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cheekygreenty · 3 years

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Little Witch - Part 26.

The Darkling x Reader

You didn't speak a word, didn't move a muscle. The anger raged inside of you like a storm, tearing every rational thought down on its path. it didn't help that even though he lied to you, your love for him never dwindled. You might as well have been back at Kribirsk, for you were so in your head you didn't pay attention to anything going on around you. The only thing that broke your trance was the unmistakable sound of volcra closing in. You listened to their shrill cries, the wails reverberating across the Fold.

'I should just tear this down' You heard Alina urge, desperation seeping into her words. She was powerless, only her words had any effect. You longed to help them too, to end the volcra's suffering but that couldn't happen without you sacrificing yourself in the process. Alina had her heart set in the right place, but you wouldn't ever let the Fold fall.

'And what can you really do on your own?.....besides, it would be a monumental waste of power.' Aleksander was quick to shut her down, his own reasons for keeping the Fold standing up against hers.

They swopped lower and lower, their black wings visible from beneath the shadows. You peered closer to the edge of the skiff, looking out for more of the poor creatures and spotting one right above the skiff.

Reaching your hands out in an attempt to move the volcra, a bright flash of light beat you to it, the rays burning your skin like nothing you'd ever felt in your life. Your knees hit the deck before you could register what was happening as your hands gripped the edge of the skiff. It hurts. A silent groan left your lips, too quiet for anyone to notice. The burning continued, this time in your mind. It left a buzzing sound behind so loud it echoed along the walls of your mind, deafening you in the process. The pounding was paralyzing.

Nobody on the deck noticed the Deputy General kneeling in pain, they were all too fixated on the Sun-Summoner and the Darkling to glance an eye in your direction. Alina's light had hurt you, hurt the child of Merzost as if you were a volcra.

Even in the depths of the Fold and in your home, you were too weak to spare a look at what was going on at the front of the deck. The skiff was approaching Novokribirsk now, the natural light from the other side filtering through Alina's tunnel. You had been bent over in pain for majority of the trip and still, nobody noticed.

You felt a lull in the skiff's movement, but the pain in your head was still too much. It stung and pulsed, dulling every single sense in your body. There was nothing else you could concentrate on but the pain, this horrid debilitating pain. You grasped at your power, trying to calm your spiraling heart rate, trying to stop the blood from rushing so quickly but you were stumped; helpless. Your eyes had long shut tightly, seeing only a pure white sight. Not even your mind spared you the safety blanket of darkness.

A hand on your shoulder suddenly snapped you out of it, grounding you back to the deck of the skiff but its touch disappeared almost as soon as you'd felt it. The buzzing was still deep within your skull, playing like an out-of-tune violin. You snapped your head up, meeting the eyes of none other than Ivan. His expression read one of fear and utter terror and you didn't understand why.

You stood up wearily, coming face to face with the heartrenderer, and watched as he took measured steps away from you before coming to Aleksander's right hand yet again. You looked to Aleksander, though your eyes were still squinted in pain, you could make out his unforgettable stature.

'And I shall do mine.' His arms were outstretched- ready to pounce

You turned your attention to the skyline and watched as the light from Novokribirsk mellowed and the view of the port diminished. In horror, you watched as the Fold expanded, as directed by Aleksander, and destroyed the lives of many in the process. You could hear their screams and shouts; the pain.

But you also felt a surge of strength and of power. It fought the buzzing sound idly as you watched the shadows bleed into the air.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!' You ran up to the front of the deck, shoving him aside and watching with wide eyes the damage that had been done. His hand came to entangle around your arm but you shoved him away, both with your strength and a gust of wind.

You turned your head to look at him but instead found your eyes looking to Alina, who took it as her queue to further project the tunnel of light into the docks. A volcra flew by, disintegrating into the wrecked town and its surroundings. Novokribirsk was gone. Zoya looked at it with pure terror and dread and an earlier conversation came back to you, one where she spoke of her family. Oh Saints.

'No you don't' He took hold of Alina's hands and brought back the shadows already pooling at light's edge. The screams ripped through the air once more, the volcra cries stabbing at your heart again. You turned your head to look back to Zoya when a strand of your hair caught your attention. It no longer contrasted the black kefta at all. You ran to the small mirror on the deck and stilled at the reflection.

The person staring back at you in the plane was not you. The girl in the mirror donned black hair. Hair so dark it left no traces of other pigments. Her eyes were a glittering onyx with small black capillaries shooting through the whites of her eyes. Black veins poked out from under her kefta collar, and upon further inspection, the same black veins traveled down to her hands, curling around her wrists like a bracelet. The running of the veins was like a design, it flowed like a pen on paper drawn by an artist. They were Merzost.

You stared at yourself in shock. This was not you; it couldn't be. But the girl in the mirror said otherwise.

A scream broke you out of your trance, the familiar name snapping your neck to its origin. Mal.

Mal lay splayed out on the ground with blood pooling out of his mouth and Alina perched next to him, reaching for his hand. The foreign dignitaries stood frozen as they watched the scene play out, their fear filling the atmosphere pungently. The skiff abruptly moved, its sails once again filling with air. Zoya stood at the top, hands outstretched and eager.

'General Kirigan, this will only turn the world against you and all Grisha. You’ll be seen not as a savior, but a heretic.' The irony.

In a swift motion, Ivan takes control of all their hearts and one by one they drop dead-like lifeless dolls. A gasp escaped your lips as your position is once again known and Aleksander's eyes land on you, all of you. His brows raise at your appearance.

'I’ll have to give that speech again now, Y/N, won't I? Or will you have the decency to join me next time?' He directs your way.

'Me? Are you insane?' Your anger could no longer contain itself as you launch the Cut his way knowing well he would dodge it. He moved to the side, launching one your way too. Instead of dodging it, you split it right down the middle, sending it over the rails. The skiff picked up its speed, making you slightly lose your footing and Aleksander noticed too.

'ZOYA' He roared up to her in warning, but you willed her not to listen. Instead, she egged the skiff forward.

'You promised me!' Two slivers of shadows crept up your legs and wrapped themselves around your wrists, pulling your hands away from each other and rendering you useless.

'That was before you murdered a whole town!' You strained your arms, trying your hardest to loosen the grip of his shadows. 'You took her light, General. If you wanted to be like me you could have just asked' Even in the face of his betrayal, you still couldn't bring yourself to say his name in public. His name was sacred, it was your secret.

'I don't want to hurt you Y/N' He took calculated steps toward you, eyes flooded with despair. His hand came up to your hair, taking a piece and inspecting it carefully 'What happened?'

'I came onto this skiff, that's what happened.' you spit. 'How are you alright with what you've just done?' Your own previous experience haunts your mind for a brief second, the occurrence still a trauma. He on the other hand looks unbothered. Another day at work.

'I did what I had to -' His words get interrupted by the sound of gunshots, ones you can feel zip by your ear and head his way. He sends the cut flying behind you and the shadows at your wrists let up just as a knife embeds itself in his chest. You watch as the same veins on your body crawl up his neck. His are more abundant, nothing like yours in appearance, but they are there.

'It will take more than THIS' he rips the knife out and folds his hands in front of him and the shadows race forward 'You stay in the dark' The back of the skiff now settled itself into the Fold, the volcra flying above like the predators they are.

Zoya. You take a look at Aleksander whose eyes are closely watching you along with Ivan's.

'Don't.' His words are clear but you don't care. Zoya is back there. You listen to his steady heartbeat and feel the air in his lungs. The Fold's nothingness swims in his lungs, swirling from each breath he takes. Without thinking, you knock the air out of him and slam his body against the rail of the skiff, running to the back of the skiff to help Zoya. Just as you clamber up the stairs, you see her blue kefta dropping to the ground and a volcra swarming toward her.

'NO' You knock it out of the way and cushion her fall with a gust. A Suli girl runs over, checking on Zoya briefly but turns to you. The volcra circle over the skiff.

'Ready?' You nod. The young girl nods back and clutches knives to her chest. You count the number of pulses on this side of the skiff, too many to risk.

You start by sending out your flames and then the shadows, filling the volcra's lungs with the tendrils while she attacks it with her knives. Its shrills are pitiful but you block them out. It doesn't seem to give up as it flies closer to her, completely ignoring you. The wind blows it away briefly before a man with a cane goes toward the volcra mercilessly. You curse out loudly, knowing that the noise attracts others, you can feel them coming.

'Alina, for Saints sake!' You shout as you watch her from your position laying on the ground, not even trying. You run back down to the deck, only one thing on your mind. If she can't light it up then I will, but as you run, his strong hands come to lock yours behind your back and one comes to your throat.

'Was this the plan all along? He says in your ear and his hold tightens, slowly blocking off your air. His voice is strained and you could swear he sounds hurt.

'I came back for you, it's always been you.' you plead. You still love him, you do. But my morals and my love are two different things.

'I really thought I could trust you again. But you only ever want what is mine.' Your vision turns blurry as you feel your chest contract. Ivan. 'If you love something let it go, isn't that the saying?' Your head bops forward slightly which seems to be enough for him to let your drop to your knees in front of him, right next to a dying Mal.

As you try to regain your awareness, the sounds of volcra in your head become too much to bear. They drown out everything as they approach the skiff, silently letting you know they will kill everything on the other side of the light. You struggle to get up, hands clawing at your throat as air enters your lungs again. As if that wasn't enough for your already frail body, another flash of light expels from Alina. The burning sensation overwhelms you again, dwindling your will to live. It burns worse this time, singeing you all over. A scream of pain erupts from your lips as you watch the veins on your hand become darker and darker.

A hand around your waist surprised you as it helps you get up from the ground. 'It's okay, It's okay' Aleksander. His forehead is pressed up against your temple as you continue to cry out in pain. You open your eyes briefly and look at the hand holding your waist- void of a Stag bone. The shock is barely enough to let you forget the pain though.

'It hurts' Your own tears burn as they roll down your face.

'I know' He leaves a kiss to your temple before leaning down to your ear 'I love you, you can still keep the promise Y/N. Please' His arms tighten one last time before leaving you feeling cold in the absence of the Fold.

Slowly, the reality of the situation settles in your stomach. He just said his goodbye, and I never told him I loved him too. Everything stills again and nothing seems to process in your mind. Maybe I'm dying, maybe Alina killed me.

You can hear her shout for Mal as he and Aleksander battle it out on the unlit sands. You can hear her struggling as Ivan collapses her blood vessels. You can hear Ivan's lifeless body drop to the ground. But your mind refuses to cooperate.

Even as a volcra sweeps down and grabs Aleksander mercilessly, you push your body past the limit and jump overboard, letting out pathetic shouts of plea to the volcra, bring him back to me, please. Your powers don't rise to your call, your mind won't listen.

The light shoots out again from a now awake Alina, but your numb now, the pain had reached its limit.

Zoya begs for you to come back to safety, Mal grabs your limp body and tugs you back but you shove him off with the last of your strength. The Crows stand by on the deck and listen to your heartbreaking sobs. Nobody misses the way the atmosphere in the Fold shifts with every cry, how the usually empty place emanates one single emotion; anguish.

They sit and watch in fear and astonishment as volcra fly above you, never once attacking. They watch as they settle on the sands, heads cowering to your shaken body, and they listen to the cries, ones very alike in pain to yours.

They watched as the Little Witch loses her soulmate, in the one place she ever knew as home.

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Epilogue.

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif

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rosyk · 3 years

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Deja vu

pairing: bang chan x reader, (a bit of han jisung x reader)

genre: heavy angst, passion, romance, one-sided love, bestfriends, long distance relationship

warnings: light curses, death, depression, mentions of alcohol and drugs, family problems, mentions of forced sexual activity, insecurities, anxiety, etc. (Its quite detailed in the first part and could trigger some people in these type and if you are one of them, I advice you not to read. It can really be uncomfortable on the first part)

word count: 11.5k

inspiration: Before We Knew It ch. 36-38 (webtoon), White Flowers- Olivia Rodrigo (unreleased song)

a/n: This is the least fic I loved but I had to continue it to start a new one and i won’t ever write things as long as this (it’s hard) lol. I don’t know who’ll ever read this long and cringey story but I hope it’s worth your time (?)

If I were to describe a man I’d love to marry someday, it would be someone tall, doesn’t openly show their true feelings towards me, and leads me in life. However, you were the exact opposite of it.

I didn’t even know when and why I fell in love with you. Was it at first sight? No. Was it because someone told me about my indistinguishable feelings for you? No. It was like how love was portrayed in novels and books. I just knew it. Instead of leading my life, you made me, myself, want to lead and search for my future. After you happily talked about your passion for music, you made me feel as if you were the right one. It made me think, “Maybe I do want to be with him until the end of life”. I believe something great would occur and I want to be there when that happens. When the music he produces, raps he created, genres he invented, and when his voice reaches the world, I want to be on his side and be proud I was able to witness all of that. You were everything in times I was the “nothing”.

I truly wished to be a singer right from the start. My dream was unaccepted by my family because the job isn’t as stable as it seems. I had to study medicine since then. Therefore seeing you was like seeing how I could’ve been. I stopped my passion but you made me pursue the unpursued, break off the imaginary limits I had created in my mind. I developed a fear of having to try again. I never sang after years and tried to let go of my past. But you? You lifted me away from the cage of darkness I trapped myself in. My anxiety was too deep to the point I was afraid of people, nightmares, thoughts, happiness, living, being alone, home, and simply just everything.

Even I was scared of myself.

Then I knew this is the worst a person could be. It isn’t when someone takes drugs, drinks alcohol, or flees away from home. It is when he or she no longer wants to take a step forward. I was frightened by the idea of love but also the idea of being alone. I was terrified to open up when the people closest to me never understood but was scared when I keep everything to myself too much up until I’m tired. I feared death the most, how much more if I was living? I remember cutting myself in bed when I overheard my parents fighting because of my presence. I was shaking, desperately trying to suppress my weeping. Was I sad because I didn’t have good childhood memories I could reminisce? Or was I happy for myself because that was the bravest thing I did? I was too young to understand what I truly felt but I didn’t regret a single thing.

I know the difference between wrong and right but why can’t I tell when it comes to situations that involve me? Is it wrong to think it would’ve been best if I was sleeping forever, in a depth of endless time even though I know I should live for a purpose I couldn’t find or for people who don’t care? But is it also right to live and hope miserably someone out there would find and help me even though it means staying and coping with the pain? Whenever I make a decision, I could hear trapped voices rambling in my head, time ticking as fast as my heartbeat, my soul pressuring me, and my mind that creates negative scenarios which cause me to step back before even having the chance to run. In general, I’ve had to overthink my overthinking.

I also have the habit of blaming myself. As deeper as it goes, it became my lifestyle then. I blamed myself for playing the victim as if I was the only one hurting amidst the world. I blamed myself for crying when I had no right because I gave people terrible occurrences. I blamed myself for the inability to be brave and commit what I feared the most. I also blamed myself for silently not crying loud enough to the point that my facade turned out stronger.

Looking back, I was a total mess in which I couldn’t even call myself human. My only best friends were the mirror and my own shadow. I was 10 so I appreciated how the mirror felt the same feelings as mine. It doesn’t laugh when I cry even though the creatures surrounding me do. But for the same reason, I hated it. It reflects my despair, how horrible I looked causing me to despise it the most. My shadow on the other hand makes me feel I’m not alone at the end of the day. But I also despised it the moment my mom locked me up in my room, isolating me in darkness to forget all the traumas I had given her. Because even the shadow disappears in my darkest hours. And just like friends, it all just ended. I no longer want to feel love if love was meant to hurt.

Years of living in hell passed by, until you came.

“You okay?”

I was crying at the staircase in the nearest tunnel found at school. I was a 16-year-old who tried to break away from my dad’s drunken behavior. Running away was another brave thing I did but it was because the thought of him doing me was scary enough.

It was embarrassing to let you see me like this but surprise was the first reaction I had. No one ever dared to approach me because of my low status and the suspicious silence that I give. Questions filled my head as to why you bothered talking to me. Were the rumors unbelievable enough?

“I am new here but I haven’t seen you a lot in school. Are you the same as I am?”

So he’s a transferee. Honestly speaking, I was discouraged. It’s clear that he would slowly stop approaching me as soon as he knew the rumors. You introduced yourself and asked for my name. I gave you a silent treatment causing you to face my direction. We stared at each other for minutes. You finally gave up and sat beside me as I turned my gaze back at the people playing in the park, sighing heavily.

“Would you like to hear my life?” You look at me, expecting something. I turned back at you, both eyebrows raised. You showed your smile, with those little cute dimples on each side to get away from the awkward atmosphere. Trust me when I tell you that was the brightest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Maybe you did show me the colors I didn’t know I needed in my life.

“Oh… I guess you don’t then? I mean why would you be interested right?” You laughed yourself off but as usual, expected some remarks from me. My eyes panicked as I shook my head quickly from side to side. My eyebrows creased as I bit my lip, hoping you understood what I meant.

“So you do want to hear it?” I shook my head up and down as an approval of your question. Unnoticeably, it was the first time I felt eager especially when it comes to humans.

“Isn’t it annoying though?” I got the hint you wanted to tease me considering your giggles but I was too caught up in assumptions that you wouldn’t continue your storytelling. Thus, I did the same thing, turning my head from side to side, trying to convince you that I desperately want to know what happens in the lives of some.

“Cute” you mumbled to yourself but I was able to hear the word that came out from you. You patted my head casually as you started to talk about your life. I grew slightly embarrassed, curling myself, holding my knees, and acted as if I didn’t hear anything.

You were transparently open in talking to the point that I finally knew what “precious” actually meant. Although it was for a moment I knew it would stop soon, you definitely saved me from all I felt.

There I knew how our lives were exact opposites. If I felt everything, the happiness, and sadness, contrasting feelings I couldn’t comprehend, you on the other hand felt nothing. As soon as your dearest brother got into an accident, you didn’t know what to do. If I had abusive and malicious parents, you had no one to be with. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen If I lived your life.

I knew I was bad for thinking of such a way but I took advantage of your life. It made me feel relieved that there were people who faced the worst monsters than I have inside me. It made me look at the positive side of mines.

Much especially when I didn’t expect it would be you. My first impression of you was this carefree pure guy who had no problems in living his life. Little did I know, you were waking up feeling nothing, smiling with no joy, cries without letting out the pain, and laughs despite the numbness and burden that weighs in your heart. I guess we can’t judge people by the way they appear. We never know how much tears they’ve shed every night.

You summarized and wrapped things up. You asked for my name one last time before leaving. But there I was, hung my head low and sniffles could be heard. You looked in confusion as I tried to cover my face. A surprise was evident in your reaction and it was obvious due to your stuttering. You tried to ask what happened but instead hugged me unconsciously.

That was the first time I’ve ever felt warmth. I was born a mistake so even my parents couldn’t give me this kind of comfort. I cried worse as I had thought of it. The idea of a stranger giving me a better meaning of how home felt like than a family does, who wouldn’t tear up after that?

I don’t want to be ahead of time. But hope filled my mind. Maybe I could find more people like him. Maybe someone out there could notice my emotions. Maybe someone could act as my light. Maybe someone does care about my wellbeing. Out of a huge percentage of people living on Earth, there should be one who could at least meet and save me right? I know I settled in all “maybes” but it was much better than having none.

Recalling the series of events, I was a total problem. Yet you were always there for me no matter how heavy of a burden I am. You were the one who believed in me when I couldn’t, picked me up when I was drowning in a wave of traumas and worries, and lightened my deep void. You were my first and swore you’ll be my last, who broke my past and created my unknown beginning. I hated risks but whenever you are involved, I for sure know it is worth it no matter how many needles it may pain me. It had been years before noticing how much you mean to me I may be late, but would never get tired of this. I will listen and enjoy our memories until the end. You will, for eternal love, be my last song in my only playlist.

Although it’s true we never believed in love since the beginning. But all we do know is that we’d like to spend our whole lives together. It’s as if we were bound by the heavens to meet and help one another. With all that’s happening, I would like to assume that this is love people were talking about. Who knew it could be this powerful to change someone?

[CHAN’S POV]

And what happened to the “messy innocent girl who was stained by reality?” She became an unrecognizable teen, as pure as ever. In the past, I wasn’t able to feel the emotions most do but look at me now, smiling every time I see you do. Even though I’ve never felt heavy feelings, these light ones are taking a toll on me whenever you call my name.

