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kpop-kitkat · 2 years

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Dangerous Secret | Xu Minghao

pairing | werewolf!xu minghao x f!reader

genre/cw | angst, fluff, werewolf au, secret, blood, violence, mild language, injury, dark forest at night

wc | 2.2k

notes | very motivated when writing this, hope it turned out alright :) minghao is like my ultimate bias wrecker lmao xd

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Oh my Gosh- why did I let you drag me into this,” Lisa shook her head.

”Chill, you know I’m scared of the dark too,” Y/n replied, stepping over a tall tree root.

“Why does your boyfriend live in the middle of the woods anyway? Don’t you think he’s hiding something from you?” Lisa wondered, following in Y/n’s steps.

”We’ve been dating for three years Lisa, and we promised each other to always be open and honest with each other. I don’t think he’s hiding something from me. Besides, nobody likes being visited at 12:00 a.m,” Y/n reasoned.

“I get it, but don’t you find it a little suspicious that he specifically told you no visiting after 11:00 p.m, and literally lives in the middle of nowhere? He could be a mafia for all we know,” Lisa teased.

”You, know, I’m starting to regret letting you come,” Y/n rolled her eyes. “Look! We’re here,” she whispered, pulling Lisa behind a tree.

”Ooh,” Lisa stared at the dark mansion. “I thought it would be some shitty looking cabin. Minghao’s a freaking billionaire,” she awed.

“Well, he’s a multi-millionaire. His parents own a very successful clothing brand in China,” Y/n explained.

”And you tell me this now?” Lisa put her hands on her hips.

”If I told you when I first found out, you would’ve asked him out first. I know you’re a gold digger,” Y/n pointed out.

”Good point,” Lisa laughed. Of course it was just a joke and not actually based on facts.

”Should we go in?” Y/n wondered.

”It’s a bit awkward if I go. You should though,” Lisa suggested.

”But you’re scared of the-“

”That was a long time ago Y/n, I’ve matured.”

”Yeah whatever,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Seriously, go see your Romeo.”

”Oh gosh, you never change, do you?”

Lisa gave her a small smile before she ushered her into the house and went back into the woods. Right before Y/n stepped into the mansion, she got a text

Bestie🤪: I’m heading back, I have an exam early tomorrow. Love you <3

Y/n: Aight, ily too ✌️

She sighed, slipping her phone back into her pocket. There were no lights on in the mansion, so she assumed everyone was asleep. But for some reason, the door was unlocked. She opened it and glanced around the eerily dark room.

“Is anyone home?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb anyone if they were.

The reason Y/n came here in the first place was to surprise her boyfriend. She knew he said no visiting after 11:00 p.m, but she needed to know why. As she was about to take the stairs to Minghao’s room, she heard a bone chilling howl. It sounded like it was miles away, so she assumed she was safe. After entering his room, she looked around. No Minghao to be found. Only an open window with a ladder leading up to it from the dark forest below. She gulped hard, debating going down there. She ultimately decided to do it, and tried her hardest to be brave.

“Minghao?” she called out once she was back in the dark labyrinth. Luckily, she had a flashlight. “Babe?”

She froze in her spot when she heard another howl. This time, much closer.

”Y/n?” a voice called from deeper within the forest.

”Minghao? Is that you?” she replied.

”Why are you here?” Minghao sighed.

”I came to see you,” she answered, still no sight of Minghao’s face. “Why are you hiding from me? Come into the light.”

”Y/n, you don’t understand. You can’t be here,” he warned.

”Minghao-“

”Please! I need you to go back into the house. Right now.”

”Just tell me what’s going on first!”

“Shh! He’ll hear you!” he whisper-yelled.

”Who will hear me?”

A third howl was heard. This time, it was on the other side of the mansion.

”He’s found us. It’s too late, you have to come with me,” he explained, coming out from his hiding spot.

As he stepped towards Y/n, she shrunk back.

“Minghao, you don’t look normal. Your eyes-“

”I’ll explain later. Now, we need to run.”

”Run?!”

”Shh!” he exclaimed, embracing her and using a hand to cover her mouth.

She couldn’t help but let out a quiet cry of confusion and fear. Minghao couldn’t let his emotions control him, they were in real danger. But the way she trembled just broke him. He planted a comforting kiss on her forehead and lips before taking her hands in his.

”We’re going to be alright. Just run, and don’t look back. Okay?”

She nodded her head slightly. He nodded in return and firmly grasped one of her hands and let go of the other. He began sprinting off into the forest, Y/n trailing close behind. As they ran, Y/n fought the urge to look back. But at this point, she didn’t need to. They were obviously running from a wolf. And possibly a werewolf. But did they even exist?

What seemed like hours was only ten minutes of running. The howling noises had ceased and the loud leaf crunching sounds had stopped. They were safe, for now.

”Okay. Tell me what’s going on,” Y/n begged.

He sighed heavily. “Alright. It’s hard to put into words, as they might not be so believable, so just, try not to scream?”

She tilted her head in confusion as Minghao stepped away from her. She could only stare in horror as Minghao’s skin suddenly became fur. His ears, pointier. A once nonexistent tail, visible.

Werewolves did exist. In fact, her beloved boyfriend was one of them. She could hardly believe her eyes, or any of her senses for that matter.

She backed up into a tree as Minghao began to approach her in his wolf form, tears threatening to fall. He whimpered when he saw how frightened she was. Minghao loved her. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him.

Y/n took a deep breath before reaching out her hand towards him. The wolf stepped closer and leaned his head into her touch. He was much bigger than an average wolf. Over two times the size. Y/n couldn’t help but smile, as she pet Minghao’s pretty wolf coat. It was a majestic grey and white ombré.

”You’re pretty as a wolf,” she complimented, earning a tail wag from him.

Suddenly, Minghao’s ears perked up as he looked in the direction they were previously running from. He turned around and tilted his head, gesturing towards himself.

“You want me to ride you?” she asked.

He nodded eagerly, as if danger was pursuing them, which it most definitely was.

“Okay.”

She quickly sat on Minghao’s back and grabbed his long fur for support. He was pony-sized wolf, so he was the perfect size for riding. Once that same deafening howl was heard, he quickly broke into a sprint, making Y/n hold on even tighter.

The thrill of being with the one he loved while running from the one he hated was unmatched to Minghao. His mind was only set on one thing: Y/n’s safety. For the past three years they had dated, that had always been his priority. And if he wanted anything more, it was the death of the person who was chasing them: Jung Songjin.

~~~~~

About ten years ago from the present day, Xu Minghao’s father, Liqiang, and Jung Songjin’s father, Minseok, were best friends, who both led their own werewolf packs. But one fateful day, Minseok went wild due to close proximity with an intoxicating plant. Liqiang had no choice but to kill his best friend.

Still to this day, Songjin despises Liqiang and his son, Minghao. He would kill them both if it meant the death of himself as well.

~~~~~

Minghao had been hunted since the day he was born. It wasn’t fair, but so life is.

Minghao sighed in relief when he caught sight of the abandoned shed he loved to play in as a kid. It would be a safe place, for the time being.

Once he reached the door, Y/n slid off of his back and unlocked the door. Minghao quickly nudged her inside and followed her in. Once inside, he shifted back into his human form, his clothes from before magically reappearing. He bolted the door shut and closed all the curtains in the windows. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed when he closed the last curtain. When he turned around, he was immediately embraced by his girlfriend. He hugged her back tightly, rocking her side to side.

”I‘m scared,” she whispered, voice cracking.

His heart broke a little hearing her words. All he could do was be her safe place. And that’s exactly what he wanted to do.

“It’ll be alright, I promise,” he soothed, running a hand through her soft hair.

“It’s all my fault,” she sobbed into his chest, clutching his shirt tightly.

”No Baby,” he pulled away to look into her eyes. “It’s mine. I should’ve told you my secret sooner. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I thought I was keeping you safe,” he admitted.

“Oh Hao,” she looked deeply into his eyes. “Just promise me you won’t ever leave me?”

”Of course I promise,” he smiled.

He was about to lean in to kiss her when the sound of a shattering window interrupted him. He quickly, yet gently, shoved Y/n to the side and shifted into his wolf form to confront Songjin. But as soon as Songjin saw the girl, he shifted into his human form to speak.

"You have a pretty girlfriend Minghao," he chuckled evilly.

Minghao shifted back into his human form and stood in front of her. "You stay away from her you bastard," he seethed.

"I'd rather not. Besides, why kill you when I can make you suffer instead?"

"What?"

"The girl. She's obviously very precious to you. Killing her would do much more damage," he smirked.

"Not if I kill you first," Minghao stated, quickly shifting before lunging at his enemy.

His hopes were crushed when Songjin pulled a dagger from behind his back and stabbed the wolf straight in the gut.

"No!" Y/n cried, watching as Minghao was then picked up and thrown against the wall.

Songjin's attention was now focused on Y/n. She whimpered and backed into the wall as he neared her with a piece of broken glass in his hands. As he raised the shard, she closed her eyes, awaiting the painful impact. But it never came. She opened her eyes to see that Minghao, in his human form, had stabbed Songjin with the same dagger he was wounded with. Songjin dropped dead beside her.

"Minghao," she gasped. Minghao smiled at her before he became dizzy and fell to his knees. He dropped the bloodied dagger and was about to have his head hit the floor when Y/n caught him.

"Ahh," he clutched his side.

"Oh my God," she stared at the deep wound. "Stay here, I'll find something to help you."

Minghao could only nod tiredly in response.

She returned with an old cloth that she found and pressed it against his stab wound. "You're so stupid," she chuckled, trying to hide how nervous she was.

"How am I stupid for saving the one I love?" he smiled at her lovingly, despite his immense pain.

She shook her head at his stubbornness and continued to press the cloth to the wound.

Suddenly, Minghao's facial expression changed from adoration to alertness.

"What's wrong?" she wondered.

"Ngh," he groaned in pain. "Songjin... he isn't alone."

Minghao didn't wait for her response and stood, trying his best to ignore the pain. He took her hand again and quickly led her out of the door, and began fleeing back to the mansion.

"Can't you shift!?" she asked, fearing for her life, as well as his.

"It takes too much energy to shift into a wolf," he explained, only focused on the path ahead.

Once they arrived back at the mansion, they used the ladder to climb into Minghao's room. He was swift to close the window.

"We should be safe until morning," Minghao sighed.

"May I see your wound?" she asked.

He nodded and slowly approached her. He tensed as her fingers trailed over his wound. "The fabric of your shirt is making it worse," she noted.

He blushed as he tugged the clothing article over his head, revealing his well toned body. It wasn't like Y/n hadn't seen it a million times before, he was just shy. She spent the next hour carefully bandaging his torso. She then made sure he was comfortable as he laid on his bed.

"Do you need anything?" she smiled.

"Just you," he replied.

She was mindful of his sensitive spot as she cuddled up against his bare chest under the grey blanket. She didn't hesitate to peck his lips when she got the chance.

"You're a werewolf," Y/n said out of the blue, as if she hadn't fully convinced herself.

"And you're a werewolf's girlfriend," he giggled.

"You're in love with me."

"Of course I am."

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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

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toriiii babe (｡•́︿•̀｡) i have no other words to utter but

the last chapter is freakin beautiful.

first of all, the scene where we was waking up, and you using the five senses?? that. was. freakin. good. i read it before i got out of my bed and it really felt like i was in there. like i was sucked into that world that you created and all i can feel is warmth and contentment. i also love that you included tsumu's pov. when he said, “good mornin, pretty.” lemme tell you, i absolutely MELTED. i really love this scene because it's intimate and romantic, contrary to the events that happened the night before. (not to say that i didn't like it. i certainly did!! but this is a different kind of good, if i'm making sense?)

then their lighthearted banter about tsumu's back?? and we was bein confident again?? and reminded tsumu about doing that again but this time, really slow and really hard?? man, my insides turned into jelly!! it's a wonder how tsumu was able to keep his composure at all.

and then the bed scene ugh i LOVE it!! love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it love it and the baby endearment??? and tsumu bein a thigh enthusiast??? OH MY GOODNESS *chef's kiss*

then came their vulnerable moment. lemme tell you, babe, i was tearing up when i was reading that (つ﹏<。) i can relate to reader's worries and fears. tsumu is... idk an uncharted territory?? he established early on that he wasn't the second date type of guy, and falling for that kind of guy IS scary bc we might just get hurt in the end. but i am glad, i am so GLAD that tsumu realized that he loves us when we was still with him in that bed and did not let go of us. otherwise, i think we would be consumed by our doubts regarding our relationship with him, and we would just... run away (i think). i just about lost it when this line came up, "you keep coming up with excuses, not because you want him to agree with them, but because you want him to keep disputing them." this line hit differently, babe. it just him me right in the feels and through my core. and then this part?? “i’m not doing any of that without you,” he says, pauses, and then adds, “if you’d keep me around.” !!!!!!!!!! it's the perfect and the only right response to what we was being anxious about. and then the okay part??? the scenarios that followed right after??? i was sobbing while reading it all *sniffles* it's beautiful, tori, i could not have asked for a better ending.

now, about the maki ending... i really tried my best to read it. i really did. i even thought that i would be rooting for them when i read ch 7.5 but when i read ch. 8.5, and saw how hurt and confused tsumu was. i couldn't take it *nervous laughter* when he said “i let you meet my fucking brother.” i had to stop. i mean, i love angst, i usually have it for breakfast, but ig not today?? or not to this degree, bc i saw myself in tsumu, and my greatest fear is being rejected after i've been vulnerable with someone. that's why i'm afraid that i cannot give ch 8.5 the love that it deserves (╯_╰)

also, i apologize for my late ask (^^;) it's been a not-so-good day so i waited til after work so that i could give my full attention, energy, and honest thoughts about your wonderful work. twrt has been my motivation and comfort for the past 6 weeks, and it's always been a pleasure reading it. that's why i'm extremely grateful that you shared this with us although it's originally intended for your fiancé's eyes only.

so, thank you, thank you, thank you for this, tori bub ♡ and i am looking forward to the epilogue, and to your next tsumu fic!! AND the osamu fic that you've been teasing us~ enjoy your vacation in barcelona~!! muah!! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

oh my goshshshshshhh. babe hi. ily. i just cannot COMMUNICATE ENOUGH how much not just THIS ONE but every single ask and tag and message and comment of yours has MEANT. thank you for following along and pointing everything out that you love because it’s just made me so happy and excited abt my own writing and stuff too T-T

i’m super super looking forward to every one reading the epilogue and hope everyone loves it (esp you ily) and AH YEA. i’m gonna enjoy my vacation it’s gonna be great and beautiful >:) hehehe. ily ily

#shut up tori #asks!#twrt convo!#megumi!

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seospicybin · 2 years

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I SCREAMED when I saw the flower fields painting 😭 I still never recovered from that fic🥲 AND I just remembered how you said this fic is super angst 🫠 I have been rooting so hard for jeongin and oc to have a happy ending this whole time but now remembering that it’s an angst fic I’m fucked :)

I love your account so much though that I’m looking forward to the pain you’re going to bring me 💖 and I know I’ll like it anyway skandhakkchdj

I wouldn't say it's that super angst bcs it ends with a happy ending, I told you, I'm done making y'all cry hehehe (partly joking 🙊)

I hope you enjoy Fatal Attraction Part II! There's more Saturn crumbs in it and pls let me know what you think, it's my first time writing a mafia au and I tried to make the mafia stuff very subtle so it's not that super heavy and easy to digest.

As always, thank you my love for being so so so sweet! I'll try not to bring you pain but more and more happiness, ily 💗

#spicy mail #sweet anonie

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nar-nia · 1 year

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hi Nina,

im sorry to hear that January so far wasn’t the best :(( hearing it makes my heart ache, even though we don't really know each other, i'm always rooting for u and for ur well being!!

whatever it is im hoping it will go away soon, sweetheart, meanwhile take care!! and dont go be hard on urself!! ily, i hope u find comfort in things that make u happy and remember that it gets better!! im sending u so much hugs, and cutie HEE - please link here for the adorable baby- maybe this will make u smile <3

the schedule of ur updates and reblogging fics sounds lovely!!! i dont know if i have any idea of request tho :(( the only thing on my mind for it is, like, honeymoon with hee - cuz that seems like a heaven <3 and,,,,hmm im shy writing this cuz i dont know how u feel about asking such questions but,, always in the back of my mind i wondered, how are heaven from babysitter au? its absolutely my fav fic ( i think i have mentioned it A LOT) and their story always lingers in the back of my head - im not saying i need a whole drabble about or something but have u thought what they might be up to now? if this is like weird or something please ignore this part of my essay </3

i wish i could say my January was better, but it rly wasnt. i had to retake one the for my class and i passed the second time - but i felt so disappointed in myself and now im so much more scared of failure. the end of the semester is coming so quickly and i will be (starting wednesday) writing some test to pass classes and im have so exams soon - my first ever uni exams, im nervous, cuz studying never was my specialty? thats sounds silly but, i was always getting by cuz i was kinda smart but now? there is so much :(( and i'm not even gonna be writing them in my native language - the english spelling will kill me ://

also!! the hee angst drabble u recently posted, i loved it, u always wanted to make hee a safe haven, the biggest comfort in the dark times, i rly cherish that <3

i hope the rest of January will be better if not more than maybe just a bit <33 icant seem to write u a short ask for the life of me, sorry for that

p.s always thinking about u , ily, i will probably come back in the middle of february <3 please wait for me <33

-ur beloved anonie! ^^

hellooo <33

I love you 🥺 thank you so much for your words (and the hee pic of course), they made me smile <33

and i love your requests!! i will write down both of them and i hope i'll do them justice. but a catch-up on the babysitters club sounds like so much fun, i'd love to write one!

i know it's easier said than done but please don't be so disappointed in yourself. I had to take so many tests twice because it was just too much at once and i failed, and that sucks but we gladly have second tries for that. you're still doing amazing, no matter if you take more tries or not. I'm so proud of you <33

i'm wishing you the best of luck for your exams, i'm always here to celebrate or to provide hugs, no matter how your exams will go.

and i love your long asks!! they sometimes take me a bit longer to answer (i'm sorry about that) because i really want to take my time in giving you the answer you deserve, but they always make me really happy.

i love you too and i will patiently wait 💖

#beloved anon 💖#my loves ❤️#talk that talk 📣

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galaxysgal · 2 years

Text

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐜𝟑: 𝐄𝐫𝐨𝐬

Eros (ἔρως) - noun - Desire; passionate love.

Pairing: professor!matt x gn!reader (afab)

Summary: you come to matt after making a big mistake with your internship, and his true feelings are revealed.

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ age gap (reader is of age) teacher/student relationship (consensual!!) smut, face sitting, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it!!!!) and like 1k of angst at the start

A/N: thank u @yourbucky084 for beta'ing, ily queen <3 I am SO PROUD OF THIS!!! this is the final part for the main series, but dw I have one shots planned for this au!!! I'm not ready to give it up quite yet 🥰

Wordcount: almost 5k omg??

xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx

You find yourself in Matt's office at 2pm on a Tuesday. The room is familiar and comforting, the smell of cinnamon thick in the air and the blinds always drawn, leaving small rays of afternoon sun to peek through the blinds. Your heart is heavy with the weight of your screw up.

Matt must sense this somehow because as you greet him quietly he asks you what’s wrong, and pulls you into a hug when you respond only with silence. You sigh, letting your body cave into his. It feels so natural.

