your seaside town for the city all those years ago, but it didn’t matter now. You were home, finally. You’d missed the countryside, and more than anything, one particular person.
You lifted your head, spotting a figure in the distance as he sat in the sand, eyes trained on the vast ocean. The details of his face were a blur, but your eyes ran over his dark hair, rumpled by the wind. You thought you could even see, beset in his sharp profile, the brilliant blue flash of his eyes as he peered into the sea.
The thunderous crash of a wave underscored your swelling excitement as you felt recognition shoot through you.
“Henry!” You called out, your voice drowned out by the howling wind.
You stumbled toward him, your enthusiasm hindering you as the sand slid from under your feet, but you pressed on, tripping over yourself as your smile grew wider.
“Henry.” You breathed.
His eyes were wide and bewildered as they looked at you. “(Y/N)?”
He was shocked to see you, understandably. Henry had been your friend for years, and you'd kept in contact after you left, but the letters stopped completely when he enlisted. You hadn’t written to him about your homecoming- you’d thought he was still in the army, overseas on the front. You had only found out about his discharge from the military when you arrived in town last night, and it was too late to seek him out by then.
“I’ve moved back! Just taking a stroll.” You sank down beside him, raking your fingers through the sand. “I missed you, Henry.” You sighed, turning to look at him.
The hollows of his cheeks were defined, stark marks of exhaustion painted under each eye. His eyes seemed different, a little darker, the same murky blue as the ocean that stretched out before you. You initially thought his freckled nose and cheeks were red due to the bite of the wind, but the red rims of his eyes and the furrow in his brow made your heart sink.
“What’s wrong?” You asked gently.
Each fluid, rolling motion of the waves seemed to hypnotise him as his gaze travelled for miles, far, far past the horizon. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly.
“They called me a coward, (Y/N).”
The statement triggered a pang of pain to erupt in your chest. Henry was the first person you mentioned when you arrived home the night before. Your housemate filled you in on his dismissal from the military. It was torturous, hearing her ramble on about how the town viewed him since then. The young men were the cruelest. Sneering at him in the street, regarding him with as much viciousness as they could muster.
When he was lucky, he stayed invisible. Head hung, drifting through town like a ghost. It made bile rise in your throat. You hadn’t wanted to believe her. But it was true, of course. True, and endlessly awful.
Your eyebrows furrowed, and your heart wanted to burst as anger bloomed within it. “Henry, you are not a-”
“It wasn’t the first time.” He continued, voice hauntingly steady as the sea roared in your ears.
“Even when they’re kind enough to hold their tongues.” He spat, sardonic. “I feel it. They stare, everywhere I go. Grinning at me, like a joke, (Y/N). It’s suffocating. But it’s written all over me, inescapable.” He turned to you, eyes like a wounded animal’s, boring into your skull.
“Do you know what the worst part is?” His voice crested, brimming and shaking with pain and desperation. It made your head swim. “They’re utterly, completely right. I’m… wrong. I’m broken. I cracked, and I can’t blame them for hating me for it. No one wants to love a time-bomb.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. He paused, the next words spilling through his lips, voice low and hollow.
“But it is so, so lonely.” He murmured.
You wanted to cry, you wanted to scream, you wanted to hold him. You hurt for him. Plain and simple.
“I don’t even know why I came here.” He scoffed, gesturing toward the boundless, swelling ocean. “It just reminds me of…” He trailed off.
You got to your feet, yanking him up with you at such a speed you both had to take a moment to steady yourselves.
His hand was freezing cold in yours. He’d been out here for far too long. You wrapped both your hands around his, enclosing his icy fingertips in the warmth of your palms.
“Let’s get you out of here, alright?”
He nodded, trailing beside you as you walked hand in hand, away from the shore. You broke the silence as the ocean receded behind you.
“You know what this beach reminds me of?” You spoke.
He shook his head.
“We used to swim here, remember? You had to drag me out of the water every time because I never wanted it to end.” You smiled. “And when I finally gave in, you’d let me sit on the back of your bike, and you’d cycle so fast that by the time we got to your house your hair would be dry from the wind.”
You saw his lips quirk upward as he navigated the sandy incline, kicking out the pebbles from beneath him.
“You used to scream bloody murder whenever I made too sharp a turn.” He mumbled.
“And you’d always stop to check if I was alright.” You laughed. “You’ve always been too good to me. You were sunburnt after those trips, too, every single time.”