We had arguments but never had any misunderstandings. This is all because no matter what I say, you are always by my side. I could tell you day by day how much you mean the world to me, my downfalls, and everything unnecessary but you’d still listen to it with no regrets.

Right now, we’re meeting up for a “little date” as you mentioned. I was going to decline because there had been many requirements in class but you seemed too interested that I didn’t want to break it to you.

I was wearing my usual hoodie sweater with baggy pants and ordered for both of us. After all, you would always choose chocolate whipped shakes over anything. You seemed to take too long so I decided to work on some demands given. I turned on my laptop and opened the application as I placed the headphones on my ear, silencing the noise in my surroundings.

Now all I can hear is my heartbeat pounding and swallowing as my throat started to dry. The loading symbol appeared on my screen and I hoped it would stay like that forever. I hoped it would crash and tried to find more excuses for me not to use it.

I was consistently looking at the time shown on the panel below the main screen. The blue circular sign still turns and turns as I see it from my peripheral vision. 3:31, 3:32, 3:33, the minutes kept moving and hands that are now shaking because I assumed this would be the worst nightmare that could happen. But no, cause “worst nightmare” is an understatement when we are referring to this. It would’ve been better as a nightmare because I could wake up from this traumatic moment. I was focused on my screen that I hadn’t noticed the calling in my front.

“Channie?... Chris?.... Christopher?... Mr.Bang Chan?.. Chan!”

[Y/N’S POV]

He finally noticed me as soon as I tapped on his shoulders. He flinched and looked at me in horror. It creeped me out but it took seconds before he could pull his eyes away from mine. He bit his lips and I noticed him covering his hands. The staff called out a number which I believe was from our table considering the way he closed his laptop.

“I’m getting that” You forced a little smile as you made way to the counter

I smiled at the thought of our “date” but seeing you sweating and nervously fidgeting your fingers to avoid them from shaking bothers me. Did something happen before you came? Why was he that nervous? Thoughts bombarded my mind, but you coming back with my favorite drink and snacks, looking all-smiley, tells me as if you noticed my discomfort so you tried cheering me up. You sat down in front of me and got rid of your problems. As usual, this guy notices even the littlest gestures I make.

“Did you wait too long?” I asked you with enthusiasm because our little date has now started. The idea non-stop makes my whole day

“No, I just arrived before you did.” You respond with a genuine smile despite the clear lie you just gave. You stroked my hair as you looked at me lovingly

“Oh, I just passed by that bakery we talked about a year ago…..” I started chatting about our fond memories that remain vivid in my head.

It took several hours of talking and enjoying our time together. We also watched that Philippine movie starring two exes who broke up and lived in one house, but being an emotional wreck, it took 30 mins of you trying to comfort me as I cry ugly. Of course, you didn’t miss an opportunity to laugh at me and even took a video. Teasing me and showing my picture as your wallpaper, made me playfully angry.

We also enjoyed visiting the same tunnel where we met. The nostalgia is present. The moon is shining and I can’t help but smile looking at you.

[CHANS POV]

You look beautiful under the moon if I must say. I wanted to show the magnificent view because it reminds me of you whenever I see it up above. You were my only light when my days in the past were too dark.

We continued strolling around, counting the streetlights that passed by and talked about a lot of things. Until you decided to speak up-

“About…. the thing that happened earlier?” You looked up to me, but your eyes soon started moving away from mines. You were held on with the anxiety of trying to speak up whenever it had come to my personal life. I don’t know whether it was the trauma you’ve stumbled upon when you asked about my father or it’s just due to your manners. Nonetheless, if it was indeed your trauma, I’ve felt guilty about it and wanted to reassure you I won’t hurt you ever again. “But if you don’t want to talk about it-“ I cut your sentence off.

“My father was a musician..” your eyes shined with glee in my response

“That’s cool!” You exclaimed but it soon faded into a frown after hearing me sigh. Tilting your head, you tried to calculate everything that’s wrong with it. I nervously fidgeted with my hands and knuckles, contemplating a decision that could change and even affect both of us.

“Everything’s wrong... He was into it, music took his mindset and life” I faced my head sideways and gulped without looking at your eye. The trauma, I’m finally telling my pent-up feelings after a lifetime keeping it to myself.

“He was so into composing music and started to forget about the reason he had started to do it. And by that-“ you cut off my sentence and started to nod a few times, pressing your lips together. You pointed your shaky finger at me and spoke softly.

“I think I know where this is going.” You looked at me in disbelief but all I could do is look at you with concern and guilt, asking for forgiveness. “Is this why you didn’t want to love again even after all these years?” Your eyes that shined stars a moment ago, turned into sun at night. It wasn’t raging darkness, but plain agony.

“Can you blame me? I know I love music, I’ve told you that on repeat for years. Is love what I need when that was the cause of everything?”

You didn’t take one glance at me and started walking faster. You were trying to leave me behind but I was quick to grab your hand.

“Please, let’s not act like this. It’s starting to get..” I was trying to think of a less harsh word because things get complicated day by day. And here I thought this date would be an exception. “Childish. Okay? I don’t get why you’re so out of place and it’s like-“

“So now I’m the one getting childish here?” You turned around and faced me, finally. Though it wasn’t any relieving as I expected. You were having tears stuck in your eyes, ready to fall at anytime yet you don’t want to cry in front of me. Are we going to keep this up? I was about to talk but no words came out of me. Until you decided to continue your sentence.

“You knew about this all the time, right? You knew how I was starting to fall for you and yet you continued our relationship without feeling love?” You bit your lips as your eyebrows creased. Trying to push me away, but all I could do was hold you tighter. “I know how trauma feels like. I’ve been there, we’ve been there. But you could’ve told me sooner at least so I’m not the only one looking like a whole fucking fool here, Christopher.” You tried to get away from my hold and yes, you did. Though as I tried to grab your hand once again, you took a step backward and placed your hands up in the air as a sign of surrender. “Call me sensitive but for God’s sake! How could you get me all wrapped up in your finger for the past years and call it something that isn’t attachment nor love? What was I to you then?” It took seconds for me to get the gist of what you’re trying to say and I did understand but I couldn’t answer that simple question.

Because now that I think of it, was I awful to hesitate who you were in my life? Was those years nothing for me then? I want to protect you until the end and I wanted to see you happy but I’m pretty sure I felt this for some of my friends as well. Did I just get into a relationship whilst thinking of my significant other as a friend? Is it called using someone? Taking advantage to make my life better? I know what’s right and what’s wrong. But I don’t know which is which. Getting into a relationship is a risky choice and I don’t want to hurt anybody in between. Because I know that’s what’s wrong. Using others for my need of affection and love is wrong as well. But is this exactly what I’m doing? I don’t know...As things grow, it just gets complicated to the point that I couldn’t even comprehend situations.

“I thought so” you continued, and those words crushed my heart. I didn’t notice the time we’ve been arguing, though technically it’s just you who was able to speak, that we’ve already reached your house. You opened the tiny gate in front of your house and I know what’s going to happen sooner later.

“Maybe, you need time to think about it alright? I don’t think I can keep up with a relationship like this if it’s too one-sided. But don’t worry I’ll wait. Even though what I want may not come,” you chuckled but the sigh was still evident. “I’ll wait for you.” You smiled, but it isn’t the one you’ve always shown me. I was the reason for your happiness but also the reason for your pain. How tragic must have been that sound.

You went your way to the door and closed it. I knew you were crying as I heard little sniffles but never looked my way. Closing the door, that was the last time I had ever seen you. With no goodbye kisses and hugs, you left feeling the ache you didn’t deserve.

[YOUR POV]

It was supposed to be “taking a break”, but considering this, I should’ve accepted it as a break-up. You never took time texting me after the whole 4 months. I guess I was no one in your life. But even though I was still hurt, I regretted spatting out things as if it was your fault. You always get guilty over things and I know it was all just because you had a hard time reciprocating your feelings because of the lack of love you’ve felt. I should’ve understood that part but being the sensitive me, I was unmindful. I’ve also never seen you walk past the corridors nowadays, so it’s basically been also the same 4 months of actually not seeing you as well. You really bothered trying to get out of my life.

I groaned as I sat up in the bed. It was around 8:30 and I’m like 1 hour and 30 mins late? Not that I’m bothered by it since I’ve gotten used to it. It’s not like our teacher is there by the time I arrive.

-SCHOOL-

“Outside, now” was the first and last thing I’ve heard as I entered my classroom. And here I thought the teacher wasn’t present. Not only did I embarrass myself in front of my classmates, but I’d also have to stand holding a chair, outside the classroom for lower and higher-ups students to see. Awful, and my reputation is broken. Well, not that I had any significant reputation in the first place but come on, you know how hard it was to see students bickering while looking at you.

I heard the door click open and I hoped it was the teacher who finally would let me in. It turned out to be another classmate of mines which I thought was unnecessary. But as I looked back up and noticed his eyes, a sense of familiarity came unto me.

“Han?” My eyes widened at the sight in front of me. I’m not expecting people to be perfect but our class president was the last person I expected to be scolded by our teacher. “Weren’t you inside the classroom way before me?”

“I cursed.” The guy spoke shortly and lifted the chair just like the same punishment I’ve been doing. I blinked my eyes twice but understood nothing.

“Pardon?” I replied in a high tone as if I was questioning what he was trying to say. Cursed? Is he out of his mind, trying to curse in front of the teacher? Besides, he had always been this quiet kid, but girls still tend to simp over. The latter though is out of my knowledge.

“What did you say?” I leaned in as you jolted quite a bit. Reacting to the sudden flinch, I assumed it was bold of me to do so and it scared you. But looking straight at you, pink tints were found on the side of the cheeks. It was light and definitely cute.

“F-fuck” he faced me with eyebrows creased and hesitated in replying. It was so short and awkward whenever he’d say it or maybe it’s also due to his stuttering. The thought was so out of the place and even I, who is quite free doesn’t curse in front of the teacher for no reason so why would someone who tries to stay low, would curse? But the way you told me the “forbidden” word made me laugh out loud.

“You’re funny, Mr. class president” I replied after a silent 2 minutes and laughed while hitting him lightly. Little amounts of liquids were falling down my deep brown eyes as I tried to regain my breathing. He’s awkward and that’s what makes it funny. I like him.

I wiped off my tears and stared at you. My laughs slowly died down after seeing your confusing expression. I don’t know whether your eyes held a safe haven or a place I was indulged in and forgot about the point that everything was complicated in between. Whether staring at you was comfortable or confusing. All I know is that I was distracted by the genuine smile you gave. It was little but I knew it was a smile after seeing cute dimples on the side of your lips. Now that I think of it, I haven’t ever seen the president smile.

You noticed my pause and coughed, trying to clear out the tension. The usual demeanor was back. Was everything just an illusion then?

“Anyways, I don’t know about you but I’m gonna have to go. Don’t want stay here standing when time’s already up” you lazily said as you pressed your lips together, leaving me speechless all alone. Raising your hand, you waved back at me while walking away and didn’t even take time to look back.

That was weird. Or was I the only one weird? True, I’ve never seen him around that much but I’ve painted the guy as someone responsible considering the works he finished even after given such a small time. He was indeed open-minded but wasn’t out-spoken or friendly. Work is work and he has to make sure he aces his tests for his reputation to not tarnish even one bit, that’s all that matters to him. He was never used to smiling so he doesn’t do it as much, at least that’s what I’ve heard. I’m guessing it must be my imagination.

/LUNCHTIME/

Guess what? It’s already lunchtime and I haven’t learned a single bit of information from my teacher’s discussion. Shrugging all my homework, projects, quizzes, oral recitations, and performances that are all due this afternoon, I walked out of the classroom.

But before I did so, I found a familiar guy in my peripheral vision. Trying to confirm whether it was him, I turned and called his name out.

“Mr. president?”

The same awkward and serious guy turned around, raising his right brow. You were confused at first about who would call you with no respect, but hummed in surprise as a response.

“It’s Han for you... and for everyone” trying to continue the work you’ve been doing for our school camp which is totally several months later. What’s the rush?

“Drop the formalities! Besides, I like Mr. president way better.” I smiled and tilted my head then flipped my hair. I was a whole smug for thinking my naming sense was the best thing about me.

“Like, like?”

The same vibe always comes up whenever I’m talking to you and I don’t know why. How is it so hard to interact with smart ones? I feel like their language is different and I couldn’t even comprehend what this guy is trying to say.

“like?”

“You like mr. president. That’s what you said”

And that’s how it struck me. Looking back on everything, it seems pretty weird. (I like Mr. President way better) rings all throughout my head. I know he’s been surrounded by girls who have a crush on him but surely he doesn’t think of this as a low-key confession, right?

Please, I didn’t deserve any of this awkward tension. I did walk up to him first but blame my curiosity for wondering what he’s doing in his free time, does he always go to the library whenever, or what do the lifestyle elites like him actually have? Maybe, I did just want a friend but who knew it would be this complicated. Wrong choice.

“The names you provide for people are so dull” you faked a yawn to show how uninterested you are.

I laughed out and tried to hide the embarrassment I’ve felt inside. He meant the name of course! What was I thinking? He quickly got up and proceeded to leave the classroom as if he understood what I wanted to do. He catches up with things fast if I must say. But the feeling didn’t subside in me and I tried to cover up my face with my hands as soon as he left. Heaving a deep sigh, I reassured myself and followed him.

-CAFETERIA-

“This is all they’ve got?”

It’s been a second we’ve entered the school cafeteria and yet this elite beside me was already complaining. We sat down on the white benches and I was also relieved the cafeteria doesn’t have many students since our class ended earlier than the desired time.

“You’ll get used to it. Besides, what do you commonly eat for lunch? This is good.” I replied and waited for a response that never came back. I’m thinking it was a wall I’m talking to. You ate the soup and showed a face of disgust. Of course, I don’t give up.

“Do you have different cafeterias?” “Or do you eat in your respective rooms?” “Do you actually eat? cause you looked really busy with the requirements.” “Being a class president is that hard huh? I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as hard-working as you even if they have high titles.” “You know if I was the class-“

“Why do you ask so many questions? Geez” you swept your hair and sighed. You felt tired talking to someone as chatty as me but all I could do is playfully pout and raise both my eyebrows up. Shrugging, I respond.

“Why not?”

You glared at me but I wasn’t taken aback by it so you decided to reply, finally. “The real question is, why?” you tried to peacefully eat and finished it quickly so you could go to the library, I suppose. It was going smoothly until my small brain with low grammar or structure skills decided to pop up the least moment I wanted it to.

“Because I’m interested in you.”

Choking was all I could hear after I simply stated. Panicking, I gave you my water unknowingly and you drank it. I patted your back and stroked it gently.

“You okay?” I tried to calm you down but your face seemed to ask me whether you were okay even after everything was obvious.

“You mean you’d like to know about my lifestyle?” You analyzed my reaction as I tilted my head. I mean isn’t that clear? Your eyes seemed like you got the hang of me again and scoffed, rolling your eyes. Wow! Now, what’s up with this attitude?

“It’s common. Just some random New York steak.” My eyes widened and my ears couldn’t believe what they’re hearing. That’s common? Gosh, even my monthly allowance couldn’t afford to buy a whole steak, what more if it was specifically in New York? And the way he didn’t bother to flex about his lunchtime food and acts as if it’s unimportant.

“Enough about me, how about you?” I believe you were trying to ask for the sake of the conversation but it excites me anyway. I mean, an elite asking me about my life? It boosts my pride, internally laughing as I thought of the idea.

“What do you want to know about me?” Grinning, I eagerly waited for the question. How blessed I am to have an upper-class student to not just interact, but ask about me as well.

“What happened between you and Bang Chan?”

I’m taking it all back. I don’t want to hear any questions. I was wrong. By Bang Chan, I knew straight away he was referring to Chris. The mentioned ex became an elite, or so I heard. I don’t know how, why, or when but that’s the only reason possible for him to know there was a thing between us. But unlike me, Mr. President wants to make sure of everything and not just the rumors he had heard.

“No.” I simply stated and continued to eat.

“Why not?”

“I should be the one asking you why”

“Because I’m interested in you”

I paused and was slightly surprised by the sudden declaration. Okay, my way of telling him made me look crazy. I looked up to him and saw a pair of teasing eyes. This is who mr. president is? Now it was my time to roll my eyes and I knew at that moment I had no escape.

“Exes. We’re exes.” I expected a startled expression from you but your lips curled downwards as if you expected it. How was it hard to read this guy’s mind though he immediately catches up on everything I’m feeling?

Days passed by and as usual, I was the one annoying you. At that very time, we became close because I knew you were a comfortable place for me to be in. You don’t judge unlike what others do each time I open up my problems especially when it comes to my relationship with an elite and Christopher, out of all. For sure, you were the right choice of friend I never knew I needed to rely on.

[YOUR JOURNAL]

Just a few days passed by and I hear lots of students whispering. What’s the occasion? I don’t even know myself yet I’ve brought a ring that matches mine. I’m naive but I always trust my instincts no matter what. As I try to recall the date and puts everything together in one piece from all the clues I’ve gotten.

A familiar man appeared in my sight. But he wasn’t mr. president. He was looking at me and I continued to look at those deep brown eyes I’ve longed to see after a long time. Was I prepared? No. Did I want to see him? I’m not sure so myself. But did I actually like that view? Indeed. My very first heartbreak or hiatus came back after months and to see he felt the same way I did. Did the moment I waited for all of my life would finally happen?

Each step you take, the more my anxiety rushes through me. I felt the shivers either because I was scared or it was the tears I’ve forced to stop from rolling down my cheeks. Or simply both, ignoring the fact that I was hurt yet I did want to see you after all. I wanted to walk away, but if I did then I’m making the same mistake twice. Therefore I stood still silent and only my heartbeat is the loudest out of all.

Closing my eyes, I expected strong grips around my wrist which marks it deep red because anger was the only thing present in the space between us. I didn’t take consideration of the things you’ve gone through but instead became selfish just because I’ve moved on from the past. I did tell you I would wait for you forever but all I gave you was the pressure of making you choose decisions at times you were having a hard time. Just because you made me learn the definition of love, doesn’t mean I could anticipate that you felt the same thing.

Quite on the contrary, I’ve felt warmth and comfort. The grip was truly strong, strong enough to hurt me emotionally and not physically unlike what I expected. The grip I’ve felt was hanging around me, a hug was given to me even when I didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry” that was what I’ve heard in the muffled and low volume of voice the man had spoken because he was on the verge of tears. I was supposed to be the one asking for an apology, yet this guy took it to heart once again. Typical Christopher.

“I missed you. I’ve realized I can’t do things without you. It’s been hard..” Your sentence cut the uncertainty I’ve felt. It came, he came. I cried my heart out after not breathing for a second. It would finally work out, after months of trying to ask for support from other people, you entered my life once again. And better? You loved me.

It was your graduation, and I’m glad to be there just like what we dreamed it to be. You may have left, but our romance never stopped.

Cliché right? Of course, that never happens in reality. What happens, is the point that we argue every day because of the long-distance relationship that serves as an obstacle in us. We don’t even know whose mistake it is but considering you, you’ve always been the one who let your pride down and ask for forgiveness. There are times it’s also been me because I realized that this guy doesn’t deserve more burdens in his life. Support is everything I could give.

“Everything working out?” I was astounded by the call Hanji decided to initiate first. He’s always been there for me when I had it rough. He cares for me though he doesn’t show it as much.

“I don’t know. I’ve rarely been receiving texts but he made sure to call me anytime soon. We’ve both been fighting against this. Thanks by the way” You sighed after I finished my sentence. I hoped my exhaustion wasn’t able to reach you but you knew straight away.

“What do you see in him? He is talented and ideal but do you think you both match up?“

It was good he called but hitting it directly at me and doubts our relationship? That’s what triggered and ticked me off. “I told you not to talk about this.” I firmly uttered.

“He doesn’t get the way you act, talk or even feel”

“I’m sorry? What do you mean by that?” It’s rare to see us quarrel because you didn’t want to reach that point and yet it’s you trying to get all complicated once again. Here I thought I got the hang of how you think. “He understands me more than anyone.”