"I don't even know why I'm here," you admit. "I just… needed someone to talk to."

“You know I’m always here if you need to talk, about anything, class related or not.” One hand rubs your back, tucking your head under his chin. For a moment you think that this might be what hurts the most. Not losing your pitch, not your wasted time and effort. No, this. Matt. And how you can’t have him.

You force yourself to pull away though you want to stay wrapped up in his arms forever. The chair in front of his desk isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s not as warm. You miss that warmth immediately.

"I fucked up the internship," you confide.

Matt’s face falls. Your name falls from his lips, empathetic, and he moves to lean on the edge of his desk. “What happened?”

You explain the whole situation to him, your late nights perfecting the pitch, how you fell asleep just as the sun was coming up this morning. You slept right through your appointment and the producers were not exactly forgiving. Embarrassment heated your face, you had failed yourself and your film professors.

"Matt I'm terrified," you confess. "My professors in the film department were really rooting for me with this one. And I fucked it up, there's no excuse for that. But I'm so nervous to tell them."

Matt nods, "it's gonna be hard to admit you messed up. Remember though, it's just a temporary setback. You have a natural talent for this. You're going to get there."

"I know. I just- right now I don't know how I'm going to get past this." You hang your head, heart sinking. Your voice falls to a hushed whisper. "I feel like a failure."

In a second Matt is kneeling in front of you, hands finding your own. "No, no, no, baby." Your heart leaps at the nickname, but he seems unphased. Maybe he didn't mean it, or maybe he didn't notice… "Don't say that. You are the farthest thing from a failure."

He's so sweet, too sweet to you. Hearing his voice is like sitting down after a long day for a warm cup of tea with honey. His presence soothes you. "Thank you," you start, but he cuts you off.

"You are one of the smartest, most talented, dedicated and passionate people I have ever met. You are going places and I, for one, can't wait to see what you do."

You blink away tears. "Yeah?"

"Of course," he reaches up, hand finding your cheek, and he's closer now. Mere inches away from your face. "You know I don't talk just to talk. I don't say anything unless I mean it." He's leaning in, you feel it, his lips are about to brush yours. You let your eyes slip closed.

But he pulls back. It's sudden, unexpected. There was no way you were imagining that. He was going to kiss you. He runs a hand through his hair and bites his lip, backing away to lean against his empty office wall, his face betraying his feelings of disgust.

"Please kiss me," you ask- nearly beg- emboldened by the idea he could feel the same. Your heart is beating nearly out of your chest, your hands shake a bit as you wonder what might happen. Would he kick you out of class? Fail you? No… he wouldn't do that. Not when you're so close to graduation.

"Don't-" he shakes his head. "I can't- you know I can't."

"But you want to. Don't you?" You cross your arms, knowing the gesture is lost on him but not caring. It brings you comfort.

Matt curses under his breath, moving back to lean on the edge of his desk. "Fuck."

It's quiet. You begin to feel sick, the silence sticking to your skin as you wait for his decision. "Please say something," you manage.

He sighs deeply. "I can't say I don't want you."

There it is. The words you've waited to hear all semester. The confirmation that you aren't delusional, that your own feelings for this man aren't making you see things that aren't there. Relief floods you as your arms uncross, coming to rest on your lap.

"Matt," you murmur. It's silent again.

"It's not right."

He tilts his head down, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Oh, how you want to kiss that downtrodden expression right off his face. Your heart breaks a little. "I understand." You start to push your chair back-

Matt's hand flies out to stop you, landing on your arm.

Silence.

"Please stay."

You fight back tears of confusion, hurt, and fear. You've dreamed of this all semester and now that it's actually happening it's nothing like you imagined. His hand moves to clasp your own, thumb rubbing over your skin gently. It feels electric, his hand on you again.

Matt squeezes your hand once. "We can't act on this. You're a bright young mind and I'm completely captivated by you- but you're my student. It's against the rules. It could get me in some big, big trouble."

You wouldn't be able to forgive yourself if you got him fired. "Look, Matt, I get it. I understand. We can just pretend-"

"Do you want this?"

His question catches you off guard. His head is tilted towards you once more, cocked to the side a little. The soft, genuine expression on his face

"I thought…"

"Do you want this?" he repeats. "If I'm- if this is going to happen I need to know you feel the same as I do. I don't want to take advantage of you." The genuine concern in his voice melts your heart to bits. He really cares.

"Yes- god yes, i've had this stupid schoolyard crush on you since the beginning of the semester. But it's more than that now- I've gotten to know you better and I just can't get you out of my head. You're all I want," you confess. It's scary to say it out loud but at the same time it's freeing. The weight is off your chest. No more hiding.

He pauses, a smirk forming on his lips, "the semester's nearly over. You're only my student until the end of next week. After that…" he trails off. "Look, I'm not going to pretend like I haven't been falling for you since you first spoke up in my class."

"That long?" you ask.

He chuckles. "Yeah. That long."

You breathe a sigh of relief. "It feels-" your voice breaks and you let out a wet laugh as a tear falls to your cheek. "It feels good to know I wasn't making it all up."

"Don't cry," he whispers, reaching out. You guide his hand to your face and he wipes your tears away with his thumb. It's sweet. "I really think there's something here- and I've wanted you for so long. What's another week?"

You nod, parroting his words. "Another week."

He stands, guiding you over to the door. You’re so close, your heart fluttering. You've wanted this for so long. His hands find your shoulders, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "And as soon as that week is up sweetheart I promise I'll give you everything you've been wanting." He follows the statement with a kiss to your forehead. "Now go, I have other students to see."

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Your final class period ticks by painstakingly slowly. You presented your project about halfway through the class and from then it was just a waiting game. Matt leans on your desk specifically while listening to his students present. He was doing it on purpose, you knew it. The smell of his cologne fills your nose, you pick out bergamot and something a bit spicy. It’s intoxicating. You breathe in deep and he notices, a smirk forming on his lips.

That smug bastard.

Never one to back away from a challenge, you make a point of running your foot lightly up and down his calf, occasionally toeing higher up his pant leg just to see his cheeks flush that sweet pink they always did. The way he shifts and squirms above you makes your lips quirk up into a revengeful smile.

When at last the presentations were done and the hour was up you found yourself alone with Matt once more. He leans nonchalantly on his desk, fingers tapping on his cane as you pack your things into your bag. You step up to him, emboldened by the fact that you know he wants you.

“Hi sweetheart,” he murmurs, and you gently pry one of his hands off his cane. He chuckles softly, nodding towards the corner. “Not here. Cameras.”

You sigh and back away, anticipation coursing through your veins. You’ve wanted him for so long now, you’ve been thinking about him for the last hour. “Where,” you whine, soft and impatient.

“C’mon, I’ve got to get some things from my office.”

You trail behind him, the smell of cinnamon greeting you as you walk through the door. It’s warm and inviting, just like Matt himself. You close the door behind you and turn to find yourself chest to chest with Matt. Your breath hitches, heart pounding in your ribs. The air between you is electric, you feel the tension growing by the second. He’s leaned his cane against the filing cabinet to his right, his hands falling gently to your hips. And still he waits for you to make the first move.

“No cameras in here,” you murmur, hands coming up to gently remove his glasses. His sweet brown eyes stare just to your left, unfocused but glinting with mischief. You tuck the glasses into his breast pocket and run your hands over his shoulders, down his biceps and back up, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Now it’s his turn to take in a small, shuddered inhale. His hands pull you impossibly closer.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes out.

“Please-”

He crashes into you like a tidal wave, all consuming and so, so worth the wait. His hands squeeze your hips, thumbs lifting the hem of your shirt to feel underneath. Fervent lips work at yours, tongue darting out as you breathe in a little gasp. You moan softly and tug at his hair which pulls a soft growl from his throat.

Fuck, that's hot.

Another needy sigh falls from your lips and you can practically feel something snap within him. He backs you against the door, traveling kisses up the side of your face to whisper in your ear.

“Baby, do you know how much I thought about you? Late at night, in the shower, when my hands started to wander… Fuck- it was so dirty." Your head falls back against the door as he sucks a mark into the smooth skin just below your ear. The mental image of Matt in the shower, cock in hand and moaning your name sent a new wave of arousal coursing through your body. "Thought about how your sweet voice would sound when you were underneath me, how your hands would feel in my hair or on my skin. And fuck it felt so wrong but I couldn't stop. Wanted you so bad, then and now."

"You- shit, you have me. You have me." His hand grabs your thigh, hiking it up over his hip to grind shamelessly against you. You whimper at the feeling of him, already half hard just from kissing you like this. "Want you too.”

"Fuck baby, you deserve better than a quick fuck in my office-" his kisses turn softer, a stark contrast to the way he's still rutting against you. "If- if we don't stop now I'll never make it out of here."

"Where-" you whine, fingers tugging at his collar beneath his deep red blazer.

"My apartment," he pants, "king size bed, fluffy comforter, the whole shebang. It’s a twenty minute walk but we could call a cab or catch the-"

You cut him off. "I'll drive us."

Matt pauses, grinning. “That- that would be nice.”

You pry him gently from you, kissing his cheek when he pouts. “C’mon get your stuff, let's get out of here.”

The drive is short but Matt keeps his hand on your thigh the whole time, fingers trailing up and down the seam of your pant leg. You have a mind to pull into an empty parking lot and fuck him right there, but you don’t. This deserves a bed. And a locked door.

The mood shifts as he fumbles to unlock his door, nervously showing you in. You take a quick look around the apartment, it’s barren of decoration but you expected that. A wall of windows reveals a large billboard, bright colors streaming into the room even now in broad daylight. You wonder what it looks like at night.

“So, uh… this is the place,” Matt says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in a shy manner.

You ease his worries, stepping to him and smoothing your hands over the lapels of his blazer. Heat pools in your core as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He wants you, you know he wants you. So you give in.

The kisses start soft but firm, your fingers tracing his cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. The way Matt sighs under your gentle touch is like music to your ears. “Baby,” he mumbles against your lips, “want you, wanna taste you, please.”

“Fuck- yeah. Yes. Where’s the-” you don’t get to finish because Matt scoops you up in his arms, navigating his apartment with ease. He pushes a sliding door open with his foot to reveal a dimly lit bedroom. You expect to be tossed down onto the bed and brace for impact, but he sets you gently on the floor instead, pulling off his blazer and tossing it to the side. He reaches out and you guide his hand to your cheek, kissing him once again while you work at the buttons of his dress shirt. As you get to the last button you notice the tent in his pants and smirk, letting your fingers ghost over the bulge.

Matt lets out a surprised groan, “not fair-” he complains, tugging your shirt over your head and throwing it off to the side. His hands skate down your ribs while you attempt to push his open shirt off his shoulders. A soft chuckle leaves his lips and he steps back, letting his shirt fall to the ground. “I want you to strip. Now.”

You curse under your breath, realizing his stern classroom voice does in fact carry over into the bedroom. You do as you’re told, ridding yourself of clothes until you’re completely naked. You try to kiss him, to grab his hips and pull him close but he manages to step out of the way. Instead he moves to the bed, laying back and getting comfortable with his head on the pillows. You stand at the edge of the bed, curious and unbelievably turned on. You want to run your hands over his broad shoulders, twist your fingers in the dark hair that covers the expanse of his chest, follow that happy trail down, down, down,

He tugs at your hip until you move to straddle him, sitting just above his hips. You let your hands trail over his chest, fingers running through the coarse hair. His hands explore you too, grip ghosting over your neck. You file that away for later.

“Don’t be shy, sweet thing,” he encourages, hands kneading at your hips. “Get up here.”

“Are you sure-” you start, but the devilish grin that graces his features stops you in your tracks.

“I’ve wanted this for fucking months, don’t you deny me. I want you to sit on my face.” He jerks his head up, beckoning you to move over his face. His lips are parted, full and waiting with bated breath for you. His tongue darts out once more and your resolve cracks. Eager, you scramble to hover over his face. “That’s it,” he pants.

You hear him inhale, breathing you in before he lifts his face up to nudge your clit with his nose. The moan that leaves him when his tongue flicks over your slit- tasting you, savoring you- convinces you to sit down fully. You lower yourself onto his waiting lips, one hand on the headboard and the other spreading out through his soft hair. Another one of those sweet, sweet sighs leaves him as he buries his face in you, tongue working your clit with practiced ease.

“So wet,” he murmurs against you, little vibrations sending pleasurable pangs to your core. “All this for me, fuck.” He prods your entrance with his tongue, teasing you before running the flat of his tongue through your folds.

“C’mon Matt,” you tug on his hair, noting his little moan at the action. “Don’t beg me to sit on your face and then tease me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t beg.” The low, lust filled rasp of his voice sends another wave of arousal to your core, which he notices. “You like that, hm?”

“Quit playing,” you tell him.

He chuckles darkly, burying his face in you once more. He licks at you with a newfound vigor, determined to bring your peak as quickly as possible. “Use me,” he murmurs, “come on, you know you want to.”

You whimper pathetically, grinding against his face. Your grip on his hair tightens as his nose bumps your clit again and again. "Oh fuck, Matt-" you moan his name, desperate, chasing your release. Fire burns within you, your thighs start to tighten around his head and you hear his breathless moan against your core.

“That’s it baby, that’s it,” he coos, drawing out the syllables with a voice as rich and sweet as honey. His hands knead at your hips and he buries his tongue inside you, sending you over the edge into a haze of bliss. You ride out your orgasm until you can’t stand it anymore. Somewhere in the corner of your mind you register one of Matt's hands leaves your hips and travels down- he's palming himself, getting off on your pleasure. Fuck that's hot. You grip the headboard tight with one hand as your moans turn into soft whimpers, fading out until you're just panting and shifting your hips weakly against his face.

With legs like jello you flop ungracefully off of Matt and onto the bed, one leg half across his chest and the other resting on his shoulder. Your veins feel like static in the best way possible, you let yourself float in the warm, well pleasured haze Matt has left you in. He chuckles gently, pressing a kiss to your calf as he sits up and and moves your legs to his lap. “That good, huh?” he asks, tone smug but soft.

“I’m not going to stroke your ego Matthew,” you chide, breathless, but he smirks and you end up giggling until he leans down to kiss you with clumsy lips. You prop yourself on your elbows and meet him halfway, savoring your own taste in his kiss.

"Well I'll say it. That was fuckin' amazing," he grins against your lips.

You chuckle, kissing him and nipping his bottom lip playfully, "yeah?" you tease. "You haven't even fucked me yet, handsome. If we're stroking anyone's ego it's mine."

He hums, "can't wait to fuck you- can you sit up for me sweetheart?" You whine, still spent from your first orgasm, but Matt pulls you gently until you’re sitting upright. “There you go,” he murmurs into a kiss. His fingers dance down your flushed skin until he reaches your hips.

You lean into him, “‘m sorry, it’s… it’s been a while since I last,” you trail off, letting your hands run along his back.

“Take your time,” Matt kisses your cheek and you slip your hand from his back to his torso, trailing until your fingertips rest just above his waistband. You want to give him something in return for the mind blowing pleasure he just gave you.

“Baby,” he warns, voice strained as you begin to palm him through his pants. You listen to the way his breath hitches and he groans a drawn out curse. “Not gonna last long with you-”

“Don’t wanna go slow,” you whisper against the shell of his ear, lips drawing up into a smirk when he flat out moans. You work him a little harder through his pants and watch his abs tense with restraint. “I want you to fuck me Matt, now.”

The low growl he lets out at your words should scare you but it doesn’t. “Lay back sweetheart, get comfy. I’m gonna fuck you so good-” The way he bites his lip at the mere thought of having you like this makes your stomach flip. You get comfortable as he stands, fingers undoing his belt with practiced ease. You can’t help but watch and wonder what those nimble fingers would be able to do to you. How many ways they could make you fall apart. Matt chuckles, “you’re quiet, you got something on your mind?”

“You.”

His hands still momentarily, a smile tugging at his lips before he sheds his pants. His black boxers give you a clear picture of what you’re getting into. Or, well, what’s getting into you. You can’t help the little whine that escapes you. Of course Matt catches it. “Like what you see?” he asks, smug demeanor returning.

“Bring your ass back over here,” you reply, matching the smirk on his lips. He rids himself of his last remaining clothing, now standing naked before you. “Mmm, you’re gorgeous.” You reach out, hand trailing down his stomach, letting your nails scratch gently over his skin. In a moment of horny confidence you take him in your hand, moving in gentle, teasing strokes.

“Fuuck,” he draws out the word, jaw going slack. He looks good like this. His chest is flushed a soft pink, heaving as you continue to touch him. He catches your wrist and pulls your hand off of him, bringing it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles as he settles into bed with you. Strong shoulders loom over you, arms caging you in but you don't feel trapped. You feel safe.

One of his hands moves between your bodies, circling your clit before dipping lower. You moan loudly, head thrown back as he pushes two fingers inside of you. Sweet lips- still carrying the taste of you- find your own. "Not too much, is it?" he asks softly.

"No, oh god no." You bite your lip to conceal a whimper, your head filled with a pleasant buzz. "So good- yes, fuck right there," you cry out.

He crooks his fingers again, smirking against your lips. "Good, good. Gonna make you feel so good baby."

He continues to stretch you until he seems you're prepped enough, and by then you're already halfway to another orgasm. When he pulls his fingers from you you whimper at the loss, but he silences you with a deep and gentle kiss. He grabs a pillow from beside your head and lifts your hips, placing it under your hips.

Intimacy wasn't something you were accustomed to, the sex you had before this was mainly hookups and quick fucks. But with Matt everything is different. He rests his forehead on yours as he pushes inside you, the ragged rise and fall of his chest moving in tandem with your own. One of his hands finds your own, tangling your fingers together. After a moment of panting together adjusting to the new feeling he starts to move. The slow drag against your walls has you whimpering bringing your free hand to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Matt sets a steady pace, fucking into you with a practiced confidence. He's experienced, far more than you or anyone you'd been with. The soft groans leaving his lips fuel your pleasure, showing you this is just as good for him as it is for you.

He begins to kiss down your neck, the speed of his thrusts picking up ever so slightly. His voice is strained as he speaks against your throat, "'m not gonna last long. Want you to come for me. You can be good and come for me, right?"

"Yes, yes I can be good," you moan, nodding with vigor.

"Good," he returns, voice rich and smooth as honey. You hear the lust too, in the rasp of his words. He quickens the pace even more. You wrap your legs around his middle and the new angle causes you to cry out as he hits deeper inside you. "Fuck, you feel so good. Sweet thing, keep those noises coming. Love hearing you fall apart on my cock."

All you can do is whimper at his words, fingers tugging gently on his hair. His strokes feel like fire, fucking you harder now. The bed creaks as he drives into you. "Oh, Matt, fuck-" his thumb rubs slow circles on your clit, contrasting against the pace of his hips. The heat in your core is near burning, you arch your back into him and moan his name with no care as to if his neighbors might here.

You cry out, head thrown back and toes curled as your second orgasm tears through you. Matt slams his lips to yours in a messy kiss as you come undone beneath him. His tongue slips inside your mouth and you taste yourself on him once again, whimpering as he continues to pound into you.

"Shit, that's it. That's it." He removes the hand on your clit, gripping the headboard to steady himself a little more. "Feels so fuckin' good baby, you're gonna make me- fuck," he thrusts into you sharply once, twice, before his hips stutter and you feel his release flood you.

