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miyagihawk · 3 years

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why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062

The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you.

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

#eli moskowitz #hawk cobra kai #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz x reader #hawk imagine #hawk x reader #cobrakai #hawk moskowitz

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19gumi · 3 years

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WHEN THE SUN SETS | KUROO TETSUROU

Summary: Kuroo hates the way he can never tell what’s on your mind (and also, you eat your cherries ridiculously slowly)

Genre: Fluff (childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining)

Word count: 1.8k

Porcelain plates now stained with chocolate are neatly tossed to the side, bearing the remnants of the croissants Kuroo treated the two of you with. Secluded in your favorite part of the park, you try to get one last whiff of the sweet pastry that you ate a little too quickly for your liking, making a mental note to pay that bakery another visit soon.

The final beams of sunlight graze your face as you observe the birds above you, hurrying to find a shelter before the rosy sky hues turn dark blue. You’ve missed their renowned song – the winter fell into a silence after their departure, sometimes too deafening when paired up with the freezing December cold.

Your field of vision is obstructed by a muscular arm reaching for the cherries in the bowl placed beside your head. You observe his Adam’s apple move as he swallows the fruit, eyes focused on the horizon sprawled in front of him. And then they suddenly shift to your figure, your head soundly placed in his lap.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles in your shoulder.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Dunno. You seemed lost in thought.”

You’re about to respond when his body abruptly shifts under yours, the motion prompting you to sit up straight. Kuroo’s hand flies to the back of his head, and you assume he’s received a hit to it.

That is shortly proven to be true when a distressed mother shouts after her son who you don’t even notice at first, standing a foot away from the two of you. His arms are folded behind his back, lips pouting as his eyes search for the ball he had previously been playing with.

Kuroo’s furrowed brows shift back to their original shape, face muscles relaxing as he takes in the sight of the kindergartener. The mother pants as she approaches the two of you, crouching down next to the child that you assumed wasn’t more than 5 years old.

“Hi, I’m very sorry to have caused-“

Kuroo swats his arms in the air. “It’s not a big deal really, didn’t even hurt.” He then smiles at the kid, extending his hand towards him. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo.”

The kid buries his head in the crook of his mother’s neck as a response, refusing Kuroo’s handshake. She spots the ball and sends him off to pick it up, sighing deeply.

“He gets shy sometimes,” she chuckles, scratching her forehead.

Couple of more apologies and one goodbye later, the sun now long hidden and the moon greeting you (this time only one half of it), Kuroo wishes he could take a peek at your mind.

He knows that’s not possible, though, leaving him with the only option of staring at the side of your face, alluringly illuminated under the evening sky. Admiring the faint glint in your eyes, he sighs when he realizes he is about to go to bed with the same unanswered questions another night in a row.

Kuroo is too lost in the way his fingertips itch to sink themselves in your cheeks, his body starving for that addicting warmth of yours – the one he sensed once for the first time many years ago and never wanted to let go of again.

You turn your head around unreasonably quickly – he’s unprepared and so, so exposed. The look in his eyes is soft, way too soft for you to have a full view of it. He hasn’t said a word, but the faint burning in the pit of his stomach convinces him he’s spilled the most tender secrets of his.

“You know,” you begin, reaching for the bowl with cherries behind you. You chew painfully slow, he thinks, the time that it takes for you to swallow the cherry seeming like an eternity.

“That child from earlier,” you continue at last, fiddling with your hands in your lap. “He reminded me of myself when I was his age.”

Kuroo doesn’t know what he was hoping for, but your words do cause a change in his stance. “How so?”

And there you are, flashing him your signature smile one more time. The enigmatic one, the exact one that he’s been trying to decipher unceasingly.

The same one that causes him to miss serves in practice.

The one that keeps him from entering the world of his dreams at night, but also the one that makes him feel like he’s living the sweetest fantasies of his when he gets to see it up close.

“Just like the birds we watched earlier, the pink sky alerts everyone that it’s time to find a shelter for the night,” you glance at him, to which he nods, prompting you to continue. “My mom would always tell me to go straight home once the sky changed colors, and you know I always followed that rule.”

“Yeah, I remember going home and sulking during dinner because I didn’t get to spend more time with you.”

He mouths an ‘ouch!’ when you poke him in the ribs, clutching at his chest. “Dramatic much?” you chuckle, rubbing circles in his back.

“Anyway,” you continue, retracting your hand. “Sometimes I’d lose my toys just like that child from earlier did, but I wouldn’t have enough time to look for them. The street lights would already be turned on and I didn’t want the monsters to catch me.”

Kuroo lets out a hearty laugh. “Monsters? What monsters?”

You shift your eyes towards your hands, which he sees as a chance to inch closer, just enough for him to feel your shoulder against his.

“Dunno,” you say. “But I knew once I’d reach my mom’s arms that I was safe. She’d always nag at me for forgetting to wash my hands – when in reality I didn’t, I always remembered to do it. But I guess I craved that noise which served as an additional proof that I was secure between the four walls of my room, when the silence of the night was the loudest.”

“Well aren’t you a poetic one [name],” he teases, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

A hush descends between the two of you. Kuroo can feel his lips bruising as he chews on them, unsure whether to verbalize the words that could possibly hint at the desires he held close to his heart.

In the end he does it anyway. “It’s way past sunset now, though. So why,” his voice cracks, before he swiftly disguises it as a cough. Or at least he tries to. “Why aren’t you rushing to get home? What if as we speak, the monsters are actually coming to get you?”

It’s your turn to stare at his side profile now, your pulse forming an unsteady rhythm in your throat as you study the slope of his nose, unsure of what was about to come next.

A confession? Were you really ready to ruin a decade long friendship just because rather than playing catch with him you wanted to kiss his lips instead?

His question is silly, you aren’t that eight year old child anymore – the one who’d run away and leave their friends in the street the same instant the clock stroke seven-thirty.

It’s way past seven now, air breezy and short of any sunrays piercing through it, but not even the scariest monster in this world could make you budge from the tranquility surrounding you in this very moment.

It’s almost as if the thought of a life without Kuroo Tetsurou horrifies you more than anything else that’s out in the wild, waiting for you.

“That’s what I was wondering too”, you sigh. “It might be because you’re here.”

And just like that, your secret is disclosed; it’s a simple statement that makes your lungs feel lighter, the burden of having to bear it within your chest for so long now easing with every exhale you take.

He gulps. The arm around your shoulders seems to have become stiffer, too. He’s already close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheek and all you wish for is to lean into his embrace, all of this talk turning your eyelids heavy.

“But I was there all those years ago as well. What changed?”

“Well, for starters, I was what, eight years old?” you scoff, meeting his eyes momentarily before you let your head fall on his chest, inhaling deeply. You have yearned for the scent of the fresh new leaves ever since they wilted last October. “I guess I wasn’t in love with you back then, Tetsu.”

It’s silent. You think it’s unfair – everything you’ve built over the years rapidly slipping through your fingers, just because of one sentence full of longing, anticipation. But then his arm travels down to wrap itself around your waist, the other one finding its way to the nape of your neck.

It’s not the first time he’s heard those words leave your mouth - his imagination has deceived him multiple times already. He’d wake up only to find himself clinging onto his pillow, providing enough heat to trick him into thinking it belonged to you.

However, your scent is way too real for everything to be fake this time around; it simply can’t be. The words he’s been longing to hear are there, the confession lingering in the air only for him and the trees around you to know.

All it takes now is for you to learn his answer, even though the way he’s pulling you into his body gives you an idea of what it might be.

“Do you know why I never went home before you did?” he asks.

“Mm. Why?” your voice is muffled by his hoodie, the vibration sending chills down his spine. He’s convinced now. This is truly his reality he’d always been wishing for.

“Because you were there,” he tilts his head, moving your chin so you can look up at him. He’s grinning, and if he didn’t just admit he was in love with you, you’d probably be now telling him how lame you thought he was. “I couldn’t understand it then, the way your presence made me feel at peace. I realized what it was only when we started high school. I didn’t want to say anything, though.”

“So?”

“So,” he says, his hand leaving your waist to join his other one on your face, lightly squishing your cheeks. “I’m very much in love with you, too.”

His gaze momentarily shifts to your lips, before it’s back on your eyes. “I really want to kiss you, [name].”

The entirety of your body heat accumulates in your face, and his fingers effortlessly melt against it, your body sinking into the grassy earth as if it’s sand.

“Do you?” you ask, your thumb grazing his bottom lip.

“Yes. Can I?”

You nod, and Kuroo swears his heart skips a beat. Hypnotized, he allows his eyes to flutter shut, ready to memorize all the various flavors you have to offer.

When finally he gets to savor your bare, delicate skin - sweeter than anything he has ever tasted before, it’s like the world stops for the both of you.

Or maybe you only drift to your own, each swipe of his tongue guiding you through a new route, the destination of which has yet to be discovered.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsuro x you #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff

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notnctu · 4 years

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to jaemin, my best friend’s boyfriend ♡

To All The J’s I’ve Loved Before Series by notnctu ♡ na jaemin x fem!reader ♡ genre - angst ♡ wc - 2.3k ♡ warnings - the act of cheating, explicit language ♡ synopsis - in which a kiss causes more consequences than satisfaction ♡ taglist - @colpen ; @cestmoncoeur ; @hyucksberry ; @lexiluness ; @lovelycharm05 ; @dearlyminhyung ; @classic-antifood ; @pikijaemin ; @whorefortaeyong ; @jaeismytamtation ; @skrtbeepbeep ; @justakpopstans ; @macaroni-sly ♡ a/n - let us know if you want to be on the taglist for the next ones!

Jaemin,

Writing this letter seems wrong. The feelings I had developed for you were wrong. I shouldn’t have fallen for your wide, sparkling smile. Or your dazzling, charming eyes. Or your deep, soulful song. You were everything that I envisioned in a happy relationship, but the thing was, you were already in one.

The moment she introduced us I tried to suppress whatever beating of my heart I felt when we made eye contact. She was my best friend and you were her boyfriend. But, I looked at you in the most selfish way.

I knew I liked you when you became my only motive to leave my house. When I felt the jealousy of your hand dangling on her shoulder. When I started to think about you more than I should’ve. When I couldn’t breathe at the sight of your happiness. I stole moments from you two like I wanted them to be ours. But the truth is, we never had an us. At least, that was what I thought before we kissed.

The kiss was wrong too, but you felt so right in my arms. The night was almost perfect, I know you remember it as well as I do. You showed up at my door with tear stained cheeks and just fell into my arms. You told me I felt safe. I was the only person that made you feel that way, not her, not anyone else. Me.

I replay the scene in my head at night and the feelings I felt when our lips met. You tasted like serenity and I was greedy thinking about how she took it for granted.

It’s so hard for me to admit these feelings and write them out. I have so much more reflecting to do and you’re honestly right to stop talking to me. But I fucking miss you like somehow I can’t live without you in my life anymore.

I beat myself up for falling hard for my best friend’s boyfriend. But somewhere along the lines and the times we spent together, even with her, you became much more than that to me.

I think I loved you, close to it probably. You were a feeling that intoxicated me so wonderfully, how could someone not wish to drown in all that you had to offer?

Jaemin, I really don't regret kissing you because she didn’t deserve you. I said it, she didn’t. We’re no longer friends, and it was for the better. She didn’t even seem hurt when I told her, like she was expecting it.

Maybe I had been too obvious with my feelings towards you, but she didn’t seem phased and let you go so easily. And trust me, you are not someone to let go easily.

I miss you. I’m not saying I deserve you either, knowing that I didn’t even respect your relationship. All I just want is for you to also acknowledge you felt something too. Even for a second, that I made your heart stop for longer than she could’ve.

-from my selfish thoughts, y/n

Na Jaemin had to be the most selfish love you’ve ever experienced. You were doomed from the moment you laid eyes on him walking hand in hand with your best friend. The sun rays highlighted his goofy, wide smile and added a distinct twinkle in his dark eyes.

The way he kissed the back of her hand when he’d bid her goodbye. The pout that appeared when she refused to give him a small kiss. The loving stares that he only gave her. The bear hugs that engulfed her small figure. The melodic laughs that played when he radiated happiness. The possessive arm that always draped around her shoulder.

Morals were thrown out the window when you felt the heavy, fast paced beating of your heart and your lingering stares exposed you before you could think twice. It was a wrong that felt right because of her mistreatment towards him.

There was absolutely no place for you to judge someone else’s relationship, but Jaemin’s sad eyes spoke louder than anything else in the room. It was her neglect and constant lack of reassurance that this puppy craved. However, your best friend was always lost in her own world and it was sometimes hard to even call her your best friend.

Her disappearances and silence made it easy to distance yourself from her friendship, but she came crawling back when she needed you. In some ways, you felt that she treated Jaemin the same way too.

So on this lonely night, when the couple would rather spend their evening strictly together, jealousy settled in your system in a horrible, distasteful way. Panning mindlessly through your friends’ social media, an adorable picture of Jaemin appeared on your screen. The moon crescents on his face from his big, beautiful smile and the signature peace sign. It had been posted barely an hour ago by her and a part of you wished that you never saw it.

How many times do you have to remind yourself? You were not entitled to their dates because they’re the ones in the relationship. Jaemin was only nice enough to always let you tag along. You took advantage of these offers, knowing that sometimes he invited you out of courtesy and not because they actually wanted you to be there. She mainly stopped inviting you because she noticed the hearts in your eyes whenever Jaemin looked in your direction.

The loud ding! of your phone startled you from your jealous thoughts. Your heart stopped when his name popped up on your screen and the message that accompanied it.

na jaemin: open your door pls ): she said you’d be home

you: you two are outside right now?

na jaemin: just me

The door revealed the unexpected company that stood with slumped shoulders on the other side. Jaemin’s red, puffy eyes blinked at the floor. His stature hunched forward in a depressing feat and droplets stained the hallway carpet at his feet.

“Hey, is everything okay?” Confusion, concern, cautious. He stepped inside when you allowed and lost himself in your arms. His heavy, tall figure almost caused you to lose your balance. Regardless, you caught him and embraced him tightly. He sobbed aggressively into your hair, and your hand patted his back awkwardly.

Jaemin hurried to your room, embarrassed if any of your housemates would catch him crying in their living room. Following the crying child, you grabbed a few snacks from the kitchen as a resource of comfort.

“I---” He peeked up at you through his wet eyelashes. “--didn’t know who else to go to. You’re the only person who I actually feel comfortable going to about all of this.”

The happy boy from the photo was no longer present before you. It was like someone shattered him in every way possible or he devastatingly dropped his ice cream cone. The urge to kiss away his tears held onto you strong, but the will to fight it was the only thing that kept you from acting out. You merely wanted to bring his smile back.

“What happened? I thought you two were on a date, it seemed so fun!” There was a lack of enthusiasm and cheerfulness in your voice. Jaemin knew you had no way of lying to him.

He sighed and wiped the tears that kept falling, “maybe if you had been there, all of this could have been avoided.”

“Jaemin, I can’t be at all of your dates as collateral damage. She already hates me hanging out with you two all the time.” You sat next to him on your bed. Almost instinctively, he pulled you into his side and rested his head at your neck. The intimate position made your heart beat sporadically and uncomfortably, scared that Jaemin would listen in to how easily he affected you.

His lips tickled your skin as he mumbled, “no one else has made me feel so safe before, not even her. That’s why I ended up here, the place that was going to protect me from the pain I felt today.”

His confession stunned you to a great magnitude. Until now, Jaemin has never expressed how he felt about you, even as his new friend. It had come to a shock to you that he admitted how you were his guardian angel, someone he’d turn to at a desperate time. He recognized he selfishly needed you to take away all the bad parts of life. To be with you meant only good times and a resolve that was nothing less of perfection.

Then, what happened next was the unthinkable and the unstoppable. Jaemin held you at your shoulders, coming face to face to your still shocked expression. You two blinked back at each other in the silence. Jaemin saw your wandering eyes that admired his pink lips. He never noticed before how pretty you truly were, not simply by appearance. He knew your heart contained something much more innocent than his own.

He leaned in and there was no hesitation on your part. His hot breath mixed with your own as he kissed you fruitfully and open mouthed. It was hard to pull away from something you had been yearning for since the moment you two met. The one thing you craved was the flavor of his lips and his tongue to lap with your’s. He tasted like every heaven that existed, serenity and tranquility.

A hot kiss that produced an addictive warmth in your chest. Your heart was beyond ready to burst at how you were kissing your best friend’s boyfriend. Anger rested in your thoughts at how she managed to take all of him for granted. He was too hard to let go, the feeling of him belonging in your arms. The mixture of feelings overwhelmed your body, pulsing through every vein with a thrilling love.

Jaemin kept surprising you throughout the night. Everything from him seemed platonic, like he didn’t bother to bat an eyelash at you or see you affectionately. But you were kissing him, in the most passionate way. Maybe you were being slightly delusional, but he devoured you greedily, like he had been wanting to taste you too.

His hand traveled to your jawline and caressed your cheek lovingly. Jaemin also pulled you closer by the end of your shirt, your right leg rested on top of his thigh. As you took everything you’ve ever wished for, guilt began to build at your needy fingertips. Not guilt that he had a girlfriend, but guilt that you had no self control and respect for his wavering, weak heart. You couldn’t be with Jaemin given the situation of how this had all started.

With a pop! you released one another. Jaemin’s lustful eyes widen, turning doe-like and apologetic. Confused stares and a sense of reflection on what had just happened. A million questions ran through Jaemin’s mind as he saw how plump, and red your lips had become.

His initial feeling coming here has grown to be much worse. There was a sickly, awful feeling that pulled at his heartstrings. How could he ruin even the good parts of his life?

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His head dropped into his palms, gathering deep breaths. His thoughts were intoxicated, too clouded for any possible good judgement. “That should’ve never happened.”

“Jaemin, I’m sorry. We can just pretend it didn’t.” The feelings of love were being replaced by pain, probably the same Jaemin felt walking into your apartment.

He shook his head, repeating no in nothing above a whisper. “We can’t pretend and stay friends like this.”

“Wait, you’re ending our friendship over a mindless kiss?”

The sad boy stood up and his hands balled up in a tight fist. The true secret was that he was incredibly angry with himself. “It wasn’t mindless, it was a mistake. I can’t look at you the same when you kissed me back with so much feeling. I can’t be around you knowing that I’d want to kiss you again.”

Like a trigger, the tears slipped down your cheeks quietly. You both were aware of the consequences you had to face from a simple kiss. You just weren’t prepared for them yet. “Okay, you’re right. It’s only for the best and I’m not like her. I will prioritize you before my own feelings.”

Jaemin sighed loudly, like he was emptying all the air in his lungs. His jaw tightened at your words, “whatever happens, just know you are not the only one at fault. I won’t let her pin this on you.”

Despite such a betrayal, he was such a noble person. Telling her didn’t even cross your mind because that would have to open another can of worms you kept sealed. But Jaemin would be practically eaten alive with this secret and this, you knew all too well.

“I’m sorry, not to her, but that I let my selfishness lose you.” You stood up by his side. He held your face once more, a thumb rubbing your stained skin.

A small, hopeless smile appeared on his tired canvas. “I’m sorry to you too. We need the distance to reflect on the past few months.”

With that, you walked your crush to the door. He checked his phone to reveal several missed calls and texts from his girlfriend. Sighing, he turned to hug you briefly, afraid of lingering for too long.

“Lastly, I want to thank you for being a temporary solace and for dealing with even my vulnerable sides.”

“I really don’t deserve you because you deserve someone who makes you happy.” Your tears choked you, making it incredibly difficult to speak without sounding like a mess.

Jaemin wasn’t going to waste his tears on you. He couldn’t possibly be hurting the same as you were, or so you thought. “As do you. I don’t deserve you either.”

He kissed you like he meant something from it and that’s why he needed distance. He was afraid of admitting his own feelings because his moral compass didn’t allow it.

A kiss brought more pain than it did satisfaction. If you could erase the ugly parts that followed, you would do it in a heartbeat. Jaemin was your’s momentarily, despite all the confusion and the consequences.