“Only because you refused to get out of the water.” His smile grew.
“I’ll admit it was my fault. But I’d always make it up to you, no? We’d go somewhere you liked after, hiking all those trails through the woods, stopping every second to look at some… special type of moss I had no idea about.” You glanced at him, and his head dipped as he smiled shyly, reminiscing. “Or we’d go to the park and sit by the pond, where you knew the ducks despised me.”
“They loved me, though.” He chuckled.
“Only ‘cause you kept feeding them.” You hummed. You stopped walking, feet digging into the sand as you tugged on his hand. He turned to you.
“That’s what I remember when I see this beach.” You said. “The good memories. And I wish more than anything that those memories could help you forget. I wish they could take away from what you've experienced, but I know they can’t.” You clapped your hands over his shoulders.
“But we can make better, new memories now. Whatever those idiots in town say, it’s all… bullshit. My Henry isn’t a coward. He’s brave, smart, and kind. You’ll always be all those things, and so much more, no matter what.” You cupped his jaw with your hands, his hands circling your wrists as you gazed at each other. “And I’ll be damned if anyone makes my Henry feel like he isn’t worthy of being loved.” He frowned, eyes flickering away. You held onto him.
“You say you’re lonely. I wish I could take the pain away, Henry, I really do. We’ve always been honest with each other, so I’ll say this now. I don’t know if I can. But I’ll always be there for you. When you’re happy, when you’re hurting, whatever. Always.” You stated.
He reached for you, closing the distance between you, pink lips tinged slightly blue by the cold as he pressed a kiss to your mouth. He dropped his head to your shoulder as you wrapped each other in a hug. His hair brushed your jaw as you pressed your cheek to the top of his skull, his face burrowed in the crook of your neck.
“Let’s go.” You whispered. “I’ll make you some tea. Then… we’ll go somewhere nice. Less dreary, less grey. Somewhere you like. Like the woods. Or the park, by the pond. Like old times, yes?”
He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you continued walking.
“Yes.” He replied, chest rumbling as he spoke. “Like old times. Together.”
Thank you for viewing! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!
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Henry wakes up to find Sam missing, but on her return, a step to the right direction is made.
Warnings: PTSD, wounds, possible mentions of family members' death(can't remember)
H/c
Words: 1083
He squinted, trying to turn his face away from the damn sun that blinded him. He was met with the unmistakable force of the pillow and then the mattress, he couldn't turn over. There was only that slight gap between the curtains, the one that allowed the light to come through. Perhaps he should close it. He should.
But he was too weak to even lift his arm-and the left one burned with pain. As did his head. And his back-and that stinging every time he inhaled…
He felt tears run down the corner of his eyes, spoiling his warmth. Something else was making him cold too, down at his thighs. Everything was painful, foggy. All he could do was wait until the pain swallowed him, drowned him, like the cruel sea had.
When Samantha came back home, she found Henry still laying asleep. She placed all her bags on the kitchen counter, thinking. At the end, she decided to wake him up. It had been fourteen hours since she'd sound him-roughly twelve since he'd fallen asleep. There were things to be done.
She was met with a deep, long groan as she opened the curtains and opened the window a little.
She waited for him to wake up, sat on her chair as always. It took Henry some time to open his eyes, but once he did, he jolted away from her.
She let him look at her like a frightened rabbit until he remembered everything.
"Good morning! I went to the village, brought you stuff".
" Do you need anything before I make us breakfast?"
"Are you cold"?, she asked lastly, a frown creasing her forehead as Henry shivered uncontrollably.
Tired of getting no response whatsoever, she sat on his bed-and immediately regretted it.
Her heart filled with sympathy as she touched the wet mattress.
"Don't worry Henry…", she murmured, gently removing the blankets.
"I'll need you to stand up for a moment, okay"?
Spasms were still running over him, and…he was crying.
Had her brother ended up like that before he died? Frightened out of his mind? And her dad?
She couldn't cry too, when someone was weak the other needed to remain strong. Her dad had taught her that, through broken bones and childbirths, her mother's passing.
"Can you move"?, she asked again with a sligh smile.
"Mm-I'm dizzy", Henry rasped out.
"I'll make you a drink for that, it will help. Do you want to give me your hand"?
Henry gave her the smallest of negative nods.
"I'll need to clean everything up, so you'll sit in the chair for a minute".
Henry shook his head again, his features altered by his shame. He didn't have enough strength to cry, but tears escaped him and it was so shameful to fucking weep like a child.