You whimper once more when he pulls out, kissing your lips and showering you with praise. You stroke through his hair and return his kisses, eyes barely open. You're fully spent.

"Wanna take a nap?" he murmurs against your cheek and you nod. "Alright sweetheart, just lemme clean you up." You whine in protest, not wanting Matt to leave your side for even a second, but he shuts you down with a gentle kiss and heads off to the bathroom. He returns with a washcloth and a blue zip-up hoodie, tossing it to you to pull on. It takes mere seconds for him to clean both of you up and toss the rag aside, then he's pulling on a clean pair of boxers and crawling into bed with you.

Spent, satisfied, and cleaned up, you tuck yourself under his arm. Your cheek rests on his chest and you look up at him. His unfocused eyes stare up at the ceiling, that gorgeous smile of his once again tugging at the corners of his lips. "Whatcha smiling about?" you ask playfully, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns over his skin.

He pulls you even closer, lips finding your forehead. "Just you. Thinkin' about taking you out on a real date. Would you wanna do that?"

You smile softly, "I would love that."

"How about this evening," he asks, his thumb rubbing your cheek softly. "I know a really great Indian place, food's incredible and I'm told the place is gorgeous. We could get dinner, maybe split dessert?"

You lean up just slightly to kiss him, grinning against his lips. "That sounds amazing. It's a date."

End.

Taglist: @parzival3 @djarinsidebitch @daremartyevil @scottishlass1573 @anothersworld @untraveled-road @slutforblueeyes @putridwimhrni @stilinski-lover-24 @murdermornings @punkerthanpascal @marigoldharry @deceitfuldevil @nenorama @himarisolace @starrfruit @fuck-goes-on @lbhmoon @dontsaypetertingle @jk6700 @vexedvalerie @phoebe-danvers @zabblegrabble @yikes-buddy @samgayyy @aether1ace @sweetbee0108 @pastelpixies @tobyr68 @foxe @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @drownedpoetess

if u are just now getting tagged lol sorry I messed it up

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x gn!reader #daredevil #daredevil smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #mags writes #love and ethics #matt murdock <3

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inkykeiji · 3 years

Text

you be the match, i will be your fuse

fluffy anon said: dabi coming home after an absolutely horrid day at work and just needing to be absolutely BABIED by reader (i’m talking cuddling in bed, taking a bath with him and washing his hair then getting out just rubbing his back as he sleeps with his head on your chest)

genre: angst + fluff, laced with just a hint of smut (like two sentences)

notes: aaaah happy birthday dabi!!! this has absolutely nothing to do with your birthday but eeee ily | title cred: sure thing by miguel

warnings: 18+, implied/mentioned death of a child, one instance of implied past physical abuse, self-destructive behaviour + coping mechanisms, co-dependent toxic relationship

words: 3.5k

It’s thundering the day it happens, ferocious growls that rumble through your apartment—a tiny, quaint space you share with Dabi, full of faulty appliances and cracked linoleum—rolling, fluffy grey clouds blanketing the entire sky, swollen with restrained rain droplets as a storm brews within them. Little fingers idly toy with the yellowed pages of your worn pulp fiction novel, flipping through them and bending corners as your eyes search the angry sky, chewing on your cheek.

Dabi should’ve been home by now. It’s not like him to be late without calling, without letting his babygirl know what’s going on—he knows the way you worry, the way you overthink yourself into a frenzy, the way you’re so clingy and needy, teases you about it incessantly and tells you he thinks it’s cute—and a deep sense of dread takes root in the pit of your stomach, dark and bitter and unfurling, quickly spreading throughout the cavity of your chest.

His phone must be off—no, it’s never off, he doesn’t do that anymore, not since you stumbled into his life—his phone must be dead, your repeated calls growing increasingly frequent and urgent every time you’re greeted with the drone of his automatic voicemail.

Something’s wrong, horribly so.

It’s evident the moment he arrives home, scratched brass doorknob slamming against the wall, deepening the crater its left from past incidents of a similar manner.

It infects the air around him, hanging heavy and thick, its dense presence nearly suffocating. His shoulders slump under the pressure, the weight of whatever he’s carrying practically crushing, as he drags his crimson splattered boots through the front door, soles scraping against the cheap hardwood, bringing the putrid scent of charred flesh with him—his or someone else’s, you don’t know.

You swear you can almost see it, this—this thing, this aura, enveloping him in its haughty embrace as his chest heaves under a deep, controlled breath, pausing in the foyer as the door shuts behind him.

Bare feet pad against the floor, your legs moving without your explicit permission, drawn towards him in an almost instinctual manner, the desire to care for, to comfort, burning as it bubbles up in your chest, mixing with that intense sense of trepidation and invading your veins.

He permits you to wrap your arms around his torso as you nuzzle against him, body going rigid for a moment, still and stiff as marble, before he exhales again, melting into your embrace.

Several questions race through your mind at such a speed that they crash and clash together, becoming nothing more than incoherent jumbled lettering, tiny fingers curling in the fabric of his clothing as you try to pull him closer, nonsensical babbling spilling from your lips. A vacant ghost of a chuckle leaves his lips, nothing more than a simple huff of breath, and he squeezes you closer.

“Bad day?” the words are mumbled against his dirty t-shirt, what was once a pristine white now tarnished with ash and blood. You don’t get a response—you don’t expect one.

He doesn’t talk much, not on days like this.

He doesn’t need to.

Bad days—really bad, terrible, awful days such as this one—are surprisingly rare with Dabi. Sure, he’s had the typical ‘bad’ day before, where someone pisses him off, or he gets into a fight with his superior, but those bad days usually require railing you into your creaky, springy king-sized mattress until you’ve forgotten everything but his name and he’s fucked all of the anger and hatred out of his body.

They are not like this one. No, on days such as this, on days where he’s killed someone he deems to be innocent, someone who—like him—is a victim of heroism, he’s quiet, distant, unpredictable, bordering on unhinged, and you’ve learned to tread with extreme discretion.

But you don’t push, either, resolving to communicate through gentle touches, soft fingertips that run along his tense, broad shoulders and press into the hard coiled muscles, tender fingers that thread through inky tufts of hair, sapphire eyes closing as he hums and leans into the motion like a cat.

It’s only for a second, though, just a moment of weakness before he’s breaking out of your embrace, pushing past you and clearing his throat, glass door to the balcony sliding shut a moment later.

You don’t follow. You know better than that now, a phantom sting in your cheek serving as a reminder, the resounding sharp sound of glass shattering as it’s hurled at the floor slicing through your mind with such viciousness it makes you wince.

Instead, you sit. And you wait. Like you’re supposed to, like a good little girl, a book clutched between your quivering hands, unblinking eyes staring at the words on the page, nothing but incomprehensible symbols—lines and lines of black ink in meaningless shapes—as scorching sapphire loops through your mind.

Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl, give him space, let him come to you. Be a good girl. Give him space. Let him come to you.

It’s standard procedure, really.

And eventually, he does, comes back inside with an empty bottle of whiskey clutched in a hand, along with a crumpled package of cigarettes. You don’t know how long it’s been, muscles sore and joints aching from sitting in the same position for so long, eyes dry from staring at the same page, barely moving, barely breathing. His hand is bleeding, knuckles bruised and gleaming with sticky scarlet that’s still fresh and flowing, but it could be worse. It has been worse.

The harsh clink of the bottle against the kitchen counter makes you flinch, and he sighs, heavy and full of derision, eyes flicking up to glare at your side profile.

“I can hear you thinking,”

“You’re filthy, baby,” the words tumble past your lips, uncontrollable, involuntary, almost reflexive in your response, eyes snapping to his face and voice whiny, voice pleading. “Take a bath with me,”

And you can see it—can see it in the dark cobalt of his irises, what he needs, the very thing he’s fighting himself on, the very thing he’s fighting so hard against. Always so stubborn, so reluctant, so cautious.

Because, fuck, he used to be able to resist it, this pathetic ache for comfort—something that’s only managed to grow in your presence, that’s shifted and morphed from a dull smoldering to a raging fire, an insatiable longing for your fingers in his hair and your breath on his skin and your voice against his ear—a skill he’d been constructing, developing, perfecting, since he was thirteen years old. A skill you succeeded in shattering in the matter of a few measly months.

Because you—you’re different. And he hates it sometimes, he swears to the good Lord he does, but hating it doesn’t make it any less true. You break him down, you make him weak, you make him want, and the longer he spends around you, the more he finds that he doesn’t fucking care. And that’s irritating, that’s exciting, that’s terrifying, that’s new.

Fury blisters his chest, his lungs, his throat as he holds your stare, jaw clenching twice. But you don’t falter, not like the rest of them, not like anyone else—everyone else. You never falter, always so eager to see the good in him, a snort leaving his nose at the thought. The good in him. Is there any good left in him? Was there ever any good in him in the first place? Are you the good in him, now? Does he care?

And he’s not sure he’ll ever understand it, but he’s beginning to realize that, maybe, he doesn’t have to.

Maybe, it doesn’t matter. Maybe, it’s okay, if you love him, if he loves you.

Maybe.

It’s too much, and he can feel frustration stinging his eyes, long delicate eyelashes fluttering as he quickly blinks it away. Spears, sharp and cold, splinter your chest at the sight, but you know if you begin crying too, you’ll lose him. You know that if you begin showing what he considers weakness, he’ll pull away, even though this is what he so clearly needs most.

So you steel yourself, swallowing hard against the pain collecting in your throat, will the tears away and force your body to stay calm, approaching him slowly as if he’s some sort of feral animal prone to lashing out.

Apprehension is clear in his azure eyes, head tilting a little as they narrow, regarding you with skepticism, with suspicion.

It’s bold, and dangerous, and—as far as Dabi’s concerned—fucking stupid, but you don’t care, determined to prove to him that you aren’t going anywhere regardless of how many tantrums he throws, no matter how many times he hurts you in his anguish. It’s almost desperate, really, this sheer need to prove to him that you aren’t scared of him, that irrespective of how soft he seems to think you are, you are strong, even if it’s in ways he could never understand, that you can be strong for him, when he needs it, that he can borrow some of your strength, if he needs to.

And that—that’s why he loves you. It hits him hard, as this realization always does, kicks him in the chest and knocks the breath out of him every time, and he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to it.

A tiny hand hangs in the air between the two of you, Dabi regarding the offer with a wary hesitance. Wiggling fingers attempt to entice him, earning a tiny smirk—a massive victory—as sapphire flits up to gaze at you through thick lashes, an eyebrow raised.

You match his expression, quirking an eyebrow of your own and nodding at your hand, speaking a moment later.

“Let me in, baby,” the words are barely above a whisper, but they’re so raw, filled with so much unadulterated love it hurts, pure and real and everything he’s never had before. “Let me help,”

And, God, it’s fucking overwhelming, how badly he wishes to give in to this unfamiliar compassion, how desperately he desires your affection, despite the malicious voice echoing off the walls of his skull, berating him for being so pathetic, so weak, so vulnerable.

But the urge to accept, to seek out consolation in you, wins, just as it always does, that nasty voice reverberating in his mind silenced the very instant his skin touches yours.

You let him make the last move, allow him to make that final decision entirely on his own accord, to grasp your hand in his, warm and rough, and pull you towards him, crushing you against his chest as he buries his face in your hair, eyes squeezed shut against that annoying burn of tears, chest stuttered with a hitched breath, air that gets caught in his throat as he chokes on the words he wants to say.

But he doesn’t need to say them. You already know.

“Come,” you murmur to him, fingers threading through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s take a bath,”

✰ ✰ ✰

The bathwater stings your skin, just a hint too hot to be comfortable, but you say nothing as you settle onto his lap in the cramped little tub, encompassed by frothy bubbles, dainty scent of orange citrus tickling your nose.

Heated fingertips press into your hips as he finds comfort the only way he knows how to, in your precious little whimpers and broken moans of his name as he bounces you on his cock, so vigorously you’re positive you can feel him in your tummy, the pads of his fingers searing his prints into your skin.

It’s heady, it’s intoxicating, it’s addicting, heightened emotions both pleasant and unpleasant swirling together with the symphony of your cries and his grunts as the water you’re submerged in begins to bubble and boil, to crack and pop, sudsy liquid sloshing over the side of the tiny tub as he forces you to ride him, faster and faster and faster until you’re whining and convulsing around him, and he’s filling you with thick cum, cock throbbing aggressively as he spurts load after load into you.

After, as he leans back against the cold tile, residual droplets sizzling into steam as his heated skin touches them. Gentle fingers card between his hair, water cascading through onyx strands as it pours over his head from a worn plastic cup—a faded Darth Vader staring back at you as you rhythmically repeat your actions until the tresses stick to his forehead and cheeks, drenched and shining in the low light of the washroom.

Heavy lids obscure the most brilliant sapphire from you as shampoo is massaged into his scalp, slow and unhurried and thorough, every stroke, every comb through inky clumps easing the turmoil in his mind bit by bit, calming the storm that’s been raging inside of him for hours now. Deep hums rumble in his chest as your fingers continue their ministrations, your eyes trained on your motions. And you can feel it, the tension dissipating from his body with each circle of foam rubbed into his soft hair, shoulders finally beginning to relax as he subconsciously nuzzles into your touch, following it, longing for it, aching for more.

He shifts then, after you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair, manhandling you into a position between his thighs, bare chest pressed tightly against your back. You work hard to keep your body from tensing, forcing your breathing to stay even, to stay calm as you brace yourself for what’s coming next.

“He was eleven,” he says after several long moments of silence, voice low and trembling, hoarse and heavy with remorse. “This time.”

This time. That’s the third innocent civilian—innocent by his standards, at least—this month.

That’s the first time it’s ever been a child.

You don’t turn around to look at him, not yet—he isn’t finished—simply opting to lace your fingers through his and bring your joined hands to your lips, kissing each wounded knuckle, crude staples catching in the dim warm light of the tiny bathroom.

You want to tell him it wasn’t his fault, even though it was. You want to tell him anything that’ll make him feel better, that’ll absolve the guilt so evidently gnawing away at his insides, even though you know there’s nothing you can say.

“What are—I don’t even—” his voice breaks and you feel his chest stutter against your back, feel him exhale harshly, breath cool on your damp shoulder, feel him swallow thickly as he tries again. Because as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, as much as he would never admit it, you know he needs release this from the confines of his mind—you know you’re the only person who can offer him such an outlet. “Why the fuck were there kids there in the first place? Huh? They shouldn’t—They shouldn’t have been there,”

Orphans are everywhere in this city, you murmur, lips moving against his rough skin. He knows. Orphans of heroes. He knows.

“I’m gonna kill Shigaraki, I swear to Christ. Sending us to a—a fucking place infested with fucking ch-children,” his fingers curl around yours, hand beginning to shake as it clutches you like a lifeline, like that guilt will devour him from the inside out, like he’ll disintegrate into nothingness, if he doesn’t. “I bet you he fucking knew—nah, I-I’m positive he did. Asshole only cares about himself, though. Doesn’t matter that—that the cause we’re supposed to be fighting for affects these stupid kids,”

You’re right, love.

The words leave your lips in a gentle breath, leaning your head back against his collarbone and staring up at him. Cobalt eyes stay trained on the cracked tile wall, jaw methodically clenching as his molars grind together, an attempt to quell the trembling of his chin, exhaling hard harsh breaths through flared nostrils.

“Whatever,” he huffs, voice still wavering and not nearly as self-assured as he wishes. “Th-That brat shouldn’t have been there in the first place,”

He shouldn’t have, you agree, finally squirming in his grasp, turning to face him, to straddle his hips again in the tight space of the tub. And he welcomes your affections readily this time, arms encircling your waist as he holds you tightly to him, blunt nails digging purple-tinged crescents into your flesh as he shoves his face against your neck, finally allowing those emotions he’s been fighting to leak from his eyes and absorb into your skin.

Little palms rub soothing circles into his back as he shudders against you, allowing him to empty his soul onto you as soft lips press chaste kisses to his damp hair, waiting until there’s nothing left, until his eyes are drained, azure glassy and bloodshot, nose twitching and red.

And after he’s done, when he finally pulls back, scrubbing aggressively at his nose as tiny sniffles hitch in his chest, gentle fingers begin to lather soap into his skin, washing away the dirt and grime and blood from the day. Fingertips carefully trace along the metal sutures decorating his body with immeasurable adoration, you whispering all of the things he so desperately needs to hear that he’d never dare to ask for, complimented by the tender touches that cleanse his soul with their unconditional love.

He’s bigger than you are, but that doesn’t stop you from trying to wrap him in a fluffy white towel, using another in an attempt to dry his hair as your hands move in shaggy motions, heart soaring in your chest when you pull a soft laugh from his lips, wet and wobbly and croaky, but a laugh nonetheless.

A mutual silence, gentle and comforting and stuffed full of an immense love, a special kind of love, a love words do not exist to explain, swathes your bodies as he allows you to dress him, pulling a ratty old band tee over his head and a pair of plaid PJ pants up his legs.

“You always look so cute in my clothes,” he rasps from his spot perched on the edge of the bed, glowing crystal eyes watching as you pull one of his t-shirts over your naked body.

A genuine bubble of laughter erupts from your throat as you climb into bed with him, immediately allowing him to latch onto you, to pull you towards him, to hold you close like his own personal plushie.

“Sleep,” you murmur as the two of you settle into a comfortable position, limbs tangled together, his head resting on your chest, fingers threading through his hair and then tracing down his neck, his back. “And then I’ll make you ramen,”

“The spicy kind?”

“Of course,”

I love you.

“Extra spicy?”

Laughing again, you feel his lips curve into a smile against your skin, grip around your torso tightening. “Extra spicy. Now, rest,”

More than anything else.

“With the little fish cakes?”

“Your favourite little fish cakes,”

More than words could ever tell you.

“And the pork belly?”

“And the pork belly,” you feel his chest rise with an inhale, hastily adding, “And those little cream puffs you love so much, from that dingy convenience store downstairs, for dessert. Now sleep, baby,”

He laughs, even though his vision is blurring, even though it comes out more strangled than anything else, because he doesn’t want to cry again, because his chest stings and aches and swells and warms, full of inexplicable emotions, feels like it’s going to fucking burst as it chokes and reinvigorates him all at once, and—God, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

Because even though he’s terrified beyond belief, he’s willing to try—just for you, only for you—as he continually realizes with each passing day that he isn’t sure what the fuck he’d do without you, now. Because you’re too entangled up in his life, too deeply embedded in his very soul, for him to ever remove you, now. Because as petrifying and unfamiliar as it is, he doesn’t want to, now.

Because even though he’s broken, irrevocably so, and you can’t fix him, won’t fix him, you’ll still stay, to hold those pieces so gently, so tenderly in your hands, you’ll still protect those fragments and keep them from shattering further, you’ll still give them the affection and devotion they need, the affection and devotion they deserve. Because you love every part of him, even the bad ones, even the shards with jagged edges that cut into the soft flesh of your palms every time you caress them.

Because you accept him wholeheartedly, flaws and all, and that’s—he’s never experienced anything like that before, this unlimited, unreserved, unquestioning love. And although he doesn’t know how to say this, isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to find the right words to communicate it, he’s beginning to learn that unfamiliar doesn’t always mean bad; that sometimes, it’s okay—it’s good—to be vulnerable. He’s beginning to learn that with you, in the warmth of your shitty little apartment, with the stove that only has two functioning burners and the fridge that’s perpetually too cold, he can be, without judgement, without fear, without trepidation.