#nct scenarios #jaemin scenarios #na jaemin scenario #nct #na jaemin #jaemin #nct series #nct scenario #nct imagines #nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenario #jaemin angst #nct angst #nct dream reactions #kpop scenarios #to all the j's i've loved before

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sukunas-play-thing · 4 years

Text

Keigo Takami(Hawks) xFem!Reader

A/N: This.This sinful display was solely created for pure filth and depravity. I'm so horny for this Bird that I am literally. Writing a fic about fucking him, his ankles. And wings. Yes you heard me. Inspiration hit while talking to @lady-bakuhoe and she fully supported this. Also, real quick to that anon that sent me hate, including @makoodles rather you're the same anon or nah. We talk to each other. Remember that next time you send hate. this is a big fuck you to you. Because we don't need that negativity. How Dare you attack ppl under the ruse of Jo's name she kept apologizing to me because of YOU. So yeah Fuck you. And to those still reading this. I love you. And enjoy this Hawks smut. Y'know ya want it;)

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Warning: heavily NSFW content, ankle play (possible foot fetish?), wing play, orgasm denial, degradation, minor phone play?, body worship, cock warming, blow jobs, palming, choking, bondage. Whelp. Think that's it for that.

Description: You and the № 2 hero suffer great sexual frustration due to lack of personal time together, constantly rescheduling, a lot of late nights lying in bed waiting for him to come home safe. You've finally. Had enough.

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Hawks x Fem!Reader

°Human Anatomy °

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"I'm sorry baby. I love you-"

you deleted the voice message Keigo left you on your answering machine. This is the fourth -no FIFTH time he had to reschedule your date. And you were out right floored with anger. And it wasn't even Keigo's fault. "Stupid hero society. Stupid villains." You muttered to no one in particular as you could literally taste the acid in your mouth. If you saw anyone other than Hawks in this moment. You Would, could and will literally. Spit acid and burn through your humiliation and anger. Tossing your keys on a nearby vanity, throwing your coat on the ground you stomped off to the only place you could feel tranquil and relaxed. A long, scolding hot bubble bath with good tunes playing. You could cry. Thinking of the last time you two even had sex. Of course you shame yourself for being so selfish. It truly wasn't his fault, and you were not about to complain about him not having time for you, because it's just that. His job. His life's work. You went into this relationship fully respecting, and understanding exactly what you were getting yourself into. It took you years just to get Hawks in your bedroom, let alone as a couple for the mere fact the relationship was not allowed from the Hero safety commission. When word had gotten out about your relationship you heard from Keigo that they demanded it be cut off immediately. Why? You weren't sure. Keigo never really told you as to why they manhandled his entire life to evolve purely on work alone. And you were far to respectful to press further on the issue. Instead biting your tongue with such Fury it nearly bled. And taking what you have with Keigo as luck. Yes. You were lucky to get this far with him, and Odin be damned if you gave up on him now. So now, here you were, angry, alone and on the verge of tears while you waited for your bath. Music played on deaf ears, the loneliness slowly creeping. Along with the throb of yearning and desperation between your thighs. You quivered. Moving your hands between your legs to relieve much needed friction. You could play with yourself, you could bring out your trusty vibrator, get a good orgasm and knock out for the night. But you shook the thought out of your head faster than you would blink. Because you didn't want a damn toy to please you. You were far past using toys at this point now, you needed, no craved Keigo. His whole being. You missed his smell, you missed his smile, his eyes, his hair, begrudgingly his wings regardless of the mess they'd leave behind. You whimpered out of pure want, that it hurt. You noticed the water nearly reaching over the tub. Quickly shutting it off you climbed off the edge and made a beeline for your room. Opening the door to the scent of his cologne. You inhaled it and sighed contented. A small smile gracing your features while rummaging through your drawers. While also looking through your closet for that lingerie set you bought ages ago. You stared at it sitting sinfully on your bed. It's vibrant colors desperately calling for you to wear it. Before feeling a pang in your heart. A small voice telling you you'll never be able to wear it for it's full potential, throwing it carelessly in your closet you went into the bathroom stripping and getting into the tub. ¥¥¥¥¥¥

My neck is breaking, body shaking Sometimes it's so hard to breathe You took in a sharp inhale of breath. Closing your eyes as if the lyrics and musician was reaching into your heart and soul. But no one sees it follows me I always end up underneath You see Keigo's smile. See him laying next to you while you both talked, bodies still covered in sweat from your recent activities until the sun came up. The weight of the world Tears fell from your face. Emotions finally overtaking your entire being until you finally crack under the weight. Shooting up from the laying position you were in furiously wiping your face in disgust. This has gone long enough. As you were cleaning the bathroom up you hear the door closing and shuffling of feet padding against the cold floor. "Baby?." Your heart lept from your throat. Before rushing out of the bathroom seeing Keigo. All in his glory, standing at the threshold of the living room, eyes warn heavy with sleep and his hands in his pockets. You saw the way his face lit up. How his wings flexed upon your figure standing just a few feet away from your towel clad body. You didn't give him time to make another comment, before your body clashed against him. It's been far too long. He chuckles, regaining balance you almost knock out of him. Wings fully enveloping you into a tight, warm embrace as you took in his scent. "God I needed you so badly." You mumbled. Keigo let out a hearty breath. Before tightening his hold on you. "M'sorry baby. For Everything." Your half expecting him to make a sexual, cocky remark. But still enjoyed this glow. Of warmth, safety and love from just the hug. Before you felt the body numbing throb in your loins. You felt you slick pool from your core and you nearly salivate at the thought of him taking you right here on the floor. The feeling was so overwhelming that you mewled deliciously in his chest. Wings feathering up sending a jolt straight to his cock he moaned.

"Damn babe. Can't even make me dinner first?." There it was.

You slapped his chest playfully before sauntering off into your room. Of course without rolling your hips that reeks of needing dick down. Keigo's eyes never leaving your form. Blood rushing to his dick straining his pants even tighter. He began walking towards the bedroom while simultaneously rubbing himself of the tension. "I wasn't expecting you back until later. Hadn't had time to cook." His smirk soon fell into a frown. She must've been so upset with the cancellation she didn't bother cooking. His heart fell with guilt head low while he mumbled another 'Sorry.' Under his breath. He quickly discarded his over-sized jacket, eyewear and headset on the floor carelessly and flopping on the bed.

Granted it should've hurt the base of his wings, but they merely unfolded and layed lazily across the bed, the one wing dangling off the side. Turning your head you would've scolded him for leaving a mess. But he ended up making a mess of you. You could see his delicious dick print through his trousers, heavy and hard. Watching the small rise and fall of his chest, seeing how his under shirt hugged his upper body, you rubbed your thighs together for much needed friction. Still clad in your towel, you walked over to the front of the bed, his eyes lidded watching you as you helped take off his shoes for him. "Why don't ya take that towel off for me too pretty bird." Your body froze. He let out a throaty, husky groan. "Do it for Daddy."

As you were yanking the bastard off your needy body, the sheer excitedness disappeared as fast at it came when his phones call ringtone filled the once quiet room. All tranquility gone along with your last straw. Keigo instinctively took it out and answered, much to your dismay. Not that he wanted to fuck you over in this moment, it's out of pure habit. "Yes?." His voice said from the other side of the phone. Before watching his eyes roll and a grumble escaped his mouth. Lifting a finger he mouthed "meeting. One moment." It was your turn to roll your eyes. Canceling dates is one thing. But right as he's about to get his dick wet? Fucking demented. "Yes I'll hold." His voice brought you from you angry monologue. You shifted in place as Keigo kept mouthing apologies, while he was speaking, you decided to act now, or forever hold your peace. Crawling your way towards his limp body, Keigo almost didn't realize you were hovering right above him until it was too late. He stopped abruptly, watching you with calculate eyes. Before you leaned down and began suckling his skin shown just above the neckline of his hero shirt. His eyes closed in bliss as his cock rose to life instantaneously. It' astounds him the power you have over his body. His Dick was completely flaccid until now, you bit down on his sweet spot as he let out a throaty moan. Which in turn shot a pleasurable jolt to your pussy. Eliciting a moan from you. "Fuck baby." He went to run his hands through your tresses to bring your body much closer, "Excuse me what was that Hawks." The voice rang from the other side. He felt as if he was caught with his hand down the cookie jar, while he quickly reflexes his hand away embarrassed, you couldn't help the playful giggle erupt from your plush lips. Lips he wanted around his cock and on his awaiting lips. "N'othin sir. Continue." He tried to wave you off to keep himself put together. 'such a Meek little bird.' you thought to yourself. Before lowering yourself down till you were eye level with his hard member. You licked your lips, eyes darting up to watch him carefully. Before your tongue came out and swiped at the zipper of his jeans. Keigo's eyes widened his head shooting up to look down at you so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. 'She wouldn't Dare..' He thought to himself. 'fuck' he inwardly groaned as she quickly undid his pants and yanked them down to his thighs. Cock springing free from it's confines as his head lolled back in pleasure. Letting out baited breath while still maintaining a composed voice for the meeting. You began quick work not giving Keigo time to compose himself, before meekly giving his thick throbbing cock a long lick from base, to head. Keigo's eyes shut tightly and hissed out in pleasure. Hand balled up into a tight fist, he muttered a 'not now baby' before you cut him off by shoving his cock deep in your mouth. You gagged, but refused to let up before bobbing your head with determined vigor. Either he'll hang up or don't. You didn't give a fuck anymore. Keigo let out a loud guttural moan, before cursing himself as an angry voice was heard from the other side.

"I-I-. " his hand grabbed your hair. "I STUBBED MY TOE." You threw your head back from his cock with a 'pop' sound covering your mouth stifling your laughter. You could die at how embarrassed and flustered Keigo was right now. His face red as his wings, while being yelled at by meeting goers on the other side of the phone. Once you contained yourself you smiled coyly at Keigo. Very same cat like grin he'd give you before. "If they wanted a meeting." You said while crawling your way towards him, and whispering in his ear. "They can call you at a more respectful time. Because this is." You kissed his cheek. "Our time." Keigo mentally screamed. He was torn between attending this meeting now, and fucking your brains out. Clearly the later was already decided, as he felt your hot, throbbing wet sex lay flat against his shaft. His pupils dilated in lust while he kept eye contact with you.

Your eyes lidded over, while your hips rolled up and down motions on his sex. He watched with baited breath, yearning a playful lip bite from you, as you began riding his shaft with so much sex appeal it should be Rated triple X. Something in Keigo snapped, and he found himself smothering you in a heated kiss. His tongue prodding at your plump lips begging for entrance. Which you happily obliged eagerly fighting his appendage for dominance. And Dominance you will get, for you moved your hand between your bodies while grinding against his cock, wrapping your hands around his neck snugly while Keigo gasped in surprised with how you were handling him. "Shhh." His eyes opened. "Let's not piss off your bastard bosses." Your head cocked to the side as you stilled your movements, body downright on fire at this point.

He can feel your pussy clench around nothing while warming his cock. His smirk soon found it's way on his handsome features, almost causing you to mewl in pleasure from how hot he looked. "Do your worst birdie." Little bastard. As he began talking freely about a recent mission he completed, your eyes narrowed while his eyes would occasionally dart towards you. His newfound cockiness pissing you off further, before finally removing yourself from his body completely. Keigo's once confident smirk turned into a sputter of protests before he watched you move yourself above the top of his wing, his eyes widened in horror.

"What the fuck." He said aloud, voices falling on deaf ears as he watched you lower yourself enough to add friction but not too much weight to keep from hurting his wings. And begun grinding against the sturdiest part of the Appendage. He should be livid that you'd use his wings in such a way. "Babe. Don't-." Words cut short while he watches your face contort in sinful pleasure. Hands moving to play with your breasts, pulling the pert, hardened nipples between your fingers, while throwing your head back and letting out a breathless moan. He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't indulge in this fucked up behavior. But- he focused on his feathers, moving them lightning speed, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your over stimulated, heated body. His cock twitched, and throbbed in pain at this point. Aching to be touched. Missing your heat. His hand absent-mindedly running down his chest, stomach eventually touching his cock. He gave himself and long tug, precum oozing from the head. Using it to lubricate himself for easier use. Finally the meeting was cut short, something something catch ya later assholes. Keigo quickly tossed his phone to the floor eyes still glued to you as another In coming call was arriving. Little did Keigo know he unintentionally answered the call. You finally let out the loudest moan possible.

The vibrations of his feathers reaching the base of the wing. Your grinding becoming erratic. Uncaring of the pain he begun feeling Keigo begun working his cock to match your pace. His groans and throaty chuckles filled the air. Fuck you were so hot riding his wing. His orgasm fast approaching he could feel his lower abdomen flex, as his peak was nearly broken his hand was yanked from his cock, eyes shooting open you were back hovering over him with a sinister glint in your eye. Holy fuck that shouldn't turn him on anymore than he already was, before he knew it you sank down on his cock. "HOLY. FUCK. (NAME)."

you used a rag you brought from the bathroom and covered his eyes with, and then he felt his hands bound and tied to the headboard. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He then felt your body shift off his cock. He whimpered, begged for you to come back. "You make me wait all this time. And you think I'm going to give you what you want Birdie?." He inwardly gulped at your harsh tone. Cock throbbing yet again. He moaned again as he felt you place opened mouth kisses to his stomach before lifting his shirt. Having his front bare. He looked so pretty like this. Wings splayed out. Hands tied, eyes bound. Pants to his thighs and a sheen layer of sweat causing his hair to cling to his face. Legs trembling and his member sprung to life. A panting, horny mess he was, Keigo.

You admired the view as you took a photo for. Later activities. Removing yourself further down, Keigo focused as hard as he could to figure out what you were up to. She already denied his orgasm. And now this? Fuck he's tormented. She ripped his shirt completely open, he nearly nutted on the spot. "Don't you dare cum Keigo." Fuuuuuuuuuck. He threw his head back down, you began leaving hot kisses and love bites along his neck, chest, hip, inner groin, thighs. Murmuring how beautiful and good he's being. His hands fought the restraints, wishing, praying that he could touch you. Give you his complete utter attention that you so craved. Seems the roles are reversed, and that he's just going to have to hold on. After leaving your fill of marks on his gorgeous skin, you so in begun straddling his right leg. He bounced it in surprise, which enticed a moan from you. "Pretty Bird?" He asked voice barely a whisper. His ankle barely brushed your clit. You bit your lip. Before grinding on his ankle. Subtle. Keigo is writhing against the restraints, refusing the let you come undone by this.

"Baby.. Please." He knew he sounded pathetic Knew his pleads are going on deaf ears. He jerked his foot upwards, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

He turned his foot sideways, your clit rubbing against the ball connecting his ankle and joints. You rolled your hips against the bone like a women starved. Your back arching, sweating dripping down your back. Keigo used his feathers to remove the blindfold and cut the restraints then thrown on your back before you could process what was happening.

"You're not getting off on my ankle little cumslut."

He threw his trousers off as he crawled back over to you legs spread wide for him as you wrapped your hand around his throat he was so far gone in lust to even care, infact. It further aroused him. Eyes blown completely he bored through you. Chest heaving and panting heavily. In one fell swoop buried balls deep in your shopping cunt. The shrill shriek that left your parted lips pushed Keigo last the teasing. And went at a full blown mind numbing feral pace. He was breathing fast and heavy through his nose while he let out husky groans. Your hand begun digging into the flesh of his neck nearly cutting off circulation but he didn't care. All he cared about was the feeling of your wet cunt sucking his cock in ways he liked. His hands found their way on either side of your head, finding home at the edge of the bed before setting a fast pace, pistoning his pelvis against yours at inhuman speeds.

Your breasts bounced at the sheer force, knocking the air right out of you. Wrapping your legs tight around his waist drawing him deeper and harder into your heat. Keigo was fast. Almost too fast for your mind to process anything at this point, except his thick cock brushing your spongy spot that made you see stars, "you like that birdie? Like it when I drive my fat cock in your pussy?." He was taunting you, edging you on. "Cum on this cock like the pretty slut that you are." His grunts getting closer together in between pants. His breath heavy. Wings curling in shutting yourselves from the world.

"Yes Kei-Yesyesyesyesyes-." The dam in your stomach threatened to break. To spill all your secrets onto the bare walls of the bedroom everything long forgotten in the combined heats of your bodies. Mind fogging over in pure haze as your climax came crashing down on you. So much so you screamed till your throat burned. Keigo soon came undone by the tight vice grip your cunt had on his cock. Hot sticky spurts of cum shooting inside your womb. And painting your walls white. His head threw back and let out such a delicious moan you nearly - "Oh-FuKEIGO." You thought you had just pissed yourself, but soon noticed clear hot liquid shooting out of your pussy and covering both you and Keigo.

You had squirted. Bodies lay limp on damp wet sheets while you both tried to catch your breath. Sweat and your liquids mingling together. Keigo landed flat against you, face in the Crook of your neck. Wings splayed out across the entire bed. And that's how you both laid for the longest time. Completely spent and ruined. When you both came down from your highs, Keigo lifted his face to look at you, smile adorned his rather flushed expression. Eyes softened, and an afterglow you wish you could commemorate to memory. He looked stunning. He kissed you with careless abandon. While stroking your cheek tenderly. Affection far different compared to his earlier treatment. He was in bliss. After your fill of that You both got cleaned up, and got back into bed before turning in for the night, while having mindless chatter before sleep finally succumbed you both. Keigo should've been careful though. In the midst of his heated lust. He didn't realize the phone call was still running.

Before the man on the other end finally hung up.

Cerulean Eyes peering out into the quiet night lit city outside his window.

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A/N: I proofread as much I could while stoned Af so please bear with my shitytness.

#keigo takami #TAKE ME DADDY #takami keigo #mha #bnha hawks #bnha #keigo x reader #smut #tw #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #winged hero hawks #hawks imagines #Jo I grant you the pull power of ankle play #Jo this is a gift for you an I whose soul purpose was to indulge In Hawks Ankle #x reader #keigo #number 2 hero #boku no hero academia hawks

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ficsnroses · 4 years

Text

Skin to Skin - John Wick x Reader

summary : coming home after a rough night, all John wants to do, is hold you close, with no barriers between; skin to skin.

warnings : so much fluff omg. nudity, sex talk. x f! reader.

words : 2.5k

Notes : guess who’s 84 years late to @toomanystoriessolittletime ‘s birthday challenge? :) prompt is the song Yellow by Coldplay. I tried to add only small hues of the song in to keep the story as original as possible. song lyrics are >bolded<. please leave a comment, anon or not if you enjoy! it means so so much and helps me write.

Steph, I freaking adore you my wonderful amazing german friend. you deserve to be celebrated regardless of a birthday or not xox. hope ya like it!

‘Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much, he died every night, to let her breathe.’

The moon sat heavy that night; bold, grey, silvers spilling into your eyes that searched, hoped, prayed he was alright. It sat in the inky blackness of the night; painted as the hallow inside your heart.

John hadn’t come home yet, hadn’t so much as called you to tell you he’d be in later than usual.

The cloudiness is killing you, suffocating you; the unknowing is killing you. John’s profession proves cold, stoic, chilling graves and pungent fingers. On his hands, lays the sin he’d never consented to; the daggers he sends are ones he’d never wished to carve.

Your John, pleads, begs, reveries of a life far away from the murk. Far away from the dark clouds that cave around your happily ever after, the grim that taints each semblance of normalcy he desperately craves.

There’s something special about the moon, a vulnerability the sun doesn’t know.

The moon sees everyone at night, at most vulnerable. The moon is often the last thing we cease to; something everyone, every single one, of us, can see. No matter where, no matter how.

If John isn’t home, resting his weary bones beside you; he’s out there.

Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere…

Looking at the moon, too.

You fear that someday, some day sooner than you’d ever dream, John won’t bid goodnight to the moon. You fear that someday, somewhere, he’ll be consumed by the same inky blackness; that someday, your John, won’t come back to you. Potent, haunting thoughts chill your every bone tonight;

but you’d only told the moon.

The crisp of your soft sigh is deep, dragged. It hosts unease; withers within your throat, staring out to the big, mean ol’ moon. In a sea of silky sheets, you sit undone, awaiting the return of your love. Somehow, someway, he’d always make it back to you.

You whisper to the stars that it’ll stay true, that soon, he’d succumb to your waiting arms, lose himself in your embrace the same way,

the moon melts into the sun, each and every morning.