“If he does then why didn’t he call by then?”

“He was busy. I repeated that to you more than thrice throughout the whole call. But if he wasn’t busy then he’d take a grasp of everything.”

“Was he? Because the last time I knew you had a rough day, crying all alone, he didn’t. The time I knew I had to cheer you up, he didn’t. The time I knew I needed to reassure you that no one’s ever going to leave you but stay by your side, even though you didn’t realize about it, he didn’t.”

3 seconds passed by before my voice was heard in the line.

“What does that have to do with all these?”

“I understand you but the guy you wanted to be with, doesn’t”

That was it, the final blow. Both were concerning, the whole sentence is. Starting from the conclusion you understood me up until the thought of me wanting a guy who doesn’t pick me up the way I assume couples needed. We had a relationship with Chris, but was it called a relationship with lots of things in between?

“I’m sorry. Slipped out. I was just irritated.” It was a first for you to apologize but my mind wandered to the part where you compared yourself to Christopher.

“What do you mean by you understanding me when he doesn’t?”

“I mean... If I did understand you, then I’m pretty sure a lot more boys out there would be a better match and would recognize your desire. They would be able to take care of you. You know I’m just.. worried.”

If it was the usual vibe, I would’ve laughed at that lame excuse. But thinking back, it’s hard for me to perceive the way you feel about me. I’ve heard rumors but ended up being nonchalant about it because mr. president having feelings? I chose to believe it wasn’t real especially when I’m already facing a hard time.

“good night.” You continued after the short silence. It was now you who was starting to get exhausted. You cut off the line quickly before I could even reply. Was the relationship between me and Chris wasn’t able to follow up fate? How innocent of me to think that true love comes so easily.

Days turned to months and I lost count of the weeks Chris has been gone by my side. He had never failed to text compared in the past, but I still yearned for his affection.

He seemed excited on the phone today and unknowingly called me 5 times and now a 6-

“Christopher, aren’t you busy?” I giggled as I heard him laugh. It made my day and filled up the void in me that was created because of the thought he isn’t able to be with me on my graduation day.

“I have duties... as your boyfriend” I playfully rolled my eyes without expecting a turn of events.

It was my final day in school and to think that I have to spend it alone because I had no friends, awful. Chris made my day though, so I wanted to enjoy it to the fullest. But the feeling of not seeing Hanji anymore still lingered in my mind. It was harsh but I had to accept it. We didn’t talk that much but undoubtedly, he was a good friend in times I need him.

Whilst looking around the stalls in the halls, I found him. He was talking to a guy seemingly the same age as ours and he looked so happy. But as his eyes met mines, was it just me, or did it die down? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me after all? His eyes traveled back to the sushi he ordered but sighed as I ran up to him.

“Mr. president?” The happy and annoying tone of calling him wasn’t present anymore. It was gloomy, hesitating if I should bother his hours or time. “Did I do something?” What happened to our closure? it flees away.

I saw you in the process of trying to smile a little and just hummed to let me know nothing’s wrong. But everything is. You ignored me and walked up to the classroom. I followed you, as I always do. I decided to speak up but you cut me off.

“I’m sorry if I did-“

“Are you still interested in me?”

You turned around and confronted my small figure. It hurts the way you try to smile in front of me but failed to do so. Usually, you always made me believe what you wanted me to. You’d say you’re fine, you’re happy, you’re not exhausted, but right now? I’m not buying it. I may not be able to read you that much, but you seemed too tired to the point that your magic of convincing me didn’t work.

“Interested..?”

“You said you were interested in how elite ones live. Now that you got the answer and your boyfriend is one, what am I there for?”

“You were there for me-“

“when he couldn’t be there”

You were being on and off, getting more complicated as time passes by. You don’t go straight to the point but instead, run circles until I have a hard time contemplating whether I’m the wrong one.

“What are you trying to imply?” I questioned

“I don’t need a quote that says don’t expect something in return”

“Return? After everything, we’ve been through? Our friendship? Was it all just nothing? How doesn’t that benefit you?”

“Because the more I give you your need, why do I have to receive pain instead?” Your voice was shaky and I can see you biting your lip, trying to suppress yourself from falling and breaking. “You wanted to know me because you were curious about my life. Now that you know of it, what do you want from me?”

“What do you mean what do I want? I want nothing from you. The bond that we’re tied in is enough for “

“Then who am I to you?”

“I told you, a friend.”

“My purpose in your life?”

“Lifting me up whenever I feel....down”

“So did you recognize how that sound like to you?”

Among both of us, I broke down first. Why am I being the one treated like the villain in this story taking advantage of people around me? Why am I the perceived the evil being in our friendship? Why does he want to make me feel guilty? I didn’t even know what the problem is yet, but I was already the bad one here. Call me clueless, but I couldn’t be blamed for something I don’t even know about. Quiet sobs filled in the silence and I could feel your sympathy filling the empty room.

“If ever..” in a low volume, you decided to speak “Why do you want to spend more time with me?” I looked up to you and wiped away all my tears if that’s possible.

A reason, that’s all I need to prove but no suggestions came up to my mind. Recollecting tragedies, was I the one who didn’t bother calling you when you didn’t do the same to me? Why didn’t I? You didn’t even pass my mind one single time in the past days. So why didn’t that happen? I appreciated him but when did things gradually just..stop?

Tears fell down yours as well but you didn’t want me to look at you in the eye. “You were supposed to say for more memories, you know? Like because I actually made you happy so you wanted me to appreciate our moments. Believe it or not, that’s what they say” you laughed to lift the air but I was still left dumbfounded after everything. How terrible of me, that thought echoes repeatedly.

Hours passed by and I wasn’t feeling it. The sun turned gloomy, the loud cheer of students turned to noise, the sky turned monochrome and the atmosphere turned dull. All I could do was ask Chris regarding it. All he could say is that he appreciated how Hanji backed off and didn’t want to complicate things more by telling me. Understanding none of it, what does he mean by didn’t want to complicate things more when our quarrel was? Wow, I really am this hopeless. Slow and unaware.

I was lost in thought that I late realized how I could hear vehicles in Chris as he was on call. Was he lying then? He mentioned he was staying in but why are there noises and people chattering? I was baffled hearing one of the familiar voices behind. One seemed to be the same as my classmate.

“Where are you? I thought you said you were in your home?”

“I am home.”

Clichè as it seemed, It all felt like a slow-motion in a fast-paced sequence of events. Firstly you were just talking to me but at the next second, you were personally doing it.

Holding your phone, I finally found the guy I’ve seen and lost on the same day in the past. But now? He’s here. Promising me that he won’t leave ever again. I knew I could trust these words no matter how repetitive they're going to be. Once you tell me it, I just know you’d be by my side no matter what until the end of the world.

You were looking the same as I remembered in the past and it’s played out like deja vu. You walking up to me and giving me a whole hug of comfort, as I cried in your arms.

“How about your-“

“I don’t want you to worry about it. I’ve chosen myself, with no additional pressure, to live with you.” You stroked my hair and patted my back.

“Live with me?”

“Don’t you want to?” I was delighted and surprised by the sudden decision. I wasn’t given enough time to think about it, not that I needed time anyway. I would always choose you over anything else.

It was the event and yes, I graduated with my boyfriend cheering me on and allowed me to soar high and fly, to start a new beginning.

[HAN POV]

It was good seeing you happy. Even if it was Bang Chan, I’m sure he is the only man that can make you smile like that.

But indeed, I was hurt. I was a book you wanted to read but as soon as you got ahold of the main idea, everything starts to get boring. Usually, you would never fail to not make me annoyed each day because as you always say, I cross your mind every time. When you were indulged in your relationship, I was forgotten.

It was all my mistake and you don’t have to feel guilty about it. I may not have any expectations of you loving me, but I had hopes and that’s what made me receive pain. If I hadn’t hoped you would be with me, hoping you forgot about him, hoped you could see I am just here waiting, hoped you could realize I can treat you better, then both of us wouldn’t get hurt. It’s my fault and I’m held accountable to live in regrets.

But even for a split second, I am happy that I am capable of distracting your worries and making your day better. I wasn’t thinking well in the argument a while ago but I did get the benefit. Seeing you happy, makes me happy. So letting you go is the best choice for both of us to receive joy. Scratch that, I don’t have the right to tell you I would let you go.

Because I never stood a chance did I?

[YOUR JOURNAL]

After graduating, I moved in with Christopher. He let me listen to some of the tracks he had created to stop me from bothering him all day.

The music he had composed was nothing personal and was based on people from different perspectives. I had never felt the same experience as well but something about the way he writes and produces brought me to tears. The pain and emptiness inside were well shown in the midst of harmonies. He was also a genius writer with well-structured sentences and livens up feelings in the words to make the listener feel as if he or she was the one narrating it. His father is a musician, but to think he would be able to express that much in songs just shows how deeply connected he is with music. He wasn’t motivated because he tries to stop himself from being like his father but it was a pity for him to stop something he is incredibly good at.

“You’re really something Christopher! Do you know that?” I hugged him from behind and heard his little laughs. “I think I’ve fallen for you all over again. But honestly, I knew you’d write and produce this good” I wore on a smug look as he asked while giggling because of the face I’m giving.

“How?”

“How about calling it an intuition from an expert music lover?” You playfully rolled your eyes in my response because you expected something more detailed. You urged me to explain it to you so you’d knew my opinion about the music and so I did.

“Your words are beautiful that it makes me believe anything you’ll say, Christopher” I smiled and kissed your cheek. I rested my head near your neck as we were sat on the bed, facing each other.

It was true. You made me feel different feelings and opened up a new perspective to move on from my past. You influenced me a variety of changing thoughts. I don’t like the idea of losing myself to someone because it forgets the real me. I don’t like the concept of being crazy in love with people because it doesn’t feel sweet somehow whenever the risk of it being one-sided and unable to move on is present. Not realizing that whenever the talk comes about you, it feels heavenly. I don’t know who I would be if I wasn’t yours but it all feels enchanting. Although you made me insecure, at the same time you made me laugh throughout the day. You were a gold rush. Perfect and gentle, to think that someone like me got you is like winning once in my entire life. Luck is rare but fate was there. By fate, it turned out you were destined to meet me and get me out of the hell hole, no one tried to do. By fate, it means I will love you and will forever do. By fate, we’ll stand strong and fight the cracks alongside our journey.

[CHRIS POV]

You wouldn’t take a no for an answer when I was asked to create more songs. A single shed of tear from listening to my music encouraged you to push more song requests unto me. Make-me-a-song was all I could remember hearing from you.

I remember you publishing one of my songs and I was accepted by it. You were jumping up and down as I was worried about its outcome. I was starting to get known, that was also the beginning of how the unforgivable musician started to forget about the important ones in his life. It was as if the result would be dragging my only light into my darkness. I don’t want to be a musician and yet, here I am composing more songs even if I knew what was coming soon.

I’ve started with light romance that I think you’ll enjoy but seeing you look so happy with just a simple work of mine, gave me that motivation I least wanted to have. And like a recorded cd, everything was played the exact same way in different men. I hated it but it was truly like father, like son.

I continued to write songs with deeper ones but as I got the recognition all the more, I produced as if I was possessed. I was indulged in the way words can be conveyed differently and ideas, stories, and theories were constantly overflowing my mind. I was wrapped up in music and I hated myself for it. Even though I despised the process, I couldn’t help but continuously write. All of my pent-up feelings in the past years were expressed in my songs, making me create heavy tracks and don’t run out of stories to tell. The man I’ve been hiding and was traumatized from came back and it’s as if he mocks me that we are on the same page after all. I felt myself sinking and sinking despite you telling me that I am not like my father because I made you feel the definition of love. I was trapped in a room with no escape that relates whenever I had started making music, I couldn’t get out of it. I wasn’t forced but this drive is what makes me continue because I feel like I’m creating a new genre that makes people deeply appreciate and maybe understand what I’ve been going through.

4 years came by but it felt like days in my studio.

“Chris, are you sure you’re fine? Get enough rest okay?” the young girl called me but I was busy finalizing the song.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied shortly after your question. I wasn’t paying much attention so I didn’t know the accurate response for it.

“Anyways, what’s that ab-“

“I’m working on music that’s going to be showcased and submitted to the famous JYP company later. It is really important so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me by asking so many questions. Come by later, we’ll talk about it then.” I looked at my watch on my right arm and noticed how I still got a few hours left before attending the ceremony. The albums will be released soon after but I have to submit another title track.

I was busy with all the scheduled dates and songs that I hadn’t realized

she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Mr. Bang Chan?” hours came by and truly the CEO came. We have a friendly bond and he gives me advice so it’s casual for him to call on me. I hurried up to the door and went to the car.

“Why didn’t you invite her to the big event?” The CEO of the company asked me to start up a conversation. He crossed his hands and tapped his fingers as if he thought of something so deep and significant because he was getting impatient.

“It’s a big hassle. She isn’t good and comfortable in interacting with people she doesn’t know” I simply stated and smiled for respect.

“I don’t interfere or meddle in the personal affairs or lives of others but I hope you aren’t neglecting her because of this, are you?”

“She will understand” I looked up to the car window and stared at the illuminating lights from buildings. I know you took a lot of time waiting for me, but please don’t give up and let me finish this song about you. By then, our Disney-like dreams would finally come true and I swear I’ll make you even happier.

I held a box of ring in my pocket. I’ll make you happy, just hang a bit in there okay?

[YOUR POV]

The CEO told me about the new album he’s been working on. It was about his first love. It would be no other than me, right?

I went up to his room and read the paper scattered alongside his desk. There were lots but I decided to read the one that I assumed was already done. It was near the porch and I understood how he wanted to compose in front of the moon.

The moon shone brightly that night

but I realized that wasn’t my source of light

You look lovely

as the smiles you beamed lasted an eternity

I was persuaded and lost in thought

unknowingly, my heart was caught

Because even under the moon, you’ve shone the brightest

and cleared my problems at most

Even under where light lies,

I was indulged deep in your eyes

Even when it illuminates through the void,

a different view is what I’ve enjoyed

Because even if their minds were fixated on the scene,

looking at you felt more serene

I stopped reading the paper and placed it back on the desk.

“That can’t be me..” I thought.

Starting from the mentioned smiles, how could that be me? You stated you enjoyed looking at me, but I felt like I was invisible whenever you compose songs. Did you make songs while thinking of me? I don’t think so. You should’ve known that you were dragging me along with your darkest nights. I wasn’t even your light anymore, it died down. I was overshadowed by your passion or the one you’re talking about in this script. Can I still make you happy? No. Am I still happy? No. The whole lyrics proves how you didn’t even take a single glance at me right now. Because if you did care, you would've known I changed because you did. I changed because the person I was relying upon, didn’t find motivation in me. We started together but it lost while it progresses just like how you started music because of me but lost my figure in your sight along the way. It was reality, I was being forgotten. When I was alone crying, where were you? I know you don’t understand me quite well but I was the whole climate. I changed for seasons unlike in the past where it was mild swings. Because you know what hurts the most? Not the fact that I waited and kept waiting as I am already used to that and no matter how many years it may take, I’ll always wait for you. But it’s all because everything went back. You picked me up from the trauma and showed how love is but it’s as if my past resurfaced from the waters and told me how tragedies would always stay the same. That I would always end up this way no matter who I’m faced to. I felt guilty for slightly regretting that I praised your songs. Indeed you were meant to be connected with music and it’s your passion. I’m happy that I was able to show it to you but wouldn’t these happen if I didn’t start it all? I was wrong. I thought it made you happy but no. None of these made us happy. Your pieces of music weren’t to blame, I shouldn’t be blamed and neither were you. Where did everything go wrong? I don’t know, it just started to fall off. These lyrics were deeply engraved in my mind. You seemed so in love when I wasn’t able to show you what love is. If it was a person, she must’ve been so kind and understanding. She must’ve been someone who understood your secrets and feelings. And me? I couldn’t still get to you. I’m confused about what’s best for you or what you wanted all along. I don’t recognize the woman you’re writing about. Either it was the past me or someone new. Chris,

who is it that you’re in love with?

Cold air rushed through my skin as I closed my eyes and inhaled the scent of calm air. It wasn’t possible but it was enough to make me feel calm. I still appreciated our moments but I feel like I can’t wait anymore, Chris. It’s not because I’m tired but because I feel like you’ll be better without me. I hate the idea of me regretting I showed you your passion. I’ll be nothing but a whole burden. You’ll meet someone better who recognizes your life and by then she’ll be a brave one who can communicate with you. You’ll find someone new, or you already did. If anything, happiness is all I need in the end, at least at the ends of the world. It did happen. I was happy because the next thing I’ll do will be the bravest thing I had ever done after all my cowardly decisions in life, and it’s all because of you.

I stood up at the top of the porch and imagined a vivid scenery. It was you kneeling down to someone new. She did accept it and you were celebrating. Tears ran down my cheeks but was I smiling? Yes, it was indeed happiness seeing you take a break from the pressure and realize you needed to receive joy. I wasn’t able to give it to you but to think someone else would, contrasted the happiness and pain. “It’s time to let go” I opened my eyes slowly as I thought and saw the moonlight. I snapped out of my thoughts and cleared out my head. Because no matter what happened in between us, you crossed my mind in a second. And that’s when I knew, I still loved you despite the bittersweet rain.

[CHRIS POV]

I heard sirens in front of the place that doesn’t feel like home anymore. Why? I heard how young and innocent the girl was and it was a pity to see her leave. It was a shock for me to the point that I hadn’t shed a single tear. Empty, hollow. It was all I could feel at the moment. Was she gone? Did she conclude to leave her out of my life?

Paper. That’s all I’ve seen on the desk. It’s prohibited to enter but I couldn’t believe what I’m seeing. The paper was crumpled and I believed you took the time to read this. Was my perspective wrong about you? Wasn’t this about you? I read the paper without further thinking and realized how I painted her as an angel. She is human, she was a human. Yet I’ve acted as if she was happy all the time, trying to save me from being a mess. Did I take a look back at her? No, instead I assumed too quickly. But what could that change? I was late and you’ve already given up. I was this close to preventing this but because I was so into writing a song made for you, I had forgotten the purpose to the point that it doesn’t seem like you anymore. Can I turn back time? If only I could. I needed to feel your warmth, I needed to see you one last time. I need you.

“Excuse me, do you know the victim?” A man from the authorities asked.

“Yes.”

Mixed emotions were vivid. I felt guilty but hoped you were happy in your last breath. The context of mines was complicated and I didn’t even notice it before. I abandoned to treat, as what I comprehend. Miscommunication rode the tides but it was undoubtedly true when I started to ignore people that surround me. I want to focus on you without realizing I left you. Is that even possible? It is now that I’ve seen it. Just like CDs, everything was played out in deja vu. People were different but things were just the same. It was how I became just like the person I despised all my life. But I did it for a reason, it’s not like I forgot about you. I just didn’t think how your feelings are right now but pursuing this song, is how I still remembered every bit of you. Would the ring I held on be given if I arrived earlier? No, I should’ve realized. I should’ve loved and made you feel how important you were to me in the days back then. In times you felt a hole in your chest, I should’ve been there to feel it up with love. I should’ve been there when you felt insecure. I should’ve been there when you felt all alone. But no matter how much I hurt myself, tear myself apart, it all ends with “I should’ve.” I’m sorry I couldn’t show you what I wanted to. I’m sorry I couldn’t love you until the very end.

I continued explaining to the man,

“She was my fiancée”

would you love me if I let go?

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lotusthekat · 3 years

Text

They spun a web for me

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Rating: G

Relationships: Adora & Kyle

Characters: Adora, Kyle; other characters are only mentioned.

Summary: With everything falling apart, Adora shares a moment with yet another person they ended up rescuing from the Horde.

Takes place after No Princess Left Behind (s01e09), but Kyle joins the Rebellion.

Word count: 1.447

AO3 / Fanfiction

A/N: so this is my first SPOP fic! Though I admit it’s a little vent fic as well... please be aware of the trigger warnings and disclaimers below. I hope you enjoy it!

TRIGGER WARNINGS - abuse/bullying mention and trauma

*NOT CATRA/C*TRADORA, LONNIE AND ROGELIO FRIENDLY!