Because you are his only salvation, and he wouldn’t trade this for the goddamn world.

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi #todoroki touya #dabi fluff #dabi angst #aaaah this HURT #anyway big big big thank yous to mister for helping me come up with what we think dabi's favourite food would be #HAPPY BIRTHDAY DABIIIIIII

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hypercementosis · 3 years

Text

Pairing : Gojo x reader

Genre: Heavy angst, Mild Smut.

Warnings : unrequited love, arranged marriage, manipulation, minor character’s death, and more to add. Read with proper discretion < 3

↳ Choices we’re bound to make in life don’t always turn out well, and you would have to learn that the hard way, maybe should you have listened to your sister when she tried to dissuade you from marrying a man that you didn’t know, as charming as he might seem.

|| MASTERLIST||

↳00 ➞ 01 ➞ 02 ➞ 03 ➞ 04 ➞ 05 ➞ to be added.

Author’s note :

Sooooo, yeah. I’ve been rooting for gojo for a while now and this kinda happened. Your feedbacks really help me through the whole process so please feel free to empty your mind, I’m always receptive. Also, big thank you to @tawus who has been adamant on giving the greatest pieces of advice, ily girl <3

Overall thank you for reading, and I hope you’re enjoying reading as much as I’m enjoying writing the story !!

First written in French, translated by the amazing @deadpanap

#gojou satoru x reader #jjk #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #naoya zenin #yuki tsukumo #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #canon compliant #heavy angst #gojo

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snzunii · 3 years

Note

Hello, idk if you’re accepting AoT requests. But Levi Angst. Heavy Angst. Plot Like Happier by Olivia Rodrigo Angst. You write them soo well ily

JUST CAN'T SAY GOOD BYE.

you were a page in his life that no matter what, he wouldn’t turn back again.

+ pairings. levi ackerman x f!reader.

+ tags. angst. hurt no comfort.

+ word count. 1.3k

+ note. hi hi, idk if this is heavy enough sydkshssj and it's the first time that i wrote abt levi again soooooo idk if this is good, anw i didn't base most of the plot on the song, i hope that's okay : ( i hope u still like it anon! thanks for requesting and reading my works ilysm!! <3

“Hi.”

That’s the only thing that came out from your mouth. You don’t know what else to say. What else would you say to the man that you have loved so much? To the man that you have let slip away from you?

“Hey.” he greeted back.

He’s still the same, you think. He still has this unique glow on him, the look on his face that you have always adored. The neatly styled raven hair, the gray piercing eyes and the calm demeanor— it’s still there.

He’s still Levi.

But not yours anymore. You’re not the person who’s playing with his hair while you cuddle on that couch, you’re not the one who’s he looking lovingly at with that gray iris, not anymore.

“Come in.” you said as you open the door widely, letting him inside the apartment that you both used to live in. Now, you’re left alone in here, everywhere you look has his trace. Every corner has this lingering memory that no matter how hard you try— you couldn’t get it out of your mind.

“I was supposed to clean your things up but I haven’t had the time.”

You had the time but every single time your fingers touch the things that he left, you always end up in your bed; turned to your side, knees to your stomach, tears cascading down from your eyes while you hold that stupid shirt that Levi owns.

You can’t bring yourself to pack his things up because it would mean that he’s really gone, deep down you know that no matter he wouldn’t come back but somehow you couldn’t accept it.

“It’s alright.” he answered you while you both walk to the bedroom, the room where you did spend some days laying on the bed all day; sleeping, laughing, bickering at stupid little things then laughing again.

You chuckled awkwardly, “Sorry, the room is a mess. I’m busy, you know.”

Levi just shook his head in disbelief, “You were always this messy, you know?”

“What? Excuse me? I’m not!”

“Oh, really? You remember that I was always the one who’s cleaning in here? I had to drag your ass out of the bed just to help me...” his voice faded when he saw the look on your face.

Damn, this really hurts. It really hurts you; every memory was stabbing your fragile heart. You feel every string in your heart snapping into two. You can almost feel the tears coming so you smiled, you smiled as if you were alright.

Because you told him that you’ll be alright, that’s the last thing you told him before he turned his back and leave you pretending that everything will be alright with him gone.

“Okay, come on.” you said to distract yourself, “I’ll help you pack your things up.”

You walked first and opened the closet where you shoved some of the stuff that he left, Levi followed you and got the empty box from the table beside the bed. You both sat on the floor as you sort things out.

The first thing that you got was the medal that Levi won years ago. “This was supposed to be mine.”

“You’re still bitter about that?” the smug tone in his voice made you scoff, “I won that debate fair and square.”

“Okay. If you say so.” you said sarcastically and placed the medal on its own box and into the box where you would put all his things.

That debate was the root of it all. You were opponents and you really hated him because you thought that he cheated and bribed the judges— you wouldn’t admit it but you really think he deserved that win.

But you’re stubborn, you would always glare or roll your eyes at him whenever you pass by the hallway and he’s just so full from it that he asked you out to eat because even though you’re mean to him he was attracted to you but he told you that dinner was a consolation that you lost.

And the next you knew, you were eating on that diner for a month until he confessed his feelings to you; you went out, you graduated high school and college, you both saved money and bought this apartment.

Everything was good, you were happy. You made plans to be together until you were old but everything just went to shit.

You both tried fixing it, or at least you tried. Levi? He did all he can to salvage your relationship to the point that he lost himself in the process.

But no matter what, if it isn’t meant to be then it’s not, right?

No matter how happy you both were, it wasn’t meant to be.

You took a deep breath and blinked, letting the tears fall from the side of your eyes but you ignored it and got that picture frame, “Hey, look. I gave you this one on our anniversary.”

It was a house that you sketched, that Levi was supposed to build for the two of you.

“Oh, yeah.” he got the frame from you, you looked at his face and for a moment there, the expression that he made before when he first saw the sketch flashed in your mind.

Seeing his expression now, he didn’t have the same sparkle in his eyes anymore. Because he isn’t imagining what would your life would be like in that house anymore.

That house would remain in a piece of paper that would be buried and forgotten, just like you. You were a page in his life that no matter what, he wouldn’t turn back again.

You thought you could do this.

You thought you could keep yourself together once you saw him again.

“Levi.”

“Hm?”

He looked at you and stopped when he saw tears falling from your eyes, “I can’t. I can’t do this without you.”

You curl your knees up to your stomach, burying your face on the palm of your hands as you sob. It has been months since you two fell apart, you know you should get on with your life because he already did.

He picked himself back up again and gave himself to a person who wouldn’t break him like you did.

You wanted to be happy for him and accept that he moved on. You wanted to let him go but somehow, you’re still holding on to the string that connected you to him, but Levi freed himself from that string a long time ago.

“Levi, I’m sorry.” you sobbed, “Please... I can’t. I need you.”

You looked at his face, you didn’t care how desperate or selfish you sound. All you could think was how stupid you are for letting him go, for wasting all the years that you have been together.

But it really doesn’t matter now, does it?

He’s with somebody else.

“I’m sorry.” he sighed as he stood up, “Let’s do this some other time.”

You bit your lip and stopped yourself from crying any further, you know it wouldn’t be like before, where he would embrace you in his arms and tell you that he’s there.

As you said before, he’s still Levi, but not your Levi.

You followed him outside the bedroom and before he could step out of the apartment, you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head on his back.

“You love her?” you asked, voice shaking as you tighten your grasp on his waist. You heard him sigh before mumbling an ‘I do’. You squeezed your eyes tightly shut, tears slowly falling down as you open them again. “As much as you loved me?”

You just wish you didn’t ask this question; you know his answer would just tear your heart even more into pieces. You want him to be happy, not with her, but with you.

“I love her.” he paused, “More than I loved you.”

#levi #levi x reader #levi x you #aot #aot x you #aot x reader #levi imagines #levi angst #levi heavy angst #levi ackerman #aot angst

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maybanksslut · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 || 𝐣.𝐩

pairing: James Potter x GN!reader

word count: 0.9k

warnings/includes: angst, also kinda nice ending? also explicit language

a/n: this I written for @jupiiiter happy birthday whore <3 hers some angst for u hottie mwah mwah ily

“Be honest, are you ashamed of me?”

James sighed frustratedly, running a hand through his hair that he hadn’t let you cut for some weeks now. It had grown pretty long, it always fell into his eyes, but he liked it. It was a nice change.

Change. That seemed to be the main problem in your relationship. You wanted to stay where you were, settle down and have someone steady to hold onto. James was beginning to think he couldn’t be that person. He wanted to move, travel and experience the thrill of danger.

Your ambitions were slowly pulling you apart, and he knew it. And honestly? Somewhere deep inside your heart, you knew it, too. Yet you didn’t want to admit it.

“No,” he replied, turning his back on you. “I’m not ashamed of you, y/n”

“Then why do you never talk to me when you’re with your friends? You never invite me to anything unless it’s just us”

“We have different friends, y/n, that’s why”

“Different friends, my ass” you scoffed, wiping the tears away from your face, annoyed at how easily he made you cry. It was pathetic.

Or maybe it wasn’t. This had been going on for weeks, him completely ignoring you when with friends. He never introduced you to anyone anymore and it made your heart ache.

Your relationship had started so beautifully and romantically; he asked you out two years ago, offering to take you out for dinner. You agree and slowly, but surely, what seems like a teen’s crush developed into something more. Love.

On your account, at least.

James was never good at speaking of his feelings. Perhaps this had its roots in his home, where he always felt the need to be “the man in the house”. Or perhaps it was because of his insecurities and that he didn’t want to show his vulnerable side to you.

You didn’t mind this at first. You knew how hard it could be to open up to someone. But after a few months, it started bothering and scaring you. Wasn’t a good relationship supposed to be based on mutual trust? You trusted James with your life, which you’d proven on many occasions, but he appeared not to trust you at all.

Did this mean he didn’t love you? Was it all just a game to him, were you just high school sweethearts? You’d hoped for something more, something true and everlasting. Yet now you were wondering; wondering if he would ever be able to give that to you.

“Look, y/n, I can’t do this right now. I’m leaving”

“You can’t do this right now? Huh,” you laughed bitterly, causing him to turn and look you in the eye for the first time in a long time. “That’s bullshit. You can’t do it at all.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“You! You are my problem, James. You’ve been acting like a jerk this whole month, and now you’re pretending like everything’s fucking great, when it’s obviously not. I’m dying here and you’re to no help. This isn’t what I asked for. This isn’t the love I wanted-“

You stopped talking, choking on the tears that were now flowing down your cheeks in a river. You held onto a chair for stability, fearing you’d faint if you didn’t. It felt so good to let the emotions out, but at the same time, something in you broke as you admitted to yourself how much your relationship was ruined.

James sent you a lifeless look, his eyes empty, just as his soul. Your word strung in his chest, but he knew they were true. That’s why it pained him so much. He took a shaky breath.

“Maybe it’s not love, then”

And that’s when everything changed. Time stopped, all flowers faded, the silence turned loud. The light became dark, right was wrong and in the middle of this chaos, his words played on repeat, shattering your heart with every letter that fell from his lips.

You felt your lip quiver, your breath become shallow. Nothing was able to stop your sobs from leaving your mouth. James took a step forwards, reaching forwards as if to hold you one last time, even though he was too far away. And he knew too well he couldn’t come closer.

“Look, y/n, I-“ he groaned in frustration, feeling his heart drop with every sob that left your mouth. He couldn’t save this, not now. Everything he’d built with you was now gone. “I’m sorry”

He knew these words couldn’t mend your wounds, nor his, yet he tried anyway. Your pained expression didn’t leave your face, but you did look him in the eye. Your gaze said everything you couldn’t make yourself say out loud.

And he finally understood. He understood that even though these words carved a scar into your heart, they also healed you. He’d made you suffer more when he stayed around, reminding you of your nonexistent future together. Now, he’d allowed you to live through the pain, to fight it and conquer it.

He smiled a sad smile and you responded with the same. Then, he left the dorm and your life, changing everything yet again.

The time started to pass again, the flowers bloomed and the chaos inside your hearts’ became peace. You closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of change, the scent you’d never think you’d enjoy. Despite your tear-stained face, a warm feeling spread its way throughout your chest.