Your thoughts interrupt, a perk of ears hosted by the singed creak of the crème bedroom door open, you’d almost forgot what true, utter, gratitude feels as, before the wash of relief of this moment.

Relief comes in tides, in wavelengths that crash over the uneased shores of your thoughts. In this moment, the sea sinks back to where it belongs, the waves calm, and the moonlight reflects off the inky blackness in vibrant, tranquil, stillness.

Stood in the tall frame of the bedroom door, your John, positions in dreary boned stance; the pitch black suit he wears accents the grim to his features, the most telling of the day’s worries play out on his sunken expression, weary orbs that drown into yours, silently pleading. A glimmer of a smile graces his face, yet it holds nothing but the icy unease, the fatigue that courses through his veins.

Your John, looks exhausted. Everything from the strong, sharp cut of his jaw, to the thin fullness of his lips and the gentle limp in his composure. It all writes as a sheer agony, his limited portrayal letting you know that tonight, would write itself out as one of those nights.

Something ripples in his eyes; something sad, something craving an ounce of sweet, at last. “John, baby?” A quiet croak as you frown, forcing your rasped vocal chords to inquire. Peeling the silken bed sheets off your worrisome frame as you crawl his way to the foot of the bed, John sighs a heavy exhale, crisp suit jacket discarded to the vacant love chair to the corner of your shared bedroom.

In this bedroom, John and you have shared the sweetest of remembrances. Soft, quiet giggles in the dark, gentle, loving touches in the midnight gleam. Within these very walls, you’ve whispered confessions of love a thousand times, never enough.

Some nights, peace triumphs, quiet kisses and tender holds are all the gray walls know.

Some nights, however, it feels as if the nightmares that follow John, claw into your skin. Some nights, escaping the dark becomes tough; and all you can do,

is hold him.

Remind him what it means, what it feels to be human.

You weren’t sure what tonight would play out as. All you know, is hold him you will; kiss his each bruise you will.

Love him, you will.

His laboured sigh is dense, heavy, and his eyes fall downcast when your arms find him, walked up to his towering frame. Your gentle hand rests to his cheek, and you breathe in slow, calm whispers. Much to your gratitude, few fresh cuts litter his face, but the wounds that pierce deeper, are the ones inside.

You don’t know what happen today, what had hurt him more than usual.

And you won’t ask.

You know, you understand. That some wounds never heal, and some scares only burn, the more toil they see.

“Can we…” His tone is gravelly, thick with need. As your hand plants to his chests, and the other says situated to his cheek, you gently coax the skin under his eye with your thumb, soothing. Arms wrapped around your waist, the cold chill of his hand that rests to your hips sinks into your heart seams.

Whoever, whatever did this to your John, you’d wish a thousand moonless nights upon.

A thousand curses fly with the wind their way.

“Can we lay?” John jadedly asks, honey brown eyes soaking into your soul, and you swallow a lump that makes camp in your throat. You nod gentle, a warm smile his way; something that nurtures, soothes his broken soul.

“Of course.” Kissing light to his jaw, you begin to slowly work on the worn out clothes that embroider his skin. The shock of your soulful touch elicits a soft, content sigh off his lips, his own hands never leaving the delicate curves of your body.

Often, on tiresome nights, and days where he needed to feel something; the only antidote that would suffice, would remedy the hallow that carves home inside each crevice of his soul was, laying with you.

With no barriers, no limits. Skin to skin,

sulking within the safe corridors of the arms of the women who owns his entire soul. Safe, within the touch of you; the only other that knows of all the pain that subsists within him.

Perhaps, just as the silver moon; John has a side that isn’t shown to others. He has a dark, guarded side, that no one, no one other than you knows.

And perhaps that is why he feels so deep, longs to be so thoroughly, intimately connected to you. Because you are the only one who really knows him, loves him despite it all.

Gently peeling off his pearly white dress shirt, the buttons come undone within the reach of your fingertips, the skin underneath revealing scars, old and new peppering his skin. The scent of his musky cologne, barely radiating off his skin kisses your nose, and you delicately discard the seams of the fabric off his body. John only stands, watches you undress his body, watches you drink in everything that is him. Gently, you kiss a freshly littered, deep purple bruise that paints to his chest, lips pressed against the skin for a moment longer. Slow, and soft, your hands begin to undo the heavy buckle of his belt, unravelling each inch of him as a beautiful gift.

Which he was; your John, was a gift. Something you’d thank the sky for each day.

As you work his bottoms, John’s hefty hands begin to unstitch across your top, fingers travelling up the hem of your shirt before removing it from your body. His eyes savour your skin, goosebumps layering each inch of your being when he moves closer, slower, deeper, gently reaching behind to unhook the clasps of your bra that shield your modesty from him. Upon removal, John sighs, seeing the beauty that makes home within you. The silk of your satin skin, the swell of your perfectly beautiful breasts; the exquisiteness of what was his.

As you finish removal of his belt, your delicate fingers peel his slacks and boxers off his skin. Smiling slight when his bare, broad and handsomely dark figure stands with you, your eyes brush over his glorious, exposed manhood, hiding underneath a beautifully dark bush of hair; butterflies sparking within your mid, reminiscing on the way his weight, his throb feels inside your aching walls; the way your body yearns for him even after you finish.

and you take his bulkier hand in yours, guiding his bones to the safe haven of your shared bed. Silky sheets prove inviting, comfort of cotton pillows and endless security lure a much somnolent John their way.

Tightening a soft squeeze to your lover’s hand, your eyes connect to his, certain, assuring. Gently guiding him to lay on the mattress, you whisper a quiet ‘relax, baby’ into his ear, watching the way his bare form climbs into the sheets, heavily exhaling as he pulls the covers up.

To your frame, his inquisitive eyes glaze over each inch, intently watching at the way you softly, unhurriedly peel off your own bottoms and lacy underwear, showcasing to him the vulnerable, delicately intimate sight of your unadorned body and naked breasts, before unravelling the sheets beside him, and climbing in.

John’s arms habitually open for you, the brush of his callous skin against yours as he draws your figure proximately close makes your head swim and your lips part, gently kissing a fresher, deeper mauve bruise into the soft skin under his neck.

Only this bruise, is composed out of nothing but pure, unconditional, love.

As your arms loom around his neck, his lips embed a small, loving kiss to your forehead, sighing against the skin. He’s big, beautiful, and warm. His hold is the warmest, purest form of,

yellow.

“You’re tense, baby.” A hand cupped to his cheek, your soft padded fingers barely scratch his beard, voice quiet, guarded above a whisper. Sighing deeply, John’s chest heaves a deep inhale, against yours. With a timid, gentle nod of acknowledgement, John only shakes his head, wanting nothing more than to just bask. Bask, with you.

“Baby, you’re so stiff.” You offer an index to his chin, lifting his eyes to lock with yours. Slow and soft, your spare hand travels to the space between your intertwined bodies, to his manhood, wrapping your hand delicately around the girth of his cock. With a few tender, measly, gentle strokes to his shaft, you whisper. “Do you want me to…?” You propose, more than willing to shower him with relief; to allow him to completely relax if he needed it. John sighs to the feel of your hand on his cock, caressing.

“Fuck…” He exhales, eyes closing as his arms tighten around you. “Feels amazing.” He confesses, yet interjects with a draw of your body closer. “But it’s alright, sweetheart. Later.” Breathe hot against your neck, he rests within you. “I just want to hold you right now.” With his head falling lower, he buries his face into the safe dip of your breasts, kissing a soft peck into the delicate skin. “You’re all I need.” He barely whispers, breathing in the saccharine scent of your skin. Raking soft tugs into his chocolate mane, you nod, holding him closer, tighter, feeling his skin, warm and proximate on yours. John relishes for a moment, before his gaze moves up to look at you, and he sighs. He sighs deep, and his head moves back up, lips offering a soft peck to yours, before his eyes gaze into yours.

For you I’d bleed myself dry, for you I’d bleed myself,

dry.

Staring into your warm eyes is a remedy of its own; a symphony of its own. He thinks, that truly, if the moon loves him, do the thousands of stars, speckled in the dark even matter? If the moon loves him,

if the moon

loves him.

His moon; loves him. His moon, loves him so much, that her eyes well up with tears, knowing he’s safe, within her arms.

Your fingers bury in his hair, reaching softly in to trail your fingers over the rough skin of his neck, stopping at his defined adam’s apple. Leaning closer, you allow your fingers to trail up his stubble ridden chin, before settling on his parted lights. Known, you feel him kiss to your delicate finger tip, his eyes habitually closing, sighing when your legs tighten, tangled to his, and your hold on him firms. Lazily, you draw circles to his chest, smiling, breathing with his heartbeat completely synced with yours. He looks beautiful, like this. Exposed, bare, vulnerable; yet completely safe, willing to be seen.

And you think, you wonder. You know; that all the pretty, golden stars, they shine for him.

This, was true intimacy. Moments such as this, where sex wasn’t needed, chases of orgasm nothing close to what truly mattered. All that triumphed, all that was dire need, was the feel of his skin on yours, and yours on his. The reminder that you are real, as is he.

It’s true, look how they shine for,

you.

His feelings are real, what he’s been through is real.

But, only, solely as real, as the feel of his skin on yours. The feel of the love that also runs in his veins; the feeling of life you bring him when your bodies collide, when your warmth envelopes him.

John’s hand brushes to your hip, just above the delicate swell of your bosom, and you know what he wants. Knowingly, you lean in close, one last time, to allow a soft, love soaked kiss to his pink lips, and a gentler, easier one to his stubble ridden cheek, before you turn in his embrace, your back pressed to his chest.

And as always, as true to a hundred times before, John’s arms tighten around you further, pulling your body in as close as could be, before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, where he’d speckle a few kisses, sighing. And there he rests, with his face buried between your skin, and your hands holding his that rest to your mid, soft legs tangling with his tired, worn out ones. In complete, simple silence, you both relish in the tune of each other’s silent breaths, skin to skin, relishing in the symphony of your love.

The world ceases to exist in moments like this, the inky blackness doesn’t matter. All that matters, is you and him, and your combined energy, strong as a supernova.

And perhaps, you should crumble for better reasons.

But could reason compare

to this man you call yours? He brings the light of a hundred suns to their knees, the black of a million nights turns yellow.

And for him, you’ll crumble a billion times.

You’ll paint each ounce of him yellow.

because you think- you know,

you love him

more than the moon, and all it’s shining stars.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

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

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

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piercetheigncrance · 3 years

Text

“Perhaps now that we’re free”

Snucissa - with focus on Snucius

Set in the aftermath of the war. Snape dies. Or at least he is gone from the mortal world for a period of time. Lucius takes it upon himself to remain by Snape’s bedside until Snape wakes up. Together, Lucius and Narcissa help Snape heal from the would-be fatal injury.

Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 1. (~1750 words)

Darkness. He thought he would feel peace or at least something less daunting than this. But he’d been sorely mistaken. Even now, while staring at eternal nothingness, he swore he could feel the deepest, tethers of the abyss moving in on him and bringing with them dread and grief. He was certain he could feel the unforgiving tendrils of despair slithering closer to him and encircling his limbs then his body, and eventually they would take what was left of his soul. Perhaps then he could have a moment of solace, a reprieve from the guilt and the pain — oh the pain.

And so he lie there, willing the avaricious void to take him quickly, willing fate to have mercy on him for once. Mercy. It was likely more than he deserved but he was done. He’d served his purpose. Surely now he’d earned some damned peace.

Yet, it would seem the unknown had different plans for him.

Pain — sharp and sudden — disrupted the almost tranquil state he was in. Severus’ heart pumped violently, no doubt due to some intervention on the outside. Then he tasted the bitter tang of metal on his tongue but somewhere under that he tasted the faintest hint of herbs. How he longed for nothingness now. And the void called to him. Severus was drawn to the promise of nothingness once more, drawn to the promise of some form of certainty.

Please. Don’t go. You s-selfish bastard. You cannot leave me here!

Was that? — surely not. He was hallucinating. Nothing but another malicious trick from the universe, a way for the world to try and ensnare him into living more miserable years on this earth. He wouldn’t have it. Severus plunged himself closer to the darkness, begging, pleading for the abyss to swallow him whole and leave nothing behind for the mortal world to reach.

His wish was granted.

For how long, he couldn’t say. But time didn’t matter here. Nothing did. Not pain, not loss, not remorse, and surely not Severus Snape.

Eventually, the darkness receded, slowly being coaxed back by some inexplicable force. No! Don’t! Take me with you. Severus begged the void. But it did not yield to his wishes this time.

The pain returned. This time with an emptiness in his core, as if his entrails had been scooped out and fed to the buzzards. He groaned, or perhaps he merely thought he did. He felt heavy and light at the same time; his mind attempting to come to terms with being in something corporeal once more. It was too much and not enough in equal parts. Merlin how he craved the emptiness again.

S-Severus?

There it was again. The voice. The one that’d called to him before the void welcomed him into its arms.

Severus, you’ve come back to me.

A new ache blossomed inside him. Something he couldn’t quite explain. It was subtle but it hurt just the same. It felt as if a hand was wringing his heart. His facial muscles were still confused on how to operate properly so all he managed was a twitch of his brow, eyes searching even behind closed lids for — him.

“You can hear me.”

That time he was certain he’d heard it, not just felt it inside him. There was a hope in the statement but it was almost drowned out by fear. As if Lucius had hoped too many times before to allow it to consume him this time around.

“Please, don’t go again. I know. I know you’re scared. I am too. Merlin, Severus, I need you here.” Lucius could hear the almost fanatic edge to his voice, knowing that the only person outside of his dragon and his wife he would allow himself to express these things for was Severus.

Quicker movement behind his lids, both eyebrows twitching now and lip curving slightly. Pain came again and this time Severus did make a noise, a soft croak of a thing.

“Severus!” Lucius cried. There was absolutely no stopping the relieved and joyous tears that slid down his porcelain cheeks. He lunged forward, cradling Severus’ cheek with his hand. “I’m here, my Prince. I’m here.”

This time, Severus made a small grunt of a noise, an acknowledgement (and a bit of an embarrassed response) to the pet name. Lucius’ hand felt cool against his too hot skin, almost felt like a wonderful healing salve. He felt something warm and wet land on his face and he flinched at the sudden feeling but as it continued, Severus realized they were tears. Merlin. Who else would have wept for him save this man? Cissa, perhaps but not this openly.

Slowly, eyes fluttered open and Severus regretted it almost instantly. He made that croak-like noise again and shut his eyes. It was far too bright all at once.

“Ah..” Lucius called for one of the elves, “darken the room up, you, now. Severus cannot handle the light. And ask Narcissa to call for the nurse then for her to come greet our Severus.”

Our. Even after the years of hearing it, it seemed unreal. Severus feared he’d open his eyes again only to find he’d been swallowed by the void again. He grunted once more, turning as much as he could into Lucius’ hand at his cheek.

“Severus, I know you cannot speak yet but just know we’ve missed you. The months. They’ve not been easy. Draco and Potter... they barely managed to keep me from Azkaban. And you, comatose during all that? I thought I would be locked away and never lay my eyes on your again. It was horrible, Severus. But... you’re here as am I and —“

“As am I..”

The lilting voice, gentle even with the roughness of what Severus could only assume was due to tears, interrupted Lucius’ smooth cadence. That ache was back in his heart and he grunted once more, slowly peeling his eyelids apart. When he realized it was no longer blindingly bright, he opened his eyes again. The sight that greeted him was one he’d never forget. Lucius’ platinum hair was an unkempt curtain, framing his sharp and gorgeous features. Narcissa’s two-toned hair queued up and showing off her striking beauty. Both of their expressions held relief and love — a love so pure he didn’t know what to do with it. He turned further into Lucius’ hand, barely aware of the tear that’d escaped his eye.

Lucius wiped the tear with his free hand, action gentle and loving. Merlin he’d missed him. “Severus, look at me,” he waited a couple of seconds, giving Severus the time to push past whatever was holding him back, then smiled at him, “I knew you would come back to me. I love you, My Prince.” He swallowed, staring at Severus with unfettered affection, letting the man see everything he felt for him — even opening his mind to him if Severus had the energy and ability to look inside at the moment.

Severus felt more tears sliding down his cheek. It wasn’t as many as Lucius had shed, not by a long shot, but it was more than he’d allowed himself to cry in decades. And as he held Lucius’ gaze, he saw the shift behind his eyes, the lack of cold in his gaze — he’d let down his barriers. Severus stared, and stared some more, allowing himself one small peek (really all he could manage with a wand-less legilimens anyway) into Lucius’ thoughts. He saw everything. Light. Darkness. Fear. Love. Strength. Respect. Humility. That last one surprised him, pulling him out of Lucius’ mind and back to reality. He grunted once more, eyes searching Lucius’ until Lucius leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Severus closed his eyes.

“That, My dearest Prince, is because I’ve come to realize, without you, I am nothing.”

The words were uttered right against his skin, seemingly seeping right into his mind and then into the deepest recesses of his soul. He made a small noise, unsure what he would have said if he could. But that didn’t seem to matter anyway.

Narcissa watched, relieved for more than one reason Severus was back amongst the world of the living. Lucius would no longer be a shell of the man he was. He might recover from the atrocities of the war. Severus’ life had not been cruelly cut short and he might finally accept a life with them. And she? She might open up even more to both of them now that she needn’t worry about keeping her dragon safe at the cost of all other relationships.

Lucius pulled back from Severus when he felt the shift in the wards alerting them to floo travel. He whispered another ‘I love you.’ to Severus then stood up, composing himself as much as possible now that there was an outsider in his home. He even pulled his wand out and cast quick cleaning charms on himself and his hair. Presentable enough.

“Is it true?” Evanora rushed into the room, accompanied by one of the elves, and went straight to Severus’ bedside. “When did this happen?” She began her examination of him, being careful not to jostle him too much. Severus was thinner but they’d been taking excellent care of him so his body was in the best shape possible, all things considered.

“But two minutes before Narcissa called for you.”

Narcissa stepped closer to the bed too, now that Lucius had his moment, she wanted to touch Severus too. Dainty fingers caressed his jaw then trailed up to his hooked nose. He was gorgeous. With all his flaws, he was stunning and she only pulled her hand away when Evanora gestured for her to get out of the way. She went to stand next to Lucius, fingers sliding against his waiting palm.

“This is... incredible.” Evanora cast a few more charms, watching Severus for reactions and looking to the Malfoys, “has he consumed anything since he’s been awake?”

Severus made a grunting noise. He always hated being talked about as if he wasn’t in the room. Gaze hard and cold now as he looked at the nurse, one of the best if he remembered correctly — then again, the Malfoys wouldn’t have it any other way.

“My apologies. Have you had a potion or water?”

Lucius smirked despite himself, wanting to laugh at the fact that Severus was already feeling enough like himself to scowl at people. “He has not, we did not want to risk it. It was why I called for you,” Lucius took the liberty of answering for Severus.

Severus cut Lucius a grateful look before going back to just staring at Evanora. He stayed still as possible as the exam was completed. It took longer than Lucius wanted, he could tell because the wizard kept fidgeting and huffing under his breath. Malfoy senior was never very patient. He gave a partial smile at the thought.

Narcissa kept her hands clasped together, cerulean orbs fixed on the proceedings as if to ensure the mediwitch would not dare hurt their Severus. She let out a soft breath once Evanora finally stepped away and went to her briefcase.

Evanora set out a couple vials of potions on the nightstand along with some tea ingredients then turned to Malfoy senior. She handed him a piece of parchment. “Give it some time. I have provided one vial of girding potion, one of invigorating draught, one sleeping draught, and a draught of peace. I trust you can make more of these if necessary and have the skills to make the other healing potions shall you need them. I would abstain from giving him dreamless sleep just yet as he was, for all intents and purposes, dead for some time. If he is having trouble adjusting, please provide sleeping draughts or calming draughts. He will need time to move on to solid foods. For now, a diet of water, teas, and puréed foods if he can stomach them. Exercise is to start after he is able to sit up on his own. No sooner. I will stop by in a week to check his progress.” She gave one final look to Severus and nodded at him, smiling as if they were old friends, “it is wonderful to see you awake, Mr. Snape. I hope the recovery comes more smoothly. Good day,” she showed herself to the door, an elf appearing to escort her back to the den right on cue.