Once again, she feels like a complete screw-up.

Adora’s mask falls as soon as the door of Glimmer’s room closes behind her. Her friend insisted she would be fine, and that she and Bow had things to catch up. After that, Glimmer would recharge so she heals.

Which, due to Adora’s experience with Shadow Weaver, doesn’t convince her in the slightest.

Adora stares at the sword, the one given to her by the very person who’d stolen it. Just like the first time she wielded the weapon, Adora is… perturbed. Not that she dislikes being She-Ra, but everyone still gets in trouble because of her. Glimmer and Bow did. Entrapta did. It’s the way it’s always been, right?

But she can fix things, she will… Adora will heal Glimmer with her sword. She’s She-Ra, after all.

Even though Adora has absolutely no idea how, but she should figure it out in no time.

When she gets inside her room to train, she does jolt at the unknown presence sitting on her bed – and as an instinct, Adora lifts her sword to attack.

“W-Wait! It’s me!” They yell.

Adora drops her stance and feels stupid for completely forgetting about Kyle.

“Oh, Kyle! Sorry,” Adora sighs. “I have a lot in my mind…”

Kyle ignores the scene, instead asking, “A-Are your friends okay?”

Adora blinks and her expression falls deeper in her despair. “Bow is, but Glimmer…” She shuts her eyes for a moment and continues, “I don’t know what Shadow Weaver did to her. And I don’t know if I can…”

Adora falls quiet because she shouldn’t question it, she should focus on getting the answer to help Glimmer. But Adora is so lost, about her being helpful at all, her role as She-Ra, as a friend…

Her silence is deafening, yet Kyle speaks up.

“Adora… I’m sorry,” he says, “if it weren’t for us, she would’ve been fine. Y-You wouldn't have lost Princess Entrapta, either. We shouldn’t…” Kyle gulps, “I shouldn’t have helped kidnap them. I should’ve done something.”

The blond girl gazes back at him quietly. Adora doesn’t know what to say.

“Listen, you… you don’t have to trust me. I understand,” Kyle argues. “I hurt your friends, I helped hurt so many people…”

Adora doesn’t blame him. Not much.

“I… I trust you, Kyle,” she says. “It’s not like I’m the best example here,” Adora smirks sadly.

Kyle can’t help the smile either. It fades quickly. “Still, it doesn’t erase everything I’ve done…”

“Yeah, I know… But I’m glad you got out,” Adora tells him.

Kyle looks surprised and flustered at her position. Following that, he sighs exasperatedly, “Man, me too.”

Adora finally sits on the bed, that feels like home but at the same time, she knows it isn’t the same. Kyle hesitates but joins her, except he stays far from her; maybe afraid to approach her. While Adora doesn’t actually hold anything against him, she doesn’t think she deserves the comfort, either.

It’s strange, really. Adora and Kyle have never been this close. Sure, they’d been together for as long as they remember in the Horde, but they never had moments of closure, of reflection. Not while Adora had Catra, both under Shadow Weaver’s stalking presence. Adora couldn’t actually get close to anyone else.

Now is odd but… it’s not bad, either. Adora doesn’t actually want to be alone with her guilt swallowing her alive. It helps having some company.

The girl looks down at her sword, her reflection sad, regretful, exhausted, confused. Adora thought the sword would help her figure things out, but she only feels as lost – if not more than before.

Kyle must be feeling the same (under different circumstances, obviously). Especially as he breaks the somewhat comforting and understanding silence between them.

“Actually, I… I don’t know what I’m going to do now. The Horde was my entire life, you know?” Kyle opens up. “I never thought I’d get to leave it, even if part of me wanted to.”

Adora nods simply.

“When you left… I remember everyone got mad. Lonnie would say you ‘betrayed’ us. Catra didn’t really say anything, but… I knew she was upset, too,” Kyle continues. “But I guess no one really understood why you left. I didn’t, until I met Bow. He was… really understanding with me. He really cared about Princess Glimmer. All of your friends went there to rescue her, and you sacrificed yourself to save her…” Kyle looks at Adora with admiration. “I never met people like you. We were always told the Princesses were awful, horrible people… but you guys really care.”

Adora thinks about Glimmer and Bow, and the rest of the Princesses. How they went lengths to save their friends, and how… how devastated they are after losing Entrapta. Maybe they haven’t been to the Alliance in years – and now they’ve left again… but Kyle is right. They care a lot.

“Then it finally came to me. The Horde… they don’t care about friendships. They don’t care about anything or anyone else. They only care about winning and conquering things, until there’s nothing left. You have to be useful, you have to fight and kill people, even who you grew up with, to get what you want,” Kyle says somberly. Adora doesn’t think he’s ever sounded this certain before. “A-And don’t get me wrong, I… I love Rogelio and Lonnie, and- and even Catra, I really do, but they don’t get it. In the end, that’s all what they think, too: that I’m a traitor. That we are the traitors.”

Adora is shocked at everything he’s just said, because she doesn’t think anyone has ever worded everything out so perfectly. Putting these feelings into words is… helpful. Obviously for Kyle, but for Adora as well.

Sometimes Adora wonders if she made the right choice at all. Sure, Madam Razz told her to follow what she thinks – but even so, Adora sometimes questions whether her thoughts are right or not. And considering she has messed up a lot, sometimes Adora doesn’t think she should have become She-Ra at all. She wonders if she should have stayed in the Horde with everyone else. With Catra.

But what Kyle said is so true. The Horde seeks to conquer everything and eliminate everyone that gets in their way. Adora… felt that in her skin. Shadows that surrounded her. Claws that sliced her back and her face. Words, endless words that wanted to entice her, that would try to draw her back to a place she was never free, and a place she was trained to hurt others, too.

Regardless, the fact the same claws gave her the sword and didn’t stop her…

Adora shakes her head. They’ve hurt her. They would keep hurting her to get what they want. She wouldn’t stand by it and let everyone else suffer. Adora chose to be She-Ra for this reason.

She will fix this.

“I… I miss them,” Kyle sighs, “I don’t think I’ll ever forget them… but I couldn’t stand being thrown away like that anymore. Nobody valued me. Nobody… valued anything else. I won’t be helping them anymore.” Kyle looks at Adora again. “If- If you want, I can help you guys. I also know about some of their plans. If they haven’t changed them. B-But it’s up to you, of course.”

Adora smiles proudly for the first time today. “We’ll fight them together.”

Kyle grins at her gratefully.

She admits she was surprised at first to have Kyle come along with the princesses… but right now, she figures out that it makes sense. Kyle is loyal, but not really to the Horde itself, she realizes. No matter how awful it was for him, Kyle would always stick with his friends. The friends that… weren’t really his friends.

Adora scoots a little closer to him and, with a few seconds of consideration, she places a hand on his shoulder. She’s not really good at this.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Kyle,” Adora apologizes. “I really wasn’t a good friend to you. I used you as a punching bag for all these years…”

“Oh.” Kyle lowers his gaze for a while. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You- You deserve better much better friends. And…" Adora pauses. "I hope I can be one for you now, if you want.”

She's a little startled by the boy's sparkling, tearful eyes. Before Adora can think, she’s already wrapped in the tightest hug she’s been in.

“Thank you so much,” Kyle tells her. “I’m really glad I’m here with you, Adora.”

Adora can’t help the flustered warmth in her chest. She relaxes her shoulders and hugs him back. “Yeah, me too.”

#she-ra #spop #adora #spop adora #spop kyle #abuse mention tw #bullying mention tw #vent fic #fanfiction #anti catradora #(tagging just in case jdhgjhg)

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch. 4

what you can do with what there is

Chapter Three

This is the fourth chapter in my ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Last Chapter: some time passed and Spencer is still struggling, especially after he felt betrayed by Rossi on the Solitary Man case. Georgetown tried to recruit Spencer to run their Chemistry department.

In This Chapter: Aaron comes to some heartbreaking realisations, gets very protective, and Stuff Happens in Alaska.

TW: haley & foyet as well as grief mentioned; chapter centres on an outsider's view of depression.

Word Count: 4.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is. — Ernest Hemmingway, The Old Man and the Sea

Much of the year passes in somewhat of a blur for Aaron. He focuses on looking after Jack, dedicating absolutely everything he has to his son when he’s at home while throwing himself into the cases that come across his desk at work.

A small part of him he’d thought was dead regenerates as his work serves as a stark reminder of all the people he saves, all the good he can do with his job still. Maybe he couldn’t save Haley — something that will no doubt haunt him for the rest of his days — but he can save other people’s loved ones. There is still good to do, and he tries to draw his strength from that.

Grief, of course, still flickers relentlessly in his heart, and no matter how hard he tries he can’t quite seem to extinguish the flame burning its way through the tired tissue, but at least the smouldering doesn’t hurt quite so viscerally anymore. He’s learned to live with it. Getting up in the morning feels easier day by day, and sometimes he’s even able to look at Jack without seeing Haley’s face — and if he does, it doesn’t punch him in the gut in quite the way it used to.

As soon as he’s back to work he tries as hard as he can to keep an eye on Spencer, but the hectic nature of the cases and the younger man’s talent for melting into the background when he wants to is making it far harder than he’d like. He’d come over to his place a few times after Aaron had invited him to stay for lunch and he’d seemed a little more comfortable each time, brightening up considerably as he sat on the sofa with Aaron or let Jack take him on a tour through his lego sets.

The problem is that even though Aaron knows Spencer’s mental state is deteriorating, he has no idea how to bring it up. Sometimes it’s even easy to miss: it doesn’t affect his work, he avoids the rest of them as much as possible — Aaron and Penelope appearing to be the only exceptions for some reason — and his fake smiles seem to have the others on the team pretty much convinced.

He can’t exactly order him into his office and demand to know what’s going on, especially since his work is still exemplary, nor does it seem tactful to bring it up when Spencer is sitting on the floor playing trains with his son. Broaching the subject of emotions isn’t something either of them are exactly comfortable with, and he knows he’ll scare him off if he ambushes him.

Something had changed after their case in New Mexico, but he still can’t quite put his finger on what. An element of relief has been playing over Spencer’s face and body language; something of the deep uneasiness he’d been carrying lifted.

He’d be relieved if Spencer had had even a single conversation with him outside of work since that case. Surely if he was genuinely feeling better his visits to Aaron’s apartment would only increase, but they’ve stopped altogether.

Between working hard to distract himself from the pain of losing Haley and looking after Jack, he just can’t figure it out.

That is, until the Alaska case.

🌧

Aaron makes a point to get on the jet last. Spencer’s been avoiding him, but if he chooses a seat first, then Aaron can slide into the seat opposite. He doesn’t exactly have a game plan, but he wants to at least stick close to Spencer, to have at least one conversation with him.

Having him close has felt more and more essential recently. He chalks it up to feeling Spencer’s avoidance all too acutely, but really — if he’s being completely honest with himself — he knows it’s more than that; something deep inside him is shifting. If it is what he thinks it is, he’s in for a world of trouble.

The jet always feels cosy at night, the soft lighting and comfortable seating a decent environment to get a nap in, and as he climbs in, the door closing behind him, he sees the rest of the team getting ready for a few hours of sleep before they debrief an hour or so before landing. Spencer’s tucked into the corner closest to the door, feet curled up under him as he faces towards the window, the blackness of the night and warm light of the plane reflecting his tight, pensive face.

As he slides in opposite him, Spencer’s eyes open briefly. He’s careful to school his expression, but Aaron sees the turmoil in the miniscule movements of his face muscles. He wants to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his anxiety passes but he doubts that would be helpful: he’s clearly playing at least a part in the pain Spencer’s going through.

“Okay?” he murmurs, as the quiet roar of the jet engines starting up gives them a little privacy for conversation.

Spencer nods, keeping his eyes closed as he shifts a little. Maybe it’s the gentle illumination of the cabin or maybe it’s just one of the first real times of clarity and concentration he’s had in months — barring his fierce focus on the cases — but in this moment Aaron notices. He notices how Spencer’s lost a significant amount of weight, how his face is gaunt and exhausted, his body language tense and self-protective. It’s like all the confusion that’s been playing across his mind is answered in an instant.

Aaron’s stomach clenches with guilt. How did he ever let it get this bad? How did he not see? How has everyone else not seen?

He’s been operating in such a haze of trauma and grief it’s as though he’s been floating through life, not focusing on anybody but Jack longer than necessary. Even when Spencer was sitting on his couch and clamming up whenever he brought the team up or discussed something that made him uncomfortable for some unfathomable reason, he just couldn’t see it. He’s been so wrapped up in himself and Jack, he’d missed the signs of someone who means so much to him spiralling down into a black pit of… what? Exhaustion? Despair? Misery?

Aaron clears his throat. “Spencer,” he starts — it feels more appropriate to use his first name — as they take off towards Alaska, “you can be honest with me.” He tries for gentleness, and reaches across the small table between them to brush Spencer’s hand with the pads of his fingers; meant to be a reassuring, non-assuming touch.

His stomach does a somersault as his fingers meet Spencer’s cold skin. As much as he wants to pretend it’s nervousness, some sort of anticipation, plain and simple worry for the wellbeing of a colleague, he can’t. Every fibre of his being is begging him to take Spencer’s hands in his, hold them until they warm up again, until his eyes open and meet his own, until he climbs into Aaron’s lap and lets him make everything better.

Instead, Spencer’s eyes squeeze tighter as a small tear makes its way past his eyelashes, sliding down his pale cheek and Aaron’s chest burns at the sight.

“Oh, Spencer,” he says, voice hoarse as emotion crawls up from his chest, invading his throat. “I’m so sorry.” Sorry for not noticing sooner, sorry you’re in so much pain, sorry I can’t make it better.

Spencer just shakes his head, eyes still tight and wrinkled, withdrawing his hand from where it’s still resting under Hotch’s cautious touch. “Not your fault,” he whispers eventually, bringing himself together enough to manage a watery, self-deprecating smile. “I’m being ridiculous.” He wipes another tear away and inhales deeply, letting out slowly as he looks down in his lap. “I’m tired and we need to sleep before we get to Alaska. Can this wait? Please?”

He’s definitely telling the truth. His eyes are dark and every muscle in his body is belying his exhaustion, there’s no question about that.

Aaron knows he needs to relent. Spencer is right, they all need their rest so they can focus their full attention on the case once they arrive in Alaska, and it’s not like he’s going to spill his soul to Aaron on a jet surrounded by people he doesn’t seem all too happy with.

“Okay,” he sighs, trying to school his face rid of anything that could be construed as pity as he tries for something closer to empathy. “Let’s talk about it after this case.” He doesn’t add a question or leave any room for argument: he’s going to get the truth out of Spencer if it kills him.

Spencer nods once, closing his eyes and drawing even tighter in on himself. Aaron doesn’t quite trust he’s really agreeing — he’s holding something back; his face is a little too blank to be natural, his body language tense, and Aaron isn’t inclined to believe it’s simply apprehension for such a conversation. But pushing won’t get him anywhere. He takes his comfort in at least knowing now, knowing what to look out for, knowing he needs to protect Spencer, as well as a tentative agreement.

He closes his eyes, not intending to sleep but to think. Something’s gone horribly wrong, and he needs to figure out what. With Spencer involved, he’ll move heaven and earth to get to the bottom of it.

Emily and Derek are taken on a tour of the small town as soon as they arrive by seaplane, and the rest of them are directed to Carol’s Tavern by the Sheriff. Aaron tries not to be obvious, but he can’t help himself from hovering a little closer to Spencer than normal, itching for an excuse to touch him as they enter the inn and start to set up.

Spencer sits quietly in an armchair, speed-reading through the existing files and documents on the case supplied by the police department, and he looks so small Aaron wants to cry. He didn’t have weight to lose in the first place: he’s skin and bones and he looks utterly exhausted. He’s flipping through the papers slower than usual, rubbing his eyes and face constantly as his leg bounces up and down. It’s so unlike Spencer, Aaron has to ask himself again in utter bewilderment how on earth a team of FBI profilers all missed this.

“Everything okay?” Dave asks as he sidles up to where Aaron is standing, pretending to fiddle on his phone while he sneaks covert looks in Spencer’s direction.

Aaron’s known Dave long enough to hear the implication in his voice, and he fights to keep his cool, to keep the blush off his face. “Yeah,” he says as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring whatever he’s trying to imply. “The Sheriff is going to escort me to the police office as soon as he wraps up talking with Carol. I want you and Spencer to head to the ME.” Even if Spencer is having problems with people on the team, surely Dave will be a comforting fatherly presence. As much as he itches to go with him instead, that would only raise suspicion, and he knows Spencer would never forgive him for that.

“I hear it’s actually the town doctor,” Dave says, raising an eyebrow, “not an ME. But we’ll head out as soon as you do.”

The Sheriff wanders over and Aaron sends Dave a flat-lipped smile and follows him out of the inn. He catches a final look at Spencer’s bone-weary face as Dave collects him to go to the doctor’s office, and nothing registers on Dave’s face to say he’s noticed Spencer’s misery; he simply taps him on the shoulder, tells him where they’re going, and collects his coat.

To some extent, he forgives himself for not noticing Spencer’s suffering despite the guilt he still feels, but the rest of the team — Dave, his father figure — not seeing it, not reaching out, not doing everything they can to alleviate it feels unforgivable.

Anger rises in his chest as they walk the short distance to the police office. How long has it been like this? No wonder Spencer was so cagey when he bought up the team: they abandoned him in his hour of need. He forces the swelling fury down as they walk into the building as best he can though; it’s unproductive and they have a case to solve. He’s going to work relentlessly until it is, until they can fly home and he can fix this.

They regroup back at the inn that evening, sharing their facts and theories from the day’s work. The fire is going, a cosy antidote to the freezing Alaska air outside, and Aaron’s sure he would probably feel quite content if he wasn’t so damn worried about Spencer.

It’s the sort of place he could properly relax and enjoy on holiday. Haley was always a two-weeks-in-Europe kind of person, but he’s always preferred a cosy, private cabin in the middle of winter. His therapist has slowly got him used to the idea of one day moving on with someone new, and he thinks that maybe he’ll have to revisit Alaska and take that person with him one day.

(He ignores the part of his heart that longs for that person to be Spencer.)

“Alright, so we have a psychopath with hunting skills who knows the routines of everybody in town,” JJ sighs, resting her head on her palm, curled into the corner of one of the sofas. “How do we keep everybody safe?”

“Sheriff, I suggest you institute a curfew until we have the unsub in custody,” Aaron says, voice grave. “Nobody out after dark.”

“I’ll have one of my deputies patrolling around the clock.”

He nods. “Garcia, how’s it coming with town records?”

“I've run everyone who's been printed through CODIS, nothing's come up so far. I'm gonna pull an all-nighter, finish going through the town records — should have background checks by sunrise.”

“Good,” he says, nodding appreciatively in her direction. His eyes are still half-watching Spencer. “The rest of us should get some sleep, start fresh in the morning.”

“I’ve got four of the rooms available upstairs,” Carol says, clearly anticipating less than pleased reactions.

Spencer’s head snaps up at that, “uh, four?” Anxiety is written across his face, not for the first time today, and Aaron itches to hold his hand, calm his worries. His instincts, let alone his feelings, are getting harder and harder to ignore.

“It's the best we can do. Your team is double the size of my department,” the Sheriff replies, somewhat harshly as he gets up to leave. Aaron winces at the way it makes Spencer draw in on himself, almost flinching at his tone. “See you in the morning.”

“Looks like we’ll have to double up,” Aaron says, inching closer to Spencer’s armchair. He ignores the Sheriff’s good night. Anyone who speaks even somewhat rudely to Spencer doesn’t deserve niceties.

Immediately, Derek scoffs. “I’m not sleeping with Reid,” he says, and it’s so out of the blue that Aaron nearly does a double take. How uncalled for, he thinks, and his heart sinks at the sight of Spencer retreating further inside himself, a hurt, bewildered expression colouring his features.

(He once again ignores the part of his brain that responds to Derek’s comment with ‘I’d like to’. That is wildly unhelpful right now.)

“Dibs,” Penelope says, resting her hand on his forearm as they share loving glances with one another, but Aaron barely pays them any attention, his eyes glued to Spencer and his heartbroken expression. He realises that it probably feels like a double rejection for him, both Penelope and Derek choosing each other for him.