You’d gotten an opportunity, a life, an ultimate change. A chance to start over.

~~~~~~~°•°~~~~~~~

taglist: @jupiiiter @iamninaanna @welcome-here-in-my-world @emmacata @swanimagines @lxncelot @amortensie @rorysreallyrandom @captainshazamerica @i-cant-stfu @sirius-animagus @kaslupin @riddikulusweasleys @theravenclawgal @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

fic reviewers: @acosmis-t @slutforsalvatore @iamninaanna @amourtentiaa @coffee--writes

#harry potter #james potter #james potter x you #james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #hp #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter angst #James potter fluff #james potter smut #harry potter reader insert #hp fanfic

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myelocin · 4 years

Text

blue curtains and red roses | sakusa kiyoomi

synopsis: it’s supposed to be simple. the author made the curtains blue because he liked the color blue, so sakusa’s more confused than anything when you come into his life and challenge that thought.

characters: sakusa kiyoomi, you

genre/warnings: tw: character death, hurt/slight comfort, angst lol, head empty just a bunch of talking n metaphors i think

wc: 1.7k+

a/n: xave this is all ur fault; i’m supposed to be in my pajamas now watching henry cavil interviews yet here we are with an angst,,,i kid, ily too much ;w;

“Why does the author color the curtains blue?”

The answer can be as simple as it could be complex. But really, it’s all subjective.

In one perspective, blue could depict the author’s use of imagery to further emphasize and convey the atmosphere of sadness—if the story was, well, sad. A somber shade of blue—like the color the world associated with sadness, or even a deep midnight blue, like the void the author must have felt when he spiraled down after the story’s climax.

Then again, in another point of view—blue could mean that it was simply just the color of the curtain. Blue could have meant the subtle blend from the window to the skies outside and maybe even flesh out a metaphor from that. Something along the lines of how easily the things crafted by man could still find a way to blend back into the roots of nature.

Bits of poetry always settled between the lines, Sakusa likes to think.

Rather, he prefers to settle on the thought that the author colored the curtains blue because he just liked the color blue. Nothing more, nothing less.

He just liked blue, that’s all; there wasn’t a metaphor hidden in that, either.

You came into his life, constantly revising the answer to that same question and unnervingly boggling his mind every time.

“You’re exaggerating,” he recalls telling you, but would sigh then relent when you pinched him on the arm to get him to focus again.

“It’s just a curtain,” he explains, before you sighed and would restart your explanation from the beginning. Sakusa would never admit it—but he liked to listen to you talk, that’s why his interruptions and counter arguments were a frequent presence in between your explanations.

“It is,” you huffed (a memory Sakusa always smiles at), as you crossed your hands over your chest. “—but it tells as much as we allow it to.”

“When we read, we always have the ability and choice to set the scene the way we want to look at it. I mean, the story’s there and the dialogue sets the pace, but I could always decide whether I wanted to be the protagonist or antagonist in the story that day,” you said.

“Whatever day it is, the lines I love you stays constant on the page, but some days it could mean a happily ever after, while others, it could mean a love lost to a rival. When I’ll read that the curtain’s blue, I could think that it’s empathizing with my sadness one day and how it’s there to sway with the dip of my thoughts, or I could think that it’s blue to remind me how the blue skies outside speak of opportunities and tomorrows.”

“But what if the author just liked the color blue?” Sakusa challenges, and you’d perk up at his sudden interest in the conversation and would be quick to retort.

“Then blue becomes that constant in the background that reminds you that whether the world is ending or beginning—there will always be those things that remain despite the turmoil in your head. The blue curtain becomes that. Just a spectator in the rollercoaster. It’s hard to find simplicity because everything just feels that connected, Omi.”

You finish your spill, smiling. Radiant, he thinks; intoxication from passion had always been the look that suit you the most.

“You’re not changing your mind are you?” Sakusa laughs out, and you shake your head no, laughing along with him.

It’s fine, Sakusa thinks, he prefers you that way.

He remembers you that way; inquisitive and abstract in a world that was anything but.

He remembers you in the metaphors you’ve entangled your words in—that he listened to over and over again and would nod his head, expression pondering, like it was the first time he’d heard of such thoughts.

In the photographs he’s kept in even stacks inside a box he hasn’t touched in a little over a year now. Collecting dust, probably. Something Sakusa itches to dust off—but backs out the second he sees the familiar scrawl of your handwriting sitting on the flap that’s folded close.

He looks to the right, to the window of an emptied bedroom, the curtains a dull gray instead of blue—and he thinks it’s rather fitting. At the moment Sakusa supposes he does feel a little gray.

“There’s poetry in every moment,” he hears the voice in his head say—your voice.

So like the pull of the sun as the earth falls in orbit, Sakusa gravitates towards pandora’s box where he knows with one push of a flap it’d be enough to tangle him in thoughts of you.

He laughs, a little dryly; not a day goes by where he doesn’t connect metaphors to the world for the sake of adding a couple sentences to the memoir he writes for you.

He holds his breath as he opens the box and smiles as the first color he sees just so happens to be red. He drags the box to the other side of the room—the side facing right across the window and takes a seat as he dives.

The first thing he sees is a photo of you. The photo that followed him for a little over a year now. He remembered he took that photo maybe two or three years ago, in the garden by the park a few blocks away from home. Your dress was white—fitting, he thinks. A literal angel, really. He knows you’d snort at the joke, so he lets out a small chuckle instead; Sakusa knows you appreciate crumbs of happiness sprinkled over clouds of grief, so he hopes that wherever you are, you’re listening and happy.

It’s the photo he stared at when he read your eulogy in a room where the silence thundered over cries, and where the midnight blue curtains in the lobby empathized with the void he felt suffocated in.

Next he sees a sketchbook with red. The same kind of roses you painted over and over again, the stems and petals in vines and overlapping one another, looking like a crown. The stems were smooth, he noticed, void of thorns and cracked petals. He thinks it makes the pages look alive—you’ve always seen the world a little differently, a little more beautifully.

Sakusa smiles when he realizes that it was because of you that he gave the world another shot at beauty too.

“Why do you paint the roses red?” he wants to ask you, so he poses the question into a silent room again. A listening world, you’d chide, so he smiles.

“Because you liked red roses the best,” he says because that would be the most obvious answer. And in a way it’s true—he knows that red roses to you meant the memory of home and love.

But after a moment passes, Sakusa sighs because when he thinks of the roses you drew again—he sees the thorns sprout this time.

His chest tightens when petals of red—bloody red, line his vision and fill his lungs when the veins, thorns and all dig into the skin of his shoulders and render him trapped.

He inhales—and Sakusa feels like he can’t let it out.

“Why must the roses always be red?” he asks again, and this time, he answers that it is because red is the color of blood.

The color that stained the sheets of white when you left, a goodbye the last thing on your mind as the world decided to return you back to the earth.

Red, the color of your lipstick that you kissed and imprinted on his cheeks as a joke an hour before the world took you. The roses are red, because red is the color that symbolized his grief and anger when he stared at the mirror not wanting to wash his face and erase the last of your traces.

It’s red, Sakusa cries, because it’s the color of the blood that’s pumping in his veins.

Like the one that trickled from yours. Where just like that, it danced between the space of life and death.

Pumping.

Seeping.

Pooling.

Staining.

The color of the roses you painted were always in some shade of red, because red was the color you painted the beginning and end of your life with.

Sakusa stands in the middle of the room, the opened box collecting dust a mere foot away from him and he continues to stare at the blue sky past the gray of the curtains. It’s a cloudless day; so he smiles.

Because you love blue skies like that—Sakusa inhales—shaky—then exhales. Then he allows himself to cry: soft and silent, like it’s a secret he’s murmuring into the listening ears of a kind world.

“It sort of is,” he can practically hear you say, and Sakusa wishes you were actually present so that he could hear more explanations of the metaphors you must have unearthed by now.

“(Y/n),” he calls out, his voice broken. This must be heartbreak, he thinks. It’s slow and a little suffocating, but he can exhale now, so Sakusa supposes it’s a necessary step to take.

“The sky’s blue for you today,” he whispers again, like talking to you is still some sort of secret, though he knows he’ll only receive silence as a reply.

“A blue sky means there’s tomorrow right?”

The grey curtain rustles with the breeze and Sakusa closes his eyes, thinking of your words from before. How you can decide to set the scene in any way you’d like, so he sets it as this:

Even though the curtain’s colored grey, and the thorns on the roses you painted served as the constant in the story, he’d look at the blue sky instead—and think that it’s your way of telling him to seek for tomorrow.

Then for the first time, Sakusa Kiyoomi supposes you’re right.

211 notes · View notes

miki-snake · 4 years

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📖: freesias are all what you can think of, so much it feels like they’re taking your breath away and crushing your lungs ⭕️: angst, unrequited love, hanahaki disease, mentions of possible death 🔍: 5.2k+

taglist: @sugasugawarau, @drabblily, @igenll

A/N: It didn’t come out as angsty as I wanted it to be but well,,, hope you can still enjoy it and thanks to @igenll and @drabblily for giving me feedback on my work, ily two!

Hanahaki disease is a fictional disease, where flowers are growing inside of your lungs. Starting with coughing up petals and flowers until eventually the flower is blocking all of your airways and you die.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“Alright, let’s meet up today. I gotta tell you some great news!”

You remembered his words as you sat down on the ground, blooming freesias adorning the stretched out field. The infinite blue sky was drowned in streaks of orangey-reds, like clouds dipped into the image of dusk and hung up on earth’s ceiling, leaving them open to dry. It was a picture out of a fairy tale, the scene so serene it felt like you were trapped inside a painting. You had to think about him, Terushima Yuuji, the colorful accents of the landscape reminding you of him. Freesias, his favorite kind of flowers, were holding the meaning of energy and being energetic. Just like him.

He was like the flicking neon lights on the late night streets, the lightning thundering down on the sea, the adrenaline rushing through the veins and the sunlight strays shining through the blinds of your room.

It was always fun to be around Yuuji, seeing him smile and grow into someone he could be proud of. You knew him since you changed to his middle school and up until now you two were like the sun and the moon. Inseparable and completing each other but opposites nonetheless.

He was the light that helped people to grow, the warmth of a sunny evening that would touch the hearts of the ones around him, while you were always swaying between flood and tide, shining only on the ones who couldn’t sleep at night.

Watching him was blinding you, though you couldn’t look away. He was always in the spotlight, not that it was his intention but people were naturally drawn to his outgoing personality and comedic behavior, like moths to the light. He was loud, wild and carefree but it was the silent nights you enjoyed the most.

It was just him lying in the field of freesias, while you made flower crowns out of them, placing them on his disheveled hair as he smiled up at you like he just won a prize. Sometimes he would braid your hair with the flowers inside of them, telling you how it looked good on you and that he wanted to do that more often. It was sure that when the sun goes down, the moon would grace the sky but when you looked at him like that, under the starry lights, it was like the sunlit day and the moonlit night would merge with each other, creating the impossible paradise you two found. Just like the others you were naturally drawn to him like gravity and there was no way you could turn around and leave him. So, you just kept him company until you were sure that he would leave you.

Your feelings for Yuuji ran deeper than any roots of a million years old trees, they were stronger than any natural force in the universe and they weighed heavier on you than any stone you could find on earth.

At first it was a light feeling of a crush, just like a summer breeze making you feel a little lighter when you were around him. Slowly, it turned into something you couldn’t name, it was more than a crush but surely you wouldn’t call it love just yet. It was a tingling feeling in your gut every time he looked at you and a prickling sensation on your skin where he left his touches. Though you were aware of your emotions and the way your thoughts on him shifted, you weren’t ready to approach him as more than a friend.

It was no secret that Yuuji had a great fan base of girls and occasionally boys. He was popular among young and old alike. While you waited and watched how person after person confessed their feelings to him, your inability to own up to your feelings made it harder for you to speak up. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a turmoil of clashing thoughts that crushed you into the ground, making you feel like it was getting harder to breathe.

It felt like he was moving further away and you could only stop him by screaming his name. Of course you two still talked to each other and you acted like everything was totally fine, even though it was quite the opposite of it. As hard as you tried to call out to him, every time you opened your mouth you just started to cough. Those uncontrollable attacks grew more frequent, especially when you were alone with your thoughts.

The first time you realized that something was definitely wrong was during another one of those coughing attacks and you felt how something fell out of your mouth and into your hand. Opening the fist of yours, you could see something small, something in the color of red but it wasn’t blood, it was something that looked just like a flower petal.

The thought alone was scaring you, how did that even come out of you, no chance a plant would grow inside of your body. At first though, you didn’t want to visit the doctor and chose to take normal medicine to treat your sore throat. The attacks kept coming and going but in front of others you could normally hold yourself back, sometimes you still found one or two petals falling to your feet but never once did you make a doctor’s appointment.

Until on that one particular day.

It was on the weekend, the day just started for you and you already got a phone call from the boy that was haunting your dreams and occupied your mind. He was talking about how the two of you should definitely go to the fields again and he had some exciting news for you to hear.

To be honest, you couldn’t stop the fast beating of your heart, the moment he told you that he had something to tell you. Something inside of you wanted to believe that maybe it would be a proclamation of love at your favorite spot. Of course you agreed to meet up with him and somehow it felt a little easier for you to breathe. Like those "imaginary" branches inside your lungs finally made some space for fresh air to rush in.

Arriving at the agreed time you could already see his figure standing there, hands shoved inside the pockets of the red jacket he always wore. He looked like the same Yuuji as always, he looked like your Yuuji and as he turned around you could see how his face broke out into a bright smile. Instantly a wave of contentment rushed through your body, it was nearly silly that he could make you feel like that. How just one smile, no, just the look of him made your heart beat in the rhythm of your favorite song, your lips lift up into a real smile and your skin prickled in anticipation, feeling every passing gust of wind.

It was bordering on crazy how far you fell for him and that your love was engulfing all of you that you couldn’t even move anymore. Still, you moved forward, ready to fall all over again.

Right when you reached the top he took your arm and pulled you with him, both of you falling into the sea of blooming dreams.

Landing on the ground you could hear the loud and melodic laugh of your friend, obviously enjoying the little stunt you two just performed. You turned your head to the side to catch a glimpse of his face and he took your breath away. He just laid there, eyes closed and laughter tumbling out of his mouth. He looked so genuinely happy it felt like flowers were blooming inside of your chest, the butterflies residing in your stomach flying around.

He caught his breath again and turned to also look at you. Your eyes met and you could gaze into his almond looking eyes, drowning in the comfort he radiated.

Right then and there you wished you’d had the ability to just put the time on hold. You wanted to watch him smile at you like that for the rest of your life, wishing for this moment to never die, a part of you didn't even care anymore if he loved you back. Every fiber of your body just wanted to be by his side, no matter what he thought of you. Still, you couldn’t deny the yearning inside your heart, like a flower that tried to reach out for the sunlight.

Suddenly he sat up, taking your hands into his to pull you up and looked you straight in the eyes. “Alright, I wanted to tell you something important, so could you hear me out?”, he asked you, excitement evident in his voice. Seeing him so earnest made you shudder and you couldn’t trust your voice, so you just nodded your head. “Great! Actually you’re the first person I’m telling it and yeah… wow somehow I’m nervous.”, he chuckled and the fact that he was nervous directly transferred over to you, making you feel even more jiddy. “Okay, I guess I’ll just tell you. I ehm.. I have a girlfriend! I think you might even know her, she went to the same high school…”, the rest of what he was telling you was drowned out by your roaring thoughts.

Terushima Yuuji. The Terushima Yuuji, your best friend, had a girlfriend? How did that happen? You wished you could listen to what he was saying but no matter how hard you tried to, your mind just slipped elsewhere. The news came crashing down on you, like standing underneath an ice cold waterfall. Honestly, if you’d stand underneath one in that moment, you’d want to drown in it. You fell hard and you fell all over again but you also fell into nowhere, no one ready to catch you. The part in you that hoped to hear a confession from him withered away, petal after petal falling into the pit where the shards of your heart can be found. Well, you did hear a confession, even a confession of love, just not for you.

It felt like roses were wrapped around your bleeding heart, their thorns piercing through it.

You had truly lost him to someone in the past and now there was no way for you to make him hear your voice again. It wasn’t disappointment you felt, it wasn’t anger you felt and it wasn’t sadness. It was a tight feeling in your throat, you felt like you would choke on all the emotions that went through you. You felt restricted and you lifted your hands to your chest, pressing against it to try and relieve the pain you felt.

All your pent up emotions were exploding inside of your ribcage, threatening to rise up your throat, so you only had the choice to either spit them out or to choke on them. You couldn’t hold back the cough, something blocking your throat and you desperately tried to get some air in your lungs. Fear was consuming your mind as it was getting harder and harder for you to control yourself. One of your hands clasped against your mouth because you already feared the sight of colorful petals rushing out of you. You wanted to understand what was going on but you weren’t able to grasp a coherent thought, your body shaking uncontrollably.

The feeling of two hands on your shoulders brought you back to reality and you tried to look at the person holding you. Your sight was blurry due to the tears in your eyes, the pain of barely getting enough air and the ache in your throat causing you to tear up. “Y/n, what’s happening?”, Terushima pulled you up until you were standing, or rather leaning into him.

“Please, do you need water? You have to try and tell me something.”, he panicked and moved you with him downhill. “If you don’t stop we need to get help. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”, abruptly you stood still and shook your head no. It couldn’t be that severe that you really needed to go to the hospital. It’ll probably pass soon, just like always. You wanted to tell him that but you still struggled with stopping your attack. It was never this strong before and you didn’t know why it was now all of the sudden. “Y/n it’s not getting better, I don’t care if you don’t want to go, I’m just gonna pick you up.”, he threatened you and in an instant you felt your feet being lifted off of the ground. He was holding you bridal style and ran towards his car, while you just tried to stay conscious.

I’m sorry but my friend needs help please, she’s been coughing all the time and it didn’t stop for a second!”, you could hear footsteps rushing over to you and a pair of hands guided you through the room. Terushima’s voice rang after you through the hallway, “Wait, I need to go with her!”. His voice sounded so scared and you wanted to turn around, telling him that everything will be fine but you couldn’t. Not only because your body was shaking from all the coughing but also because you knew you couldn’t bear to look at him right now. You heard how a nurse spoke up and tried to calm him down but it wasn’t that easy for you to hear. It was like cotton was pressed against your ears, muffling all the noises around you. Reaching a room, you sat down on a bed and tried to concentrate on what the doctor was talking about to the nurse. It was all in a blurr, your senses slowly shutting down.

The hand that covered your mouth started to lose the strength to stay in place and so a rush of petals came out with your coughs, sinking down and piling up in a mess of your emotions on the white floor. After that you couldn’t really remember much, your mind drifting off into a bitter sweet slumber.

Awoken from a loud beeping sound, your eyes tried to open but the bright light behind your eyelids made it nearly impossible. “Oh, so you're awake.”, a female voice rang in your ear as you turned your head to the side and forced one of your eyes to open up. A woman, probably a nurse, stood next to your bed working on the machine you were apparently plugged to. Trying to push yourself up into a sitting position you heard the nurse talk to you again. “Wait, take it easy. I’m gonna go and get the doctor, so he can explain the situation to you but I need you to stay put alright?”, she exclaimed and before you could reply in any way she turned around and rushed out of the door.

Now you remember, you were in the hospital. Looking over to the spot where the mess of flowers should be, you could see it all gone. Right, somehow your body produced flowers and they were probably the reasons why you had a hard time breathing. At least you were brought into the hospital on time before you choked to death.

Realization hit you like a road truck and you nearly fell from the bed. Terushima brought you to the hospital. He brought you here because you two met up. And you two met up because he had to tell you something important to him. He had a girlfriend.

The twing inside of you came back, the memories of his words rushed into your mind. It was so ridiculous how you got the worst attack with the hardest pain right in the moment he told you he had someone else he loved. It felt like life was looking down on you, cruelly laughing and testing how far a human heart can bend until it would snap in two.

You remembered how the pain bored deep into your bones and how moving and breathing was near impossible. Even though you should probably be concerned about your own health, the hurt of Terushima’s confession slightly overshadowed the uneasiness you felt towards the whole situation.

Terushima Yuuji had a girlfriend and it wasn’t you. His love would shine on someone else so they could bloom under his light and his warmth would bring someone else the comfort of home. He wouldn’t be your Yuuji anymore, he never was. Now, he was just Terushima a good friend of yours, well, more likely your best friend but the thought of being so close to him and not being as close as you wished to be, hurt you too much. People could call you a bad friend but you wouldn’t care because after you leave this building, you need time for yourself to heal.