Lucius let out a deep breath, smiling as he brought Narcissa’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. They both moved closer to Severus then, taking a seat at the edge of the bed to watch over him.

Severus, for his part, was already exhausted. He blinked slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Sleep, My Prince. We’ll be here when you wake.”

~~~~~~~~

A/N: I’m not sure if I will continue this on here or on AO3. Either way, I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter! Feel free to leave comments/concerns. Thank you!

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic #snucius #Snucissa #snape x lucius #Snape x Lucius x Narcissa #lexr writes;;#pro Snape #Severus Snape #lucius malfoy #reblogs okay #narcissa malfoy

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birminghams · 4 years

Text

drowning ━━ 𝐭. 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

SUMMARY: you are the light to tommy’s darkness.

TOMMY COLLAPSES IN the shadows.

The moonlight is streaming in through the bedroom window, and it makes the bones in Tommy’s chest throb. The dull pain just behind his sternum buries his soul in numbness that starts to spread; almost as if someone has reached their hands between his ribs and began, ever so gently, to break them apart. It’s almost as if someone has stuck their hands inside his chest and twisted his heart so that when it beats, it’s out of rhythm with the rest of his aching body.

Except he knows it’s all in his head.

For once, it’s not raining when he lies down next to you, the darkness of the room swallowing up his figure as he shifts closer, his palm resting on your back. He doesn’t move again. Instead, he waits for the moon to wane, the light extinguishing behind the dusty curtain that hangs limply over the window.

He wonders if the nightmares haunt you, too.

“Sometimes, I can’t fucking breathe,” he confesses into the dark, the words lingering in the air around him. He feels your body still against his before you reach across and press your fingertips against the palm of his hand. “Sometimes I think I might be better for it.”

The silence swallows his words.

He hears you take a breath; a short, sharp inhale of the cold air that blankets the room, unwelcoming and piercing as the night grows harsher. It’s a moment later that he feels you react to the admission that’s been a kept prisoner, chained in his mind like a permanent scar of a past that he can’t shed. He watches you turn slightly, just enough that the remaining moonlight is illuminating your sharp features, your eyes searching out his.

“Please don’t say things like that.”

It’s simple words at most, but Tommy’s mind cracks with the weight of them.

He reaches for you, his hand falling on your cheek; a touch that grounds him in reality, reining him back from the brink of hopelessness that’s welcoming him with open arms. He searches for an apology, but when he opens his mouth to voice it, his mind leaves him floundering. His mouth closes, and then all he can focus on is the white noise that’s making his head feel light, and his hands shake.

He can hear the echo of a gunshot.

His eyes shoot open, and he can feel the barrel of it pressed against his sweat covered temple as he struggles to catch his breath. Metal sliding against skin, heart racing, the darkness igniting the fear of death that he’d learned to bury a long time ago.

It’s only when he feels your hand on his that his eyes adjust.

He’s no longer in the trenches that haunt his brain when it’s not focused on the Shelby business or the dwelling of the Peaky Blinders. He’s not fighting for his life under the guise of war, blood and scars marring his existence. He’s in the four walls that homed him before, and the house that will home him long into the future.

“Tommy.”

He can taste the gunpowder.

It’s choking him, forcing its way down the back of his throat until he can no longer murmur a word. He can almost feel it as it claws its way through his gut, maiming him from the inside out, destroying every shred of humanity he’d managed to reclaim after the war tore him open.

“Tommy.”

He can smell blood.

It’s sickeningly dry, a sweet metallic scent that permeates the room, poisoning everything it touches. It’s redolent; evocative and too much iron, and Tommy can’t breathe against it. It swallows him down, reigniting the memories that he’s tried to bury under the hurt that breathing triggers. He focuses on you, your heartbeat against his chest, your sigh against the stillness of Birmingham at night, your life in his hands, and everything stops.

A pause, then⏤it’s you.

“Tommy.”

It’s a faint murmur, but it carries an echo that bounces off the walls and drowns out the sound of the screams that make his ears bleed. He turns back to you, eyes open wide and pleading, and his forehead drops against your shoulder. It’s the worst night he’s suffered through in months.

“Breathe, Tommy,” you tell him.

As if it’s that simple; that easy.

He’s a product of a war that still commands his presence. A tragedy born from the deaths of fellow comrades and soldiers, each pledging their life to a country that couldn’t protect them in the end. It’s a ghost story of the history that’s burned into his bones, reconstructing his body into fragments of someone he can no longer recognise.

“I didn’t fucking ask for this.”

His loneliness consumes him, striking him down when he’s not alone.

It’s when he’s with you, wrapped up in your warmth and the feel of your skin tethering him to a bed made for solace that his soul burns with the longing that the abandonment craves. He reaches for you again, searching out the pulse on your wrist⏤one, two, three, four, five, six⏤counts them out and absorbs the feel of it into himself.

He’s swimming against the currents that are pulling him under.

He’s drowning long before he relearns how to breathe.

“I can’t save you, Tommy,” you say into the skin of his neck, your breath blowing over his searing skin. He holds himself, his body turning rigid with the implications of your words. “I don’t know how.”

His world shifts and the grief rises.

He stirs in your bruising grip, lifting his head up and tracing his fingertips along the lines of your collarbone, watching as you draw your body closer. He detects the sliver of peace in your eyes, his gaze clinging to yours like an anchor in the rough seas that pull him in every direction, his limbs aching with the pain of it. He holds on to it: an offering that flaunts tranquillity foreign to his mind, but it makes his heart feel open, and for the briefest of moments, a shred of hope starts to bloom in his chest.

“I need it to fucking end.”

Except what he means is: Can I swim even when it feels like I’m drowning? Can I breathe even when my lungs are burning? Can I save myself without killing you? Can I save you without killing myself? Can I save myself with you in my arms? Can I save myself if you leave?

“I’m not leaving.”

It feels resolute, but his chest still strains against the emptiness that’s devouring him with every second that passes. He closes his eyes against the gunfire that’s raining down on him, the noise reverberating through the small room that remains long after the sun welcomes the horizon, covering his body in a thin layer of orange hues.

“It’s over now.”

Except it’s not.

The soothing deft touch of your hand against his stomach is almost enough to stop the trembling that’s burrowing its way underneath Tommy’s skin, replacing his control with soft whines that voice the heartbreak; the same heartbreak that shadows his entire being in a bleakness that’s hard to fight through.

“I don’t think it ever will be.”

A soft pause, and then, “Not yet, but maybe one day, it’ll feel like it.”

It’s not a promise. It’s not a certainty. It’s not an assurance that the future won’t be as desolate as it feels now, but it settles itself into Tommy’s mind, burying its roots into the darkest depths of his memories. It ignites a shred of light, a single shred of faith that can outgrow the harsh reminders of the tears in his soul. It’s not quite closure, but it’s something for him to cling to.

It’s hope.

It’s light.

It’s you.

He opens his eyes, meeting yours in the darkening room. “I think so, too.”

When you roll into his side, your mouth lifting up into the briefest of smiles, it sends a familiar warmth through his veins. He curls his arm around your back, tugging you until you’re pressed up against him, your heartbeat mirroring his. He pauses, breathes, takes a moment and allows himself to wallow in his wandering thoughts as you sigh into his embrace.

“I can help you swim.”

It’s nothing, and yet, it’s everything at the same time.

Tommy hesitates when you edge even closer, the blankets tangling against your legs, the intimacy of the situation halting any further movements. It’s only after his grip tightens around you that you finally kiss him. It’s soft and slow, something sacred in the wake of the storm that almost destroyed his sanity. It’s smooth and easy, something that bleeds into his veins, washing through the sins that conceal themselves underneath his skin. It’s soft and warm, something that reminds him of the first time you met underneath the canopy of stars that blanketed the Birmingham sky. It’s soft and sweet, something that evokes memories of the time before the war and the time before he became a fractured version of himself.

It reminds him of you, and it feels like home.

He smiles, and he feels the hope flare in his chest. “It’s all I would ever ask.”

When the sun rises, and he breathes it in, his chest hurts less than it did the day before.

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky fanfics #peaky fics #mine

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

A Drop of Heaven IV: Unravelling

[Series Masterlist]

Pairing: ot7 x reader // this chapter: Yoongi x reader, Seokjin x reader

Series summary: Seven vampires have secretly been roaming the darks of your world for millennia. Each brother selects a Feed who becomes supernaturally bound to him, whose blood will be fed on until their inevitable mortal death. They have spent their eternity hunting for the exorbitant rarity that is angel blood - the most heavenly of food for vampires that fuel them with desire, lust and satiety. So what happens when they all find you, the first angel-blooded being they’ve encountered in two centuries?

Genre: vampire au, poly au, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (e2l)

Warnings in this chapter: mentions of blood drinking, depression and suicidal thoughts, slightly gruesome, probably a lot of confusion, plot heavy chapter

Word count: 11.1k

A/N: I’m not sure if it’s just me but I feel like my writing style for this series has kind of shifted, so apologies if you don’t like the change. Thank you for being so patient with this update, I know it took forever, but I hope it was worth the wait! ❤︎

[prelude, i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi, vii, epilogue]

❦

They say that humans are immensely adaptable creatures. In the face of a drastic change, when thrust into a foreign environment, we possess a biological plasticity that allows us to mould into our novelle surroundings, no matter how alien. All for the purpose of survival. Humans are resilient. Humans survive.

You have survived, and you keep on surviving.

A week has passed. Almost in a flash, yet also agonisingly slowly. But in your memory, all the feeding has merged into a blur. Every time a pair of fangs sink into you, you’ve come to switch off your mind completely. You don’t recall where your consciousness has travelled to, you just remember floating in a cold darkness. Stagnant. Void.

On Thursday, broken and hanging on by a thread, you were tossed to Hoseok. The flash of craze in his eyes, despite your gaping wounds that took longer to heal than it should have, even after drinking Yoongi’s blood, managed to instill a droplet of fear in you. But only just.

Because after Yoongi, you no longer know fear.

Still, Hoseok’s insanity is something you’ve never seen before, a wildness exacerbated by the centuries he has lived.

Hoseok looks at you like a brand new toy. When he touches you, you can feel the tremble of excitement beneath his skin. Sometimes, you wonder if he is the worst one of them all, even worse than Yoongi. Because you at least know what the others are thinking. With Hoseok, he speaks to you as if you’ve been acquainted for years, asks how you fare as if he doesn’t know of your suffering. He smiles at you like he means it, and you know he is genuinely happy to see you, but not for the reason you hope for.

“You seem sad…” He had said, staring at you intently as he brushes the sweat-dampened hair out of your face. “Yoongi hurt you?”

Your eyes were transfixed on one spot of the colourful wallpaper of his Feed Room. Your head barely nodded.

You didn’t see his mouth quirk up in amusement, but you could sense it. Hoseok was prodding you, like a zoo animal. Testing your temperament, seeing how broken you are. And you were too tired, too drained to put on a show like the circus monkey he wanted.

“No worries, Y/N, it won’t hurt with me, I promise.” The ghost of his lips traced your shoulder. “We will have so much fun together.” His long fingers prickle your thighs as he pulls you onto his lap. “Just relax and smile for me.”

It had hurt, at least very briefly before you could shut it out. Out of everyone, Hoseok has the least control. He never knows when to stop. Though he wasn’t bleeding you dry just yet, it visibly took him his entire mental strength to cease his drinking. And once he stopped, he began laughing maniacally.

“Sweet Satan, we’re in for a ride.” He kissed around the puncture wound at your collarbone where blood was weeping out of you. You didn’t move or make a sound.

The sire bond hadn’t surfaced at all. But it didn’t need to in order for you to ignore the pain; you’ve grown so accustomed to it by now that you hardly even blink, sire bond or no. You’re afraid of yourself, the lifeless husk you’re becoming.

The scariest aspect of Hoseok is perhaps how quickly he changes his mood after feeding. His ability to act as if he hadn’t just ripped into you, taking your around the house and telling you stories of his adventurous life while you eat, is uncanny. And when you fail to put on a smile for him, because how could you, his eyes would darken, jaw tighten.

“Isn’t that just hilarious? Can you believe I did that back then?” He would ask, and you’re not sure why your entertainment brings him validation.

But for self-preservation, you have learnt to giggle like you’re enjoying yourself and say cheerily, “I know right! That sounds wild!”

And Hoseok would nod madly, giddy from your approval, acting blind to your ingenuity as if he hadn’t forced the response he wanted out of you.

That was your Thursday.

Jimin was a salve, a soothing balm over your hidden wounds.

You no longer care whether his affection towards you is genuine. Beggars can’t be choosers, you’ll take any kindness where it is doled. It’s funny because, amidst suffering, amidst torture, you are able to resist the floods of tears that should be completely justified in your predicament. Yet as soon as someone shows the remotest care towards you, you feel the ocean pushing against your brick walls, threatening to rupture the dam.

It wretched your heart how tender Jimin was with you. You had almost broken down in his arms when he brushed over the skin where Yoongi and Hoseok had torn into. Your wounds are invisible. Vampire blood hides your cuts under fresh new skin, but doesn’t truly heal them. Yet Jimin had managed to sense your scars nonetheless.

He kissed them softly. You knew he wanted to kiss your mouth too, yet he didn’t. Is this what respect feels like?

Thus, you were completely willing when he fed on you. His preferred feeding spot is the inside of your thighs. When his cold breath arrived there, you could have sworn you felt something flutter in your core.

You had wanted him. You’re embarrassed to admit but you want him. Completely on your own accord, as the sire bond had also failed to lock in place with him too. You wondered if it was the damage Yoongi had done…

But then Saturday came, and the moment Taehyung’s fangs touched your flesh, you were swept away.

At first, it felt like drowning, as you struggled against the formidable waves that would not let you resurface. But then you calmed, a serenity took hold of you, and you began floating in the most soothing, clear blue water. The water healed you, almost, as you just drifted there on your back, watching the star-splatted night sky.

Taehyung swam up beside you, those sharp fangs of his never withdrawn, a wolfish yet reassuring smile, telling you it’s okay, everything will be okay, I can make you feel good.

And he did make you feel good.

The one thing you crave the most in this world is affection, you’ve come to learn. With Yoongi, you had wanted to feel something so badly, something other the numb wreckage of your mind you had trapped yourself in. Except he had made you feel worse, worthless, self-loathing just like him. With Hoseok, you were a broken doll, smile when expected to, laughing when required. You weren’t a person. With Jimin, you had been too grateful for his tenderness to function, unable to comprehend how, for once in the longest time, someone is treating you as if they care about you.

With Taehyung, you grew desperate to cling onto this intimacy.

It was like a drug, flooding your mind with peace and euphoria, drinking him in as much as he is drinking you. His kisses felt unhealthily good, and they tricked you into thinking that you’re worthy of someone like Taehyung, someone so beautiful, so intoxicating. He fucked you like he was making love to you, but also not. It came as waves - his sweetness, then his ferality.

You couldn’t get enough of it. You know it’s no good to feel so attached, when he probably sees you as no more than an object, his meal, but you couldn’t help it. You were just so desperate for that feeling of being desired.

He promised to make you feel good, make you forget, and that he did.

You hadn’t known what to expect from Jungkook. As you sat, waiting, on the bed of his Feed Room on Sunday, you pondered Jin’s words of his past.

He was a bright star once, before this curse. And even after, he had fed on humans once. The curiosity gnawed at your brain, pleading to find out what had happened.

Jungkook never showed up.

And so you slept the day and night away, replenishing your health with soup that Seokjin delivered, until you woke up and the cycle continued once more.

You watch the round dewdrop roll off the viridescent green leaf, and splatter onto the cold white tile. The greenhouse has soon become one of your favourite places to pass time. The walls of that manor are suffocating.

The faint sound of a piano whispers into your ears. You shut your eyes, appreciating the beauty of the pieces as it plays flawlessly. You wonder who is pouring out their emotions to the ebony and ivory sisters.

The glass of the greenhouse is fogged by the dawn dew, shielding you from the world outside and those who wish to take from you. Almost smiling, you pace around the kingdom of plants, enjoying the tranquility. Today is Thursday; Hoseok allows you to do as you please after he feeds on you; though it could be of his genuine good intent, you suspect it’s to instill you with a false sense of freedom. Let the dog out of its cage, let her roam their land, so the bitch never seeks to leave the house.

The thought of escaping had crossed your mind a profusion of occurrences the past week. Though, at this very moment, you don’t think there is much purpose in leaving anymore. Here, you at least are provided food and shelter, and maybe one or two friends whose friendship comes with a price. It’s not living in here, you’re merely surviving. But you’re surviving nonetheless. Compared to out there, where you’d be left to fend for yourself, constantly fleeing from seven vampires who you’re eternally bonded to.

You’ve thought about killing yourself too. A coward’s way out, but hey, you’d rather be a coward than a blood bag for the rest of your life. But when you had snuck into the kitchen last night after Yoongi’s heartless torment and raised a knife to your chest, an invisible force had pushed against your arms, freezing them in place and preventing them from taking action.

The sireship is so cruel. It humanises the vampires who captured you, makes you empathise with them, and forbids you from harming yourself.

On deeper thought, you wouldn’t have been able to kill yourself that way anyway. The moment your blood is spilled, in a house full of vampires, at least one of them is bound to smell it right away. They would have healed you before the pain could kick in - their way of sweeping everything under the rug nowadays - and you would’ve been back to the start. Except worse, as they would then know of your intention.

You crouch down beside a rose bush, petting its velvet white petals between your fingers. Flowers are beautiful yet fickles things, but roses have thorns. They lure people in with their beauty, but if anyone tries to pluck them off and keep one for themselves, they get cut. Your fingers travel down its stem to where a thorn is staring enticingly back at you.

You push the pad of your finger into its prick, hard. You don’t feel a thing. Not even as a bead of crimson oozes from the cut. It’s chilling.

Then you sense a presence behind you. When you turn, your eyes meet with those of Namjoon. Watering pot in one hand, he watches you, brows furrowed at your previous act.

“What are you doing?” There’s a hesitancy in his voice, almost as if he doesn’t recognise you.

“Admiring the roses.”

You no longer speak to Namjoon in that defying tone of yours. He was right, there’s no use in challenging him, trying to topple his superiority complex. It only took a week to tame you into a docile creature. You’re ashamed.

“No, I mean why did you purposely touch the thorns like that?” Still frowning, he stomps over, water in his gardening can sloshing about. As he sinks down beside you, his air of intimidation infiltrates your peaceful bubble.

“I… I don’t know, I just wanted to know what it feels like.” You mumble. Setting the pot aside, Namjoon snatches your finger and brings it close to his face for examination.

“Well, it was obviously going to cut you.” He hisses. When his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your blood is vastly tempting him.

“I know.” You pull your finger away, not that you don’t trust his self control, but because his touch was beginning to scald. The bond was trying to take hold of you despite it not being the day where you belong to him, and you hate how drawn you are to him because of it.

Spinning away, you stand and begin pacing towards the door. Your moment of peace has been disturbed, there’s no point in staying here anymore. But then you hear him call after you, “W-Wait.” The vulnerable expression that greets you when you look back takes you by surprise. “Um… You spend an awful lot of time in here nowadays… How come?”

You hadn’t been aware that Namjoon notices your growing presence in the greenhouse, not since you have never come across him here before. “I like it in here, I feel safe. Why, am I not allowed?” Your question lacks the challenging impudence it should have, more like a young girl asking her father for permission. You’re disappointed in yourself at how quickly you’ve deflated, even at the obnoxious Namjoon. Yet, you’ve lost your drive at standing your ground, you’ve got no fight left.

“N-No!” He is quick to dispute, standing up from his crouch as well. “I just meant… Nevermind.” His voice trails weakly to a tense silence. You watch his eyes flicker up at yours rather nervously, trying to decipher his intention. Then he speaks again, “I’ve just seen you here quite a few times… I enjoy being here myself; I find tending to my plants right before the sun rises fully a therapeutic pastime.”

His admission strikes you. You would never imagine a man as demanding, efficient and severe as Namjoon to enjoy a hobby as mundane as gardening. You’re not sure what to make of it to be honest, nor can you understand why he’s speaking to you so… conversationally. Is this his attempt at making peace with you?