“I’ll sleep alone,” Dave says knowingly, coming up behind him and resting his hands on both his shoulders for a moment before grabbing his bag and heading upstairs, room key in hand.

Spencer seems frozen in time, thoughts clearly going a million miles an hour, so Aaron waits until JJ and Emily have paired off and gone upstairs with Derek and Penelope before crouching down in front of Spencer’s armchair.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching his palm to Spencer’s arm briefly. As soon as his eyes come back into focus, a flash of that expression Aaron hasn’t been able to put his finger on — relief? — whips across his face before he carefully schools it into neutrality. Aaron can still see the undertones of pain and betrayal written in his eyes, though. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Spencer starts at that. “You want to share a room with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aaron asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He shakes his head and gathers himself, grabbing his bag and heading to the stairs without replying.

Aaron enters the room a moment after him, surprised to see the ensuite light on and door locked already. He heads towards the only bed in the room, a spacious double, and dumps his bag before sitting on the edge and fixing his eyes on the motel art hanging on the wall opposite him. He takes a deep breath in before exhaling slowly: he can do this, he can share a bed with Spencer and not make it weird.

It’s a good few minutes before Spencer exits the bathroom, changed into a relaxed t-shirt and pajama bottoms with his long hair combed and fluffy around his shoulders. Aaron tries very hard not to think how utterly delectable he looks and simply offers a small smile as Spencer approaches the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor if you prefer,” Aaron says, completely sincere. He’d do anything to make Spencer more comfortable. Any other time he’d expect Spencer to stay polite and insist it’s fine, but this version of the younger man seems to be teetering on the edge of reckless carelessness and furious irritation just precariously enough to say what he really means.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Spencer crawls under the duvet, not meeting Aaron’s eyes as a blush colours his cheeks. “The bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Aaron gets ready for bed as quickly as he can before joining Spencer under the covers, feeling the warmth of his body heat and desperately craving more. He tries to stamp those feelings down. He’s only recently lost Haley, and where did this ridiculous crush on his youngest subordinate come from anyway? He squeezes his eyes tightly shut for a minute as his chest tightens with the flood of all these confusing emotions before he turns his attention towards the man lying next to him.

“Spencer?” he whispers, rolling over to face him.

He doesn’t respond, just turns his head a little and blinks slowly.

“Derek shouldn’t have said what he said in the lobby,” he murmurs carefully, not wanting to upset him. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron feels the mattress move as Spencer tenses up, curling in on himself but not turning to face the other way. He can’t help it when he reaches out to place his hand on top of Spencer’s clutched, freezing fingers.

“What do you think he meant?” Spencer whispers, voice vulnerable and strained as his big, blinking eyes meet Aaron’s.

Aaron swallows as his stomach dips at the intensity of sad, hazel eyes staring into his own, and he squeezes Spencer’s hands a little tighter. “I don’t know, Spencer,” he says sadly. “I really don’t. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, but it was cruel and uncalled for. He’s the one missing out.” He smiles a little in the soft light of the streetlamp streaming in through the curtains, trying to convince Spencer how serious he is.

A gallery of emotions play out across Spencer’s face. They’re gone too quickly for Aaron to read, but he can gather enough to know he’s conflicted about something.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” he promises softly. He feels so unprofessional right now, but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself: Spencer is hurting and every part of him is itching to make it better. His reasons are unimportant and irrelevant at this moment in time, all that matters is Spencer’s well-being.

Spencer looks away at that, shifting a little as he pulls his hands away from Aaron’s. “We should get some sleep,” he says quietly, rolling away to face the window.

Neither of them sleep for hours.

He keeps Spencer as close as possible for the rest of the case, and once they’ve finally wrapped it up — Aaron quietly proud of how clever Spencer is for figuring out the driving motive for the unsub — they clamber onto the jet and collapse into their seats.

It’s nice to be flying home in daylight for once, but the bright light of the clear sky is clearly hurting Spencer’s head as he curls into himself in the same corner he chose on the journey there. The first thing he does when he sits down is close the shutter, heart fluttering at Spencer’s thankful smile.

Aaron works through his paperwork as Spencer sits opposite him silently, not joining in with anybody’s conversations like he used to do, instead seeming totally wrapped up in his own head. It’s nice to sit in the configuration they’re both so used to, although Aaron definitely prefers to sit at the other end of the jet, and he’d relax into it a little more if Spencer wasn’t so obviously in pain. He cracks on with his work, trying his best to focus on the knowledge that the second they get back to Quantico, he can talk with Spencer and they can get started on fixing what’s wrong.

“Hotch?” Spencer says quietly, unravelling himself from his curled ball as they approach landing.

Aaron looks up from his careful organising of the case notes into his binder, and can’t help it when his face softens the second he meets Spencer’s eyes. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you?” he asks, looking a little fearful for some reason. “When we get back to the office?”

Aaron is immediately torn between feeling elated that Spencer wants to confide in him and not completely trusting that this is a good thing. Spencer didn’t exactly seem like he was chomping at the bit to have the kind of conversation Aaron is hoping for, and he doubts that two nights of sharing a bed changed that drastically.

“Of course,” he says, regardless of his doubts, but his suspicion is only raised when Spencer’s expression turns to something like shame at Aaron’s cautious smile, turning to look out the window instead.

Aaron watches as Spencer eases himself into the chair opposite his desk as soon as they get into his office, wringing his hands as he waits for him to situate himself. Watching his body language, he’s still torn: this really could go either way, but his gut is telling him to prepare for the worst. Aaron prays he’s wrong, but he knows that this is instinct; his subconscious has picked up on things he isn’t even aware of and it’s telling him to brace himself.

“I’m resigning,” Spencer says. “Effective immediately.”

Aaron’s head swims, his vision blurs, his heart pounds — considering the implications of Spencer Reid resigning from the BAU is dizzying him. He does his best to keep his cool, but Spencer is a profiler. He’ll be able to see the raging emotions through the cracks in his mask.

“Is…” he starts, before clearing his throat and briefly glancing down at the table, “is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

Spencer shakes his head, despondency evident on his face. Did he really manage to miss such miserable expressions all this time, or has Spencer finally stopped concealing them now he doesn’t have anything to lose?

“I can’t do this anymore, Hotch,” he says, allowing himself to be vulnerable with Aaron again, and despite the circumstances, he treasures that trust more than anything. “I’m tired. I don’t want it to affect my work, and I have no joy in this anymore. I’ve been offered a position at Georgetown, and I’m accepting it.”

When Spencer joined the bureau at 22, three years below the standard eligibility age, one of the conditions of his contract had been the ability to resign without notice: the brass’s attempt at insuring his mental health and covering their own asses. Three years away from a contract renewal, the condition remains, and Spencer is free to leave if he wants to. Even if it makes Aaron’s heart sick.

“I’m… incredibly sorry to see you go, Spencer.” He’s sort of at a loss for words. “I hope you know that you can still talk to me, even when you leave. I know you’re unhappy, I know there’s something going on and I want to help. This team is a family, and that doesn’t change just because someone leaves to do something else.”

“Well, I’m not sure how welcome I really am in this family,” Spencer responds, an edge of bitterness in his tone that catches Aaron off-guard.

“What do you mean? Is it what Derek said?” Aaron knows it’s something bigger than that, but he still hasn’t figured out what. He knows Spencer’s been a bit left out since everything happened with Foyet, but the specifics are lost on him, and he’s desperate to know, desperate to fix this.

Spencer deflates, suddenly looking incredibly tired. “No, I—” he trails off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worrying about it, Spencer,” he says, firm and kind. “I worry about you. I care about you.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I need to go home. I’m exhausted,” Spencer says slowly, standing up to leave. Aaron’s at a loss for what to say so just stands up with him, hoping against hope that this isn’t the last time he sees him. Spencer pauses in the doorway. “Did you mean… what you said? That I can talk to you still?” His voice is small and apprehensive, refusing to meet Aaron’s eye.

He softens at that, feeling some of the intense emotions raging inside of him quieten as he looks at the smaller man standing in his doorway, hanging on with his fingernails. “Yes,” he promises quietly. “I meant every word. You can call me anytime, day or night. If you think I’m just going to let you walk out of my life, Spencer, you’re sorely mistaken.” His voice is fierce, emotional in a way he doesn’t often allow.

Spencer meets his eyes then, and Aaron wants to drown in them, consequences be damned. “Thank you, Aaron,” he whispers quietly, before he opens the door and makes his way across the bullpen, both ignoring and ignored by Emily and Derek chatting happily at their desks.

He doesn’t turn around this time, and Aaron doesn’t wave. He sits at his desk, and he cries.

Chapter Five

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 4 years

Text

in the arms of the ocean- four

A/N: Oh hi there, don’t mind me just casually dropping off this new chapter at 1 am as if that were a normal thing to do... actually... it kind of fits for this one. you’ll see why. Anywho, this part is a little different. It only focuses on two time periods as opposed to the normal three, and we finally get to see Reader’s POV on some things!

Word Count: 4,187

Warnings: death, trauma

Present Day

NO!

Your mind screamed the word as though it was the only one it held. Beneath the surface, the water was a brackish, murky brown, and the salinity stung your eyes as it churned around you. But you kept them wide open and trained on him, refusing to blink out of fear that if you did, you’d lose him to the frigid fathoms forever. He seemed just as reluctant to take his eyes off of you, just as afraid of what closing them might mean- that any second could be his last, or yours, and he wouldn’t waste that second blinking.

No! No. I won’t let that happen. I have to get to him.

The current was stronger than you’d ever felt, angry and deliberate as it tried to drag you further away from Caspian. You fought to free yourself from the pull, arms slicing and legs kicking as hard as you could. Ignoring the burn in your chest reminding you that it had almost been too long since your last breath, you thought only about reaching him before it was too late. Just as you swam close enough to see him clearly through the muck of the swirling sea though, your eyes widened even further as you watched thick, algae covered ropes snake up and around his wrists and ankles.

Caspian, no!

He thrashed against his bonds as they wound around his limbs, but the more he tried to shake them loose, the more tightly they twisted. You knew that you had to cut him free, and you knew that you had to do it quickly. Reaching down into your boot with your right hand, you pulled out a small knife, your left hand cutting through the water to find his. Fingers linking together, you squeezed his hand, and to your relief you saw some of the terror vanish from his eyes. Despite the way your chest was begging you for air, you let go some of your own fear and began sawing at the rope around his wrist with your blade. You always kept it sharp, so it took only a few passes to sever the woven strands, and your heart thumped joyfully as his freed hand immediately found your face.

Caspian… It’ll be alright. I Just have to…

You squeezed his hand once more and then tore it away, turning to his other arm. Repeating the same method you’d used before, you laced your fingers with his, and began to cut the tethers. But as soon as his second hand was free and he tried to reach out to touch you again, he was jerked backwards before he could make contact, the ropes you’d just cut wrapped back around his wrist as though they’d never been damaged at all. Surprise overtook him and he shouted out loud, and though you couldn’t make out the sound, you were certain that the stream of air bubbles rushing from his lips was the shout of your name.

No. No, no, no!

You knew that Caspian could hold his breath for longer than most men, but you also knew that he was dangerously close to his limit even before he called out to you. Frantically, you began working at the bonds around his ankles, hoping that you could somehow move more quickly than the enchanted ropes could knit themselves back together. But even as you moved from his right leg to his left, you could see the ropes slithering through the murky water like eels to encircle his ankle once more.

Hopelessness began to take root in your heart, and it ached worse than your burning lungs as you realized you couldn’t save him; that he would die and that there was nothing you could do about it. You released the knife, useless to you now, and let it drop down to its new home on the ocean’s floor. The only thing left to do was to be near him, to hold him one last time so that he knew that he wasn’t alone, that he was loved. He continued to try to free himself, if only just to touch you, body writhing this way and that, but his movements became weaker and less determined with each passing second. As you wrapped him in your arms, you felt him slow, his breath choking it’s way out, until finally he was still and heavy.

“NO!”

A despair that you had never experienced sliced at your soul as you felt the emptiness and the silence where his heartbeat should have knocked against yours, and you let out a cry that emptied your lungs of oxygen. The burning ceased as you involuntarily inhaled a breath of salt water, but instead of sputtering and drowning, you breathed freely, gulping and sobbing in grief.

“Caspian,” you couldn’t understand why you were able to breathe and speak underwater, but it didn’t matter. He was gone, and all you had were the icy waves. “I’m sorry.”

The ropes that were still wound around his limbs began to sink, pulling him down to the floor and out of your grasp, and as you watched him fade into the darkness, your gaze fell upon your own lower-half. Despite the gaping hole in your heart, your eyes widened in shock as they took in iridescent purple fins where your feet should be, delicately fanning out like lace in the current, your legs replaced by a tail covered in scales of the same striking shade. Before you could scream or cry or panic, a familiar voice filled your ear, the words you’d never forget echoing softly around you.

“Close to you I’ll always be to keep you safe upon the sea.”

Mother? You absently touched the star-shaped pin in your hair as your tear-tired eyes strained, trying to cut through the dark water, searching for Sereia. But instead of the mother you hadn’t seen in twenty five years, you were met with a glowing green pair of eyes and the end of a sharp trident that the green-eyed being was thrusting in your face.

“Choose.” It hissed, moving closer to you, close enough that you could make out its pallid, nearly translucent skin. “You must choose who will be saved.” Snarling, it rushed at you, the sharp points of the trident aimed at your eyes as you screamed…

A strong pair of hands gripped your biceps as another voice registered in your ear, this one closer, and concerned. “Shh, it’s alright. Breathe, you’re alright.”

Caspian! Your eyes flew open and found his immediately, even in the dim light of the single lantern that lit his cabin. The Dawn Treader. We’re aboard...we’re docked at Isle Lorley and…He’s safe. You blinked furiously, as though trying to confirm your surroundings. I was sleeping...dreaming. You looked over Caspian’s shoulder, eyes darting to the hammock hanging in the corner, blankets strewn on the floor and the colorful pillows overturned. You realized that he’d been asleep, too, and that he’d sprung awake, hurrying to get to you at the first sign of your distress. Breaths coming in gasps and pants, you tried to swallow the fear you’d felt while you slept. But he was… You shuddered, knowing that it was something that would stick with you for some time.

He sighed your name as you returned your eyes to his, relieved that you were finally awake. “It was just a dream,” he told you, running his hands up and down your arms as you fell shaking into his chest. “You’re alright,” he murmured, lips burying in your hair to press a kiss to the crown of your head. You felt his warm breath on your scalp, heard his heart beating steadily in your ear, but still your eyes welled with tears to dampen the collar of his nightshirt. “You’re safe, I’m right here,” he whispered. “I’ll always be right here.”

“No. It wasn’t me…” You whimpered the words between quiet sobs. “It was you, Caspian.” Muffled by material and watered down by tears, you knew that he couldn’t hear you clearly, but the words kept tumbling out. “It was you…”

“What did you..? I can’t…” He kissed your hair again and you felt a few strands get caught in his beard. “Can’t hear you, just…” One hand came up to cradle the back of your head as he held you. “Just breathe, please, it’s alright.”

Your sharp breaths burned your throat, chest shuddering as you let the pain you felt in your dream pour out of you. You were vaguely aware of a rough knock on the cabin door followed by Drinian’s voice. “Your Majesty? Is everything..”

Caspian’s lips were by your ear to drown out the rest of Drinian’s worried call. “I have to let him know we’re okay.” Of course. He kissed the skin behind your earlobe as you nodded. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, dragging his knuckle under your eye to rid your cheek of a stray tear.

You watched him cross his quarters in two long strides, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging your shins. If you hadn’t been so terrified, so convinced that you had just watched the man that you love die in your arms, you’d be embarrassed at the fact that your nightmare had caused you to scream so loudly that the Captain must have assumed you or the King were under attack. Nightmares were uncommon for you, though, and this one had been powerful. Your chest felt tight and sore as you tried to calm yourself, and you knew that you wouldn’t completely calm down until Caspian’s arms were around you again. He looked back over his shoulder at you as he spoke to Drinian, convincing the man that it had only been a dream and that the two of you were not in any danger. You heard Caspian’s closest friend sigh in relief, and soon enough the door was clicking closed and you felt the mattress dip as he came back to your side.

“Drinian is a good man.” Caspian moved to lean against the headboard, then reached for your waist to pull you into him. “He heard you and,” you circled your arms around him and he reciprocated the hold, pressing his lips to your temple. “He needed to make sure you were safe, that we were.” You nodded again, still unable to find words. Your breathing was still shaking your body, but it wasn’t as rapid and shallow. It was easier when you could feel him; strong and warm and real. “I told him it was just a dream.”

Just a dream? It was by far the worst thing your subconscious had ever conjured, and you shuddered again as the icy remnants of the fear your mind had put you through raced down your spine. You had no idea where the nightmare had come from. The two of you had spent the day celebrating your engagement with your father, the revelry spilling out of the small house and onto the beach to include the entire crew of the Dawn Treader. Vash had shared his casks of berry wine, fueling the merriment as Grivez and Timmin fueled a large bonfire out of driftwood. Cheepimeek, who had had his fill of the deep purple drink, heartily spilling as much from his thimble as he swallowed, was regaling your father with the tale of his first voyage for the third time that evening. Takos had even joined Ropen in playing music, the Minotaur proving to be quite the virtuoso with a lyre despite his large hooves and somewhat oafish demeanor. You had danced with Caspian, your bare feet slipping through the sand as he twirled you under his arm, both of you laughing as you collided and collapsed. It was a perfect night...why did I… where did this come from?

After a few more minutes had passed and you’d relaxed your body against his, Caspian’s calm but concerned voice was in your ear again. “Do you…” He adjusted his hold on you, moving his arm so that he could see your tear-streaked face. You peered up at him and he frowned, his brown eyes weighted with worry. “Can you tell me what happened? In your dream?” I can but… You closed your eyes for a beat as he continued. “You were screaming and I…” Your eyes opened in time to see his head shake. “Please, tell me what happened.”

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

One Year Ago

“So,” Caspian glanced side-long at the three ships that were docked, their masts rising high above the cobalt waves, and then let his eyes wander to the other masts just slightly up the beach; the ones that he didn’t see when they first came ashore. “Are you going to tell me what happened there?” He gestured to the cracked posts and shattered pieces that lay scattered along the shoreline, some poking out of the sand at odd angles as the surf surged around them. “Were those all ship-”

“Shipwrecks,” you finished the word with a nod as you led him back out of the small house and towards the larger workshop. Your nonchalance was a shock to Caspian. She says that like they’re commonplace. “You were luckier than most, Caspian the Tenth. You only split one crossbeam, and all of the Dawn Treader’s masts are intact.”

Despite the warm breeze, a chill trickled down his back. Luckier than most… we almost- he shook his head and looked away from the bones of those less fortunate vessels, and back at you as you continued.

“Sure, you’ll need new sails, and we’re making some adjustments to the beams,” you ticked those things off on your fingers as you spoke. “But the shipbuilders who built your ship?” Your forehead creased and you looked straight into his eyes, a serious, almost melancholy tinge to yours that caught him off guard. “If they hadn’t done such good work… In a storm like that one, lives could have been lost.”

I know. He winced, the faces of every crewman flashing through his mind before another realization dawned on him. If she’s seen multiple shipwrecks… Caspian counted the remains of at least six ships of varying sizes. Then she’s seen…

“We save more than we don’t.” Your voice was quiet beneath the rush of the waves, but he heard you clearly and he snapped his attention back to you. She’s seen sailors die. “The men aboard the ships we-” you swallowed, eyes darting out to the ocean and then quickly back to his. “We try to save them all, but sometimes we...can’t.” You sighed and looked quietly out at the water.

Caspian felt a weight drop into the bottom of his heart. He knew how it felt to carry what you spoke about, and he wished you didn’t have to. But he also knew that the odds were next to impossible that every soul would be saved in a bad wreck. And those were bad. Before he could think, he reached over and placed his hand on your arm just as you had done earlier. Oh. But he didn’t pull away, hoping that he was able to give you even a fraction of the comfort that you had provided him. You both looked down at where his long fingers curled around the back of your bicep, his thumb falling into the crook of your elbow. “You try to, though. And that’s what matters most.” He gave a small squeeze before letting his hand drop, and you watched it fall to his side before looking back up at him. You save so many lives, keep so many families whole. “You try to do as much good as possible.”