The sun would go down instead of rising for you and sure, it might have been stupid of you to try and reach the sun, when you were nothing more than the moon. Not to be compared with Icarus, who flew too close to the sun and fell down into the sea in which he drowned. No, you weren’t even close enough anymore to feel the heat of the sun. It was only natural for you to not get close to him because when the sun rises the moon would go down and when it was time for the moon to shine, the sun would move to the other side.

You swam so deep in the sea of thoughts that you nearly missed the pair of footsteps passing through the door. Your eyes followed the noise and you could see the nurse from before but this time a doctor accompanied her.

They didn’t beat around the bush too much, introduced them, asked you how you were feeling and then they dropped the bomb. Apparently, you suffered from a disease called “Hanahaki”, which was a pretty rare disease and affected your respiratory system. More specifically it meant that a flower was growing inside of your lungs and it would eventually lead to the point where the plant would hinder you from breathing or even making it impossible for you to breathe. To say you were confused was an understatement. You sure weren’t working in the field of medicine but never did you hear of the Hanahaki disease. Well, they did say it was rare but it was still unbelievable. What on earth would cause a flower to grow inside of your lungs.

They showed you an x-ray of your lungs. There you could see it, the flower. And not any flower, no, it was a freesia. You’ve seen it so many times you were one hundred percent sure about it. The doctor must have seen the shocked look inside your eyes and fastly continued with his explanation. You weren’t prepared to hear about your disease but you sure as hell didn’t expect what he was telling you next. The reason behind all of this was nothing more than simply love. Unrequited love to be exact. The moment you heard those words coming out of his mouth, you felt how your heart sank into your stomach.

So, this is what you get for loving too hard. Not only a broken heart but also a deathly disease. Just great.

Moving on he told you about the options you had.

Option 1: going under surgery and getting the flower removed, which would cure you and ultimately lead to you forgetting about the feelings you had for Terushima. Still, another side-effect might be to completely forget the person you loved.

Option 2: die. Simple as that, just dying. The plant would keep growing until it blocked every way for you to breath.

After they told you everything you needed to know, they stepped out of the room, giving you some time to think things through.

If you’d go under the surgery you would be able to be alive and even get to free yourself from the pain you felt due to the unrequited love. You would forget every single ounce of love you harboured for him. Though the risk would be there for you to forget him as a person as well.

Every memory you had would be erased and he wouldn’t be your friend anymore, only a stranger. Is this what they should’ve been from the beginning? Nothing but perfect strangers? Losing him as your possible partner was hard and painful but losing him completely? That was like losing the only possibility for you to catch a glimpse of sunlight. You didn’t want to be stuck in the dark without him. Sure, there was the possibility that you wouldn’t forget him and even if you did, you wouldn’t remember it and so there would be no feelings of a loss, right?

Things could go so easy and you could just move on from the spot you were currently rooted in and though you might not remember it afterwards, you know it right now. You know what you would leave behind, all the hardships you’ve been through together and all the moments you just felt like forever wasn’t too far away. The others might call you stupid for even considering the other option but for you it was just part of loving him.

When you moved on he’d be with someone else but not completely out of reach. If you forget though, he’d be gone out of your life, at least for good. Still, you were sure that even if he’d know that you forgot him, he’d try everything in his possibilities to make you remember. But what if you don’t? Would it break him, knowing you would never remember all of your little adventures again? Would he lose trying?

It wasn’t clear if you could learn to remember again after the loss but from what the doctor’s told you, there weren’t really big chances. Maybe you two would learn to be friends again? You two became great friends once, so why not a second time? Though, it would be even more hurtful if you two wouldn’t become friends again. Could he let you go like that? Could he accept the fact that you two wouldn’t be the same as before? You knew that if he’d be the one to forget, you probably wouldn’t. Even if you’d two be friends again, who would assure you that you wouldn’t fall for this idiot again? Falling too far again and landing right back to the position you were currently in.

There was a knock on the door and as you turned your head towards it, you could see Terushima leaning against the doorframe, his body radiated exhaustion but concern was clear in his eyes. “Hey there, the nurse said I could come and visit you, as long as you would allow it.”, his voice was unusually wavering and all you wanted to do was hug him and assure him that you were okay.

He walked next to the bed and once again took one of your hands into his. “What did the doctor say? Is everything okay now?”, he asked you and the worry in his voice resulted in tears welling up in your eyes, you just couldn’t help it. Here he was, the person you loved with everything you had and also the reason behind your suffering.

How could life be so unfair? Who did you murder or hurt in your past life? How deep did you fall that it had to come this far.

The moment he saw the tears threatening to fall down your cheeks, he fell into panic. “Wh-What’s going on y/n? What did they say? I mean if you don’t want to tell me it’s fine, I can call your parents and when they arrive I can leave. Y/n I-”, you efficiently shut him up with your hand covering his mouth. It was already enough that he was so panicked, even though he didn’t know what would happen to you, you didn’t want him to leave now too.

“Don’t leave I-”, you stopped mid sentence but not because you had to cough again, but it was just too hard to tell him. You knew it would devastate him, knowing his best friend could die soon, who wouldn’t be?

“I… they told me that I was sick.”, your voice trailed off and you could see how his eyes were fixed on every word you said and so you lowered your hand back into your lap. “It’s called Hanahaki and is actually quite rare.”, your hands were balled into fists as your eyes wandered down, trying to avoid his blazing gaze. “And how sick?”, you could make out the light tremble in his voice, you knew that he was trying to control himself to not just bombard you with all of his questions. “Well, it’s called the Hanahaki disease and apparently that attacks my respiratory system, my lungs to be more exact.”, you confessed and when you didn’t hear an immediate reaction, your eyes moved up to catch his stunned expression. His eyes were wide open, mouth agape from the shock and his whole body tensed up. His face looked nearly funny to you but you knew there was nothing funny about this situation. He made a move to stand up but he instantly fell back on the bed, hands balled up into fists. He stared on the floor and you could see how he clenched his teeth, jaw locked into place.

“And how did this happen? Can it be cured?”, he asked the question you didn’t have an answer on, well technically you had but it wasn’t that easy. You wanted to tell him that it was something that is the result of normal natural occurrences and not because you loved him. You wanted to tell him that you can be cured but not with the cost of losing him. How can you look at him and tell him that you’ve made the decision to just… let it go.

You didn’t want to cut off your feelings for him, your love rooted so deep inside of your soul. Taking the flower out of your body meant taking a part of you away and denying your love. You might be free from it afterwards and wouldn’t remember what you’d lost but right now you know. You knew what you’d give up on and sure giving up on life might sound totally irresponsible and stupid as the other option but you wanted to live life without regrets.

And you didn’t regret your feelings, no, you never once did. You loved but you loved with everything you had and that was enough for you. Regretting your emotions would mean regretting all of the happy moments he gifted to you.

No, you didn’t regret, you just kept on loving.

You leaned forward until your right hand could get a hold of his chin, turning his face towards yours, so he was looking at you. When your gazes met, you swore a shard of your heart bored into your flesh. He looked so sad, so hopeless, it was hurting you. You wanted to wipe that expression off of his face and turn his lips into a grin, but you knew that whatever truth you were gonna say, it wouldn’t make him smile like he normally would.

“Yuuji, the only way would be surgery, but that might come with some complications and could result in memory loss and that’s not what I want.”, you told him in a hushed voice, trying to keep him calm, even though you knew that the words you just ushered would have the complete opposite effect. He tried to move back but you just grabbed his face with both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t want the surgery? Y/n are you crazy?! If it’s attacking your lungs it might lead to your… to your d-”, his voice broke and not only that but you knew that you broke that boy in front of you with your words. He wasn’t even trying to hide the tears that were welling up behind his eyes but you won’t take your words back. You will stand your ground.

“I know, Yuuji. Don’t you think that I know? But I don’t want to go on if I forget you.”, his lips were pressed on each other and tears were now running down his cheeks. Your fingers wanted to wipe them away but you knew you couldn’t do it. You knew you caused it.

“Y/n I thought you were the smart one of us, why would you make such a ridiculous decision. You think that you could throw life away that easily?!”, he was mad and how mad he was but so were you. How could he say that you're doing this so easily? He talked like it didn’t break your heart to make that decision.

“Do you really think that it’s easy for me? You think that it’s fine with me to just pass away and leave all of you behind like that? Well, then you’re really the dumb one!”, you nearly screamed at him. He just stared at you, eyes wide and you could see that he was trying to understand you, he really did.

“Yuuji, it’s nothing but hurting me to make that decision but do you want to move on, knowing you’d forget everyone? I don’t want that okay? I don’t want to live a life that isn’t fully me and start to regret things. Because without you I’m not completely me, do you understand? Actually I don’t expect you to understand and I don’t expect you to accept it ‘cause I know you’re hurting too.”, your voice was wavering, pumped full with all of your raw emotions.

All of this was too much for you and a part of you wished that you could cut off your emotions but that was exactly what you didn’t want to do. You didn’t want to suppress your feelings because every single emotion was meant to be felt. There was shortcut not other way around, no, you just have to own up to them and feel them with everything you have, even if it hurts you. Denying them would be fruitless and end in more misery than happiness, you knew from experience.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to upset you and I really don’t think that you’re making your decisions carelessly. It’s just… I’m afraid you know? But I mean, you must be even more afraid than me so I have no right to judge.”, he lifted his hands so they would clasp around yours, the warmth of his hands seeping into your skin.

“No, you have all the right to. It’s not easy for the both of us, it wouldn’t be easy for anyone. I don’t want you to hold back your feelings just because you don’t want to offend me, that would be selfish.”, you shot him a slight smile, everything you could muster right now.

Right then, you two were in your own world again, when day and night collided. This time though, it wasn’t like the gentle paradise where the sun would kiss the moon goodbye. Instead the cloudless morning sky was teared down like wallpaper, the starless midnight blue shining through the holes in the light.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Sitting here in the field of freesias you recalled his desperate voice in your mind.

“Wait, there has to be something that we can do right? Please y/n, I don’t want to lose you.”

“But you don’t love me.”

#terushima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu #terushima angst #terushima oneshot #haikyuu x reader angst

156 notes · View notes

ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Irreplaceable - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary : You find yourself in bed with your ex, Keanu, which resurfaces old feelings.

Prompt : “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” requested by anon.

Warnings : nsfw, smut. unprotected sex. angst. fluff.

Word Count : 2k. 🤡 im not even calling them drabbles anymore lmao, feedback and comments are so so so appreciated! This is prompt fic #24. Enjoy:)

also we’re going to ignore the fact that as I was editing this I realized this is basically a softer and sweeter version of my last fic and we’re not gonna @ me because I was half way through editing and didn’t wanna edit a different fic :))) im just a tired uni student tryna write sometimes pls be kind ily

His fingers rub feverish circles to your sensitive clit, exasperated groans and breathy moans fallen suit off your pleasure drunk lips. Keanu hovers over your bare body, throbbed cock swollen to a rosy hued tip, gliding effortlessly in and out your soaking wet folds. Proving imperative, his thrusts hit deep, profound, pounding severely through stifled breaths and skin sticking together through thin layer of damp. Whimpers and soft moans flee through tender breaths, encapsulated by his full lips on yours; breasts bouncing relentlessly to his demanding pace as he hovers above; your fingers clawing mauve marks bedecked into his toned biceps.

Keanu knows how to work you; how to treat you so well. Tonight, he’d invited you to his home in desperate need of relief, long composed history between you both had established ground for meetings such as today. “I need you tonight.” He rasped over the broken telephone line. “Please.”

Each time he calls, each time you return, his words crawl up the deep howls of your mind, your throat swallowing dryly as your heart yearns for another meeting. His hair ruffles in espresso hued fluffs tonight, falling ragged in his clenched eyes, complimented beautifully by the rasp of his tender sighs when he moans to the feel of you,

so warm. So snug for him. You wonder if he’d been running his hands through it as he awaited your arrival, if he’d bit his lip with the curve of his sharp jaw clenched; if he absentmindedly fiddled with the base of his sturdy ring finger as he did in deep thought. You remember more of him than you’d care to admit; than you’d want to admit.

Long ago, Keanu and you almost made it. Almost pledged to the bond that held you together; almost made it to the brink of promise. But it wasn’t meant to be. No matter how hard you and Keanu tried, you weren’t meant to be. The agonizing dissolve of your love was hard. The sky never worked in your favour, the fairy-tale ending never chanced.

The weight of his body holds you down, held close in his arms as he pumps into your inviting sanctuary fiercely, holding so dearly. His hot breath kisses the skin of your neck and you feel a wave of warm, moaning, leisurely whining, whimpering, and whimpering-

“Don’t stop, please,”

“I’m close, Y/N.” He chokes through a tensed jaw and gritted teeth. His erection is stiff, splitting your tight cunt inch by inch as his veiny bulk pounds, friction excruciatingly blissful with your sex starved bodies moulding together so naturally; fluently.

On evenings like this, Keanu and you would be reminded of what could have been. Find comfort within each other, release the months of built up crave that would reside deep, condensed within your dreary longed hearts that yearned for each other, still.

Keanu and you died a long time ago; but the love didn’t. You still loved him, and he still loved you. Unspoken, yet holding of pure truth. White lies, deep-rooted in a smokescreen only sufficed so long. Pledges of being “just friends” were far from the truth. Despite how long, how far and how often you’d both recited the prayer off your lovesick tongues; Keanu and you were not just friends. You couldn’t be.

You could never be.

“Cum for me sweetheart, together.” Keanu moans through broken exhales, chasing his high, yet desperate to bring you to the strongest of releases. He dwelled, thrived off making you feel good. He’d called you here tonight because he needed you, needed your body to feel something. Nonetheless, that didn’t mean he didn’t fully intend of making you see the heavens on earth.

He was always an amazing lover.

Amazing at far too much to not fall so deep for him.

Searing tears threaten in the corners of your dismissive orbs, wailing, yelping as his cock relishes, grinding inside your tight, pulsating pussy, creamy releases coated slick to your thighs as he thrusts. The thuds of his skin slapping yours enfold the room, his sizable length rams into your cunt, balls smacking relentlessly as if mould just for you to delight. With his lips placing a soft kiss to yours, he whispers shakily, your orgasm bubbling boils inside the pit of your mid.

“I’m so close, Ke. Please don’t stop.” You sob, fingers clenched into his rosily flushed shoulder blades. “Please don’t…fuck!” You gasp when he rocks, rotating his hips to hit that sensitive plush of nerves inside your velvety walls, encouraging praises and whispers into your ears.

“Come on sweetheart, let go for me.” Within seconds, Keanu spills his succulent load deep, deep inside you as you release, riding cloud nine of your high into oblivion as he works you through your orgasm. Through heavy palms holding your hips close and his tongue lapping, gently sucking your sensitive nipples, Keanu kisses you sweetly, hands gently kneading the soft of your breasts in a soothing marvel, leaving peppered kisses to your neck, your collarbone, your cheeks.

The love was still there. Plain to see. The love had never left; only now, years later, it suffocated you. Killed you when he’d make love to you like this. Destroyed you when he’d hold you so close, reminding you of how you couldn’t be.

Is it easier for him? You wonder.

You ponder.

Cock still sheathed deep inside, Keanu’s chest rumbles a deep baritone, palm of his stocky hand shifting to cup your cheek. “Feel good?” He asks, a final kiss to your forehead as he slips out, landing firm on the bed, your frail, weakened body pulled securely into his chest. In a delicate wrap of arms, he holds you close, your head rested to his broad as you stare, and stare, and stare daggers to the crème ceiling above.

It must be easier for him. You ponder.

You guess.

But it wasn’t easy for you. None of this was easy.

None of this would suffice much longer.

Keanu’s hand stations on your skin, chest heaving up and down softly as you live out your highs, returning to reality. During these meetings, these encounters where you’d steal a few hours away together, the world seemed to melt into oblivion. As if you’d held his hand as he took you to another dimension, soared the stars, drifted away for a sweet while together. These moments with him held a safe harbour away from reality. Away from the cold, harsh reality.

This embrace, this hold, this affection. It held the same sincerity from all those years past, the light pad of his fingers soothing over your skin delves goosebumps peppering over your silky skin.

Bare, naked in his arms, you’d never felt this vulnerable before. And you never thought you would; especially with the man that surprisingly made you feel safest.

Warm, wet.

The familiar, distinct saltiness of silent tears threatens to loom your lips, head still pressed to his flushed chest. Daring, barely above a confident whisper; you finally spill. Quiet. Harsh. Desperate to defend.

“We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”

Unmoved, your bodies still lay entwined. Connected. Fiercely connected, as your souls.

Your lost, overdue, lonesome souls.

“Friends don’t…call each other when they need a fuck. Friends don’t kiss each other. Friends don’t visit each other late into the night when they’re feeling alone.” You fight. Your voice raises. The hurt surfaces. “We’re not just friends. We’ll never be just friends. We’re fucking stuck. We’ll always be stuck and I don’t know if…” Words ceasing, the tears threaten to spill. The ache becomes intolerable.

Deadbeat silence. Stillness, cold. All around, the only feel. He stays silent, holding you, eyes still focused to the ceiling above. He’s hurting,

He’s been hurting too.

Quietly, through a hoarse of gruffed tone, Keanu speaks. He wonders if you know the sincerity of his declaration, the weight his pledge holds. “I still love you. I still love you so much, it hurts. Every single day.”

There’s never been pity in those deep cocoa depths, never confusion, resentment, aggravation. Only old understanding, old love, attachment that never died; even when the roots withered. When the skies caved.

You listen, you process, you absorb. You absorb his words, so wholly.

Sitting up slight, Keanu draws your body up as well, never letting your frail frame leave his toned arms. Biceps engulfing, you practically drown into his bare chest; your exposed skins melting together adding tremendously to the connection. “Y/N, I’ll always be in love with you.” He whispers into your hair, soft kisses stippled with strokes to your glossy locks, drawing the silk sheets higher, closer to tuck them around you. To protect you,

-from the cold. Or perhaps something else. Something so unforgiving, a harsh reality you’d both been compulsory to endure.

“But,” He breaks, yet stays composed, calm and confident, for you. “We’re no good together, sweetheart. We can’t be.” He whispers, hold tightening to soothe your plight. “It’s above us. No matter how hard we try, we can’t.” He reasons, voice saddened, yet explanatory. “You know that right, princess?”

The piercing, cold truth. Your lives are far too different, far too many complications come into play. For you and Keanu, a life together would always, forever, remain a distant dream. “We’re not just friends.” Taking hold of your hand, he presses a small kiss to your palm, eyes looking down into your softer, fragile ones. “You’re…you’re the best thing I have. Even if I don’t really have you.” He shakes his head, unable to face the realism. Because the cold, sour truth would always remain.

Keanu and you would rather be this way, than not at all. You’d rather meet this way, feel each other this way through scarce, secretive meetings, than not have each other at all.

Time held too much history. And history isn’t easily forgotten.

You and Keanu, couldn’t be forgotten. You were bound. Bound by something so special, so real. Something that would always stay, never fraying with the passage of a lifetime. Quelling his own emotions, Keanu kisses your lips again, tasting the salt of your dewy tears.

He’d always remained the stronger one. The one that would provide assurance. The one that would remind, even if it was the last thing he’d ever wanted to do. But he’d do it. He’d do it, every single time, for you. He’d do anything for you.

Through the softness of your skin, Keanu relishes, loses himself in how familiar, how right it feels to be so close to you. How badly he wanted nothing more, than to always be close to you. To have you, through sickness and health. To hold you this way forever, steadily, safely within him.

Yet, it would never be. The harsh, cold, truthful reality. Each time you’d depart, a little piece, a part of each other would let go. Stay with the other until you’d meet again. It all hurt, the same way it usually did. Through a soft sniffle, you tighten your hold around him as well, sinking into the deep, radiating warmth of his skin. Sinking away into your escape, your piece of oblivion that was all too well to be real.

All too good, to ever be.

If soulmates existed, if happy endings were real, he was yours, and you were his.

You knew it all too well, all too true. And through a heartbroken mummer, you declare. Declare to him, as you both always did when you’d meet this way.

“I still love you too.” You return to his earlier statement, whispering.

“And I always, always will.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves fanfiction

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lyndsaybones · 5 years

Note

44 from the ILY prompts. And make it hurt. 🤣

44. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

How about a little on the run angst, babe?

The wind whips outside, the dry scrape of leaves along the pavement sounds foreboding, like something scratching at the door. The walls are predictably thin, the room is drafty, the windows poorly insulated and bringing all the noise of the hotel parking lot into their little room.

He isn’t really thinking about any of that right now, though. They pretend they’re on a case instead of on the run. They pretend their son is with her mother instead of with another mother. Sometimes they just climb between the covers and forget that they are running, terrified, alone and together at the same time.

He is in the midst of licking and sucking his way across her clavicle when he becomes deeply preoccupied with her left breast. He kneads his thumb there, pauses and prods a little more. He pulls back and looks at her, perplexed.

“What?” she breathes.

“What is that?” he asks, looking at her like a piece of evidence.

“Well, I thought you already knew,” she giggles, watching as presses and prods at the tissue just under her nipple.

“Scully, there’s something here,” he says. “Feel.”

He grabs her fingers, presses them into the flesh, nearly the same way she guided his hand to feel the baby kick. She pushes that thought away and concentrates.