“Well, you’ve tended to them very well, they’re beautiful. I enjoy being here too.” You guess you should accept his decency. He had been rather distant on Monday, leaving you to your own devices, only feeding on you once and hardly speaking a word. His contrasting moods are confusing.

Namjoon’s lips purse, brows raise ever so slightly, as if surprised by your kind response. His eyes flicker to your finger again. The tiny cut has yet to dry, fresh blood still leaking from the open wound despite its miniscule size. You should probably have some food; your body is frail, especially after Yoongi yesterday.

“I’m going to leave you to it, sir.” You nod courteously, but freeze as the name you address him as slips out of you. No, it was drawn out of you from the bond. It doesn’t take a second for heat to rush to your face in embarrassment. Namjoon noticeably stiffens. Gulps.

The coil within you is starting to wind. It tightens around your chest like thorned vines, piercing into your heart the more you try to wriggle free.

You know he feels it too.

But before he can take a step towards you, as you sense he intends to, you’re turning around and speeding out of the greenhouse. And it’s not until you’re within the confines of Hoseok’s Feed Room that you feel the liberty to breathe again, Namjoon’s sire bond reluctantly waning into the background.

You could tell something was off about Hoseok straight away when he entered the room. There were multiple telltale signs.

One: He was stumbling over his feet, tripping over to the bed in a drunken manner as he navigated the room. His words were slurred, hardly coherent sentences at all. His wine red hair in disarray.

Two: He smelled noticeably different. Though you’ve not spent more than two days as his feed, Hoseok has a clear distinct smell, most notable from the other vampires. He smells clean, sweet even; it’s the one thing you can’t help but indulge in about him. Yet even to your human nose, he had a weird, doggish musk to him as he approached you.

Three: From his rogue smile dribbled drying blood. And no, it wasn’t a mere droplet of crimson, he was drenched in blood, chin to toes. Despite the gore you’ve witnessed, it was still a chilling sight.

And four: Though his eyes were half shut, you briefly saw the way they flashed beneath his lids. Only half conscious, the other half gone and crazed, though full of purpose - purpose to get to you.

You catch him in open arms as he falls onto you, the mattress dipping at the sudden crash of his weight. “Hoseok, what happened?” Your voice harbours more concern than you would like to show, and you don’t know why you care at all.

His face presses against the crook of your neck, his lips stretching into a smile at your presence, right over your pulse. His hands wander to your waist, pulling you into his embrace. You recoil from his forwardness, but with nowhere to back away to except further into the bed. You try to ignore how pleasant the tip of his nose feels as it rubs against your skin.

“Missed you…” Hoseok mumbles, still grinning widely, mouth travelling to your jaw where his warm breath tickles. His breath should be cold; the heat tells you that the feeding of whoever’s blood this was recent.

You can’t help but feel flustered at his sudden touchiness. Of all vampires here, save for Jungkook, you would say you’ve been the least… intimate with Hoseok. It has never been your dynamic. It was always him flinging you around like a puppy shredding its new stuffed toy then chewing on the spilled cotton. So this is… new.

“Why are you acting like this?” You ask again, trying to pry his arms off your torso but to no avail.

“Sweetness…” He mutters unintelligibly, and you shudder as his teeth grazes your ear, an involuntarily sensual tingle following.

“H-Hoseok…” Your breath hitches, his proximity growing more and more unignorable. So you grab his face, cheeks cupped in one hand, and shake him for good measure. His closing lids flash open like gradually awakening from slumber, yet still not recovered from his daze. “What happened to you?”

“Werewolves.”

An icy cold settles in your bones. Werewolves. There are such things as werewolves as well. Vampires, witches and werewolves. What other creatures of horror are plaguing your world that you don’t know of? That explains that muttish stench he carries. The blood he’s soaked in… Is it his or theirs? You think you feel slightly sick.

Brushing his hair out of his face, you point his drooping head at you again. “Tell me what happened.”

“Those stupid mutts… picking a fight… Taehyung, Jungkook and I had to put them in their place.” Hoseok begins peeling himself off you, and finally your body is no longer crushed under his. Your hands around him fall to your side idly as you watch him stumble off the bed and head towards the door, though he doesn’t make it two steps before tumbling onto his knees. You hurry after him to catch his upper body before he falls completely onto the ground.

His shoulders in your grip, you try to examine him for any wounds, and though there are some tears in his clothes, the skin underneath has been healed clean. So why? “Hoseok, look at me.” Your voice is urgent, authoritative, it almost has the life it once had to it. His eyes lock onto yours, this time permanently without closing. They’re blank, the amber green murky with an unreadable shroud. “What’s wrong with you? You need to tell me.”

So with obvious effort, he grunts out, “Werewolf blood makes us… It’s like… wine to us. Too much and our mind is” hiccup “inebriated.”

Oh. You let out a sigh of relief.

Hoseok is drunk on werewolf blood.

Though, you’re not sure why you’re relieved that he’s alright. Surely you should be wishing for the opposite.

With tremendous endeavour, you drag him up onto his feet and walk him to the ensuite bathroom, huffing as you sit him down on the edge of the lavish bathtub that every Feed bathroom contains but you have yet to use. Hoseok is uncooperative, trying for detours on the bed, attempting to hop onto the sink. With the knowledge of his intoxicated state now, he appears like a little child, an innocently fascinated smile constantly plastered on his face, too easily impressed by even his own reflection in the mirror. For you, it’s a contrasting sight. Though he has always possessed a child-like temperament in his playfulness and love to goof at silly things, his usual underlying insanity is nowhere to be found right now.

It makes his company more soothing knowing that his mind absolves of any ulterior motive.

You don’t know why you’ve taken it upon you to do so, but you rummage around to find a clean towel. Glancing at the mirror as you twist the faucet to dampen the towel, you try not to notice how you scarcely recognise yourself anymore.

Hoseok groans at the wet coldness you press onto his chin, the dried crusted blood once again watering into a river of rusty brown-red. His fingers fly up to catch yours, trying to pry the scrubbing towel off his face. “Mmmm.” He whines in protest, shut eyes frowning. You ignore his brewing tantrum, towel travelling down to absorb the red stains of his neck, though you clean with more gentleness now.

He isn’t so bad like this, you guess.

Still, the more you try to understand him, the more you lose yourself in the maze that is his psyche. The more you think you can predict him, the more he comes out with an unexpected complexity that adds another layer to his mask. Who is Hoseok? The entertainer, the mood maker, always seeking to please his guests? The little boy who wishes not to be tamed? The spoilt brat whose greed grows with the more he has? Who is he really?

You straighten and regard his state. Head drooping sluggishly, fingers fidgeting at anything in his reach, you realise a cold towel isn’t going to help him. You’re all too familiar from the nights your uncle stumbled back, the reek of alcohol finding you before he enters the room, to know that this state of inebriation needs to be conquered before he falls asleep, lest you wish to face an ill-tempered brute the next day.

“Hoseok.” You tap his jaw lightly, rousing him, and he looks at you with surprising focus that makes you cower a little. “You should shower.”

He blinks sleepily, and you think he doesn’t comprehend at first, but then he takes your hand in his and stands up. As he does, his face zooms dangerously close to yours, pointy tip of his nose a hair’s breadth away from brushing your lips. Your heart jumps. There’s a lag in your brain before you know to step back.

“Come with me, then.”

It’s evident that his whole demeanour has shifted. Gone is the childish giddiness he had. In its place: a solemn gravity, seemingly out of nowhere, his lips pressed into a taut line, jaw tense, a pinning glare possessing you unwaveringly. Even his voice has dropped deeper, forgoing its tangy cheer.

It takes more than a second for what he means to sink in. He wants you to join his shower.

“W-What? No!” You yank your hand from his, heat blooming across your cheeks.

At this point, you’re no prude, intimacy has been breached with several if not most of these vampires you share a roof with. Yet your dynamic and circumstance with each of them differs greatly. With Yoongi, it is a release of mutual resentment; Taehyung, it’s a seductive dance to pleasure you both; Namjoon, a reluctant magnetisation that you wish not to dwell on; Seokjin, a confusion of emotions and desperation; Jimin, a soft gentle healing. There has always been a sexual implication hinting at the back of your mind with these five, and with some, you’ve acted upon it. But never with Hoseok.

Because Hoseok has been too much of an enigma. Never once showing that type of attraction towards you, only a fascination that sits on the borderline of lunacy. Always just - ogling at you like you’re a show pony, marveling at the taste of your blood as if it’s a drug. And the confusion he inoculates when he acts as your friend, like he genuinely enjoys your company. Too baffling.

But right now, this very evening, something stirs in your stomach. A new sensation as another layer of him is peeled back to reveal yet another persona. A man desiring affection?

He looks at you for a while, as if he wants to say something. The absence of the smile that usually stalks his lips every moment of the day is throwing you off. You think he’s going to push further but he doesn’t, he simply tilts his head and says, “Suit yourself, sweetheart.”

Legs still rather wobbly, he makes his way, hand on the gold marble of the sink to balance his wavering weight, towards the shower. Standing there, stupefied at his sudden change, you don’t realise that he does not intend on waiting for you to leave before striping until he tears his blood-drenched shirt off crudely. Buttons fly towards the wall, scattering about in little clinks.

Faint scar-like marks dart across his back like a violent painting.

You’re transfixed. The light lines are not ridged, merely running smoothly on the surface of his skin. Some look like claw marks, some bite marks seemingly from an animal. Those werewolves he mentioned? Some look fresh, while others older.

But that doesn’t make sense. Why does he, a vampire with supernatural healing, have scars?

“So do you want to join or not?” He slurs, face half turned towards you, yet eyes trained low. His profile is striking.

“I- No. Um. I’m going to bed. Bye.” Your eyes immediately fall to the ground. Still incredibly flustered, you spin around and head back to your room, mentally trying to shake off the image of his scar-inflicted back.

At the door, you pause, back still facing him, and ask, “Will you be fine alone?”

You hear the whirl of his belt being pulled out, blood continuing to roar in your ears.

“I’ve been alone all these centuries - I think I’ll be fine.”

That’s not what you meant, but when you hear his zipper, you hurry to shut the door behind you, pondering the sourness of his reply.

His shower is quick, the water sounds stop not too long after you climb into bed. Though, Hoseok stays in the bathroom for a period of time before coming out. You debated going in to check in on him incase he has fallen unconscious or something of that sort, whatever werewolf blood does to vampires. But you weren’t sure if he would be dressed, so you stay tucked under the covers in a small huddle, quietly trying to dissect his character in your head.

The door eventually opens, though it doesn’t swing open as Hoseok normally does to announce his entry. He’s still in that odd sombre mood.

Lying on your side, curled up into a small lump, your back is facing him. Eyes shut yet wide awake, you hear a drop of water hit the floor every few seconds. You can’t resist the urge to look up, to see whether he has washed away the blood and intoxication.

But at the sight of his naked body, manhood only covered by the towel hanging loosely around his waist, you nearly roll off. Though his skin is mostly dry, there is still a lustre glossed over his unearthly sculpted body. The room is dark, his silhouette cast by the bathroom lights behind him. Despite the poor vision, you are mesmerised by the ridges of his abdomen, chiseled so perfectly that you wonder how they feel like beneath your touch. A defined V is carved on his pelvis, pointing down to a devilish place you’re glad the darkness doesn’t allow you to see.

You catch sight of his hand that is bunching up the towel loosen, just in time for you to swing back down into your foetal position away from him before you hear the cloth drop carelessly.

Is he purposely trying to tizzy you?

Your eyes close firmly as he paces to the dresser, and they stay that firmly closed while you hear him dress, hear the bathroom lights click off.

You jolt when you feel the pressure on the other side of that mattress, your knees curling up tighter, inconspicuously inching further away. To your relief, as he climbs into bed, he keeps his distance, doesn’t reach for you like you were scared he would.

The silence hums loudly, rhythmed by his shallow breaths. Is he finally sober?

No sound. Not a word. For Hoseok, that’s worrying.

Damn yourself, why do you care? “Are you feeling better?” You almost bite your tongue as you ask, cursing your inability to keep to yourself. At least you don’t turn to face him.

Silence, still. Steady breaths.

You begin to wonder if he fell asleep the second his back sunk onto the mattress. It wouldn’t be a surprise.

But then you hear the lightest sigh. “Feeling less drunk, but head still pounding. Dizzy.”

You’re unaccustomed to the deepness of his voice, wondering where its usual loud annoying cheeriness has strayed off to. You don’t want to say you miss it, you certainly don’t. You just… grew so used to it.

This version of Hoseok is too human. It’s uncanny.

Despite laying there in silence, it doesn’t feel silent at all. The tension is blaringly loud in the air, almost a physical pressure pushing up against you, goading you to do something. Turn around and face him. Let him feed on you to replenish. But no, he’s fed a lot today already. Your collar still feels sore. Find another vampire and ask them to cure him. But at this time of day, where the sun is already almost completely uncovered, they should all be asleep. Then at least talk to him, something, before he resumes back to his normal self that you have to cower from.

“What are those scars on your back?”

Your voice startles him. Though you can’t see well, you notice him jolt. Was that too much to ask? Too personal? And honestly, do you actually want to know the truth to your question or would you sleep much sounder without it?

He doesn’t answer.

Instant regret. You count your breaths, shut your eyes and try not to be hyper-aware of short the distance of an arm’s length actually is between your back and his side.

You shouldn’t have asked that. Of course it would be a sensitive topic. What else could explain the literal scars on his back that have failed to heal even with his supernatural abilities?

There is a line drawn between you and Hoseok. There are boundaries, though some particularly vague and hazy, between you and each vampire, but the line is especially distinct with him. You have to remember, you can’t act the same as you do with Seokjin or Taehyung with someone like Hoseok or Yoongi. He’s not your friend. None of them are your friends, really. Hoseok, one of the least of all.

Who knows what psychological trigger you’ve switched on by asking such question? Curiosity did kill the cat afterall.

“They…” It’s your turn to jounce, his response unexpected. “I don’t know, I guess there’s a limit to what my abilities can heal, and to be honest, I like the look of them anyway. I think there’s a word for it, but my mind isn’t working properly… M-something. Ma- You know, the opposite of sadism.”

You know.

“Masochism…?”

“Yeah, that. Masochism.”

The room goes quiet after he mutters the last syllable of a word you would never anticipate to be his answer. Hoseok is a masochist? He enjoys pain inflicted onto him? If it were even possible for your blood to go colder, you feel a chill spear through your veins.

Fuck, these vampires are dark. And you thought you were morbid…

“Why…?” So Hoseok is at the opposite of the spectrum from Yoongi. You vaguely understand Yoongi, how he lashes out due to self hatred. It’s a cycle of pushing people away due to fear of intimacy from his loneliness, and as a result feeling more alone. He likes to inflict pain because that way, he can convince himself that he’s an unlovable monster, and pretend that he is choosing to be alone. But with Hoseok, you cannot fathom how or why he enjoys pain. How could anyone? “If you don’t mind me asking…”

You’re tempted to turn, eye contact is human nature, but you don’t think you can stomach it. There is an inexplicable weight, an intensity bestowed. You feel as though you’re sinking in quicksand, a slow agonising submergence, swallowed up by the burden you’re seeking to know about but can’t resist.

“It’s so boring, living like this.” He mumbles. You hear him rustle around to get comfortable, or maybe to inch closer to you. “We’ve been alive for more than two thousand years. Life begins to get rather insipid, nothing really... stimulates me anymore. Yeah, fight with demons, get wasted on werewolf blood, sure, pretty fun.” Hiccup. “But after so many years, you start to not really feel anything anymore.”

Truthfully, you think you get it. You get his inertia, the lack of anything exciting him about life.

“Like yeah, I know how you see me. I’m this over-the-top, dramatic class clown caricature, so you probably won’t believe me when I tell you about how bored I actually am. But I am.” hiccup

“So pain is your remedy?”

“I guess, yeah, pain is my remedy. You know that feeling when your skin gets cut, that rush of cold that infiltrates you?” Unfortunately, all too well. “It’s pretty exciting. There’s no feeling like it.” hiccup “It’s just so refreshing, to be able to feel somewhat mortal. Get torn apart a little, because I know I’ll stitch back up together anyway. It’s the only thing that brings me thrill nowadays. Before we found you.”

“What if you don’t?” Vampires are immortal, but not invincible afterall.

“Then I guess I don’t.”

Hoseok says it with a finality, as if death is no big ordeal to him. If it happens, it happens. He’s not self-destructive perse, you know he isn’t actively looking to die. He just wants to feel something. Like you.

Yeah, you think you get it…

Despite the difference in the sufferings you’ve been exposed to, monotony breeds insensitivity to most stimulants of life. Food tastes blander, colours duller, sense of self starts to ebb away. Hoseok had been a cheerful man before becoming a vampire, one requiring extravaganza in his life, flamboyance, because his life was a show, the embodiment of entertainment. How long did that take to crumble? For him to grow out of parties and parades because he realised that they could no longer fill that void?

The fall from a life of exhilaration to one where you were only passing time is tragic. He puts on a show to convince himself that he’s having fun, imposes it on everyone around him.

You’re beginning to dissect the animus of Hoseok, what truly underlies his insanity.

It’s disconcerting, how much he’s opening up when he isn’t sober. He has kept this in for a while, you can guess.

“Hey…” He slurs sleepily, though you hear his purpose, a sort of determination to stay away and say one last thing. And finally, you turn.

In this darkness, you hardly see a thing more than the shadows cast around him. You can’t see his facial expression, and you think it’s perhaps a good thing; you don’t wish for it to confuse you more. What throws you off is the heat emitted from his body. Vampires are cold creatures, warmth absent in their touch. You try not to think about the werewolf blood still coursing through his veins to keep him warm, how it makes it feel as though a human lays beside you rather than the monster in actuality.

“Yes?”

Your reply falls flat. As your vision adjusts to the pitch black, you are hyper aware of the stillness of the night that encases you.

“I…”

He.

It’s silent. So silent you can hear the thrumming of your chest.

“Yes?” You repeat, egging him on. His hesitancy has a depressive tone to it, it is somehow so genuine, rather than for dramatic effect like one would expect from him.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words shoot into you like bullets of chaos and disarray, their shells ricocheting. Your ear rings as if deafened by an explosion. Maybe this is a dream. You can’t tell these days anymore.

“I’m sorry for everything.” He sounds throaty, still dragging his words as he tries to grapple at sobriety but fails. He also sounds like he means what he’s saying, like he feels terribly guilty.

You don’t understand.

“What do you mean… Why…?” Your eyes drop to the distance between you, fixing on the shadow of a crease you can barely make out.

“I’m just-” Hoseok tosses onto his side to look at you. You stare at that shadow harder. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“But wh-”

“Every time I look at you, I just want to, I don’t know, shake you. No, not you. Shake myself, or my brothers. I want to shatter some glass, sprint at a wall, I don’t know. I don’t fucking know what I’m saying. But yeah, every time I look at you, I just feel so fucking bad, man. I’ve- I guess I’ve been pretty good at keeping the guilt at bay all these centuries - we kind of have to, or we wouldn’t have survived two thousand years. But like, when I look at you, I can’t forget how much you’ve suffered. That kind of damage scars you forever. I can fucking see that you’re a shell of a person.”

Your throat constricts. You hate this feeling. Not that people have ever pitied you before, seeing as there was no witness of your uncle’s abuse, there was no one to feel sorry for you. But right now, you get it. That wash of humiliation from the small satisfaction you gain from someone pitying you, someone acknowledging how bad you have it, all the shit you’ve been through. It makes you sick.

Yes, you’re damaged. Good that he knows. Good that it tears apart his conscience. You’re glad that it makes him feel horrible.

Then why? You want to ask him. But you know he’s not finished with his piece.

“I see that you try to hide how fucking empty you are when you’re with me, try to act like you’re enjoying my company and actually find my jokes funny. I guess that’s why I keep trying to make you laugh. I know I’m annoying as fuck. Hell, I would hate me if I were anyone but me. But, I don’t know, I just want to stir some reaction from you, make you feel less hollow. I know it fucking sucks for you here, and I want to make it suck less, you know?”

A shiver fires down your spine. You have never thought about it like that.

Drunk words, sober thoughts. Or so the saying goes.

All this time, you thought that Hoseok views you as some sort of dancing monkey, forcing you to perform tricks for him, smiling, laughing, stroking his ego.

But the truth is, he wants to spark some life back into you. His jokes, his stories, his antics. They have been for you, not him.

Your throat trembles.