In an effort to minimize the trouble he caused her, he weakly lifted his body, grabbing her arm like a lifeline before he collapsed to the chair next to the bed.
He kept his eyes low as she brought her own mattress to replace the dirty one, and threw another pair of blankets over it.
Before it was over, a loud bark left him moaning in pain, as his broken ribs convulsed in fear.
"Don't worry, it's Dixie, she's outside, it's just a dog", she reassured him but Sam wasn't quick enough with the bucket.
This time it was only stomach fluids that spilled on the floor.
Maybe he should have died instead of going through all this. Agatha came to his mind, and Peter and Isabelle-and how he missed them. More than he missed his old self. The dog's barking made him hiss.
Before he knew it he was back to his bed, the floor clean, the sunlight replaced by the soft glow of the fire and candles.
With that terrible headache softening just a fraction, Henry found the courage to speak.
"Can you make it stop"?
Samantha looked at him. "The dog? She's here for her food too, she has a puppy to feed. If I let her in and tie her, she'll stop. But she will bark at first", she warned him.
If she was being honest, it wasn't necessary that the two dogs got into the house, but she missed their carefree presence. And perhaps it would help Henry as well.
"Okay", he answered with a strangled voice.
Samantha happily opened the door, closing it behind her before the dogs barged in. Dixie was a large mongrel shepard, their family dog fr over five years. Recently she'd given birth again, to two puppies, and after one of them died, Sam didn't have the heart to give Rick away.
"Hello babies! I missed you, you were gone all day yesterday! I have a surprise for you, a guest. You like guests, don't you Dixie"?
Looping a rope through their collars, she brought them in. Henry tensed the minute he saw them, and Dixie barked a little, but she quickly got used to the idea of an intruder in her house.
Both dogs waited patiently until their food was served, and then they layed on the floor, observing Sam's movements
"Don't worry, I've tied them up", she said as Henry eyed them suspiciously. "Are you hungry"?
"N-no".
"But you have to eat something", she complained.
"I'll just…it won't-
"Only a little bit of bread, please. It won't happen again, don't worry. This will help".
She placed a hot cup in the bed, next to a small slice of bread.
"Is that chamomile"?, Henry asked quietly, the furrow leaving his brow for the first time.
"Yes, with lemon and honey. It will do good to you".
"'M fine", he whispered, his cheeks already flushed with shame.
"It's normal. You went through hell and came back. Your healing is all that matters", Sam told him in a tone she hoped would make him understand. "Just let me help you, please".
He was beyond help- he had turned into an animal, but she couldn't possibly imagine, so he tilted his head, grabbed the cup, brought it with trembling hands to his mouth. The smell of chamomile itself was soothing, soft, comforting.
Memories of picking up the flower with his kids flushed through his mind, their giggles, their little hands getting all dirty and muddy, him helping them cut the chamomile without taking out its roots.
He missed them. He missed their laughs. He missed their chubby faces. He was alive. But he couldn't go back.
I wanted to write something about our Lockdown couple’s journey through the making of Oppenheimer but because it’s after the lockdowns, I’ve decided to make it a little spin off. I’m not exactly sure yet how many parts this will be but it’ll cover from him getting the call to the premiere where they all went on strike.
Summary: Cillian gets the call from Chris offering him the chance to be his leading man.
Warnings: 🔞 This got unnecessarily smutty, right from the cut, lol. The smut has nothing to do with the call but I just missed these two and felt like we all derserved a little treat 🤭 Usual warning for bad language.
Word count: 1875 LOCKDOWN M’LIST
Part 1: The Call
“Please, please, please, please, shit, I’m so—” She scrabbled at his forearms, eyes squeezed shut, as his hips snapped into hers. Her (third) orgasm so close she could practically taste it.
“Can’t.. hold..” He stuttered and tensed, pushing deep into her as his release filled her. As he flopped forward, trying not to crush her, she kept rocking her hips against him, still desperately chasing her own high. She whined as she felt it slipping from her reach, not enough friction for her to tip herself over the edge.
Lifting his head he saw her pretty face scrunched in desperation, felt her walls fluttering around his softening cock.
“You alright there?” She opened her eyes to see him smirking at her.