You smiled then, a warm surprise softening your eyes. “Thank you, Caspian.” You nodded. “We do try, very hard.”

Suddenly, Caspian was overcome with curiosity and simply couldn’t keep from asking the question that had started burning in his brain the moment he met you. “I-” He paused, tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he tilted his head to the side. “I don’t... quite understand,” though tempted to look back out over the skeletal remains of the ships that had run ashore, he kept his eyes on you instead. “How have there been so many…” he shook his head, your name shaking loose with it. “What is this place?”

Your eyes narrowed and he watched a lump move in your throat as you swallowed again, and Caspian worried that he’d offended you with the way that his question came out. I shouldn’t have asked like that, I just- But you didn’t let his worry hang in the air, your voice cutting off his thoughts. “Isle Loreley is…” chewing your bottom lip, you turned your face towards the cloudless sky. “Think of it as a safe harbor, one that could...appear, when a ship most needed one.”

Magic. Caspian was no stranger to things that were not so easily explained. He’d met with wizards and magicians, seen curses and spells both cast and lifted. He’d sailed to the edge of sea, defeated witches and fought alongside Narnia’s kings and queens that had been sent from other realms. He knew of magic, and it never ceased to amaze him. So that’s why it isn’t on any map… that’s why she doesn’t acknowledge Narnia as her home or me as her King. “The island...what, moves?”

You sighed with a shrug. “I know how it sounds and...I’ll admit that I can’t explain it all, but to put it simply? Yes.”

To put it simply? “And...do so many ships really…” He trailed off, the answer obvious.

“The sea is… it contains great power, Caspian.” You shook your head and the sunlight caught the pearls dangling from the starfish hairpin that held your hair back. “Isle Loreley represents some of the good, but not all of the ocean’s intent is pure. We…” You motioned for him to follow you, seemingly unwilling to stand in full view of the broken masts, as you continued on towards the workshop doors. “We do our best to try to balance the tide of...ill intent.”

“You’re heroes.” He followed just a step behind you, as eager as you were to be clear of the sight. “You-”

You turned then, and he nearly collided with you. Staggering back, he blinked in surprise, but you didn’t flinch. “Not heroes, Caspian. Just...doing our best.” Eyes flicking over his shoulder to the lapping of the surf, they returned to his face. “There are heroes in this world. Ones that make sacrifices so that others can be...can…” You sighed again. “There are heroes. We aren’t.”

You are to us… Before his frown could cut too deeply into his face, you changed the subject, spinning back around in time to open the workshop’s large wooden door. “But we’re here to talk about sails, aren’t we?”

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

Present Day

Caspian tried to keep the worry from his voice because more than anything, he wanted to offer you comfort. He’d never seen you so frightened. Reluctant to talk about certain things when first you met, sure. But since you’d made Cair Paravel your home and certainly since the two of you had started to become close shortly thereafter, he’d never known you to be afraid. I’ve never heard her scream like that. He stroked your hair, hand trailing down to your back and silently hoped he’d never have to again. Just as he wondered if you hadn’t heard what he’d asked, you started to answer.

“I couldn’t-“ another sharp inhale cut your words short. Beneath his palm, Caspian could feel your lungs fighting to find a natural rhythm. His frown deepened but his touch never faltered, and after a few more passes of his hand up and down your spine, you took a much more even breath and continued. “I couldn’t save you, Caspian. I-“ Your fingers curled more tightly, bunching up the fabric of his nightshirt, and he responded by tightening his hold on you as well. “There were ropes, winding around your arms and legs and,” you pulled away from his shoulder then, wiping at your eyes before training them on his. “And I tried to cut you free, but every time I cut through one, another would appear, even more tight, and,” you brought the hand that you’d just swept under your eyes with to his face, fingertips still damp with your tears. “And then you were dragged down, and I couldn’t...I just...I had to watch you d-” But you couldn’t finish the word, shaking your head and tucking yourself against his body again.

He hadn’t stopped his soothing touch, even though he himself felt far from soothed. Burying his lips in your hair, Caspian pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Shh,” he hushed you, not sure of what else to say. “I’m right here. I’m alright, and you’re safe and no one is going to hurt us.” I won’t let it happen… He looked down at the way you were curled close to him, and though you looked small and fragile, he knew otherwise. You won’t let it happen either.

“That wasn’t all,” he felt your breath against the skin at the opening of his collar as you spoke. “In my dream I... I heard my mother’s voice and I never…” You sat up then, turning to lean back against him. He immediately switched the position of his arm, wrapping it around your shoulder and coming around your front as you settled into his chest. “I never dream of her, Caspain. I never hear her. I… you know her words as well as I do now, but I never hear her…”

His free hand ran up and down your arm and your side, the soothing touch and the low, flickering light and the gentle rock of the boat beneath you starting to finally lull you back away from your fear. He wanted to know more about your mother, but he never knew how to ask. She doesn’t know much about her either, he’d tell himself, not wanting to bring up the fact that she was taken from your life so long ago; that you’d spent most of your life without the woman. But she’s going to be my wife, my Queen, and I need...I want to know these things about her. “What do you-” he swallowed, fingers freezing midway up your arm before spreading out to cover your bicep with his palm. Squeezing gently he turned to press a soft kiss to your temple. “Will you tell me what you remember? About her?”

You inhaled through your nose, your closed eyelids wrinkling as you clamped them more tightly shut before releasing the breath in a rush of air through your lips. I know. He winced, wishing he hadn’t had to ask, that somehow he could just know, without having to make you relive it. I know, you don’t want to talk about it but I-

“I don’t remember much, Caspian, I was only three when she...when…” With a sigh, you leaned into him, your back pressed against his chest and your head resting on his shoulder. He hadn’t moved his lips from your hair, and he kissed you again, whispering your name and resuming the motion of his fingertips over your skin. “I…” You flipped the hand that was resting in your lap and Caspian filled it with his free one, knuckles sliding between yours. “Laughing. I remember laughing with her. All the time.”

Though he still felt unsettled to know that your nightmare had been so realistic and frightening, the way that your voice changed when you spoke about the few happy memories you held onto with her made him smile. He slid down so that he could rest against the pillows, pulling you with him. You made to say something, likely questioning whether he was sure about falling asleep in the same bed, but he dragged the tip of his nose around to your cheek before kissing away the last of your tears. “Shh,” he said sleepily, still pulling you down to lay with him in the small bed. “I’m sure.” He kissed you again as you found your position, waiting until you were comfortable before speaking again. “What else do you remember?”

Far outside the small windows of the cabin, leagues and fathoms away, the ocean churned. Cold currents clashed with warmer ones, icing them down and turning them tumultuous as storm clouds gathered above them. The night sky hid the way that the water changed from deep blue to harsh gray, and the rumble of thunder was so low and so far away from any pair of human ears that it might as well not have happened at all. But it did, and so did the flash of lightning that cracked right on it’s heels, illuminating the swirls of greenish tendrils stirring up the sea.

As always, thank you for reading! If you would like to be added or removed from the tags please feel free to let me know!

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @pheedraws @russobill @thesumofmychoices @beautifuldesastre @fific7 @dearmarii @tartiflvtte @ificouldhelpyouforget @vetseras @manymanymanyenvelopes @alraedesigns @valkblue

#in the arms of the ocean #itAotO #caspian x #THE TENTH.#king caspian #king caspian x reader #king caspian x you #caspian mermaid au #king caspian narnia #meek made a lil appearance this time!

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yatorihell · 4 years

Text

In The Darkness Chapter 48 - 12 Grimmauld Place

Words: 4,338

Summary: Before the school year starts, Yato is faced with a new threat.

Previous chapter | First chapter

Thank you @kiun for beta-ing me

Return of the HP AU. I Lived Bitch.

Read on AO3

Summer plans following the Triwizard Tournament were far and few between. Yukine had shut himself off from the world after Suzuha’s funeral, but Yato assured Hiyori that he was getting better every day. The whole event had left the wizarding world shocked; a young boy killed by what was claimed to be the Sorcerer.

Headlines splashed across the front pages every day; speculating what happened that night, Professor Tenjin’s failure as a protector, and the identity of Suzuha’s killer. Of course, the Ministry of Magic had quashed claims of the Sorcerer returning quickly. After all, it was on the word of a sixteen-year-old boy who was under suspicion himself. Who was to say that Yato hadn’t killed Suzuha himself in the maddening maze to claim the trophy for himself? The Daily Prophet did like to make a scandal out of anything after all, true or not. But the thought that one of the most powerful dark wizards returning? That was not something even the Minister of Magic would want to think of.

Yato made sure to keep Hiyori in the know with what was happening away from the Muggle world by calling (something he had tactfully mastered after screaming down the phone at the Ikis on his first attempt), but on this occasion Hiyori invited Yato to come visit as long as he brought newspapers.

Hiyori’s mother was wary when a knock at the door came at 9 o’clock, finding Yato on the doorstep unannounced and unaccompanied by his short, blond-haired friend. Mrs. Iki paused for a second.

“Can I – “.

Mrs Iki could barely finish her question before Hiyori came barrelling down the stairs, clearly trying to get Yato away as fast as possible. Hiyori had never told her parents what happened that night at the Triwizard Tournament, but the newspaper under Yato’s arm was enough reason for them to never let her go back.

“Oh good you’re here Yato did you bring the books oh you did good lets go I’ll be back later mum,” Hiyori rattled, not taking time to breathe as she propelled Yato backwards up the driveway.

Hiyori ignored her mum’s protests. It was still light out and Yato was all but banned from entering the house after he blew chimney soot all over the pristine living room.

Hiyori led Yato to a small park a distance from her house, the neighbourhood kids long gone leaving them alone to idly sit on the swings. The last dredges of August warmth lingered on their skin and the late summer sun had nearly dipped below the treeline, leaving just enough light for Hiyori to scan what Yato had brought her.

Yato eyed the newest headline of the Daily Prophet that Hiyori had nestled in the crook of her elbow as she skimmed the pages, ‘HOGWARTS TO TEACH AFTER MASSACRE’ in black, capitalised letters on top of a moving image of the foreboding castle.

The world had quietened save for distant bird calls and the wind rustling in the eaves that had begun to turn into fiery orange hues as autumn took its toll. The toes of Hiyori’s shoes skimmed the bracken ground, creating little grooves in their path as she muttered under her breath. If she was reading aloud or cursing, Yato couldn’t tell.

“Bit of an overstatement.” Hiyori muttered as she folded the paper back down and held it on her lap. She looked sideways at Yato. “They can’t really expect Hogwarts to close, can they? We need Defence Against the Dark Arts more than ever now!”

Yato shrugged and looked down at his own scuff marks in the dirt. “People will say anything, but Professor Tenjin has said the same thing about needing to defend ourselves. I bet the Minister loved that.”

Hiyori sighed, looking back at the sunset. Yato stole a glance at her face, etched with worry and brow furrowed, lips slightly downturned. His heart twinged.

“Nothing will change, Hiyori. We’re going back to Hogwarts.”

Yato held Hiyori’s gaze when she looked back at him. He gave her a half-hearted smile. “Unless they decide to get some Dementors guarding the school, then that’s a problem.”

Hiyori gave a slight laugh, standing up and pushing the newspaper against Yato’s chest. “If they bring those back, I’ll be coming straight back here.”

There it was again, that twinge. Even if it was a joke, the idea of Hiyori not being around was more than he would like to think about, not when his final year at Hogwarts would be next September.

Yato ignored his thoughts and slapped a grin on his face, shuffling the newspaper back under his arm and standing up to walk Hiyori home. The pathway out of the park was well lit by neon streetlights, the distant twinkle of city lights, houses and cars shining through the hedgerows on the other side of the park.

“How is Sakura anyway? Been a while since you heard from her?” Hiyori asked.

“Few weeks ago she sent a letter, said she’s managed to get somewhere safe but won’t say where.” Yato replied. He assumed it was a need-to-know basis. After all, Sakura was still a fugitive since they broke her out of Hogwarts. She hadn’t been seen since apart from the odd sighting by a villager that never turned up any clues to her whereabouts.

“That’s something at least,” Hiyori reassured. She fell quiet for a second as the proverbial elephant in the room hung over them. “How’s Yukine?”

Yato grimaced but hid it quickly as Hiyori glanced at him. Yukine had him so he wasn’t completely alone, but going back to Hogwarts within the next few weeks was not going to be something Yukine would be eager to do.

“Fine, I guess...” The words died on Yato’s lips and they fell into silence, the only sound in the night their footsteps which began to echo. The pathway had forked, the right led towards the city, and the left pathway acted as an underground pedestrian tunnel beneath the road which would take them close to Hiyori’s house. They turned left into the tunnel.

“He’ll be ok,” Hiyori reaffirmed.

Yato hummed in response, looking at the white brick walls which had been sprayed with a rainbow of graffiti, mostly tags from kids who had nothing better to do. Orange lights encased in plastic had been on the walls, casting phantom shadows against the walls.

“Shortcut?” Yato asked.

“Yeah, better than trying to cross that road at night,” Hiyori said, nodding her head towards the roof where cars passed overhead.

Yato glanced behind them as they walked. The sun had completely set as they talked, leaving a gaping black hole where they had entered and a milky full moon ahead of them. Their footsteps seemed to echo louder as they went further, and it became colder. Much colder.

Yato’s hackles rose as did his sense of dread. He had felt a coldness like this before – multiple times in fact –, most recently when his own life ended at Hogwarts. They stopped without a word and the world turned silent. Silent enough for Yato to hear Hiyori’s own heart hammering in her chest. The neon lights surrounding them flickered as if they were candles caught in a gust of wind and the world slowed.

Yato’s eyes darted to Hiyori whose face had paled to the same shade of white on the wall behind her, puffs of visible breath leaving her trembling lips and tears forming in her eyes. He could see the hairs on her arms raised on goose bumped flesh and the visible shake of her hands.

Yato’s fingers slid against his pocket, searching for his wand. “Hiyori-.”

A rattling breath from behind alerted them, but it was too late. Yato and Hiyori spun to find the enshrouded figure cloaked in dark rags that flowed freely around its skeletal body and hooded face upon them. A Dementor.

Hiyori’s yelp of terror sounded far away as the Dementors thin fingers wrapped around Yato’s neck, roughly slamming him against the wall. Yato grunted from the force, eyes wide and newspaper scattering around them like falling leaves.

Hiyori stared at him, eyes wide and mouth agape, frozen to the spot as the memories of the Dementors kiss haunted her.

Yato struggled, hands clawing at his neck and feet kicking at the rag-draped form. “Hi-yori!” Yato choked out.

Hiyori snapped back to reality. Despite her body screaming for her to run, scarred from the trauma the Dementors had inflicted on her at the lake, she knew she had to fight. Hiyori, defenceless without her wand, lunged for the Dementors arm, fingernails within millimetres of reaching before a sharp tug on her leg brought her crashing face-first to the ground and dragged her away.

Winded, Hiyori scrabbled to sit up before her assailant could get the best of her, but not before she found herself looking into the gaping mouth of another Dementor. The air shimmered before her face and she was enveloped in despair. Blood rushed in her ears, but still she could hear nothing but her heart slamming in her chest and the raspy breaths of the Dementor. Hiyori’s eyes rolled back in her head, body falling limp against the ground as the Dementor claimed her soul with its kiss.

Yato wheezed, fighting the Dementor as it turned his face to its own and drew its first breath. Yato screamed, his head fogging with the suppressed memories of his childhood. His Father trapping him with these creatures long enough to serve as punishment, to make Yato fear him if he ever disobeyed Father. Is this what happens when I disobey? Yato thought.

Yato’s hand dropped from his neck, frantically searching until his fingertips found the shaft of his wand in his pocket. In one motion Yato pressed the wand into the Dementors neck, connecting with a flash of light that sent the Dementor screeching up the tunnel. Yato fell harshly on the floor, wand in a vice grip, gasping for breath and trying to clear his vision before the Dementor returned. Hiyori, motionless with a drained expression, stared back at him.

Bile rose in Yato’s throat, and the rasping of the oncoming Dementor forced his vision to tunnel and hyper focus. Yato flipped onto his back, wand raised and bellowed “Expecto Patronum!”

His wand, held so tightly in his fist that it fought not to snap in his grip, spat out a familiar silvery web. The vague figure of his patronus cat barely formed before it slammed into the Dementor’s chest as it descended on him, sending it screeching out of the tunnel. Yato quickly looked behind him at the other Dementor which, although distracted by Yato, still loomed over Hiyori’s twitching body. Yato grunted and swung his wand over his head. Like a slingshot, the patronus streaked across the tunnel in a ball of light, forcing the Dementor into the night sky along with itself.

The world was coming back to focus, muffled but no longer silent. Yato let out a shaky breath, rolling onto his knees with his head hung and feeling the need to vomit. Was that Father? Yato thought to himself. Why else would there be Dementors in the Muggle world? Yato’s eyes fell on Hiyori, unmoved and facing away from him, and he felt the sickness might overcome him.

Yato scrambled from his knees, only to fall on them again after a few steps that brought him to Hiyori’s side. He dropped his wand in his lap, unwilling to disarm himself in case of another attack.

“Hiyori?”

Yato’s hands cradled Hiyori’s face roughly, desperately searching for some hint of life. The summer warmth had left her cheeks and left her deathly pale, but he could hear her breath which passed through her parted lips.

Yato put his hand behind Hiyori’s neck, gently lifting her head off the ground. His thumb moved against her cheek, urging her to wake up. He repeated her name and gave her a gentle shake. “Hiyori, wake up.”

“Yato…” Hiyori murmured. Her eyes remained closed for a few more moments, brow scrunched. The neon lights burned her eyes, and everything was blurred until her eyes adjusted. The first thing she saw was Yato’s worried face.

“Yato?” she questioned. In a second Hiyori’s eyes widened as she registered the attack, struggling to push herself up and head whirling to the side.

“It’s ok, they’re gone,” Yato hushed.

Yato’s hand rested on Hiyori’s back to support her, allowing her to rest against his chest for a moment. He could assume that the memories she had relived were as pleasant as his own. He absentmindedly stroked her back, fingertips catching every now and then in her long, dishevelled hair.

“Why are they here?” Hiyori asked. The question was blunt, hollow. The thought of it being the work of the Sorcerer had crossed his mind, and it was the most likely reason.

“The Sorcerer…” Yato said. He barely registered Hiyori’s hum, his mind preoccupied.

If Father had been searching for Yato all this time, perhaps someone was watching Hiyori’s house in case he showed up. If that was the case, the only safe place to go would be Hogwarts.

At this thought Yato eyed the fallen pages of the Daily Prophet. Without a word he pointed his wand at the pile, causing the papers to dampen and turn to mush, ink smearing and the magic seeping away to make it look like another piece of Muggle litter.

Yato lightly patted Hiyori’s back, voice lifting slightly to distract her from her troubled thoughts. “Come on, let’s get you home. Your mum dislikes me enough without you hanging around with me.”

Hiyori laughed gently as Yato rose, taking his extended hands to pull herself up. Yato’s arm wrapped around her middle to keep her steady as they walked, Hiyori’s hand on his which rested on her waist as they walked back into the night.

For the first time in five weeks, Sakura sent Yato a letter. Well, not so much a letter but a note.

Yato recognised her cursive handwriting on the envelope when Yukine handed it to him, his name written small in the centre of the yellowed parchment. Inside was a small piece of paper with the address ’12 Grimmauld Place’ written on it. Less than a second after Yato had read the words, the paper burst into flames and singed his fingers, making him curse as the ashes fell to the floor.

“What’s that about?” Yukine asked.

“Sakura,” Yato muttered, “I think she wants to meet.”

Yato tried not to get his hopes up; it had been over a year since he last saw her. So much had happened, all of which she was aware of thanks to his would-be-owl pigeon who ferried their letters to each other. But still, it wasn’t the same as being able to talk to her.

“Best go at night.” Yukine replied, and Yato hummed his agreement.