There is something there, a hard spot, dense, solid. A lump.

“You feel it?” he asks.

She nods.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“No.”

He sits up and climbs off of the bed, slipping into his boxers and grabbing his jeans.

“What’re you doing?” she asks.

“I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he says.

“Mulder, it’s the middle of the night,” she says drawing the sheet over her chest as she sits up.

“They’re open at night aren’t they?” he counters, tossing her a t shirt.

“Mulder slow down,” she says. “This isn’t an emergency.”

“It’s not?” he says. It’s an argument, not a question.

“First of all, it’s probably nothing,” she says. “I only stopped breastfeeding a few months ago,” she begins, trying not to think of William latched to her, his jaw working in his sleep. “Not to mention all the fluctuations in my hormones and weight in the last year. Changes in breast tissue are common and usually harmless.”

“And second of all?” he asks.

“What?”

“You said ‘first of all.’ So what’s second of all?” he asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“It’s risky,” she says simply. “Going to a hospital, getting bloodwork. If someone wanted to get to you, they could do it through me.”

His face crumples and he drops back onto the bed, his hip next to hers. He reaches and sifts his fingers into her hair, brown now, but her copper roots are starting to show. It’s harder, somehow, when he’s tender with her.

“What should we do?” he asks.

“Let’s just…keep an eye on it,” she says. “If it gets bigger or inflamed, then we’ll find a way to get it checked out.”

She can see it in his eyes, the horror show of her illness replaying in his head. The parts she let him see anyway. There were plenty of nights she fell asleep with gauze shoved up her nose, or piled under blankets trying desperately to get warm, not even warm, just something above freezing. He never saw the bruises that came so easily. She regrets it now, of course, hiding those things from him.

He wraps his arms around her and she can feel how desperately he clings. They’ve lost everything, everything worth having. She buries her nose in the crook of his neck and breathes him in.

Out there, the scritch scratch of dead leaves, of danger just outside the door. But in here, they can pretend that it’s just them and that everything is going to be okay.

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shestillhasherquill · 6 years

Text

At the Heart of Darkness (9/11)

Hello, hello! I almost forgot that today was Thursday - I started at a new job! Anyway, you don't care. Thank you for your continued interest in this fic. I love reading your tags. I appreciate all the support!!

Thank you Mods of @captainswanbigbang for being chill about a lot of stuff and for being so freaking organised.

@sambethe was so great throughout. Thank you, for the banner and the artwork for chapter 2 and chapter 5. And for being a third set of eyes on this fic! @downeystarkjr I still can't get over how great your videos are, both the teaser and the longer one. Please go to their tumblrs and check their hard work out!!

@accio-ambition, thank you for being so sweet and for finding the time to edit this despite how busy you were. Ily.

Also, special mention to @peglegsjones whose portrayal of the Dark One in her fic Alone, until I get home inspired me and the way I chose to write the Darkness.

omg we're almost at the end!!!!

Summary: Killian Jones lives in the Land without Magic, with no memories of his family. Until Emma Swan comes into his life like a whirlwind, reminding about everything he had lost. He embarks on an adventure to destroy the Darkness, only to discover that Emma might not be telling him the whole story.

Rating: M

Content Warning: Mentions of Miscarriage, Angst, Gothel (Please heed the Gothel warning, ugh God, she sucks)

Current Chapter: ao3 ff.net

Chapter 8: Don’t bother writing (I’m gone)

Present Day: Enchanted Forest

“What did Emma tell you again?” Killian asked, taking leaping steps just to keep pace with his daughter’s rapid steps.

“That the Dagger was with an old friend. There is only one person Mama would give it to,” Alice replied, trying to hurry as much as she could.

“Someone she trusted the most?” Killian guessed. But as far as he knew, Emma hardly trusted anybody, let alone enough to entrust his dagger to them.

“Nu-uh, that would be the first person anyone would torture. She gave it to Ariel, Queen of the Water Realms. She can travel between the realms anytime she wanted, and could make a quick getaway.”

Killian knew Ariel; they had been something like friends at some point, despite the animosity between pirates and mermaids. “Ah. She’s a nice lass. How are you going to contact her though?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

Alice huffed, stopping in her tracks, pulling a seashell necklace from around her neck. “Using this. I have already sent her message via shell. She should be waiting for us, we must hurry. Now, stop asking questions and follow me!”

Killian frowned, a reprimand ready on his tongue. But he realised with a pang that she was not a little girl anymore; she had been right to take that tone. Emma and Alice had a plan in place and he needed to respect that she knew what she was doing. They had only a small lead, with Gothel being occupied with Emma. She would come after them soon if she realised that they had the Dagger. So far, the only person Gothel thought knew about the Dagger was in her custody. And they had to maintain the ruse for as long as they could.

It took them a few hours, but Alice and Killian finally managed to break through the treeline and onto the short beach. Alice looked around frantically, vibrating on the spot like she was ready to explode. Killian might not know much about this version of his daughter, but her anxiety was not anything new.

“Starfish, Ariel will be here. It will be fine,” he said in a soothing, slow tone, grabbing Alice softly by the shoulders and making her look at him. “Deep breaths, sweetheart. That’s it, just concentrate on your breathing.” He did the breathing exercise along with her, until he felt she had calmed down enough.

Alice sighed, rubbing at her forehead. “Why would Mama do that?!” she exclaimed. “I never should have let her.”

Killian chuckled, despite the situation they were in. “Love, I’ve come to realise that once your mother has set her mind on something, it is neigh on impossible to change her mind. Besides, in her place, I would have done the same thing.” He let out a long breath, his hand and hook resting on his hips. “That does not mean I condone what she did.”

“That’s exactly what you did. Actually, what you did was a million times worse.” Alice’s tone might have been matter-of-fact, but her words hit him in the gut. He had had the chance to apologise to Emma, but he hardly even said goodbye to his little girl before he left her.

“Starfish, I’m so sorry. I-” But Alice held up her hand to half him mid-sentence.

“It’s alright, Papa. I mean, it’s not alright, but it is for now. We will have time for apologies and regret after we get rid of the Darkness and save Mama.”

“That is exactly what your mother said.” He was in awe of the young woman in front of him, and he owed it all to Emma. She was the one who had raised Alice into a smart, brilliant young woman. He couldn’t have done a better job; there would always be a part of him that loathed himself for missing out on the chance to be a good father. And unwittingly, he had lost that chance again because of what had happened with Charles.

He was saved from the dark direction his thoughts were taking by Ariel’s timely arrival. His joy was short lived, though, because the moment he stepped closer to Ariel, the voices in his head grew louder, the Darkness calling out to him, telling him to take his Dagger and run away. To protect himself. He squeezed his eyes shut, staying rooted in place and watched as Alice greeted the mermaid and exchanged pleasantries that he was too far away to hear, and too consumed by the sudden urge to hunt Gothel down.

He lost track of how long he had stood in one place, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to block his ears against the assault of the Darkness. He realised that he had been in control for so long because the Dagger was in another realm. It was a hundred times harder now to quell the voices in his head. He was forced out of his catatonic state by Alice dumping a bucket of cold water over his head. He started at her, dripping with salt water as she stood above him, panting slightly and the now empty bucket still held aloft.

“Th-ank you,” he sputtered out, pushing his hair from his face, and standing up properly. “I apologise, Starfish. I don’t know what got over me.”

Alice nodded, dropping the bucket next to him and taking a seat. She patted the spot next to her, but he could still hear the dull echoes of the Dagger and chose to stand instead. “Was it the Darkness?” she asked softly.

He hesitated to answer her for a very long time, but finally relented, letting out a giant sigh. “Aye.”

“It’s the Dagger.” It was more of statement than a question, and Killian was unsure what he could reply to that. Alice nodded to herself, staring at the horizon for a long time, both of them in somewhat comfortable silence.

“D’you know I hate magic?” she asked, but he had a feeling it was rhetorical, and allowed her to talk. “I do. Magic is what trapped me in that tower, magic is what took you away from me. Magic is what caused Emma and I so much pain in our lives. I could never understand why Mama loved it so much, even after all that had happened. She even wanted me to learn, harness my own magic. But she always understood. She even stopped using magic for me. She’s- She my mother in every single way. Not just in the way that counts. I actively reject Gothel as my mother.” The last part was said with such vehemence, so completely different from the tone she had adopted for the rest that it startled Killian.

He finally took a seat next to Alice, while still maintaining enough distance from the Dagger. “Darling, I realise that I have not been the best father. I know that Emma has made sure that you do not have to suffer the same fate as we both did as children. You are right, she truly is your mother in every single way, and I have just treated her so terribly. I have treated you terribly. How do we get past that? I don't have the answer to that question, I don't have the answer to so many things. I just feel so lost, I feel so miserable and ashamed. So tell me, what do I do?”

Alice sighed heavily, resting her chin on her bent knees, and just stared at the horizon. Killian waited with bated breath for a moment, before deciding that he would not be getting a reply from her. But just as he was about to get up, Alice finally responded. “You don't do anything, Papa. You just need to give her time, give me time, and be there for us. We will get past it because we are family, and family means we never stop trying.” She got up, giving him a hand and pulling him up, dusting the sand from her dress. Killian nodded at her, feeling a sense of calm wash over him. This might not have been forgiveness, but Alice’s words gave him hope. She hesitated, as if she was contemplating saying something. “I love you, Papa. Even when I feel like I should hate you. I love you, because you’re my Papa, and because you’re here now.”

Killian swallowed thickly at the lump in his throat, wordlessly accepting the olive branch she had offered. “Let’s go, love. We have quite the journey to Camelot.”

She reached into Emma’s satchel, retrieving a leather cuff from it and handing it to him.

“I don’t think that’s my style, Starfish,” he chuckled. Regardless, he took the cuff from her, examining it. As far as leather cuffs went, it was fairly routine, nothing that stood out to him about the craftsmanship or the quality.

“It suppresses magic,” Alice explained. “In case you lose control,” she added.

Killian’s jaw clenched, the Darkness in him hissing at her insinuation. It scared him, how quickly his darker impulses came to the fore. The fear of doing something to harm his daughter was enough for him to place the cuff on immediately.

If Alice noticed the haste in which he put it on, she did not comment on it.

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Killian could feel every cell of his body corrupted by the black sludge of the Darkness, burning him from the inside out. All the pain and heartbreak that he had gone through amplified until his heart was nearly bursting from the agony, so much so that all he wanted to do was rip his heart from his chest and cut off his feelings all together. He felt unbelievably violated, the Darkness had taken over his body. He could feel the muck and grime settle in every crevice of his soul.

And when he emerged from his transformation, the Darkness had taken over so entirely - he felt born again, no longer restricted by the whims and restrictions of human existence. He felt the immensity of power at his disposal. He was Captain Hook once again. His lips spread into a wild grin - he had a blonde beauty to thank for liberating him.

Little did he know that Killian Jones was trapped, but alive, under the layers of rotten, filthy darkness.

-/-

Emma teleported herself back to the tower, making both Smee and Alice jump in fright. She couldn’t blame them; she did practically stumble in like a deranged maniac, frantically yelling at Smee to “Leave, now!” Alice backed away from Emma, her eyes wide and blue, fear crystal clear in them. Emma sucked in a deep breath, if only to not frighten Alice any more than she already had.

She quickly relayed what had happened to Smee, promising to tell him the whole story after she had made sure Killian was fine. She hurriedly packed a sack for Alice, carelessly throwing together outfits for her. But she had not been fast enough. When she rounded the corner from Alice’s space into the main room, a silent and docile Alice in tow, Killian was waiting for them, leaning casually against the window ledge. He looked up at that exact moment, a predatory grin on his face as he stalked towards them

Emma stopped dead in her tracks, pushing Alice behind her, the only defense between the child and the Dark One. Because the thing in front of her now was not the man she loved. This was not Killian, and frankly, she was afraid to find out who he was.

Killian stopped just in front of her, his head tilted to the side in a disapproving manner, lips in a slight pout.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He crouched in front of Emma, his gaze shifting to Alice who was hiding behind her, her grip tightening on Emma’s trouser’s leg. “It’s me, Starfish,” he crooned, his predatory look shifting into something far more soft.

“Papa?” Alice sounded scared, tentative. Emma saw Killian’s jaw clench and he glared up at Emma, as if she was the one at fault for Alice fearing him. Emma met his gaze fearlessly.

He was the first one to look away, all of his attention focused on Alice. “Aye, my love. Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Really?” the child asked, a slight edge to her tone, almost like she was afraid to be hopeful.

“Aye, Starfish. Papa found a way. Told you I would, didn’t I?” he grinned, reaching past Emma and taking a willing Alice into his arms, balancing her on his hip. He turned to Emma, his electric blue eyes fixed on hers.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked in an unexpectedly soft tone.

Emma was afraid for him. She was scared about what the Darkness was doing to him, his mood all over the place, unreadable to her. But she did not fear him. But she knew, she could bring her Killian back. She stepped forward, tentatively brushing her knuckles over his cheek, her magic sparking, triggered by the Darkness in him. He then closed his eyes at her soft touch, his entire countenance losing the air of a man with great power. When his eyes opened, they were back to the cerulean of Killian Jones. She smiled.

“I could never be afraid of you. I’m afraid for you, my love,” she confessed, her eyes shifting to Alice, who had her head resting against her father’s shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. She only did that when she was most distressed.

-/-

Killian nodded in acceptance. He grabbed her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles, and pulled her closer, enveloping his girls in his arms. Once he was certain that they would be shielded properly, he expelled a blast of magic, strong enough to break any spell. He wanted to get the Dark One to free his daughter, and one way or another, that was what he did. The tower started disintegrating around them, and once he felt the spell keeping Alice trapped break, he magically transported all of them to a safer location.

His feet hit the ground hard, jostling the little girl in his arms, while Emma managed to land quite gracefully on her feet. Both the adults turned their gaze on Alice, who looked around her in awe. She was truly outside the tower for the very first time. She squirmed in Killian’s hold, forcing him to let her go. And he hesitated for just a moment, concerned about her exploring too far. But Alice remained by their side, walking around and touching each tree, plant, and rock, gasping each time.

He had been enraged at Emma in the beginning; if it weren’t for her insistence that he grab the Dagger, he would have escaped this curse. But it was only because of the Darkness that he had been able to save his daughter. That couldn’t have been a bad thing, could it? He watched with amusement as his daughter explored the area around her, keeping up a constant chatter.

He chanced a glance at Emma, who was standing on the other side of the clearing they were in, but she was already looking at him with a strange expression. But she smiled at him when she noticed him looking. Odd, she looked almost contemplative.

Emma walked up to him, her hands behind her back. “I have something for you.” She looked serious, confusing him further.

“What is it, Swan?”

“Something that belongs to you,” She brought her hands forward, revealing the Dark One’s Dagger.

The Darkness flared up, screaming at him to possess it, to never let it out of his sight. With the Dagger in his hands, he could do anything he wanted. He reached for it, his hand trembling, but Emma stopped him just before he could touch it.

“Wait. Wait, we need to talk about this.”

“About what?” he growled, not able to take his eyes off of the Dagger.

“You seem different, Killian. You’re not you. Maybe I should just hold on to the Dagger for you,” she suggested. “I am just wo--”

Whatever the rest of her sentence was, Killian could not hear her over how loud the voice in his head was.

How dare she? The Darkness screamed inside his head. It’s yours to take. She is trying to control you. Is that what you want?

“Shut up! Just shut up.” He meant to snap at the voice in his head, but Emma jumped at his harsh tone, hurt flashing in her eyes.

“I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, dropping the Dagger and backing away. “I’m going to go, and um, find us some food.” Emma walked away from the clearing and toward the dirt road that led to the village. He watched as she glanced at Alice, hesitated, and then kept walking. His gut clenched: he scared her.

What if she was running away from him?

He took and Dagger and placed it in his jacket. He grabbed Alice, despite her protests against being dragged away from turtles, and followed after Emma. Alice continued to cry, beating on his back to let her down, but as much as it pained him, he needed to find Emma, and reassure her. It was just a misunderstanding; everything would be alright.

-/-

Present day: Enchanted Forest

Emma struggled against the magical shackles Gothel had her bound in, but it was in vain. Her binds were too tight. Her wrists painfully rubbed against them when she tried to wriggle her hand out.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you after me?” she spat out at Gothel.

Gothel ignored her, rummaging through the myriad of bottles on the table opposite, her back turned to Emma. A couple of moments passed and Emma started to sweat in the humid room. Gothel had restrained her in the woods and used magic to transport them both. The place resembled the mines, except instead of stone, the walls were made of soil. So it was damp, but still very hot.

Gothel let out a triumphant shout, finally having found what she had been looking for. She moved to face Emma, dangling a small vial at her. “Do you recognise this?”

“Should I?” Emma sassed, glaring at the witch.

“It’s something I made, just for you. It’s mostly sulphur.”

“Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

Gothel ignored Emma’s cheekiness. “Actually, I did use it on you once. Do you remember that?”

Emma glared at her, her heart raced simply remembering the pain Gothel’s poison had caused. But Gothel continued, observing Emma with curiosity. “It was meant to corrupt you; that was what the sulphur was meant for. It destroys light magic from within. You should have never been able to survive that.” She crouched in front of Emma, her head tilted to one side, her cold eyes staring at her unblinkingly, unnerving her. “I wondered, how you managed to stay so young over the years. I always assumed you used a glamour spell or a potion. It was only when I realised that my potion did not work that I started understanding what was really going on.”

Gothel smirked at her. Emma knew her panic was clear by her expression. “You have a part of the Darkness in you, Princess,” Gothel whispered gleefully. “My dark magic is no match for that, I know that now. I’m sure you’re suffering enough as it is. You wouldn’t survive losing your magic - you can’t live without it and you can’t live with it.”

Emma couldn’t understand how the witch had figured out her secret. She had been so certain that no one knew about it - not even Alice. It had taken a couple of years for Emma herself to even realise and understand. When Killian had linked the two of them together, some of the Darkness from him transferred to her. Emma assumed that the dark magic she had been sensing had been through the link belonged to Killian. But it was the dark magic in her own veins. Her magic was corrupted, both light and dark a part of each other. It had only become worse over the past 20 years.

Emma had not revealed this part of the plan to Killian for this reason - once they destroyed the Darkness, it would destroy her magic as well. It had been made pretty clear what would happen to her without her magic. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her daughter and her love that she would not survive this. That there was no happily ever after for her.

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Emma heard Alice’s cries before she heard Killian calling her name. She whirled around, startled to see the latter run up to her, holding a crying Alice in his arms.

“Swan,” he breathed, stopping a few feet away from her.

“What’s wrong with Alice?” she asked, stepping forward and taking the crying child into her arms, rubbing her hand over Alice’s back to comfort her. Alice wrapped her arms tightly around Emma’s neck, her cries muffled on Emma’s shoulder.

Killian looked helpless, like he was on the verge of crying himself. He sank to the ground, sitting slumped against a tree, running his hands through his hair, pulling at it painfully. It hurt Emma to see him in such a condition, but she was clueless to help him.

“I think I frightened her. I just- I needed to come after you. I needed to stop you, Swan,” he said after a long while, desperation dripping from his voice.

Alice’s cries had died down by then, and she had drifted off, slumped against Emma. She did not blame her; Alice had had a very eventful evening and it must have been too frightening and confusing for a six-year-old to handle, no matter how intuitive she was.

“Stop me from what, Killian?” Emma snapped, her voice coming out in harsh whisper. “You yelled at me to ‘Shut up.’ I thought you needed a moment to calm yourself.”

“I do not need to calm myself. I’m fine,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

“No, you are not. This is not who you are - flying tempers, making Alice cry? That is the Darkness. You are losing control. We need to get rid of it.”

He rose up, his eyes narrowed, and he looked at Emma contemplatively. “Oh, is that why you held on to my dagger? So you can ensure I don’t ‘lose control?’ You want to control me, is that it?”

“Of course not!” Emma protested. She switched Alice to her hip, leaving one hand free. She did not want to, but if it came down to it, she had to protect herself and Alice against the Darkness. Even if it meant she had to harm him. “Killian, this is not you.”

“No, Emma. This is better,” he argued, keeping his voice down. Emma was relieved that he did not wake Alice up: she did not want the little girl to see her father this way. “I was finally able to get my daughter out of that hell. The only way I was able to do that was with magic. My magic. Not yours.”

Emma reeled at that, feeling like she had been slapped. “I offered to use my magic. I would have done anything for Alice, you know that!”

But Killian ignored her, powering through his own speech. “You told me to grab the Dagger, Swan. You forced this on me, and now that I actually seem to like it, you just can’t handle it.” He wagged a finger at her, grinning like a maniac. “That’s it, isn’t it, love? You can’t handle the fact that I’m stronger than you. That I don’t need your magic.”

Emma bit her lip, her heart clenching at his accusations, trying to convince herself that it was the Darkness making him say these things. He wanted to hurt her, but she couldn’t give him that satisfaction.

“You and I both know that that’s not true. We are a family. It doesn’t matter who is more powerful.”

“Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Swan. All this time, you had me convinced that I needed you, that I needed your magic to save my daughter, when in fact, I didn’t need you at all. Maybe you knew all along what needed to be done. You were just afraid that you would be left alone again, forever the orphan Princess.”