“I was this close,” she complained, pinching her fingers almost completely together for emphasis. He slipped out and shifted to lay beside her, tugging up his underwear and jeans that hadn’t even made it fully off as they indulged in one of their bad habits (though that might depend on your point of view) from the lockdown - lunchtime quickies. It had reached the point some time in winter 2020 where just hearing her come down the stairs at 12.30ish was enough for him to pop a semi.
She was starting to wriggle back into her own (also not entirely discarded) underwear when he pressed a large palm to her thigh.
“Well we can’t have that. If I let you go back to work like this, who knows who you might injure,” he mumurmed, tugging her jumper dress back up and leaning in to catch her lips. She whimpered as he ran his fingers through her sticky folds, groaning into her mouth as he felt his cum leaking out of her. Gathering a little on his fingers he held them up for her to see. “Do you want me to fuck this back into you?”
She sucked in a breath, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth, pupils blown wide.
“Use your words,” he chided, bringing his fingers closer to her lips. Leaning up slightly, she swiped her tongue over them, and he swore softly as she let him see the pearly, creaminess in her mouth before swallowing.
“Please,” she whispered, thighs desperately squeezing together, hips rocking needily.
He parted her knees with a single tap, leaning so he could watch as he used two thick fingers to gather his seed and push it back, deep within her. Her head flopped back against the duvet, a high whine in her throat as he teased her gspot with his slick fingertips.
“Oh fuck, right there…yes yes yes yes yesssss…” she gabbled, pulling on his stripey tshirt as she fucked herself on his hand. He could feel her velvety walls quivering, so close to unravelling. He leant down to run his lips along her throat and she tilted her head further back to give him more access.
“Is this what you needed, hmm?” he murmured against her skin, nipping it delicately as she keened and moaned. “Are you gonna cum for me, Y/N?” He increased his pace, fucking her harder until she could barely catch her breath. “Be a good girl,” he whispered against her ear, running his two day old stubble over her neck.
She cried out, whole body tensed as her cunt squeezed around his fingers, spasming wildly as she climaxed.
“Holy fucking shit…” she laughed shakily, pushing her hair back from her eyes, slowly opening them again. With a slightly floppy arm she tugged on his tshirt to bring his face to hers, pulling him into a languid kiss. He could taste the trace of himself on her tongue.
But then her stomach growled loudly and she pulled away, laughing.
“Do you think I still have time to actually eat lunch?” She’d only made it as far as the middle landing when he’d tackled her against the wall earlier.
“I can bring you something up?”
She shook her head, fingers playing through his soft locks. “I have work to do. I don’t have time for you distracting me into round two on my sofa.”
He pulled a face of mock shock. “I wasn’t suggesting any such thing, Y/L/N. It’s not my fault if you can’t keep your hands off me.”
She giggled, pulling his mouth back to hers, lips and tongues moulding together in an increasingly heated kiss. But when he started to kiss down her neck again she pushed against his shoulders.
“Behave, Murphy. I’m starving.”
“I’ve got something for you..” he grinned, running his hand over the bulge reappearing in his jeans.
“Baby, I love you, but unless you’re packing carbs down there, I’m out.” She scooted off the bed and into the en suite to clean up.
“I remember a time when you couldn’t wait to get on your knees for me,” he called and heard her cackle behind the door.
“Yeah, it’s called yesterday. Stop being such a whinge, I’ll do it later.”
“Later… like I’m a chore,” he muttered, rearranging himself and jumping slightly as she opened the door, still fixing her clothes.
“Such a chore.” She grinned brightly at him, pushing up on her toes to kiss him as he opened his mouth to retaliate.
What was likely to turn into a spirited debate was cut short by his phone ringing in his pocket.
“Saved by the bell,” he retorted, fishing it out and frowning at the number on the screen, as she slipped from his grasp, leaning over her dressing table to fix her make-up and now very unruly hair.
“Hello?”
She watched him in the mirror, brow contracted uncertainly, relaxing suddenly.
“Emma, hi. Yeah, good thanks, can’t complain, y’know. You?’ He paused, listening. “Course. Yeah fine. Yeah.. bye bye by— Hi Chris.”
She spun around, catching his eye. “Nolan?” she mouthed and he nodded.
“Ah yeah, you know, we survived. Y/N could just keep working like normal and I mostly just got under her feet…more than normal.” He laughed and she rolled her eyes at him, turning back to reposition a kirby grip, morphing back into a presentable, professional editor and not someone who looked like they’d just been fucked six ways to Saturday.
“Yeah…well that sounds interesting. You made better use of your time than I did..” he chuckled, but as she turned to head downstairs she could see that he looked apprehensive, so she waited.