Yato left that evening, taking the train to Kings Cross Station and following the directions on his small flip phone to a Muggle neighbourhood twenty minutes away. Grimmuald Place was a uniform street of grey bricked townhouses, most of which had flower baskets and planters draped over their fences. Yato scanned the door numbers as he passed. Nine, ten, eleven, thirteen….

Yato paused for a second and backtracked to the previous house. Yato frowned at the front door’s silver lettering. Eleven, he looked to the right, thirteen. He cursed Sakura inwardly, asking himself what this meant, if he had misread the note, or if it was a code.

Yato turned to leave, but small tremors under his feet and grating in his ears caught his attention.

The two houses were splitting down the middle, tearing themselves apart from each other as another uniform house forced its way between number eleven and thirteen as if it had always been there. A black door appeared, its only features a silver knocker beneath the number twelve and an illuminated transom window above it.

The door latch clicked open, and the waify figure of a woman was framed in the doorway.

Sakura was unrecognisable. She was dressed in light clothing that blew in the slight breeze rather than the dirty rags he had last seen her in. Her hair was longer and kept in a high ponytail with bangs that fell around her face. Her arms hugged her waist as she smiled at Yato. She looked better, healthier. Alive.

“Sakura?”

“Hello, baby brother.”

Although there was no blood between them, Sakura was the closest thing he had left of a family. Yato barely registered the gate swing open for him as he ran to the house and embraced Sakura tightly.

Sakura laughed lightly. Yato all but towered over her now, evidence of how much he had grown as he trapped her in a suffocating embrace. She rested her hand on Yato’s head, petting his hair.

“Come on, we need to talk.”

Yato released Sakura and followed her into the house. On the outside it was beautiful, just like any other house on the street, but the inside was a different story.

The chandelier, once gold and elegant, resembled a cotton candy of spider webs, as did most of the house as Yato would find out. Gas lamps flickered across the paintings whose occupants had abandoned the house as it fell into disrepair. Ornate green and silver wallpaper peeled outwards and the lustrous carpet had become threadbare and tattered at the edges of doorways. The hallway stretched further back that Yato thought it would, ending in a grand staircase that was forebodingly ill-lit.

Sakura turned into the second left-hand doorway, leading Yato into a dingier dining room. A long wooden table with high-backed chairs stood in the centre of the room, littered with stacks of rotting books and parchment. The torn chaise lounge silhouetted in the bay window and dirt-caked surfaces showed that no one had cared much for the house in the last decade.

Sakura approached the mahogany table, stacking assorted papers and books in her arms to make space. Every space Yato looked at seemed occupied by creepy crawlies; spiders hung in the cabinet of fine china and watched them from the corners of rooms, even beetles scuttled out from under the papers that Sakura moved.

“What is this place?” Yato asked, scratching the back of his neck as he eyed the bugs.

“I guess you can call it my ancestral home,” Sakura replied. “My family lived here for generations.”

She gestured for Yato to sit at the table with an unloaded arm. Yato complied, ignoring the plume of dust that rose from the reddish-brown chair cushion as he sat down. A sense of melancholy overcame Yato as Sakura moved about the dirty room, no doubt in his mind the rest of the house was much worse. Is this how she had been living since her escape?

Sakura dumped the papers on the floor and sat opposite Yato, ignoring the crash as the stack toppled and scattered across the wooden floor.

“My great-great grandmother charmed this place off a poor muggle who was in love with her,” Sakura continued. “She obliviated his memory afterwards and he started a new life in Ireland.”

Sakura chuckled lightly at the story, but Yato didn’t laugh. He stared down at the dusty tabletop, hands in his jacket pockets.

There was an agonising pause. The grandfather clock’s pendulum announced every second that passed. Finally, Yato spoke.

“Is this where you’ve been all this time?”

It was a painful question. Sakura had been so secretive, not wanting to risk detection, but here she was just a few miles from the Ministry of Magic itself. Part of him had hoped she was close to Hogwarts, where he lived for most of the year, not down here in a hole.

Sakura sighed. “I inherited this house after my parents were killed in the First Wizarding War that defeated the Sorcerer. But no, I didn’t come back here until recently.”

Yato nodded, changing the subject. “Don’t the Muggles notice this place? After it pops out of nowhere?”

Sakura shook her head. “Muggle neighbours don’t even know this place exists. Fidelius Charm; you can’t see it unless someone tells you about it.”

Yato nodded again. That made sense, number twelve only appeared because he knew it was meant to be there.

Sakura sighed and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. Streaks of dirt rubbed onto her wrists, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes, deep chocolate and calm, stared into Yato’s.

“Yato, the reason I brought you here wasn’t to show you this place. The reason is because you need to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

Yato blinked at her, the expression lost on him. “The what now?”

After a moment Sakura sighed once again. She withdrew her arms from the table and let them drop to the armrests, leaning against the back of the chair.

“The Order of the Phoenix is a secret society, founded by Professor Tenjin to defeat the Sorcerer,” Sakura explained. “The Order and the Ministry worked together to defeat him when he tried to take power.”

The First Wizarding War, Yato thought. They learnt about it in school, but not about this Order of the Phoenix. He thought this in silence as Sakura continued.

“It disbanded after the war, most of the members were dead by then including my own parents. But now the Sorcerer has returned, and the Order is needed. Only this time the Ministry will not admit the Sorcerer has returned because of the panic and chaos that doing so would cause, so it’s up to us to protect you.”

That last part caught Yato by surprise. “Why protect me?”

He realised it was a stupid question as soon as he said it; he had nearly been murdered at the graveyard by the Sorcerer. But Sakura’s answer surprised him again.

“There’s a prophecy about how the Sorcerer can be defeated, this time for good.”

“What prophecy?”

Sakura shuffled, keeping her face plain. “No one knows for certain. The Department of Mysteries houses these kinds of things.”

Yato knew there was something that she wasn’t telling him. “How does that relate to me?”

Sakura was silent, eyes attempting to stare down his question. But Yato had had enough of secrets.

“It’s about me isn’t it?”

“We think that it’s about you, but we just don’t know.” Sakura replied quickly.

Yato sighed and stared into the spider cabinet to his left. It looked like he was going to be coddled tight if the Order wanted to protect him. Out of nowhere his promise to Hiyori resurfaced; ‘We’re going back to Hogwarts’.

“Can I go back to Hogwarts?” Yato blurted out. He shut his mouth quickly and tried not to look too bothered, but Sakura could see the worry caught in the corner of his mouth.

Sakura’s mouth tweaked into a smile. “Yes, you can go back to school. There’s a few members of the Order in Hogwarts who can keep an eye on you.”

This statement piqued Yato’s curiosity. “Who is in the Order?”

“Witches and wizards who are close friends of Professor Tenjin; war survivors, but there aren’t many of those. Most members are survived by their children, like me.”

It was a vague answer, but Yato could assume it was some of the teachers.

Sakura stood up and came to stand at Yato’s side. She carded a hand through his dark hair and spoke softly.

“Although Hogwarts is safe, the Sorcerer would expect that Professor Tenjin’s army would be there,” Sakura explained. “So, our home will be the headquarters.”

Yato looked up at Sakura, searching her expression, afraid he had misunderstood what she meant. Sakura smiled in return. Yato’s laugh came out in a breath, unable to believe it.

He had a home. An ancestral home.

“What about Yukine -,” Yato started, but Sakura hushed him.

“I’ve already sent word to your friends to join us, and the remaining Order members. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

Yato couldn’t stop his grin, and he didn’t want to. He rose when Sakura beckoned him to follow.

Sakura talked as she led Yato out of the dining room. “Muggles don’t know we exist, and we’re armed with every protection spell possible. It’s not in the best state, -” Sakura gestured around with a flick of her wrist, “- there’s boggarts and doxies, but we’ll have it ready.”

She led Yato further down the hallway and turned a sharp corner he hadn’t noticed. The steps turned to grey concrete that spiralled downwards, echoing the further they went. There were fewer gas lamps down here, making it harder to make out a sooty kitchen.

“I should tell you we’re not completely alone,” Sakura said.

Yato’s eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness as Sakura walked over to the fireplace and set about lighting a lamp.

Black cauldrons and pots lay strewn on the floor. Piles of dishes stacked in the sink and counters threatened to topple over and shatter, not that it would make the kitchen any dirtier. No light shone through the kitchen windows. Whether they existed or were blacked out from soot, Yato couldn’t tell.

A large fireplace fashioned into an aga sat in the centre of the wall, crackling and licking at logs. It was reminiscent of Slytherin’s common room with less light, less luxury, and filthier.

A trick of the light had Yato see a small hand silhouetted against the flames, but the sound of a fresh log splintering in the heat and a shuffle pricked Yato’s ears.

The brightness of a newly lit lamp and the tip of Sakura’s wand illuminated the figure. It was short, about the size of a child dressed in dirty rags, with elongated ears. Big green eyes glittered in the firelight at Yato.

Sakura smiled down at the figure then looked back at Yato.

“This is our house elf, Ebisu.”

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #hiyori #yukine #yatori #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness #my writing

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onwardintolight · 4 years

Link

Han x Leia, ESB, Trip to Bespin, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Summary: ESB from Leia's POV. A journey from despair to hope, a blossoming, an opening to vulnerability and love.

Warnings: Deals with some heavy themes, incl. working through trauma, depression, self-harm, attempted sexual assault. Each chapter will be individually warned.

Note: I’m currently in the process of reposting the first nine chapters here in full, since when I first wrote this fic, I only shared links to the chapters on AO3 and FFN. I will try to post at least weekly. In the meantime, if you’d prefer to binge-read it, the entire fic is posted in full on AO3 and FFN.

Part: Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | Epilogue

~~~

They awoke suddenly and all too soon, startled by the sound of someone entering the room. Leia blinked. For a second she forgot where she was; then it all came flooding back in hideous detail. Her entire body ached. Han moaned.

“Get up,” growled a low, sinister voice.

Summoning what little strength she had, Leia rose, pausing to assist Han as he got up, too.

It was the bounty hunter, Boba Fett, and several stormtroopers. “You’re coming with us,” he said, and a few of the troopers moved to put cuffs on Han. Leia felt a surge of panic. Were they going to take him away now?

But no, the troopers were readying all of them.

“Oh dear,” exclaimed Threepio. Currently, he was just a head, a torso, and an arm, but Leia was grateful, despite everything, to have him back. Chewie quickly dug a net out of a pouch on his bandolier and gathered up the droid and all its various parts, stringing them to his back. “Really, this is rather uncomfortable,” Threepio complained.

«Deal with it,» muttered Chewie. Impatient, the troopers prodded them towards the door.

They followed the bounty hunter deeper into the bowels of the city; the corridors growing more industrial as they went. They hadn’t been walking long, but Leia’s body was dragging; her movements slow and clumsy, her mind groggy. The ache hadn’t gone away. She could only imagine how Han, walking beside her, felt.

Threepio, seemingly unaware of the state of things, prattled on about his discomfort. She barely registered it. She was focusing on Han, at least as much as she could while trying not to stumble. She needed to see him; needed to hear him breathing next to her. Finally, a door ahead of them opened, and they went through.

Leia would have stopped, frozen in her tracks, if Chewie and the troopers hadn’t been so close behind.

It was the place from her dream.

The room was large, round and dark, with a sunken central ring surrounded by the walkway they were on now. Bluish light lurked around the perimeter; it ceded to orange in the center, glowing out of the grated floor like tongues of fire. Steam billowed up through the grates and puffed down erratically from the ceiling, which bristled with strange machinery. In the middle of the ring, there was a strange, circular hole. Around it stood Lando and his aide, another squad of stormtroopers, and a number of busy Ugnaughts.

Leia blinked, wondering if she were still asleep.

But no. There was a faint yet distinct metallic scent on the air—she could almost taste it—and a loud rumble and whine emanating from the machinery. Her dreams had omitted such details. Fear, raw and wild, nearly overpowered her.

Fett led them down a short stair to the central ring; at the bottom, he directed them to the right, and they halted behind Lando. Darth Vader descended from the opposite stair, his gait slow and triumphant. She refused to look directly at him, but her fear grew sharper as the monster from her nightmares took shape once more, his presence looming like a shadow over the room.

“What’s going on, buddy?” Han spat out the last word with contempt.

“You’re being put into carbon freeze,” Lando replied, not looking at him.

“What if he doesn’t survive?” Fett hissed at Vader from across the room. “He’s worth a lot to me.”

Leia turned to Han in horror and found he was already looking at her, his eyes solemn and sad.

No, she thought, panic sweeping through her. This couldn’t be happening. She wasn’t ready to lose him yet.

She couldn’t lose him yet.

Certainly not like this.

Han watched her, resignation showing on his face. Somehow, his lips widened slightly into the hint of a smile, compassionate and apologetic, that she knew was hers alone.

“Put him in!” Vader ordered, and the moment shattered. All of a sudden, Chewie was yelling; tossing stormtroopers everywhere. Threepio screamed in fright. For a moment Leia felt a surge of wild hope—it wasn’t over, they could still fight—but then she saw the other troopers surrounding them, blasters raised, and Vader, always Vader, standing stone-like across the ring, entirely undismayed.

No. This wasn’t going to work. They would die fighting the inevitable, and then there would be no one to warn Luke, and no one to rescue Han if by chance he survived. They had to live, somehow.

“Stop! Chewie, stop!” That was Han’s voice, rising through Threepio’s frantic pleas. He went to stand right in front of him, catching the Wookiee’s gaze as more stormtroopers approached with another set of handcuffs. “Hey! Listen to me! Chewie, this won’t help me! Save your strength; there’ll be another time.”

Suddenly, Leia felt a cold chill. Almost of their own accord, her eyes were wrenched to the other side of the ring. Vader was staring at her. She felt open, laid bare, seen in a way she didn’t understand. He was a gravity well, a black hole pulling her in towards destruction. What would he do with her after this? She backed away slowly towards Han and Chewie.

“The princess,” Han was saying. “You have to take care of her.” Yes, she needed Chewie now, and Chewie probably needed her just as much. She was willing to admit that, although she once would have bristled at the idea of needing anyone. Sure, she was capable, and she could take care of herself. But people, friendships, love—that was something capability couldn't replace, no matter how high she built her walls.

It wasn’t just that, though. Shaking herself out of her terror, Leia guessed what Han was getting at. She drew close to Chewie, reaching out to stroke his fur. The Wookiee had sworn a life debt to Han; he would never betray that, except to protect someone else who he felt came under it. With a slight shock, she realized that she was now one of the rare few.

“You hear me? Huh?” Han prodded.

Chewie let out a desolate yes.

Han turned to face Leia. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, and she reached out towards him desperately, kissing him with everything she had left. For a moment they slowed down time; defying their enemies, denying the end.

And then he was torn away from her, the taste of his lips still on her tongue. He stood on a platform that had risen in the central cavity, and his eyes didn’t leave her.

Vader was going to take him from her, like he had taken everything else, and as in her nightmares, she was powerless. They were weak and surrounded; there was no way out.

There was nothing she could do, nothing that wouldn’t make it worse.

But there was something she could say. The words formed deliberately, without hesitation; echoing throughout her entire being, a shout flung to the farthest stars. She no longer cared about anyone else knowing. She no longer cared if it caused her pain. She no longer cared about regrets, because she was finally, absolutely certain that she would regret it a lot more if he never heard the truth.

“I love you,” she said.

Han looked at her gravely. There was no hint of surprise; only love. “I know.”

The warmth of his reassurance and the freedom of the truth flooded her heart. It mingled with the agony of loss, both comforting and painful. They loved each other, and now, they would lose each other.

I know.

Past conversations flickered through her mind.

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know if it ever came to that, you’d do somethin’ to save me if you could.”

“I would.”

“I know.”

The Ugnaughts unbound his hands. The platform began to lower, slowly, inevitably. Their eyes locked onto each other, filling with tears, and they never let go until the moment the machine hissed, Han’s head was thrown back, and steam billowed up around him.

She turned away, burying her head in Chewie’s fur. The Wookiee let out an anguished wail.

“What’s going on?” Threepio demanded. “Turn around! Chewbacca, I can’t see!”

The machine whined loudly, and she looked to see a claw-like structure descending from the ceiling. She forced herself to watch as it latched onto what was below and slowly began its ascent, bringing with it a large, human-sized block. Her throat was constricting, her mind spitting denials. She grabbed onto Chewie’s arm and clung to it, and he pulled her close.

The Ugnaughts examined the block, and then—casually, as if it were of no consequence—they pushed it over. It hit the floor with a clang. Leia flinched. Han’s features could still be seen; his hands were raised as if to protect himself, and his face was caught in frozen agony.

She trembled. She couldn’t weep now. Not in front of Vader.

Lando crouched beside the carbonite block—beside Han.

“Oh, they’ve encased him in carbonite,” Threepio remarked, having finally gotten a good glimpse. “He should be quite well-protected; if he survived the freezing process, that is.”

Lando finished examining the data panel in the encasing. Then he rose up on his arms to look at his old friend with his own eyes. Leia waited, hardly daring to breathe.

“Well, Calrissian, did he survive?” Vader inquired.

“Yes, he’s alive,” Lando responded, not moving. “And in perfect hibernation.”

Relief swept through Leia, and Chewie gave her shoulder a squeeze. There was still hope, however small.

“He’s all yours, bounty hunter.” Vader turned to the Ugnaughts. “Reset the chamber for Skywalker,” he commanded.

An officer approached. “Skywalker has just landed, milord.”

Leia caught Chewie’s eyes worriedly.

“Good,” Vader responded. “See to it that he finds his way in here.”

Her eyes traveled back to Han’s still, petrified form. She stared at it, trying to commit every feature to memory. She never wanted to forget. Not him, and not what they’d done. Fury filled her; fury that they would do this to him, fury that he had been separated from her, fury at the sheer, incomprehensible horror of it all.

Then grief came rushing in, and the fury was overwhelmed.

Lando finally finished his reverie. Rising, he marched over to Leia and grabbed her arm. Without even a sideways glance, she pushed him away.

“Calrissian,” she heard Vader say, “take the princess and the Wookiee to my ship.”

“You said they’d be left in the city under my supervision!” Lando argued.

“I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any farther.”

Vader swept out of the room. Leia didn’t watch him go. Her eyes were still frozen on the one she loved.

For the first time, she allowed a few silent tears to fall.

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gemini--witch · 5 years

Text

Children are not toys. Children are not pets. Children are not potential “mini-me’s.” Children are not solutions to mental/emotional/relationship problems.

This is something that’s been bugging me lately because of some stuff I’ve seen/witnessed/read, and I need to get some shit off my chest about it.

THIS IS AN (admittedly coming from a place of frustration and concern for the well-being of future human beings) OPEN LETTER FROM ME, A MOTHER, TO ANYONE THINKING OF BECOMING A PARENT.

I understand that you want to have a baby. Really, I do. They’re so cute and warm and cuddly and your 20-something hormones are screaming for one in the same way they scream for the puppies at the pet store or the kittens the person is giving away for free in a cardboard box outside Safeway (does that still happen? I feel like it does in my hometown).

But here’s the thing.

Children are human beings. Little, tiny human beings with not only zero self control, but zero capability to regulate their emotions and zero capability to care for themselves.

And for some of us, the innate helplessness of babies touches us deeply. We want to give all our hearts and souls and bodies to that little pooping, screaming, giggling thing.

But here’s the thing.

If your mental and emotional health is already hanging tenuously by a thread....HAVING A BABY WILL MAKE THAT WORSE. If your physical health is already hanging tenuously by a thread....HAVING A BABY WILL MAKE THAT WORSE.

Why? Because after the happy pregnancy high, you then have to deal with (if you’ve got a vagina) the utter devastation that labor will make of your body, and the MONTHS of recovery afterwards (yes --- months. Not days, not weeks... months). There’s also the complete destruction of your sleep cycles, which creates a couple-years-long struggle for sanity in and of itself. Oh, and let’s not forget the realization, once the first blush and bloom of joy fades, that you now have /zero power over your life and your time/.

Yes, that’s right. That baby owns you, not the other way around, and everything - your career, your friendships, your partnership, your hobbies - will all fall to the wayside, and some of them will never recover. Why? Because you are not prepared for the complete shift in consciousness you will undergo. “Oh, I’ll just make sure I schedule time to devote to my friendships and my career and my hobbies.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA yeah I thought that, too. But, seriously. You are not prepared for the, again, hormone-driven /need/ to be there for your child 100% of the time, even when your emotional and physical well is at 0%.

Oh, and by the way, this is all assuming the labor and the baby are fairly easy and not, say, traumatic and riddled with health issues and colicky and/or everything else that could go wrong, like trying to do it as a single parent instead of a two-parent unit.

And the sudden, drastic reduction in alone time, in true physical health and rest, and in social interaction, as well as the (I promise) unexpected emotional and physical transformations that are often not widely talked about because our Western society does not provide adequate emotional support for new parents beyond the first couple of weeks...

You guessed it. Postpartum depression. If you’re like me, a neurotypical person with no particular physical health issues, postpartum is awful and heart-wrenching and throws you into a deep dark pit of despair that is really, really difficult to climb out of.

So maybe you can guess what it might be like if you...say.... are neurodivergent and struggle with clinical depression. Or an anxiety disorder. Or BPD. Or OCD. Or any other mental or emotional illness. And/or a physical disability.

Oooo! Or if you’re... Let’s see... Not emotionally mature yet at all. You haven’t reparented yourself and recovered from trauma and healed your childhood attachment wounds.

HAVING A BABY. WILL NOT. MAGICALLY TURN YOU INTO THE CAPABLE, MATURE, RESPONSIBLE, SELFLESS, GROUNDED PARENT OF YOUR DREAMS.

In fact, it will EXPOSE and AMPLIFY those wounds. It will EXPOSE and AMPLIFY those neurodivergences (is that a word?) and physical disabilities/illnesses. It will EXPOSE and AMPLIFY aaaaaalllll of your character flaws. And if you’re in a struggling relationship, it will EXPOSE and AMPLIFY all of the problems in it.

HAVING A BABY IS NOT THE ANSWER.

Oh, and another thing.

If you already rely on others to meet your financial and housing needs...HAVING A BABY WILL MAKE THAT WORSE.

Because guess what?

Many workplaces won’t hire you if you’re pregnant, or will fire you if you are obviously pregnant. Many workplaces won’t hire you if you have children. (ESPECIALLY if you’re a woman/woman-presenting. Sorry, people with penises, but society tends to view fathers as incredible and mothers as irresponsible if they work) Oh, of course, they won’t say that’s why. They’ll find another reason. “You’re not the right fit.” “We need someone to work hours you’re not available for.” “We’ve decided other candidates have qualifications better matched.” You know, even if it was a job you were qualified before you had a child.

If you don’t have job security, and have to rely on others to meet your financial and housing needs, HAVING A BABY WILL NOT SOLVE THAT.

Maybe you’re secretly, in the darkest part of your heart, hoping that having a baby will prove to the world/your parents/your frenemies/your partner once and for all that you’re a Mature Adult(tm).

(alarm sounds) IT WILL NOT. It will actually highlight your utter lack of maturity and intelligence and common sense.

LET ME REPEAT THIS.

CHILDREN ARE NOT TOYS.

CHILDREN ARE NOT PETS.

CHILDREN ARE NOT SOLUTIONS.

CHILDREN ARE HUMAN BEINGS.

They are human beings that, if you stop to think about it, are having to grow up in a dystopian world.

If you have a child right now, there is a very good chance that, if climate change and government leadership continues on its current course, your child will not get to live past 30 (if they’re lucky).

This realization is a source of deep and intense guilt for me as a mother, and I know one day my daughter will look at me with rage and fear and pain and wonder how I could have allowed this to happen. How my generation and my parent’s generation could have allowed this to happen. And I won’t have much of an answer for her beyond “I did what I could.”

If you already struggle with your mental health to a near-debilitating degree, this deep and intense guilt will make it infinitely worse.

LET ME REPEAT.

CHILDREN ARE NOT TOYS/PETS/SOLUTIONS/MINI-ME’S.

Children are human beings that require:

-the majority of your time and attention and energy and finances

-the majority of your heart and soul and body

and that is not an exaggeration.

Truly, none of us are ever truly prepared. But if preparedness is a scale, not a specific point, there is such thing as someone who is woefully underprepared on all levels,

and there is no more awful reason to have a baby than “because I want to.”

Get your narcissistic head out of your ass and work on yourself before you even consider having a child,

or you are doing a grave disservice to the generation you want to help create.

.....

And I realize I’m not the prime example of someone who waited until they were a totally put-together person to have a child.

When I conceived, I was homeless, in a relationship with someone I’d only known for 6 months, and dealing with some trauma of my own.

But then again, perhaps I’m exactly who should be telling you this.

I crawled myself up from the muck of an awful circumstance. I’m still not financially stable, necessarily, but I do a damn good job considering the circumstances, and I’m proud of that. Her father and I are no longer together romantically, but we are damn good co-parents who put our daughter’s wellbeing above everything else. We both have safe and healthy and caring home environments and our daughter is surrounded by love and positive discipline all the time.

We’re not perfect. And it took a lot of trial and error to get to where we are now. And we’re extremely lucky, societally speaking, on the front of being neurotypical, abled, white people.

But if it’s been hard for us...

just stop for a moment and imagine how hard it may be for you.

Imagine that perhaps that unconditional love and acceptance you crave and are seeking in having a baby could be found elsewhere (like, from within, maybe? self love, bitch).

Then decide if having a child just because you “want to” is really such a good idea.

Because honestly?

If I had to do it all over again,

I would have waited 10 more years (at least) and a hell of a lot more personal growth work before having my daughter. Instead, I’ve had to do all that personal growth work while parenting her, and I know that because of that, I’ve made some mistakes with her -- and it’s still to be seen how that will affect her in the future. All I can do now is better than I did before (which is process in and of itself, as I discover new, better ways to handle things), and hope that all the love I shower on her is enough to outweigh the mistakes.

And one day, I hope she forgives me, not only for my personal mistakes, but for the mistakes of my generation, and the generations before me.

#parenting #parenthood #mothering #motherhood #single mother #open letter #personal

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juju-on-that-yeet · 5 years

Text

Wipeout

Prompt: Whumptober Day 10, Unconscious

Summary: MarkBop tries to skate down a handrail, key word being “tries.”

Warnings: Head trauma, some graphic descriptions

Tagging: @peribloke (ask to be tagged!)

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober Series)

Enjoy!

It was a bad idea from the start, but when did that ever stop Bingiplier? And when did that ever stop MarkBop from joining in, too?

“You sure about this, Bing?” Bop asks, staring at the handrail before them both. They’re at the top of a staircase near the skatepark, one that plenty of people have skated down before.

“Of course, dude!” Bing exclaims, “This’ll be sick! We’ve been practicing, haven’t we?”

That’s true, they have. But the rails they practiced on were shorter, and easier to grab with the board. A fall from their practice rail might bruise a knee. But here, to fall is such a long way down. The handrail is long, the staircase is steep. Bop is nervous.

Then again, Bop is nervous very often. Eric Derekson may have taken up the mantle of “house worrywart” since he came to Ego Inc., but the title was Bop’s first, and he’s still a close second in terms of freaking out about everything. So maybe the fact that Bop is nervous about skating down this handrail doesn’t mean much. Besides, Bing is so excited, and Bop loves seeing his boyfriend so happy. He doesn’t want to rain on his parade.

“You first, then,” Bop finally says. Bing grins.

“Challenge accepted,” he replies.

He gives himself a running start, of course, going back a few yards before putting down his board and kicking off. He glides, building momentum, until he reaches the handrail and jumps. The board follows like it’s attached to his feet, landing perfectly across the rail. Bop’s heart catches in his throat as Bing slides down, arms out to keep balance. It’s the same terror and thrill that stops his heart with every trick Bing attempts. But Bing glides all the way down the stairwell and jumps off gracefully, though his stumbles a bit on landing and slides right off his board.

“Oof,” Bing grunts, rubbing his side as he picks himself up off the ground. “Well, I think that was still pretty good. What do you think, babe?”

“It was great!” Bop exclaims, and he means it. “I was real nervous, but you barely even wobbled! That was so cool.” He looks at the handrail with trepidation. “I doubt mine’ll be as good.”

“Aw, you’ll do great, Bop!” Bing encourages. “Maybe you’ll be the one to stick the landing.” He grins sheepishly at his own joke. “Or maybe best two out of three.”

“Maybe just one…” Bop mumbles, too quiet for Bing to hear from the bottom of the stairs. Bing has already moved out of Bop’s way and is looking up at him, waiting.

Well, here goes nothing.

Bop uses the same running start as Bing. This part’s easy; Bop glides as smoothly as Bing did. The jump to the rail isn’t that hard, either; he’s done similar plenty of times before. The balancing, though, taking the railing one long second at a time and not getting psyched out, not looking down…that’s the difficult part. Bop’s landing on the rail isn’t as good as Bing’s was; it’s wobbly, and he does his best to recalibrate, regain balance on the way down, but speed and balance tend not to agree. He’s only made it halfway down the handrail when he loses his balance completely.

His head strikes the edge of a concrete stair. The effect is instant. The sun turns off.