Tears came unbidden to Emma, every word coming out of Killian’s mouth hitting the mark. She pulled Alice closer, drawing comfort from her daughter.

“That is not fair. You’re not thinking straight,” she said quietly. Whether she was trying to convince Killian or herself, she wasn’t sure. Her hand trembled as she reached for his, the dark magic sizzling under his fingertips. “This is not you. This is not the man I love.”

“Perhaps the man you love is no more,” he whispered, his eyes looking away from her, unable to meet her gaze.

Emma was rendered speechless. She was not sure what she could possibly do to bring her Killian back to her.

“I refuse to believe that,” she said with conviction, drawing his attention back to her. “I love you, Killian Jones. Whether the Darkness likes it or not, I am not leaving.” She grew more confident when he seemed to listen, drawing closer to him, her hand drawing up his arm and resting against his chest. “I know your heart, I know you’re still there. Push the voices away. It’s just the three of us here - you, me, and Alice.”

Killian let out a deep breath, stepping away from her, Emma’s hand dropping. “I don’t know what’s happening, Swan,” he confessed, biting down hard at his lip. He squeezed his eyes shut, massaging his forehead.

Emma looked on, worried and helpless, wondering what she could possibly do to help her fiancé. “Talk to me, tell me what is going on inside your head. Lean on me.”

Killian nodded, pulling her closer. He hesitated, before holding his arms out to take his daughter, and letting out a relieved breath when Emma handed her over. He held Alice close, centering himself.

“I apologise for the things I said to you, Emma. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

Emma nodded, wordlessly accepting his apology. But she had to know. ”Did you mean any of it? Do you really think- do you think that I kept things from you? That I tricked you into falling in love with me?” Her questions slipped out one after another, her insecurity rearing its ugly head.

Killian immediately pulled back, his hook resting on her waist. “No, absolutely not! I was- They were senseless words said in spite, my love. I was being an arse, and I’m sorry.” A beat later, he added, “I never meant for those words to come out, Emma. It- I was just so angry, I was hurt. And in that moment, I wanted to hurt you, like you hurt me.”

Emma swallowed thickly, not allowing him to notice the fear she felt building inside, painting a smile on her face instead. “It was the Darkness, Killian. It wasn’t you. I’ve seen this before, I’ve seen the way it corrupts and destroys. We need to get rid of it, once and for all.”

-/-

Present day: Camelot

It had taken Killian and Alice a week to reach Camelot by foot. He couldn’t use his magic, and Alice had never tried using hers. While it had given them plenty of time to talk and for Killian to get to know his daughter again, each day was agonising as they both feared for Emma’s life. Neither of them could understand why Gothel would want Emma, but the longer it took them to get rid of the Darkness, the worse their imaginations became. It had come to a point where neither of them spoke about what was happening to Emma; once again, she had sacrificed herself for Killian and Alice. Talking about it did nothing to relieve their guilt.

“Have you met this Merlin fellow before?” Killian asked, turning to Alice.

“Well, sort of. A very long time ago, we heard a rumour of an ancient sorcerer who could destroy the Darkness. But after a couple of months of research, we grew tired. It had been ten years at that point, I think, since you had been gone. It was a difficult year, for Mama. I was a hellion during my late adolescence,” Alice said, making Killian chuckle.

Another good thing about the time he had spent with Alice? He was slowly beginning to let go of his guilt and enjoy learning new tidbits of information about his daughter’s life.

“I’m sure if anyone could have handled it, Emma could have.”

“You’re not wrong. But that did deter her from looking for a way to get rid of the Darkness. Perhaps, if we had kept looking, we could have been reunited sooner.” Alice shot him a tight smile, before looking down, remorseful.

Killian couldn’t have his daughter blaming herself in any way. He stopped her, grasping her shoulders with hand and hook, waiting patiently for her to meet his eye. “Listen to me, Starfish. You have nothing to feel upset about. Things happened the way they were bound to happen. Emma made a decision to be a mother first. If I were in her place, I would have done the same thing.”

Alice shook her head, pushing Killian away, her arms crossed petulantly. “This is all my fault. This started because you wanted to rescue me from that tower. Maybe I was better off-”

“No!” Killian snapped, making Alice jump. He wouldn’t blame her; even when she had been a child, he had never raised his voice at her, let alone as an adult. “You need to stop blaming yourself. That is far too heavy a burden to carry on your shoulders, love. Gothel trapped you in that tower, and nothing you could have said or done would have stopped either me or Emma from saving you. You’re our daughter - and that is what you do for your family, Alice. So, don’t you dare think we would be better off. You saved me from a life of a pointless pursuit for revenge, you were there for Emma all those years I was gone. I probably never would have met Emma if it weren’t for you. I owe everything to you, my darling.” He smiled, drawing her into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. “Enough with such talk. Let us get to Merlin.”

Another fifteen minutes of walking led father and daughter to a dilapidated bridge, both of them looking around concerned and confused. The more they ventured into Camelot, the more they were starting to realise that there was no one there; everything in Camelot seemed to be broken down, vines and shrubbery overgrown on the buildings. Everything looked abandoned, not like the thriving city Killian had come to expect.

“Are you sure this is the right place, Starfish?” Killian asked, helping her over a large, fallen pillar.

“Aye,” she said, jumping to the ground with a grunt. “At least, I think so. This is Camelot.”

“And this is where Merlin is supposed to be?” Killian asked with a scoff. “It looks like he hasn’t been here for a while.”

“Looks can be deceptive, Captain Jones,” a man’s voice spoke from behind them.

Killian and Alice whirled around, both of them drawing their cutlasses out and pointed them at the man’s throat. He seemed oddly calm, smiling at them despite the threat. Killian regarded him curiously: he was dressed in brown and gold robes, his arms at his sides and looking at them pleasantly, as if his life wasn’t being threatened. Killian could only think of one person who could be that brave.

“Merlin,” he declared, his sword still held pointed at the wizard.

“Indeed. Now, if you could be so kind as to lower your weapons…”

Killian and Alice complied, sheathing their weapons. But Killian couldn’t shake the wariness he felt. “What did you mean, ‘looks can be deceptive?’” Killian’s eyebrow raised questioningly at the wizard.

If possible, Merlin’s grin grew wider and he waved his hand. Killian and Alice gasped at their surroundings melted away like candle wax, the decrepit area replaced by a thriving town square, people milling around them, vendors selling their wares.

Killian and Alice gaped as they saw all the people - Killian could not wrap his head around the display of magic. Just a moment ago, the place had been completely empty and neglected.

“Just a simple glamour to keep out unsavory characters,” Merlin assured, his hands clasped in front of him. “Queen Guinevere had it put up when she formed the kingdom with Ser Lancelot,” he informed them.

Killian was taken aback; all the stories that he had heard in the Land without Magic, King Arthur was the ruler of Camelot, and Lancelot was just a knight. “What about King Arthur?”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head. “Arthur...Well, he was nothing but a disappointment. Thankfully, our queen recognised it and made sure the people did not suffer from his obsession and neglect.” He clapped his hands together, making father and daughter stare at one another doubtfully. “However, you are here for a different reason, aren’t you?”

Killian shared a look with Alice before he stepped forward. “Perhaps there is somewhere else for us to speak, mate? Somewhere private, maybe?”

-/-

Present: Enchanted Forest

Emma let out an agonising scream, straining heavily in her bonds, as Gothel’s newest creation wreaked havoc on her. The witch had been torturing Emma for the past week, injecting her with different concoctions, exploiting the Darkness in her to make her weaker. For so long, she had been able to manage having the Darkness be a part of her, had resisted using her magic for this very reason. Every time she had used her magic, it had been painful. It had taken her a year or two to get used to the Darkness and to train herself to draw from the light magic only. It had been fairly easy, there was hardly any dark magic in her. But she had not accounted for the Darkness to draw power from the light magic, never accounted for its growth.

The more the Darkness grew in her, the weaker she had become. She hadn’t noticed it all until a year ago when she had found Merlin. He had noticed the growing Darkness in her, he had been the one to tell her of her fate; he had also told her that there was no way for them to separate the dark and light magic in her. They exist as one and would be destroyed as one. Perhaps, if you had come to me sooner, he had said. He had been the one to tell her Killian would be the only other person who would be able to remove just the Darkness. It had originally been a part of him, and would thus go back to him, leaving her light magic behind. Theoretically, that would be the outcome. She had almost tested that theory out, before Alice had come back.

Unfortunately for Emma, Gothel had learnt her secret as well. She had been injecting Emma with different potions to activate the Darkness in her. The weaker Emma grew, the less resistant she could be to Gothel’s magic. She intended to get Emma as weak as she possibly could, before Gothel forced Emma to reveal the plan to get rid of the Darkness.

For the past week, Emma had been confident that she would be able to make it. Until today, Emma could feel the Darkness take root. She could feel the pain in every cell of her body, as if she was burning from within. It was unbearable, and Emma couldn’t help but cry out. She had almost given up, almost begged Gothel to make it stop - but she refused to give the witch that satisfaction. She was stronger than that - she was the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. Her parents had faced death with dignity; they might have been defeated, but they had their integrity. If Emma had to die, she would prefer to have her integrity intact. It was all she had left of her parents.

“My, my, aren’t you the stubborn one,” Gothel spat, wrapping her hand around Emma’s throat and squeezing. “But you are so weak now, Emma. You’re no match for my magic.”

“Do whatever the hell you want. You can never stop the Darkness from being destroyed.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear. You’re going to tell me exactly what your plan is, and I’m going to make certain you lot rue the day you met me.”

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Killian and Emma had managed to set up camp at a riverbed. He caught them some fish, despite not feeling hungry, and Emma built a fire. Alice, now awake, watched everything they did with rapt attention, and she even helped Killian catch fish, jumping with joy when she first felt the water lapping at her feet, the smaller fish tickling her as they swam past. Killian silently enjoyed her carefreeness, her heart soaring at her happiness. This was all he wanted for her - but he had never anticipated the price would have been so steep. He knew what needed to be done, now. He had no control over this Darkness. He was weak, he had succumbed to it before in the past, and he had let it take over today. He could not imagine what would happen when he was not strong enough to pull back. He had seen the way it had wrecked Baelfire’s family, seen what the Darkness had turned Rumplestiltskin into.

He did not want that for his family. He pulled out the magic bean he had been carrying with him for centuries, having stolen it from Pan on his very last visit to Neverland. He had held on to it in hopes that he would use it once he had freed Alice. But he needed to get away from here, where the temptation was always there. Nothing would be able to stop him from sinking, not even his family.

He had heard of the Land without Magic from Baelfire; he would use the bean to go there. He would make sure he did not have his memories, that he would have nothing that would bring him back here. Not until Emma had found a cure to this plague. She would understand his reasons, she had to. Killian could not handle being here, he did not want to fight against the Darkness for a second longer than he had to. And if he went to the Land without Magic, he wouldn’t have to.

Once the fish was caught, cooked, and consumed, Alice promptly fell asleep again. That was good, he decided. He would not be able to tell Alice goodbye; he couldn’t watch her cry again. He had hurt her enough.

“Killian?” Emma called out, pulling him away from his thoughts. “Is everything alright? Is it- is the Darkness speaking to you again?” she asked, worry evident in her tone.

He smiled at her half-heartedly, grabbing her right hand in his own, fiddling with the green stone ring on her finger. He remembered the night she had told him the story about it, about how her mother had stolen the ring from her father, and how Prince David found Snow White, and how they fell in love. He wanted something like that for them. He wanted True Love. He wanted to believe that they would find each other again, no matter how long it took.

“No, darling. Just my own thoughts that are keeping me awake.”

“Do you want to talk about it? After all, aren’t married people supposed to share their burdens?” Emma teased, smiling coyly at him.

“Oh, Swan,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him. Emma snuggled into his body, pressing her nose to his neck, exhaling softly. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Jones.”

He closed his eyes, revelling in the moment, burning it to his memory. He needed just a moment, where everything was alright. He had finally managed to free his child, and he was engaged to the woman he loved. If it weren’t for the Darkness, this would be the best moment of his life; he wanted to pretend that it was. Just for a moment.

So he did, but he pulled away the next. “I need to talk to you, Emma.”

Emma pursed her lips, staring at him seriously. “Why do I get the feeling that I won’t like what you are about to say?”

“Oh, you will most surely hate it. But I-”

“Don’t say it,” she cut him off. “Don’t do it. Whatever you are thinking of - don’t.”

He sighed deeply, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away. She eyed him warily, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. “You don’t get to hold my hand and break my heart, Killian.”

“Dammit, Emma. I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m doing this for you,” Killian snapped, standing up and starting to pace. “I need to leave, get far away from here. I am not strong enough to control this. I will descend much deeper into the Darkness, and I cannot come out of it. I will hurt you and Alice. I don’t want that.”

“What about what we want?” Emma whispered, eerily calm. “What about what I want? I want you to stay, and fight this. You have us, lean on us.” She stood up too, her eyes glassy with tears, her teeth biting the inside of her cheek.

“I can’t, Emma. Please, don’t make me. I can’t fight. I will fail, and I don’t want that. I don’t want this Darkness. I never should have taken the Dagger.” Killian could hear the desperation in his own voice.

Emma let out a long, shuddering breath. “What do you want to do?” she asked, after a long silence.

And so he told her, every detail of his plan laid out in front of Emma. He could practically see how every word out of his mouth broke her heart a little bit more. But she let him talk and listened attentively. She didn’t say a word, not until he was done.

“You’ll be in this Land without Magic, and you will not have any of your memories, is that right?” she asked softly, her eyes trained on the ground.

He waited a beat, hoping she would look up at him. But when it became evident that she wouldn’t, he replied with a simple ‘Aye.’

She took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, nodding to herself. She finally looked him in the eye, her gaze sharp and determined, every bit the stubborn, strong woman he had fallen in love with. “I will get the answer to this dilemma, and I will come for you. I will find you.” Her words were confident and firm. Before he could thank her, however, she cut him off. “Do not think for one moment that this doesn’t break my heart.”

He swallowed thickly, knowing that there was only one thing left to you. “I need to leave now. Before Alice wakes up.”

Emma’s brows pulled together, and he could sense her anger. “You’re not even going to tell your daughter goodbye?” she demanded.

“I can’t do it, Emma. She will be devastated, she will make me stay. I can’t allow that to happen.”

She stared at him quietly, her rage radiating off of her in waves, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring. “You are a coward, Killian Jones,” she declared.

He hung his head in shame, moving toward his sleeping daughter, kneeling beside her. His throat was thick with tears, his heart hurt simply thinking about leaving her. He had never been so far from her - now, not only would he be in another realm, he would have no memory of her. It was for the best, though. It had be.

He squeezed his eyes shut, brushing Alice’s hair away from her forehead, pressing the lightest of kisses there, lingering for a moment before he pulled away. He took her in for a moment, knowing that he would miss watching her grow up. Just a few years, he told himself. You will see her in a few years.

“You don’t have to leave, Killian.” Emma’s soft voice floated through the air. “You could stay.”

Killian got up, taking one last look at his daughter before he turned to Emma. “Have you come up with a way to replace my memories in the Land without Magic?” he asked her, ignoring her statements.

She sighed, clearly still angry with him, but nodded. “I can modify your existing memories, I can store the real ones in a Dreamcatcher.”

“Let us do this, then.”

-/-

Present: Camelot

“This is yours?” Killian asked, tracing the hilt of Excalibur, Merlin’s name etched on the blade. It looked just like the Dark One’s dagger, only much longer and with an end missing. But Merlin explained that as well - how he had forged Excalibur, how the sword was broken by the first Dark One, how the Dark One had murdered his love, Nimue. How he tethered the Darkness to the Dagger.

The Darkness hissed at that, screaming at Killian to destroy the wizard and ravage Camelot, to let it free. He was thankful for the cuff preventing him from doing any magic, because he was certain he would have given in. He could hear the whispers from the Dagger, driving him insane.

“Yes,” Merlin answered. “Now you know everything you need to. We need to hurry, rid the world of this Darkness. Once and for all.”

“What about Gothel?” Alice asked. “What if she decides to stop us?”

“She will need to go through me, then,” Killian piped up, his jaw clenched tight. “Where do we need to go to find this Promethean flame?” he asked, addressing Merlin.

“It’s not too far, but I need to warn you. This is your battle, Killian. The Darkness will try everything to convince you not to do this. You will either win, or it will take over you, forever. There can be no cuff stopping you from using your magic,” Merlin warned. “This is ancient magic, more powerful than you could ever imagine. You did not have to face its true extent for decades, if what you say is true.”

“Aye, I understand.” Killian had made up his mind - after everything his daughter and Emma had sacrificed for him, he needed to step up. He had to face everything he had run away from, and he needed to start with the Darkness.

“Papa, perhaps we should talk about this?” Alice suggested, looking vexed at the task ahead of them. “Couldn’t I do this?” she asked Merlin.

“No, Starfish. It is my turn to take care of you now. I need to face my demons. And I will,” Killian vowed. He turned to Merlin. “Tell me everything I need to do, and I will do it.”

-/-

Present Day: Enchanted Forest

Emma panted heavily, her wrists sore from the constant friction against the shackles, feeling weak and useless as Gothel used her vile magic to delve into her mind. It was the worst torment, feeling a strange presence in her mind, moving through her thoughts and memories, invading her. It was a great violation, one that left her sick to her stomach. No matter how much she tried to resist, Gothel’s magic was stronger than Emma’s.

If there was any light magic left in her, it was hindered by the shackles she wore or was buried deep under layers of dark magic. Emma wanted to cry; her light magic had been the only constant in her life, and for it to be violated and corrupted, hurt in innumerable ways. She had never thought there could exist a person so cruel, a person who understood how precious natural magic was and could still inflict such horrors on another, like Gothel was.

She had tried so hard, for so long, to fight. But she had lost all ability to - and if she was being honest with herself, all will to. Emma was tired of being strong. She had finally been broken, and she did not have the fight left in her. She knew that was what Gothel wanted, and she had tried so hard not to give the witch that satisfaction - but she couldn’t hold on anymore.

Emma closed her eyes, tears running down the corners of her eyes, and she gave complete control of herself to Gothel. The Darkness had won.

-/-

20 years ago: Enchanted Forest

Emma gave the Dreamcatcher to Killian, not able to bring herself to take his memories. He understood, knowing that what he had already asked of her was a great enough price. She could not believe what Killian was about to do. She was certain that it was the Darkness in him that had made him so paranoid and so selfish. She would have fought him on his decision, if she had been talking to Killian alone. But the Darkness was unpredictable, and she could understand Killian’s fear. She might not support his decision, but she could at least understand where he came from.

She stood to the side, as she watched him perform the spell to transfer his memories on to the Dreamcatcher once he had crossover to the other realm. She still had him here with her, for a few moments at least. She fiddled with her mother’s ring for a moment before she took it off all together. Emma approached Killian, both of them smiling shakily at each other.

“My pirate,” she whispered fondly, looking up at him, her eyes roaming over every inch of his face, etching him into her memory. “It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

“Aye. Emma. I am sorry, love.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek softly, looking at her with a kind of broken tenderness that made her gut clench.

She pressed her mother’s ring in his palm, shocking him. He stared at her, his lips moving wordlessly. “I just thought - Well, you gave me a ring. It felt right, to give you my mother’s. It’s a promise, I guess. And- We never got to the wedding, technically, and I expect that once you come back. But until then….” She trailed off, closing his fingers around the ring.

“Until then,” he vowed, softly, but with great conviction.

She nodded, swallowing hard at the lump in her throat. It was useless, though, as tears welled heavy in her eyes. She clutched the lapel of his greatcoat tightly, pulling him down to her. She pressed their lips together, kissing him with everything she had, wet and desperate, their breaths mingling every time they pulled back for air. She was loathe to end it, biting down on his lip. Killian was the one to pull away, his hand on her shoulder, both of them breathing heavily.

He pulled the Dagger from inside his jacket, handing it to Emma with a trembling hand. “Hold on to this for me, aye?”

Emma took the Dagger with both hands, her thumb tracing his name etched in the metal. “There’s still time to change your mind.”

“Swan.”

“I know...I - I don’t know how long it will be until I see you again. What if I never find a way to save you? You’re immortal, I am not.”

Killian nodded, his eyes serious and unwavering. “I know, love. And I think I know a way to prevent that.”

“What?” she asked, curious. He hesitated, looking at her with a strange, apologetic look in his eyes. “What is it?” she demanded, pulling away from him completely.

“I’m sorry, Emma. I couldn’t think of another way,” he said, sounding helpless.

“What do you-”

But before she could finish the sentence, he released a burst of magic her way. Emma gasped, feeling the Darkness hit her, the force of it sending her flying. She felt her magic flare up to fight against the invading power, the heavy, foul magic pushing its way through. Emma could feel it flow through her veins, her entire body unbearably hot. She could hardly move, laying slumped against a tree.

Emma gaped at Killian, the betrayal causing bile to rise in her throat, tears of anger threatening to fall. He looked remorsefully at her, his heartbreak apparent on his features.

“I am so sorry, Swan,” he called out. He threw the bean to the ground, the portal opening up immediately. “I love you. This was the only way I could make sure we see other again.”

Emma choked on a sob, feeling breathless and crippled, watching as Killian walked through the portal, leaving her with a gaping hole in her chest, and whatever spell he hit her with, destroying both her heart and soul, in one fell swoop.

#cs ff #knightrook #csbb #cs angst #tw: gothel

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