“All that shit with your uncle, God, it was brutal, even for me. It was the fact that you couldn’t escape from it. You were living through hell for how many years? All because of us. And now you’re stuck here with us, have to continue to endure. It just doesn’t stop for you, does it? And I know it makes no sense coming from me. Especially from me, I guess. You know, I really wish I could control myself. But that sensation that overtakes our minds, I wish I could describe it to you, it’s fucking insane. Your blood tastes like a drug to me, I don’t know, heroin or something. Except it doesn’t kill me, it kills you.” His voice is drifting, quieter, duller, slower. Like he’s mumbling without knowing he’s speaking out loud. The words just keep tumbling out.

Glancing up, you see that his eyes are shut, chest rising heavily, on the brink of sleep. You want him to fall asleep. You don’t want to keep listening. Because it sickens you knowing that buried under all those masks is an emotionally empathetic person, hardly the maniac you thought him to be. Because it would be so much easier if he was that, so much easier to hate your tormentor and see him as a monster.

But actually, he isn’t. He senses your pain, holds remorse for his actions.

You hate it. You hate it.

Just let me believe that you’re pyschopathic.

“Anyway... what I was saying is that…” His head droops to the other side. Sleep will siege him soon, you’re glad to know. “I know I’m a hypocrite. Namjoon would give me hell if he heard me sympathising with the Feed, but I truly mean no malicious intent towards you... This is just the way things are for us…” His breathing slows, deepens. Words only just more than a slur of syllables. You lay there, clutching your fists, waiting for it to be over, but only for you to lie awake and ponder this revelation for hours. “I wish… I wish it didn’t have to be you... after all that you went through. But I guess you only went through that because of what you are… Hurting you was the only way to protect you...”

You don’t even hear it at first, silently contemplating his words. But then the last bit sinks in.

“Wait, wait, what?” You break your silence. Hoseok has stopped making sense, you shouldn’t expect more from a drunken vampire, but he had been making sense before. “What do you mean?”

“What do I mean what?” He mumbles and rolls away, but you grab his sleeve and prevent him from turning and entering a realm of dreams.

“What you said in the end. About how… I don’t know... I went through that shit because of what I am. What do you mean? And hurting me was the only way to protect me.” Your blood has gone icy. You don’t want to be left with nothing but those words and your endless imagination of what they could possibly mean for the next few hours.

“You know, the spell…”

Spell.

“What spell?” But his eyes are completely closed, hardly a stir at your question to indicate he heard you at all. His sleeve bunches up under your fist, you gently rattle his face. “Hoseok, what spell? What are you talking about?”

He tries to shake you off, frowning in annoyance at your disturbance. “You know. That spell, the one to keep you safe.”

“Keep talking about the spell, Hoseok. Please. Safe from what?” You continue to shake him, stomach tying into knots. What spell?

“Safe from us, whatever Creatures of the Night your blood attracts.” Vexed, he grabs your wrist, eyes half opening, and shoves them away. “The spell the angels put, remember?”

“I don’t remember. Tell me about the spell, what was it?” You hear the urgency, the degrading desperation in your voice, but you need to know. You need to. What fucking spell to keep you safe?

“It’s complicated. Some twisted magic? You know that car accident with your parents? That was some Hell’s magic, when the demons started to find you... Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires. They would’ve taken you if the angels hadn’t been watching closely and intervened. Then they, the angels I mean, decided to shield your aura, you know, your angel aura. The thing that lets the supernatural know that you have angel blood? It’s a distinctive scent for us, and I’m guessing other creatures too. It attracts demons and whatnots and helps them hunt you. It’s like a beacon of light. So they had to suppress your aura. And the only way to suppress angel aura is to suppress the angel themselves. Make them suffer, endure tremendous pain, dull their virtues, make them lose the will to live, et cetera. That way you don’t ‘shine’ anymore, and we won’t be able to find you. So I guess they did some sort of spell, or whatever heavenly magic, on your uncle so that his mind was warped and unconsciously fixated on hurting you... It’s fucking dark and twisted, especially for angels... To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. That’s what irks me... Don’t know why but it just makes me feel so fucking bad…”

Something churns violently in your stomach. And you would have thrown up if you had eaten much previously.

None of it makes sense. Or maybe it’s starting to make too much sense.

You can’t believe it. You fucking can’t believe it.

You let Hoseok drift off to sleep, the weight of his body falling limp. You let go of his face.

You just can’t. Fucking. Believe it.

There’s no way this is true. He’s drunk. He has made up some story in his head. There’s no way.

Because there’s simply no way that the past few years of your endless torture has been a gift from the angels, a path paved for you to endure. To shield you. To save you.

In what sick universe…

You scramble off the bed and rush into the bathroom, ignoring the loud pads of your feet against the cold wooden floor. Your fingers tremble as you turn the light switch on and slam the door behind you with your back. For a moment, all you hear is the ocean of your roaring blood.

That’s why that night your parent died had felt so strange, so off, your disagreement with your parents so out of the blue. That’s why there was a storm. That’s why a car drove into you and killed your parents. That’s why your grandmother died so shortly after despite normally having great health. That’s why there was a sudden change in your uncle’s demeanour, as if a switch had been flipped in him. That’s why he had locked you in the basement, broke your legs routinely to stop you from escaping, beat you and your sister without reason.

It was demons and Creatures of the Night and a so-called “protection” ploy from angels.

You want to scream. As your back slides down the door, you want to scream at the top of your lungs. The amalgamation of emotions is tearing you apart, piece by piece.

This is it, the tipping point, the loss of your sanity.

His words play over and over again in your head, a drunken confession that he probably did not realise the meaning of in his state.

To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it. To protect you from demons by making you suffer so much that you lose the core of your being. To destroy you in order to save you from hell and the creatures from it.

Like a prayer.

Panting hysterically, you feel your mind shattering into a million shards. You can’t comprehend it. You don’t want to. You don’t want to know that the pain you felt, day after day, for what felt like an eternity had been a plot. A fucking spell. You don’t want to know. You don’t want to. You don’t want. You don’t. You.

You. Can’t. Do. This.

01:01. The crash. The beatings. The death of your sister.

It’s possible that you are crying, shaking, but you’re not aware.

And after crumbling on the bathroom floor, for minutes, maybe hours, you make your decision.

You run.

The sun is still out.

That means they can’t come out yet. They can’t come after you. They’re probably still asleep, unbeknownst of your escape.

The house had been eerily quiet as you snuck out. And as soon as you stepped foot outside the front door, you had felt it.

The incredible weight holding you down. Like the manor itself was shackled to your ankles. Walking away felt like trudging through mud, dragging this boggling heaviness with you. Every sire bond that has formed was shrieking in your head, wailing, begging for you to stop leaving.

It was purely your willpower and determination that gave you the strength to overcome the supernatural ties that tethered you to those vampires. You had to ignore how much your limbs were aching, how much your heart was straining. You just had to run away. Keep going and don’t look back. It was melting your brain into a puddle, but your mind had been in ruins anyway.

You didn’t know where you were going, the forest faced every side of the house, but you just kept going, as far from them as possible. If you ran down one direction, you were bound to meet an end at some point, find civilisation.

There is no plan. No plan as you fled the walls of those wretched vampires. You just knew you couldn’t stay, couldn’t continue living like that with the knowledge that was spilled onto you. There’s no way you could have pretend not to know and face those vampires, let them drain your blood when they had been part of the reason behind all your suffering.

Fuck the Heavens and the Hells. Fuck the angels, the demons, the vampires, werewolves, witches, all the damnable fucking supernatural.

Angel blood in your veins. A fucking curse.

Every bone in your body is starting to hurt, lungs growing weaker every gasping breath. You keep running, ignoring the overbearing ache and faint voices in your head chanting sorrysorrysorry.

Sorry, child, we’re sorry.

The sun has set. It is dark. And you are still running through the forest, no inkling at all of how far you’ve gone and how far is left until you find your rescuer.

The night is eerie, enveloping you in a fog of oblivion, no perception of anything beyond this forest. Howling can be heard from a distance, or what you hope to be a distance. You’re hanging on by a thread, but only just. You don’t know how much longer you will last, you just know that you’ve passed the point of no return now. They would have been searching for you since the daylight began to dwindle. They are on their way.

There had been so many instances where you had just stopped, panting, and stared at your own two feet, wondering what the fuck you’re doing. Because where are you running to? Who is going to believe you when you tell them about the fucking vampires looking for you? Who is going to care about some crazy girl?

What is the point in running? Living, even?

But an instinct within you, the one sparked by this revelation, didn’t allow your legs to stop. The whole world is against you. The whole fucking world. Creatures of the Night are hunting you, the angels have abandoned you to a cruel spell, your family is rotting six feet under. No one is going to fight for you, except yourself.

You are a survivor.

Energy waning from the lack of food and the sparing gulps of water you had salvaged from a brooke, the only thing fuelling you is your adrenaline. At this time of night, your vision is no more than dark silhouettes of trees and rocks. Your limbs are numb. The only thing telling you that you haven’t stopped moving is the constant crunch of leaves beneath your feet, crisply ringing. Keep going. Just keep running.

Where are you?

You hear a voice, his voice. No, you don’t hear it, you sense it. You feel his worry, his fear.

Where did you go? Please.

They can’t possibly be near. Even with vampire speed, there’s no way that can catch up with you so quickly when you’ve been gone for hours.

Please.

The pleading makes your heart lurch. You stop, heaving over your knees.

Guilt. It’s the guilt. Why do you feel guilty for leaving? No, you don’t feel guilty, the bond is making you feel it. It’s trying to manipulate you.

I can’t lose you…

But that’s definitely his voice, his inner thoughts. Seokjin is afraid, panicked, in a frenzy to look for you. Genuine concern.

Maybe you should go back. What are you even doing anyway? Where are you going? There’s no purpose.

It also dawns on you that they will pick up on your scent right away. Even if they don’t find you tonight, everywhere you go, they will find you eventually. They had found you even though your aura had been muffled by your uncle’s abuse. They somehow found you. They are always going to find you.

Maybe you should give up. Just submit to them for the rest of your eternity. Either way, you would be suffering, the angels will see to that. Just give up.

Your fists tighten on your knees. It’s freezing cold; your clothes shredded by sharp grappling branches, the midnight breeze percolates pass the futile material and assails your skin. Thoughts racing at an uninterpretable speed, your lost purpose becomes blaringly apparent.

It’s not so bad in there.

Please be okay. Please come back. Don’t go.

They kind of care about you, in their own warped sense of what caring is. Right? They almost love you, some of them. Right? Right? Right? Right? Right?

I miss you. I’m coming for you. I love you.

Right?

Please be okay.

“SHUT UP!” You sob out loud. In the distance, your outburst scare away a flock of sleeping birds, their wings flapping in synchrony to your heartbeat. “Please just shut up.” As tears erupt like a dam, your slam your hands to your ears to shield you from the sound. But of course, it doesn’t stop. It isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. It’s the sire bond telling your mind his emotions. “Shut up. Stop making this harder for me. Shut up.”

Falling onto your knees, you simply break. Every fibre of your mind is peeling away, your entity flaking into dust. The cold stings your damp cheeks, trickling down to your neck where you remember so vividly the feeling of their fangs.

They almost love you, some of them.

That’s good enough, right?

That’s better than… nothing.

More birds shriek into the silence of the night, so loud that you hear them clearly despite your covered ears.

Are they here? Already?

You keep crying, soil eating your crumpled frame.

And because of your sobs, your firmly shut eyes, your covered ears, you don’t hear the footsteps approach you until you sense a looming presence behind.

Here.

Which one is it?

Slowly, every inch of you trembling, you turn.

A shocked man stares at you in wide eyes. Some sort of camper or hiker judging by his attire.

Not here.

“Oh my god. Please help me. Please help me.” You crawl over to his feet, ignoring the protest of your exhaustion and your pitiful position. “Sir, please help.” Your luck has turned. Finally. You’re going to be okay. Finally. The tears fall harder.

“W-what happened? Are you hurt? Lost?” Gradually processing the dirt covered girl collapsed and crying at his feet, the man bends down and examines you in concern.

“Yes, please, just take me somewhere safe. Please, they’re going to find me.” The wash of relief almost overwhelms you to unconsciousness.

“You need to tell me what happened, little girl. You’re in shock. Who’s going to find you?”

In the dark, you can’t see well, but something in his eyes makes you trusting of him. It’s the genuine worry and care. What a normal man is supposed to look like. You’re saved. You’re finally saved.

“We have no time, just take me… take me to the police.” Your shaking hand grips at his fleece in desperation. You don’t know what you can tell him or the police, you don’t know anything more powerful than vampires than can protect you from them, but you can think about that later. You just need to go now.

“Okay, okay. Let me carry you.”

No. Child, no.

This time, it isn’t Seokjin’s voice. Someone else, like that faint chanting you occasionally hear.

“Thank you.” You shift into a position that better enables the man to reach under your legs. Behind him, you see a pack of black dogs, creeping warily towards you, sniffing. “Are those your dogs?”

“Yes, don’t worry, they are clever boys.”

When his palm touches the underside of your thigh, ice pierces into your skin.

No. Not him. Not safe.

You know that ice. You know that inhuman lack of body heat.

As he hoists you up, you nudge him away and roll back onto the ground. “Wait.” Moonlight illuminating part of his face, you survey his pale skin, his devilishly good looks. His brows pinch in confusion, but there’s a twinkle in his eye.

Not human.

You glance over at the dogs again. Sleek black coat, long sharp ears, crimson eyes. Where their legs should meet the ground are misty shadows, like ghosts.

Not dogs.

The man’s lips quirk up. His camper’s attire dissipates like dust to reveal a black suit underneath.

You run.

Twigs snap beneath your feet as you sprint as fast as your calves allow, away from whatever they are. Your chest aches from fatigue, ankles screaming for you to stop. As you run, you ignore the branches reaching out to scratch your cheek, your arms. You hardly even feel the cuts against the twisting feeling of dread in your gut.

Angel blood isn’t just valued by vampires.

Looking back, you see the man stood rooted where he is. He isn’t coming after you, but the smirk he wears is enough to tell you not to stop. But not long later, you realise why he isn’t chasing.

Growls, howls of excitement, absolute beastly noises erupt from left and right. The hounds are running at an astounding speed beside you, their pelts pitch black despite the moonlight that they should reflect. Jaws open, they pant at you wildly as they hunt you. Zigzagging between the trees to create a misleading path, you try to create as much distance from them as possible. But they’re quick things. Clever boys.

Soon, they are narrowing in on you, until the pack is an arrowhead surrounding you. The closest hound snaps his jaw at your ankle, barely missing you. The loud crunch from the collision of its canines as he shuts his jaw, you know your foot would have been gone if you had been one second slower. You don’t have time to yelp. You focus on running ahead, slipping between boulders and following your instinct for directions.

Where are you? You hear Seokjin once again.

I’m here! You try to scream down the bond. Save me.

You don’t know why. You don’t know why you are asking for help from the very ones you had been running from in the first place. But you just know that, whatever is hunting you, your fate would be much worse with them.

I’m coming. His utter distraught is gone, replaced by a calm composed determination instilled by the awaited reply from you at last. And you know at this moment that it was a mistake to flee. Seokjin at the very least, regardless of everyone else, would never harm you, would always look after you. Why did you leave? Why had you acted upon your deranged irrationality? We’re looking for you. Don’t worry.

Relief. Because that is a promise. And you trust him.

But now the guilt of fleeing from them kicks in. What the bond had made you feel every step you took, that ripping sensation as if you’re tearing apart something substantial, you can imagine being a mammoth’s weight worse for them with their heightened senses.

Something is chasing me. Please help me. I’m sorry.

His fear returns, this time a formidable wave wiping his away short-lived relief. What is chasing you?

Dogs, big black dogs. There was also this man.

Bloody hellhounds and a Drude demon. Shit.

You have no idea what those creatures are but you can tell by the explosion of terror in Seokjin that it’s some of the worse you could encounter.

Distracted by his disclosure, you misplace your foot on an uneven log and topple down, the bark you crash onto scraping fire against your skin. Pain explodes at the back of your skull where it hits something severe. You don’t see beyond a sea of pulsing black.

Then something rips into your leg. You don’t know if you are screaming.

You drift in and out of consciousness.

Tiny stars dance around the deep blue sky. They look pretty.

You think you hear something growling, whimpering maybe.

What is that leaking from you so briskly? Blood? Hmm.

Darkness.

You hear voices? Yes, voices. Unintelligibly arguing. But if you shut your eyes again and stop shifting on the ground, they could pass off as background music.

Then the volume grows. Fighting. Grunting. More Growling. More whimpering.

But you feel safe. You don’t know why but you feel safe. That’s how you know you’ve lost your mind for good. There are virtual flames burning around you, warmth licking at your broken body. Nothing can get past the flames. Nothing can hurt you. This phantom fire is shielding you.

You heart is burning too, fighting. Someone’s sireship is fuelling you, feeding you, forcing life back into you.

When you open your eyes, when a vaguely familiar face appears, hovering over you, obstructing your view of the towering treetops and wavering constellations. You can’t quite put of your finger on his name, but you know you’re safe.

His eyes are big, full of concern and trouble, his hair long, black, wavy but tucked behind his ears. A black liquid is splattered across him, some on his beautiful face that is taut in vexation.

You don’t protest when he carries you in strong sturdy arms, lifelessly flopping against his chest.

He is warm. Fire. Safe.

And then he is zooming past the trees, so fast the wind tickles at you violently, your limp body jostling. Though half unconscious, your eyes don’t leave him, studying his angular jaw, the round crook of his nose.

J…

A droplet of black liquid rolls off his chin and splats onto your arm. It tingles like weak acid, faintly sour, an unearthly sensation.

Your heavy lids seal you back into the darkness.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the softness around and under you. Arms from beneath you draw away, leaving your weight to sink into the bed. Your eyes stay shut.

Warmth is pressed onto your lips, gently, careful as if one hard prod would shatter you. Your throat knows to swallow the stream flowing into your mouth, its taste unfamiliar, but safe.

Warm. And safe.

Almost immediately, you feel its effects catapult into your system. Skin everywhere begins to sew back together, bones like toppled buildings building brick by brick, the chaos in your mind whispered to sleep. That protective fire around you blazing.

Still, you don’t open your eyes. You don’t want to. You can’t face them.

“Troublesome little shit.” He pushes the hair out of your face, touch possessing a surprising delicacy that contradicts his insult and completely entangles your preconceived conception of him. But his voice… So soothing like honey. Not what you expected.

You train your breath to be steadily slow, eyes to be unmoving under your closed lids, hoping to pass off as asleep. The silence creaks, followed by a rustle of bedding. Then you feel the heat of his breath stroke the tiny hairs on your forehead. You suppress a flinch. But he presses his lips onto your skin, so tenderly you almost open your eyes to see if it’s really Jungkook.

“Please don’t leave again.”

And then he’s gone.

❦

@taexxxiiaa @serendipity-secrets @killcomet @askingtheimportantthingshere@blackpanther4550 @comingjimin @unatempesta-dipensieri @dapppphhhhh @unatempesta-dipensieri @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @queerloser17 @linyi-lovbts @somewhereinthestarss @xxqueenwxtchxx @whitefeatheredwyvern @embrace-themagic @brokencrownqueen @i-dont-even-know-fck @bangtandimples @kalkeegan @beetaeass @confessionsofascientist @chimycthulhu @hisunshiine @shooklier @livetay84 @runlikeabuffalo @nanna022 @berryjam17 @thelouhvre @bluemooncnblue @enigmaticlove-03 @lanu-la @bangtanfancamp @brbkpop @jiminisnotavirginrecs @samariakeeper @goodnightbug @dont-touch-me-fwit @tastelessfoolsbts @queensavage1245 @laced-brds @ultraanonymousey @ashchats @godzillagirl-14 @lustremyg @animeshins @it-is-dana @itsavakent @strawberrym0chii @namchimtae @smoljams@brightenn @btsxdoll @d-noona @show-respect-to-your-queen @fyeebangtan@for-hobi @lx-leeta @thesoftuglies

❦

19/01/2020

877 notes · View notes

omg-imagine · 4 years

Text

⊱ Forget Me Not (10/15) ⊰

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Reader

Summary: After you wake up from a coma and realize that your memories from the last five years have been erased, Keanu works to bring back what you have lost.

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex and cheating

A/N: It’s shorter than usual but it sets up the next chapter 👀

Also, huuuuuge thanks to @ficsnroses for reading this over as well as being super supportive when I was having a mini meltdown while writing this :)) !!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy!