“Well he was a complicated man, wasn’t he.. Right.. uh huh..” His previously flushed features were growing paler by the word. He moistened his lips quickly as he listened to whatever Chris was saying.
“Are you serious..? I mean.. sorry, fuck, yes of course I’d be interested! …Thursday, yeah that’s grand. I’m sure Y/N would love to see you both too, we should get some dinner.” He was smiling now, a big, goofy, delirious grin, the paleness giving way to two spots of high colour on his cheeks.
“Yep, yep, great. See you then. Yes ok, you too. Bye bye bye bye bye.” He trailed off, hanging up, hands shaking, staring at his phone in bewilderment.
“Was that just what I think it was?” she asked quietly as he sat down on the edge of the bed with a thump. He wasn’t sure he could even feel his legs.
“Cill..?”
He looked up, still clutching the phone, to find Y/N staring at him with concern.
“He’s making another film next year. Been writing it during lockdown.. About Oppenheimer, y’know the guy who—”
“Hiroshima?” She moved slowly to stand before him, hands on his shoulders.
“Yeah, him.”
“And he wants you to be in it?” She cupped his cheek gently.
“Yeah… he wants..” He broke off, laughing quietly to himself, running a palm down his face and looking up at her. “He wants me to play Oppenheimer.”
She froze, eyes growing wide like saucers. “Seriously..?”
“Yup.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” she squealed, launching herself at him, knocking them both back onto the duvet, her arms and legs wrapped around him. He pinned her against him and she could feel him shaking slightly.
“Baby, I’m so proud of you,” she said more quietly, propping herself up to look at him, peppering his face with kisses.
He rumbled a laugh against her chest. “I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t even seen the script.”
“But I know you’re gonna be amazing.” She gently brushed his floppy fringe of hair back from his brow. “This is it, you know that, right? It’s not going to be the same after this one.”
He shrugged it off but inside his stomach was already forming knots. Sure Peaky had made him a household name in the way his other work never quite had. But the lead for one of Chris’s films…this was going to be something else altogether.
Just the thought made him want to hide in his basement. Was it even possible to say no..?
“Cill..?” He looked up, pulling himself out of his head. She sat up, straddling his lap and he pushed himself into a sitting position, hugging her to him.
“It’ll probably mean being away for a long shoot. I dunno where but it won’t be Dublin.”
She ran her thumbs over his cheekbones. “It’s not like we haven’t done that before.” She frowned slightly. “Are you even thinking of saying no?”
He shook his head quickly. “No, course not. Just.. you’re right.” He let out a long breath. “It’s gonna be different.”
“You deserve it,” she murmured, kissing him softly. He laughed self consciously, fingers nervously running up and down her sides so much it was almost ticklish. “You do,” she smiled, kissing him again and pulling him into a hug.
He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the soft, familiar scent of her, letting it ground him as she pressed kisses into his hair.
But all too soon she was pulling away, slipping off his lap. He made to stand, assuming she was going to finally make herself some lunch, when she dropped to her knees on the floor in front of him, nudging his legs apart.
“What’re—”
She grinned, running her hand up over his crotch, popping the button of his fly.
“Let me show you just how proud of you I am,” she practically purred, making him groan as her nimble fingers found their way into his boxers. He helped her pull them and his jeans down far enough for his hardening cock to spring out.
“I thought—” He choked as her tongue dipped into his slit, dancing around the head with little kitten licks. “I thought you had to get lunch.”
She sucked gently on the tip, and he grunted, burying his hand in her hair. With a breath, she took him all the way to the back of her throat, gagging slightly as his hips jerked, pushing him deeper.
Pulling back with a cough, stroking her salvia down his thick shaft, she smiled wickedly. “I think I’ve got enough here to keep me going.”
He chuckled and she took a breath before taking him back down, pausing for a moment.
“Though, yes, I am going to need you to make me a sandwich afterwards.”
Can you imagine the shrieking and how excited she would be for him? 🤭 If you enjoyed please do take a moment to share the love 🤍
If you’re new to this couple there is a huge amount of content (series, one shots and other bits) in their masterlist 👇🏼
welp, this weekend is officially over. i didn't study anything, i didn't read any of the books i was supposed to read, and somehow (it's scientifically inexplicable, it's some dark magic fr) i didn't rest at all!
so cheers to another shitty weekend, can't wait for the next one to come.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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