Part 9

Eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the blinding daylight, Keanu almost didn’t recognize the white ceiling above. Gaze fixed on the crown molding, there was a small, yet discernable patch of grey in one corner, a soreness to his eyes. A light chuckle then escaped him, remembering when he repainted the room a year ago and had accidentally left the mark up there. He had promised to fix it, several times actually, but life got so hectic that he eventually forgot, and it was left neglected to this day.

Surrounded by the dark blue duvet he’d received as part of a house-warming gift years ago, the last time Keanu slept on this heavenly cloud of a mattress was the night you came home from the hospital. He’d gotten quite used to the smaller bed in the guest room, and waking up in this one was nearly unfamiliar to him. Shifting slightly, he stopped abruptly when he heard a soft moan to his left, feeling the warmth of another body pressed against him moving before the sheets settled again.

Turning to lie on his back, a sigh fell from Keanu’s lips at the sight of you curled up and facing the other wall. You were still in deep-sleep with one hand under your cheek, your hair spilled over the pillow, and your bare skin set aglow by the midday sun. The blankets barely covered your nude body from his eyes, and even after five years, it never failed to take his breath away.

You were beautiful, simply stunning, and utterly mesmerizing. Only a fool would choose to glance the other way when it came to you.

Mind drifting back to the night prior, the corners of Keanu’s mouth curled upwards into a soft smile. He thought about the tender way the two of you made love for hours, only falling asleep when dawn finally crept up, painting the skies outside a rosy hue. It was sweet and gentle, and Keanu hoped it was special for you, knowing it would be your first time with him. Though it had been an impulsive decision on his part, his heart swelled at the image of you experiencing pure bliss, something he had painfully longed to see again after months without doing so.

Waking up next to you felt like a dream to him, a place of endless peace and tranquility, one where the weight of his faults amounted next to nothing. For a moment, Keanu wished that it could stay this way; no guilt, secrets, and lies. Just you and him, home in your own perfect haven where the ugly past neither mattered nor existed. If he could, he would stay wrapped up in your arms forever, relishing the warmth and love he once took for granted.

But Molly’s ultimatum reminded Keanu that his world would soon fall apart. She had given him seven days to tell you the truth. Well, six now after he lost his chance last night. Even though that was generous of her, it wasn’t enough time for him to say goodbye. By this time next week, whether it be through Keanu or Molly, you would know of everything. Your heart had been broken too many times in past relationships, and he was sure that you would never forgive him for doing the same.

Keanu’s wandering thoughts ceased when you stirred awake beside him, letting out a yawn as you stretched out your limbs. Your eyes opened slowly, and after blinking a few times, you glanced at him with a tired yet bright and shining smile. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on his bare chest, your fingers lightly skimming over the expanse, lazily drawing circles on his skin. His arm quickly came around your shoulders, pulling you close before gingerly kissing your temple then burying his nose into your hair.

“Good morning,” you mumbled softly, looking up at Keanu with your sparkling eyes.

“It’s the afternoon, baby,” he spoke, his voice thick with sleep yet filled with affection. “We slept through half the day already.”

“Well, we did have a very late night. It’s pretty understandable, don’t you think?” You giggled sweetly, nuzzling deeper into Keanu’s side. “So, about last night…”

He saw you bite your bottom lip, your gaze falling as if you’re pondering what to say next. A breath hitched in his throat as he silently studied your features. Keanu has never had someone so precious encased in his arms. Even with your hair mussed and eyes bleary, he still adored your natural state of beauty greatly.

“What about last night?” He questioned, genuinely curious.

A smile broke through your lips as you glanced back up at him. “It was perfect. I don’t know what else to say other than it was perfect. You are perfect.”

“I’m glad that you think so,” Keanu simply returned, slightly chuckling at the end as he craned his neck down to kiss you. “You’re perfect, too. So beautiful, and you feel so good.”

He couldn’t help himself. Keanu softly nudged you to lie back while he hovered above you, kissing a path down the column of your neck. He released a small groan when your nimble fingers tangled tightly in his dark hair, tugging them gently as your body arched upwards. You were craving more, and Keanu was willing to give you his all, realizing this would be one of the final instances that he could.

For a brief second, you stared deeply into his eyes, and that’s when he noticed the tears shimmering in them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, purely concerned as he watched you quickly wipe away the wetness.

“Nothing,” you brushed off, your words coming out as a broken whisper. Keanu looked at you solemnly, placing his hand on one side of your face and stroking your cheekbone delicately with his thumb.

He hated seeing you cry.

“Y/N…”

“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” you finally reveal with a shake of your head and a tender smile. “I’m crying because this is everything that I’ve wanted. After Eric, I really believed that I would never find someone who loves me the way you do. I didn’t even think I could ever trust another person with my heart again, but then you came into my life.”

Keanu remained quiet, his body still on top of yours, but he held his weight with his elbows. His curtain of hair hid the sorrow and pain in his eyes until you reached up, brushing back the locks away from his face. He knew all about Eric and the emotional harm he had done to you, especially during the last few months of your relationship. He swore he would never hurt you the way Eric had, but he did.

“When I caught him with that woman the first time, it made me feel like I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. I wasn’t enough for him that he strayed away, and found somebody else better than me. And for a while, I thought it was my fault. I loved him too much to let him go, even though I was blaming myself for things that I shouldn’t have had.”

“You’re more than enough, darling,” Keanu intoned softly, intertwining his hand with yours and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. “He didn’t deserve you.”

Neither did he.

“I realize that later on when I left, but the pain didn’t disappear until you showed up,” you added, sighing. “It’s only been months since I’ve known you Ke, or at least, that’s how it seems like because of the amnesia. But you make me feel like I’m everything. You make me feel so loved and so beautiful…”

Gently, you pushed Keanu to lie down before swinging one leg over to straddle his hips. He started to notice the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, a wave of regret washing over him after hearing your words. You trusted him, loved him, saw him as the man you dreamed and longed for when in reality, he’s not.

Not anymore.

“If I end up not gaining my memories back,” you murmured as your mouth ghosted over his jaw, teasingly, “I’ll be content with the ones I already have with you.”

This time, it was Keanu trying to fight back his own tears. He’d deeply miss these intimate moments shared only between the two of you. He’d miss the softness of your lips and the warmth of your breath against his skin. He’d miss the sound of your voice, the way your laugh instantly brightens up the room and how your breathless moans made him feel desirable. He’d miss every curve of your body and every perfect imperfection on your skin. He’d miss hearing his name slip through your lips as you cry out in pleasure with him holding you close.

The end was drawing near, and nothing would ever prepare him enough for that moment. Six more days, and it’s over.

He would then miss it all.

---

“Y/N? Hello?”

You jolted slightly in your seat, seeing Molly waving her hand in front of your face to grab your attention. In the midst of your weekend brunch, you had gotten lost in your thoughts that were mainly of Keanu. Truth be told, you were lovestruck by him, even more so after the night you finally made love. Memories of it often flooded your mind, reminding you of how caring and attentive Keanu was, and how amazing it all felt being with him.

You never knew love could feel like this.

“Sorry,” you spoke once you snapped out of your daydreaming, which has lately become a regular occurrence. “What were you saying?”

Molly chuckled, shaking her head. “I was asking how work was going.”

“It’s going great, actually,” you beamed excitedly. “We’re prepping for that big fashion shoot in Japan next month. I’m still nervous about going, but it’s one of those opportunities that I’d be crazy to pass up.”

“Well, you should definitely go. Not only is it a great addition to your portfolio, it’ll also be a nice sightseeing trip, too,” Molly encouraged. “I’ve been to Japan a couple of times for work and let me tell you, it’s absolutely gorgeous there. From the culture to the food, I wish I could go back and experience it all over again.”

“I was actually thinking of asking Keanu if he wanted to go with me,” you shared, a soft smile appearing on your face. “I figured it’d be a fun trip for the two of us and escape LA for a little while. As far as I know, he doesn’t have anything important scheduled during that time. Plus, he’s going to be busy doing a movie next year, and we want to spend as much time together before that happens.”

Molly’s grin fell, her mouth pulling into a tight line. “I mean, it’s up to you if you want to invite him or not.”

Your brows furrowed at the strange shift in her demeanor. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Ke when I get home later.”

“How is he, though?” Molly inquired. You noticed very recently how tense she got every time you mentioned Keanu, and at this point, it was becoming worrisome. Did she know something that you didn’t?

“He’s good. Honestly, he’s doing great—we’re doing great.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Y/N. Truly.”

You reached for the glass of water on the table, taking a few quick sips before sighing. “I told Ke I love him.”

Molly’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, and you heard a short gasp. “You did?”

“Yes,” you confirmed with a single nod. “I told him the night of his birthday, and… and we slept together.”

“Oh,” she could only say, her shoulders dropping, and her blue eyes flickering away from your gaze. “T-That’s… wow. I-I can’t believe he did that.”

“What do you mean?” You probed, cocking your head to the side.

Molly glanced back up at you, her muscles rigid, and the taut expression on her face bringing you concern. “He’s never going to tell you. He can’t let you go.”

Her voice was low and alarming, and you almost didn’t catch it. “Tell me what?”

A sense of dread began to spread as you waited for an answer. Molly swallowed thickly, the air in the small cafe you were seated in felt heavy, and it made you uncomfortable. You didn’t want to think of the worse. In fact, you didn’t want to believe that what she had to say could be bad. You had shared the last piece of yourself to Keanu, but with the way your friend was acting, you started doubting your decision.

“Molly, what is it?!”

Salty tears began to prick your eyes the longer you sat there, not knowing. Your heart thumped heavily against your chest as panic continued to gnaw at your guts while your mind did its best to keep you calm.

Keanu was a good person; he could do no wrong. He loved you. He could never hurt you.

But what if he did? What if he did more than what he told you?

“Y/N,” Molly sighed, her hands reaching across the table to hold your clammy ones. “I’m sorry that I have to tell you this, but after what you’ve done, I don’t think Keanu is ever going to come clean.”

“What did he do?” You questioned, feeling your heart shatter into a million pieces. “Please, Molly. Just say it.”

“Keanu’s not the man you think he is...” she stated carefully, scared of your reaction.

The following words coming out of Molly were unbelievable at first. You didn’t want to accept that there was any truth in them. It didn’t seem right that Keanu was capable of doing such a thing, but even though she couldn’t explain in detail what had happened, deep down, you could feel it.

Memories of the timeline before the accident didn’t come back to you, but you remembered something else from the night that changed everything...

Red-hot, searing anger.

---

Dark clouds began to fill up the entire sky above LA as the city braced for another storm. Keanu peered through the drapes to see small water droplets falling from above. The rain wasn’t heavy yet, though it still worried him while knowing you could be driving somewhere out there. He had called you just recently and asked if he could pick you up, only to learn that you were already on your way home.

It was Saturday, and usually, the two of you would go out on a date, but because of the poor weather, you decided to have a quiet evening indoors. Keanu had planned to surprise you with a movie night, one of your favorite things to do with him. The tv was already set-up, and the buttered popcorn was cooling off back in the kitchen. All he was waiting for now was you, and you’d be here any minute soon.

Taking a seat on the couch, Keanu then let a deep breath out as he checked the time on his watch, the roaring sound of thunder suddenly disrupting the silence. He could hear the rain starting to pick up, and through the parted curtains, he noticed the trees swaying wildly from the strong winds blowing outside of the house. The scene out there was unsettling, and he could only hope that you make it back safe and sound.

Moments later, the keys jingling outside of the nearby door alerted Keanu of your presence, and he quickly got up from the sofa and unlocked the door for you. Swinging it open, he welcomed you with a relieved smile breaking over his face, which disappeared in a split-second after seeing how you glowered at him.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted light-heartedly, though your expression remained. “I’m happy you got home—”

“Don’t,” you sternly interjected, raising your pointer finger in front of him. “Don’t you dare.”

Keanu watched in trepidation when you pushed passed him and stalked into the house, the rain dripping from your wet clothes pooling at your feet as you lingered in the foyer.

“I-Is everything okay?” He stuttered out, though he already had a feeling of what this could all be.

But how did you find out?

Molly.

“No,” you muttered bitterly. “You know damn well that everything’s not okay.”

“I don’t understand,” Keanu lied, once again feigning ignorance even though there was no point in doing so anymore. “Sweetheart, let’s get you dried off first. You’re shivering, you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Stop it, Keanu. Just drop the act!”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, letting the tears fall freely down from your eyes. Keanu cautiously approached you, his fear finally unfolding in front of him, and there was no way around it this time.

“Y/N, I need you to calm down…”

“No,” you shot back angrily. “I need you to tell me everything, Keanu. What exactly happened between us?”

Keanu froze, his chest tightening at your simple yet difficult request. He wasn’t ready to do it today, but he had no other choice.

There was no more avoiding, no more lying, and no more hiding.

This was it.

This was the end.

This was the goodbye Keanu dreaded. The long, dreaded goodbye to the woman he loved.

Part 11

Tags: @penwieldingdreamer @fanficsrusz @toomanystoriessolittletime @awessomness @meetmeinthematinee @ringa-starr @ficsnroses @iworshipkeanureeves @keandrews @greenmanalishi @feminine-machinegun @thehumanistsdiary @lussdew @rdjloverxxx @flaminasteroid @danceoftwowolves @ravenpuff02 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @allie1804-fan

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves imagine

138 notes · View notes

markedmage · 4 years

Text

Ten Truths

Title: Ten Truths

Pairing: Zuko/Katara, Minor Sokka/Suki

Summary: Something pushes at the edges of Zuko’s consciousness. He remembers all those moments with Katara, the moments of shared silence where she waited, patiently, until he was ready to talk. He remembers how she pulled each little truth from his lips with just her gentle gaze and her willingness to listen without judgment. He remembers how they learned to trust again, in the simple breaths where truth became reality, where he talked and she listened. He looks at her again, sees the gentleness in her eyes, and knows it is time. He’s ready.

Rating: T

Notes: They say Rome wasn't built in a day, but you can bet your ass that this fic was. Partially because I am insane, and don't like to eat, drink or do anything else once the Zutara fix takes hold, but also partially because Zutara are also crazy and I love them and they were begging to be written. That being said, if the flow of this fic is weird, don't blame me. Blame Zutara and the lack of everything nutritious I gave up in order to write this. TBH, I don't even remember most of it, I think my hands and brain just took over and threw a bunch of word vomit onto a document.

I wrote this for the last day of ZutaraMonth, Day 29: Flowers. Uh, not sure how well this follows the prompt exactly. I DID have an idea in mind, but as I said above, this kinda got away from me. But I wanted to participate, and this was the last day, so here ya go.I'm planning on participating in ZutaraWeek as well. I'm so excited- I hope you guys are too. I already have a fic in mind (yes it's already being written) and I plan on incorporating the week's themes once they come out. I hope you guys will read and enjoy my ZutaraWeek submission, as much as you've loved my other stories as well. Thank you guys for all the support.

Posted on AO3 as well. Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449281

The walls Katara had so meticulously built up around herself slowly crumble. The anger and hatred that she had so callously thrown at Zuko to keep him away from her turn into something else- definitely not trust, not yet, Zuko knows he has a long way before he can reach that pivotal moment with her- but she no longer pierces him with a frozen stare every time they catch each other’s eye, she no longer crushes him with a biting malice every time he offers her his help with the chores. The dynamic between them has changed.

I'll never forgive him. But I am ready to forgive you.

They settle into an easy companionship in the days before the comet. Zuko rises with the sun and settles into his morning meditation. He brews the tea, leaving a small flame under the pot to keep it warm until Katara rises, a little later. She joins him sometimes, sitting in amicable silence, but more often sets about with the day, making breakfast and folding the laundry. By the time Zuko has finished his meditation, Katara has woken the rest of the gang (kids, Zuko thinks, We’ve adopted a family of kids), and has set out a bowl of jook for him. Then Zuko takes Aang for his firebending lessons, followed by lunch, Toph, and Katara later in the day. Zuko spars with Sokka, keeping his dao blades sharp, and trains with Suki in hand-to-hand combat.

Sometimes, late at night, he sits at the overlook beyond his house, staring out over the calm ocean. He thinks about the last time he’d been here, back when his heart was still troubled and his soul was still split between doing what was right and what he thought he wanted. Sometimes Katara joins him, and it’s so different from the last time they spent a night under the moon (Maybe you can bring my mother back!). She sits with him, close enough he can almost taste the questions on her lips, but she never asks. He knows she’s desperate to speak, curiosity burning in those deep blue eyes of hers, but the thing he loves the most about Katara is that she always seems to know when he’s ready to talk, and so she waits until she knows.

It’s something he’s always loved about her- the easy way she simply waits until he’s ready, unlike Sokka and Toph and Aang, who talk and talk and ask and badger him with questions until he feels like he may explode. He loves the gang, he really does- the loyalty, the love, the friendship- but so much exploration into his personal life can be too much for him to bear sometimes.

But with Katara it’s different. Silence- which once held so much pain and fear in Zuko’s heart- becomes the thing he relishes the most with her. He finds peace in the calmness of quiet, tranquility settling in his soul in the heartbeat of Katara’s breaths. In the soothing serenity of Katara’s presence, Zuko feels his heart stitching itself back together, and every day that passes he feels himself falling a little bit back into the person he wants to be. He thinks he’s ready.

Ready to let someone in.

________________________________________________________________

Zuko feels his peaceful world, the one he so desperately created around him, the one built on friendship and companionship, crumble around him at the weight of Aang’s words. “About Sozin's Comet... I was actually going to wait to fight the Fire Lord until after it came. I'm not ready.”

It’s his worst nightmare really. Of course Aang needs more time to practice firebending, and he agrees with Toph- his earthbending really needs some work as well. But he remembers with dreadful clarity what his father planned before the invasion, the cruelty of the plan and the morbid fear in his heart of what was to come.

“Things can’t get any worse,” Katara says, and the pain in Zuko’s heart weighs heavier on his chest.

“You’re wrong,” Zuko says, and even his voice sounds hollow with despair. “It's about to get worse than you can even imagine.”

He tells them about Ozai’s plan. The plan to crush the Earth Kingdom’s hope, to bury it’s very foundation under an inferno of ash and destruction. He watches the hope die in their eyes, replaced by a growing seed of fear. Sokka looks devastated, Suki looks terrified. Toph’s, for once, speechless, Aang looks hopeless, and Katara looks stricken, looking at him with eyes filled with terror and concern. She reaches out a hand, but one look from Zuko has her dropping it, stepping back with lowered eyes.

Zuko knows how much this hurts everyone, how much it hurts him. But as he looks at them, the brave Water tribe soldier, the Kyoshi Warrior, the Beifong Heiress, the Avatar, and the greatest Waterbender he’s ever met, he knows he’ll do anything to protect them. And right now, that’s making sure they defeat his father, no matter the cost. “I know you're scared,” He says, placing a hand on Aang’s shoulder. The boy looks up at him with scared eyes, and Zuko remembers when he looked at his father the same way. Only this time, Zuko is not his father, and he won’t hurt a young boy just for speaking his mind. He smiles encouragingly at Aang. “And I know that you're not ready to save the World. But if you don't defeat the Fire Lord before the comet comes, there won't be a World to save anymore.”

That seems to be the right thing to say, and he sees the fire once again burn in Aang’s eyes. Sokka once again shines with the energy of his people, and he raises a fist in the air. “Team Avatar is back!”

Zuko smiles, and lowers his head as Sokka continues to crow with excitement. But a little part of him can’t help but be afraid, be afraid for the people he’s come to love and cherish as his own family. And when he raises his eyes once more, he finds himself being stared down by Katara’s watchful gaze, and knows she feels it too.

________________________________________________________________

She finds him later that night, sitting under a sky full of stars. He makes no inclination that he’s heard her, but she comes over to him anyway, sitting down next to him. He blinks, then pulls his gaze from the heavens to look at her. She’s staring out over the water, hands folded neatly in her lap. Even under the pale moonlight, he can see the reds and golds of her silk robe standing out against the rich caramel of her skin, and he finds himself thinking that the rich colors of his nation suit her well.

(Red symbolizes passion and power, represents the Fire Nation. But Zuko wishes to tell the world that red symbolizes Katara, symbolizes the strength in her limbs and the power in her heart, the desire and will to do what is right and to never give up on people who need her. Katara may be of the Water Tribe, but her heart burns with the fire of a thousand suns.)

He turns his eyes back to the sky, and sees her do the same. They sit in silence for a moment, and Zuko finds himself unable to bear the silence (a silence that he’s always craved from her). “When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories of the stars,” he begins, and raises a hand to trace out a constellation. Katara’s eyes trace his fingers, and he maps out the Azure Dragon of the Fire Nation. “The Azure Dragon is the guardian of all the stars,” he recites. “The dragon was created by Agni so that he could rest during the night. Under the watchful gaze of Tui and the Azure Dragon, Agni sleeps, and the dragon circles the night sky, ever watchful for danger against his master.”

Zuko looks back at Katara, then chuckles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. Katara’s gaze is too bright, too warm, too knowing, and he feels like she is taking him apart bit by bit. “Of course, that’s just a story my mother used to tell me.”

Her eyes soften, and she rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You must have loved your mother very much,” she says, and his shoulders sag.

“Yes,” he says, raising a hand to his face, touching the scar that mars the side of his face. “I loved her more than anything in the world.” Katara’s gaze follows his hand, landing on his scar. She raises her other hand and cups his cheek, resting her palm over his fingers. “Your father gave that to you, did he?” she breathes.

Zuko’s heart stutters to a stop in his chest, and gasps, long and low in his throat. He meets Katara’s gaze, half expecting disgust, anger, hatred, to be swimming in the blue depths of her eyes, but he’s only met with compassion. She smiles at him, and he knows that she won’t press him if he doesn’t want to, that she’ll give him space if he needs it, but Zuko knows this is a story he has to tell. She deserves to know.

“Truth,” he says, and meets her kind eyes. He tells her the story of a young boy, a young prince, who stood up for the soldiers who didn’t have a voice, how he expected to face the general he dishonored in the Agni Kai- how it was his own father who maimed him. Suffering shall be your teacher.

By the time he’s finished there are tears pooling in Katara’s sky blue gaze. “Oh, Zuko,” she whispers, and leans over, pulling her into his arms. She buries her head in his neck and holds him tight, her shoulders shaking. “You should have never had to go through that.”

He buries his face in her hair, inhales the sweet scent of wind and rain, and Katara. She didn’t say I’m sorry, but she didn’t need to. Zuko has had enough pity in his life, and once again, Katara knows exactly the right thing to say to put him at ease. So he holds onto her, he clings to her, and relishes in this moment- this one fragment of time where everything feels right, where he is home and the person he cherishes the most is here with him, under the watchful gaze of Tui and the Azure Dragon.

________________________________________________________________

They share another moment after June has led them to the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. They make camp for the night, and longer after Sokka and the others have turned in for the night, Zuko joins Katara to sit by the fire. He pokes at the embers and convinces the flames back to life, and Katara smiles at him, and places her hands closer for the warmth. They sit in the companionable silence Zuko knows all too well, until Toph appears in an explosion of earth, screaming, “Someone’s coming!”

It’s chaos, and suddenly their tiny camp is surrounded in a ring of flames. But just as quickly as the flames come roaring to life, they die down, and Zuko recognizes Jeong-Jeong, and Master Piandao, and suddenly they're surrounded by the order of the White Lotus. And his uncle is in the Lotus camp, waiting for him.

He finds himself standing outside the tent of the Grand Lotus. It makes sense that his uncle holds the title- he’s the most righteous individual the Fire Nation ever produced, and balance between the four nations was one of the things he stressed the most in life (that and tea). He sits in front of the tent, and he doesn’t know how to bring himself to enter. The last time he saw his uncle, he was sitting in a jail cell, left to rot. The last time he met his uncle’s gaze was at the crossroads of his destiny, of the avatar’s, of Katara’s, in the old city of Ba Sing Se. Shame courses his veins, shame from all those months ago, in the same place, rises up and threatens to overwhelm him.

A hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality, and he blinks while Katara sits next to him. She’s dressed in the blues of her nation, but her eyes still burn with that fire that threatens to set the world alight.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, the hand resting on his shoulder providing a quiet comfort that Zuko leans into. He turns his head away and sighs, eyes fixed on the lotus symbol painted across his uncle’s tent.

“No,” he says finally. “My Uncle hates me, I know it. He loved me and supported me in every way he could and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?

Katara sighs, and Zuko can feel her heartbeat pounding to the rhythm of his own. “You’re sorry for what happened?” she says, looking at him with her clear gaze. “In the catacombs?”

He’s more sorry than he’s ever been in his life. Of all the people in the world, uncle Iroh was the only one who saw him for who he was, who supported him no matter the cost, and followed him to the end of the world and back. He betrayed the only person who loved him, mistakes and all. Sorry can’t even begin to describe how Zuko feels.

(Shame, anger, frustration, disgust, guilt. Sorrow)

He looks at Katara. Another person who was willing to love him through the scars. Another person he’s hurt. Another person he’s betrayed. “More sorry than I've been about anything in my entire life.”

Another truth, about his uncle, about the Avatar, about her. Judging from the look in her eyes, she knows. She understands, knows how truthful he’s being (not just about his uncle). Katara smiles, and leans over, kissing him on the cheek, over his scar. He jolts, but she pulls back, and the fond look in her eyes is enough for Zuko (he thinks he can conquer the world on the sole basis of that look).

“Then he'll forgive you. He will.”

The strength she offers- the quiet, enduring support and kindness- is enough to send Zuko through the flaps in the tent. And later, when his uncle wakes and pulls him into a high, her strength is what brings him to tears, with how can you forgive me so easily? I thought you would be furious with me falling easily from his lips. Partially for his uncle, and partially for her.

________________________________________________________________

Katara’s not the person who shows weakness easily. If it’s anyone, Zuko thinks it’s Sokka. He’s a strong, brave soul, but he’s still a teenager, and the idea of taking on the Fire Lord without the possibility of Aang there frightens him-Zuko can see it in his soul. But Katara’s always been such a solid, reassuring presence to the gang, and Zuko doesn’t really know what to do when he finds her overlooking the city, and she looks so utterly broken.

“Wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Zuko says, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him and smiles at him, though her eyes are watery and she looks so small.

“I know,” she says, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “I’m just so scared though. The whole world is relying on us, and I just don’t know what I’d do if any of you got hurt. Especially you.”

He blinks, and she laughs at his expression. “Yes, even you. That’s the truth,” she says. “I know what facing Azula means to you, what it means to me, but I can’t help but feel terrified.” She leans in and rests her forehead against Zuko’s chest, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Ba Sing Se.

He closes his eyes and pulls her tight, wrapping his arms around the small of her back and holding her close. “You won’t lose me,” he breathes, stroking her hair. “I know you’re scared, and I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I have to face Azula.”

She nods into his chest, and Zuko pulls away, but holds her by the shoulders and meets her gaze, gold boring into blue. “But this I know is true,” he says. “There is no one else I trust with my life than you, Katara. And you’re the one I want by my side when I bring my treacherous sister to her knees.”

_______________________________________________________________

Later, when they’re flying over the Fire Nation, Zuko turns to Katara with fear in his heart. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he wants her safe, that no matter what he’ll protect her, that he’ll die to make sure she survives, but he doesn’t know how. Katara makes eye contact with him and misreads his fear, saying, “Zuko, don’t worry, we can take Azula.”

He blinks, and shoves away the feelings simmering under his skin, looking up at the sky, Sozin’s Comet painting it bloodred. “I’m not worried about her,” he says, truthfully, after a moment. “I’m worried about Aang. What if he doesn’t have the guts to take out my father? What if he loses?” Katara looks away. “Aang won’t lose,” she says quietly. “He’s coming back. He has to.” She turns her fierce gaze back on him, and smiles grimly. “And so will you.”

He almost doesn’t believe her, especially when he’s lying on the ground at the palace, his tunic in tatters and his skin painted red with blood. Lightning courses through his veins, and he laments in the fact that he broke his promise to Katara, that there’s no way he can possible come back, that she’s going to lose him too, again, just like last time-

And she saves him, glowing water gloved on her hands and tears of joy and love in her eyes. He whispers, “Thank you, Katara,” and when she says “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he thinks he’s fallen in love for the first time.

When they stand over Azula, the broken princess, he almost doesn’t recognize her. He turns away, his heart turning to ash when he realizes that Ozai broke her as much as he broke him, Katara follows him. “I was so worried about you,” she breathes, cupping his face. “When you fell, I was so scared. I’ve never felt more scared for you in my life.”

He looks at her. “Me too,” he says, and takes her hand in his. “I was so scared for you. Katara, it wasn’t my life that I was worried about, but yours. I couldn’t let Azula hurt you.”

Her eyes fall to the burn scored across his chest. “You didn’t have to take lightning for me, Zuko.”

He breathes, and takes their hands, placing their entwined fingers on his burn. “I’d take the heat of a thousand suns for you, Katara,” he whispers, the truth of his words burning deep into his skin, deeper than his scars. “You must know that.”

Her eyes lower, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead into hers. “But you brought me back. You didn’t have to. Why?”

She smiles, tears pouring out of her eyes, and leans forward. “You know why,” she breathes, and kisses him.

(With sudden clarity he knows she’s telling the truth.)

________________________________________________________________

And suddenly, just like that, peace is the new normal. Aang comes back, bringing Ozai in his custody, and tells everyone how a giant lion-turtle taught him how to spiritbend (“Only you,” Toph says, and punches him).

Zuko is crowned Firelord. On the eve of his coronation, he finds Katara in his mother’s garden, feeding bits of bread to the turtleducks (he’s hit with such a wave of nostalgia that he stumbles under the weight of his mother’s love, of the memories of a young boy sitting with his mother feeding the turtleducks).

Katara looks over to him and smiles, beckoning him to join her. He sits by the water’s edge, taking the bread she offers and tossing it into the water. Lulled by the quacking of the turtleducks and the peace of Katara’s presence, Zuko feels his shoulders lift from under the burden of ruling a broken kingdom. There’s so much he needs to do, to restore the Fire Nation to its former glory.

Katara nudges him, making him meet her gaze. “What’s up?” she asks, piercing him with her blue eyes. “You look troubled.

(He wants to tell her he loves her. He wants to tell her that she is his Azure Dragon, that she’s the one person in the world he wants by his side.)

But what comes out of his mouth is: “I don’t love Mai.”

She blinks. “What?” she says, after a moment.

He sighs. “It’s the truth,” he whispers. “Mai, earlier, she came to me, right before the coronation. She told me she loved me, and wanted to be with me.” Katara’s eyes are on him, but they’re not judging him, and he finds solace in the gentleness of her gaze. She rests her hand on his arm, and he wordlessly takes her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and marveling at the contrast of their skin color overlapping, brown and white. She smiles, encouragingly.

“It’s just, Mai was in love with someone who I used to be,” he confesses. “Someone I once was, back when I let anger and hatred fuel me. She was in love with a boy who was scared of his sister and weak against his father, who turned on his friends and the family who actually loved him. I’m not that person, not anymore. I can’t be with her- I don’t love her anymore. Not that way.”

Katara’s eyes soften. “I think that was very brave of you,” she whispers. He turns and blinks at her, and she smiles, looking back down at the pond. “Think of it this way. When you disturb the water-” she dips a hand in the pond and ripples spread out from where her fingers danced across the tranquil surface “-it creates chaos, and imbalances the real support that lies under the surface. But once the ripples fade, then the pond can go back to being what it always has been, peaceful, still, and sure.” She waves a hand and the water stills, turning back into a clear, shimmering pond that reflects the moon, Katara, and Zuko. She smiles and leans forward, pointing at Zuko’s mirror image reflected on the water. “This is who you are, Zuko.” She says. “This is what you’ve always been.”

He stares at the quiet reflection of himself. “You wouldn’t have been happy with her,” Katara continues. “And that doesn’t mean you don’t love her, because you do. But there’s a difference between loving someone for what they were and loving someone for who they are. And you’re not the person you used to be, Zuko. I know that to be true.”

He turns and pulls her close, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Oh, Katara,” he breathes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It’s not what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to tell her his true feelings, at least not yet. And luckily, she is Katara, and he knows she’ll wait until he’s ready. Just like she always has been.

She smiles. “For the record,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad you’re not in love with her either.”

That pulls a laugh from him, and he pulls her close, feeling his soul stitch together under her healing gaze.

________________________________________________________________

They’re walking through the marketplace when Aang spots a flower vendor. He drags Katara over, and Zuko and Sokka, followed by Toph, creep over as well. Zuko stands passively while Sokka oogles over the variety, finally settling on a bouquet of sun roses to bring to Suki. Toph sulks next to him, and when the vendor tries to woo her over with some flowers, she silences him with an “I’m blind,” and a smack in the face with a pebble. He shuts up quickly after that, and Zuko stifles a chuckle (the last time he didn’t, he too got wacked with a rock, and he’s not rushing to repeat that again).

He ends up hovering near where Aang is gushing over the panda lily display. “Look, Katara,” he says. “They’re beautiful, just like you!”

Zuko bristles, because Katara isn’t Aang’s, she doesn’t belong to him, she can’t. But Katara is her own person, and she looks at the lilies with distaste. “They’re fine, Aang,” she says in her most dismissive tone (and Zuko cannot be any more prouder). She turns away from Aang, not seeing his shoulders slump, and continues to browse the flowers.

On a whim, Zuko turns to the display and picks out his favorite, a small fire lily, the rich ruby a reminder of Katara’s fierce passion. He drops the vendor a few coins and turns, walking over to where Katara stands. She looks up, eyes widening up Zuko’s arrival. “Here,” he says, reaching forward and placing it in her hair, right behind her ear. “This suits you.”

Her eyes widen, and she reaches up, touching the flower reverently. “Zuko,” she breathes, leaning up and hugging him. “I love it.” She leans in. “These are my favorite.”

He smiles, and nuzzles her hair softly, before stepping back. He catches a glimpse of Aang’s sad eyes in his periphery, but then Katara’s smooth hand slips into his, and the Avatar is forgotten.

________________________________________________________________

The moment Katara comes to him, tears falling from her eyes, Zuko is ready to drown whoever hurt her in an inferno of his rage. He’s in his mother’s garden (hiding from his advisors- they would never bother him here), when she comes storming in like a tsunami and throws herself into him, tears cascading down her rich brown cheeks like a waterfall. Zuko drops what he’s doing immediately- composing a letter to King Kuei, that can wait- and wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back while she lets out choking sobs.

He lets her cry, holding her close while she buries herself in his chest and releases her misery to the world. He’s got half a mind to find whoever hurt her and have them tried for war crimes, but then she pulls away, and he finds that he can’t rip himself away from her sad gaze. There’s a fire lily in her hair and the words they’re my favorite float around in his mind, but he focuses on the tears falling from her eyes and tries to figure out who in their right mind would do this to her-

“Aang,” she whispers, and in choking, heaving breaths, she tells him that Aang kissed her, that he told her he loved her, and wanted her to travel the world with him. Zuko grows cold, feels his heart come stuttering to a halt, and thinks his world is about to be destroyed.

She can’t go with him, he thinks, heart tearing into pieces. Agni, she can’t go with him.

“Katara-”

“I can’t go with him,” she wails, interrupting Zuko. “I can’t go with him and I’ve hurt him and it hurts so much, and I don’t know what to do!”

He cups her cheek and holds her close. “You don’t have to go with him,” he whispers (he begs). “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But I broke his heart! I told him I didn’t love him!”

A part of Zuko rejoices at that, but he pushes that wave down and concentrates on soothing Katara. “Katara,” he says firmly, and she hiccups, looking at him with wide eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do,” he repeats slowly. “It’s your life, your love to give out. Never let anyone take it from you. Only you have the power to give it. Even Aang, as young as he is, does not have the right to take your love. He’s twelve years old, Katara, he doesn’t even really know what love is. He’ll be fine.”

Katara’s eyes lower, and a single tear runs down her cheek. “I wanted to love him,” she confesses. “I wanted to be his, I really did. But I just...don’t.” Zuko runs his finger over her cheek. “And that’s okay,” he whispers. “But it’s okay to know exactly what you want, and if you know you don’t want to be with him, then don’t. You’re your own person, Katara. Aang will respect that.” She shudders, and closes her eyes. “I don’t love him,” she whispers, and the truth of it seems to sink in. She opens her eyes, and although there’s still sadness, Zuko also sees resolution and tact in her gaze. “I don’t love him.”

Something pushes at the edges of Zuko’s consciousness. He remembers all those moments with Katara, the moments of shared silence where she waited, patiently, until he was ready to talk. He remembers how she pulled each little truth from his lips with just her gentle gaze and her willingness to listen without judgment. He remembers how they learned to trust again, in the simple breaths where truth became reality, where he talked and she listened. He looks at her again, sees the gentleness in her eyes, and knows it is time. He’s ready.

“I don’t want you to be with him,” he blurts out, and her eyes widen. He takes her by the hand and pulls her close, drowning in the blue depths of her eyes-eyes which had never held him in contempt (once sadness and anger, but never contempt)- and has never felt more sure in his entire life. “I don’t want you to be with him, Katara, because I want you to be with me.”

Her mouth opens. “Are you serious?” she breathes, and Zuko nods, clarity in his heart and serenity in his soul.

“I’ve never been more sure in my entire life,” he says. “Katara, there is no one else I want by my side. Please, say you’ll stay with me. Please.”

She looks at him, really looks at him. She’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t love Aang,” she says. She rests a hand on Zuko’s cheek, caressing his scar lovingly. “Because I love you. I’ve always loved you, Zuko,” she whispers, and it feels like coming home.

It's always been you.

________________________________________________________________

There are fire lilies at the ceremony. They adorn the throne room, sit in bouquets in Suki’s, Toph’s, and Ty Lee’s laps, fill the vases at the dinner tables. Sokka has a fire lily pinned to his tunic, and Aang has a necklace of them ringing his neck. Zuko has one pinned to his robes, and there are fire lilies in her hair.

They are joined as one under the eyes of Agni, and Zuko pins the crown of the Firelady to her topknot. She’s wearing the reds of his-their-people, but the blue of her homeland hugs her throat. She kisses him, hands clasped tightly to his, and the nation cheers at their joining.

During the celebration ball, he spins her around in the courtroom, her dress billowing out around her, her joyful laugh tinkling like bells. Zuko is the happiest he’s ever been, surrounded by family and friends, in the arms of a woman who loves him.

And later, when they’re out by the turtleduck pond and he’s tucking a loose fire lily behind her ear, she looks up at him, love burning in her blue eyes. This is all he's ever wanted- peace in the world and love in his arms. This is what he needs, his beautiful Azure Dragon, and nothing else. She leans close and cups his cheek.

“You love me,” she whispers.

He leans in, kisses her softly, tasting their future on her tongue.

“Truth.”

Notes: Ok, so I know Zuko was lowkey cheesy throughout this fic, but lets be honest. Boy literally used his firebending to light up a fountain to impress a girl- this kid's cheesy as heck and you cannot change my mind.

I tried to keep the truths mostly to Zuko, but Katara is my girl and she couldn't help but bleed through in a couple places.Anyway, thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought. Also, please don't hesitate to talk to me so that we may revel in the beauty that is Zutara.

See you for ZutaraWeek (UNLESS I find inspiration for another story, which, let's be honest, I most likely will).

#zutara #zuko #katara #zutara month #wolfspirit44 on ff.net #my fav ship #zukoxkatara #zutara month 2020 #zutara fanfiction

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