~~~

Coming back is not instant. It’s laborious, long. Bop’s head feels underwater; heavy and indistinct. When he finally manages to crack his eyes open, the room is too bright to make anything out. There’s someone there with him, maybe more than one person, and he’s laying down in a bed. If his head were clearer he’d be able to put it together, but his brain feels like soup. Soup that aches.

“Oh my god, Doc, is he awake!?” someone cries. It sounds dull and faraway. “Is he okay, is anything–”

“Easy,” says someone else, “He’s still hurt, I need to evaluate him. We have to be alone for that.”

“Doc, c’mon, please–”

“Bing, come on,” says a third voice, more patient but just as worried, “We’ll see him later. It’s okay.”

The name “Bing,” even in the state Bop’s in, strikes him as important. But he’s still blinking the room into focus, still trying to recognize the one remaining person.

“Are you there, Bop?” he asks. He strokes Bop’s hair, and Bop sighs at the gentle, comforting touch. “That probably felt better than everything else your head’s been through lately, huh?”

Finally, Bop starts to see clearly through the fuzzy, aching haze.

“Doc?”

“Yep,” Dr. Iplier affirms, giving Bop a gentle smile. “You sure freaked us out earlier. How are you feeling? You shouldn’t be in much pain; you’re on about as much painkiller as I can give you.”

So that’s why Bop feels so detached and indistinct.

“Feel weird” he manages, “Headache.”

“Sounds about right,” Dr. Iplier says, “You managed to give yourself a depressed skull fracture; you’re lucky you didn’t get any brain damage. You’ve got a lot of screws and stitches in your head now, and they’ll be there for a while.” He pauses. “You have an interesting side shave now, too, under all your bandages.”

“How…long’s it been?” Bop asks.

“Five days,” Dr. Iplier answers. He sighs. “I won’t lie, Bop, it was pretty dicey for a while there. You lost a ton of blood and there was a lot of swelling and fluid buildup in your brain. I did some surgery to put your skull back together and ease the pressure on your brain, and you’ve been in a medically induced coma for the past few days to stave off brain damage. The fact that you can talk and have some awareness of yourself and your surroundings is a good sign, but you’ll be in the clinic for a while longer.”

Bop’s head is still swimming, but for a different reason now. It’s hard to believe he’s been out for so long, hard to believe all that damage happened to him. He’s only just now remembering what happened, but he can’t remember how exactly he got hurt. He knows he was skating with Bing, he knows they were gonna finally skate down that handrail, but he can’t remember actually doing it.

He explains as much to Dr. Iplier, answering as many questions as he can about how he feels and what he remembers until his eyes start to close against his will.

“Tired?” Dr. Iplier asks, a smile in his voice. He strokes Bop’s hair again. “Go to sleep. I’ll keep checking in, but press the call button if you need me.”

Bop nods minutely before sinking into deep, painkiller-laced sleep.

~~~

It’s a few more periods of wake and sleep spread throughout one more day before Bop feels well enough that Dr. Iplier decides he can have visitors.

Bop is sitting up in bed when Bing comes in. He’s an android, so he has no bags under his eyes, no bloodshot veins crisscrossing the whites of his eyes, but the fact that Bop can see his eyes at all is unusual. Bing’s sunglasses are tucked into his tank top, and his expression is more gutted and afraid than Bop has ever seen it. But even so, there’s a light to his eyes and his posture is so loose he looks fit to collapse with relief.

“Boppy,” he murmurs as he sits beside Bop in the plastic clinic chair, “How…how are you feeling?”

“Better than yesterday,” Bop answers. His head is still swathed in bandages, but he’s not on as many painkillers and his mind is clearer. He’s even gained some memory from immediately before the accident. He offers Bing a smile; he can tell he needs it. Bing’s answering grin is shaky.

“Awesome, that’s–” He cuts himself off, savagely rubbing his eyes as his grin vanishes. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“Bing–”

“It was horrible.” Bing’s eyes are already overflowing with tears as he starts to tremble. “You were bleeding all over the place, your head w-wasn’t shaped right, and you wouldn’t w-wake up. I thought you were dead. I thought I got you killed.” He sobs. “And then when Doc did surgery on you and said he had to put you in a medical coma, I th-thought you were gonna die. Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I pressured you into skating the handrail, I never should’ve–” He can’t talk anymore through his sobs, and he helplessly buries his face in his hands.

“Bing, honey,” Bop murmurs, nearly moved to tears himself at Bing’s despair. He puts an arm around Bing, pulls him closer, tugs him until he’s laying on the clinic bed with Bop. Bing sobs into the crook of Bop’s neck as Bop strokes his hair, using one arm to hug Bing against him.

“I’m sorry,” Bing sobs again when he can.

“It wasn’t your fault, honey,” Bop tells him, “You didn’t make me do anything. I would’ve refused to do it if I’d wanted to, just like I’ve done before.” It’s true: Bop may have been nervous, but he wasn’t nervous enough to stop. He knows full well that Bing would never judge him for passing on a trick. He would’ve passed on skating the handrail if he’d known it lead to this, but at the time, he hadn’t wanted to. “How much did Doc chew you out for this one?” Bop asks, trying to bring some humor into the conversation. Bing laughs wetly, wiping his face as his tears start to diminish.

“Not at all, actually,” Bing admits, “I guess he figured I was suffering enough.” He pauses, biting his lip. “Dark let me have it, though. He was pissed. Yeah, I know,” he responds to Bop’s confused look, “I guess he can’t, like, subjugate us properly or whatever if we all crack our heads open and die. I think he would’ve yeeted me right into the void for a while if Doc and Ollie hadn’t vouched for me learning my lesson.”

“Is Ollie doing alright?” Bop asks. He remembers the third voice he heard when he first woke up.

“Yeah, maybe a little better than me,” Bing says, “Since he’s got his bros and everything. He’s…really been a godsend this past week. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.” He sits up to look at Bop. “Even with Ollie, I don’t know…” He swallows, near tears again. “I don’t know how I’d live without you.”

At that, Bop can’t not cup Bing’s face in his hands and kiss him, gentle and slow. Bing kisses back just as softly, hugging Bop to his chest like he’s a security teddy bear.

“I’ll be okay,” Bop murmurs after they break apart. “I already feel better than yesterday, and figments heal fast, right?” He smiles, then pauses thoughtfully. “Doc told me I have a side shave now, I guess ‘cause he had to get my hair out of the way for surgery?”

“Yo, that’s sick, dude,” Bing says, “Once you get your bandages off you gotta, like, do something really cool with it! It can be like a thing.”

“Oh man, I don’t know,” Bop laughs, “That might be a bit much for me. But I guess I’ll see how it looks. I haven’t actually seen it yet.”

“Yeah, your bandages cover everything. But I bet it’s cute.” Bing smiles. “You’re always cute.”

Bop laughs as Bing kisses his cheek. He hums when Bing kisses his lips like before, quiet and comforting.

#whumptober2019 #no.10 #markiplier fanfiction #markbop #bingiplier #markiplier #kristin says stuff #fanfic #my writing #poor boppy #he needs some MILK

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kpopersanonymous · 7 years

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A Monster’s Revenge (Happy Ending)

a/n: since people have requested an epilogue to “Monster”, I decided to come through with Yixing’s revenge. With a happy ending because part 1 was very angsty!! Hope you guys enjoy!! (also sorry I took like centuries to make this but... life has just been extremely stressful lately (but i will always come through for you guys!! it might just take a while))

Read part 1 here!

Genre: Mafia AU, angst, fluffy (slightly smutty??) ending

Pairing: Yixing x Reader ft. Chanyeol and Minseok

Words: 5.1 k

Warnings: mild cursing, violence, mention of blood and death (it gets intense)

Yixing never left your side as you were taken to the hospital, his hand gripping yours as he watched your unconscious body struggle to stay alive. He didn’t want to leave you, he didn’t want you to face this battle alone but his bodyguards tore him away from you as you were taken to the ER. He was forced to wait while the doctors did their best to fight the poison without an antidote.

“Don’t worry,” Minseok tried to calm down his panicked friend, “I made sure only the best doctors are treating her. And I had the flowers Chanyeol gave her sent down to a team of specialists to find the right cure.” Yixing was glad to have his friend wait with him and give him the support he needed. Minseok had always calmed him down when his rationality faded, rarely ever losing his cool. He even stopped Yixing from almost murdering the nurse when they were given word of the components of the poison, the serum being a man-made, enhanced version of hemlock.

The doctors weren’t so helpful. All they told your husband was that they did the best they could and only time will tell. The pain he felt when he saw you, lying in the ICU, attached to countless machines, was almost unbearable to him. He had never felt more empathy for another human being than for you, and it scared him, knowing the true intensity of his love.

You stayed in the ICU for two weeks before the doctors announced the poison to be out of your system and your respiratory system functioning normally. And yet you still didn’t wake up. You had slipped into a coma, your body’s way of trying to protect your brain from serious damage. Seeing the despair in his friend’s eyes, Minseok gave him words of encouragement. “You know, a coma is just a way for people to deal with the trauma they experienced. So in a way, she’s just giving herself the time she needs to work everything out and to heal,” he said, giving your husband a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Yixing nooded at those words, “She’s a fighter. I know she will get through this.”

He stayed by your side for months on end, visiting you everyday, his hope never fading that your eyes will open up for him. He read you your favorite stories, sang to you, talked about his hopes and dreams, the future he saw the two of you in. He hoped you could hear everything he was saying, he had heard that coma patients were often very aware of their surroundings.

Yixing was very grateful to have Minseok around to help him. Ever since your hospitalization, Yixing could hardly focus on the work that had to be done in his clan, his main priority being you. Minseok had offered to help him, to take on some of the work that needed to be done. Knowing that his friend was already skilled in the deals and trading industry, not to mention bribery, Yixing started him off with those tasks, giving him special advice with certain clients and telling him who to take with him, just in case things go wrong.

He noticed how motivated Minseok was to broaden his horizons and started mentoring him and a few of his most trusted men on how to be fearless leaders like him. He enjoyed the idea of having unit leaders, all specialized in their own field, whether that be trade, interrogation or assassination, serving under his watchful eye. It would mean he could have more time to himself, more time to be able to spend with you, to be able to protect you better. He never would have thought about doing this in the past, knowing that only he could get things done the way he preferred, but that was before he saw you in danger. He never wanted to see you in so much pain again and he would gladly give up his position to ensure your safety.

Little did he know that you would never be safe, not as long as all the enemies he had made in the past still wanted to see him suffer. And the only enemy who knew his weakness, the way to make him suffer the most, was Park Chanyeol, who had mysteriously vanished after he had poisoned you. Not even Yixing’s best searchers could find him. Letting his guard down, he began to think that he had seen the last of Chanyeol. It came as more than just a shock to him when, six months after his attempted murder, he found Chanyeol sitting in your room, awaiting Yixing’s arrival, a smug grin painted on his face.

Yixing stood at the doorway, unsure of how to react. He never thought Chanyeol would be so bold as to show his face anywhere near him again, especially after he disappeared off the face of the earth. But now here he was, sitting mere feet away from where you were lying, a single rose in his hand, staring daggers at your husband. Yixing curled his lips in disgust, hatred boiling up inside of him as he glared at your assailant. It took all of his willpower to not strangle your ex-bodyguard then and there, although Yixing knew he deserved it.

“Long time no see, Yixing,” Chanyeol rumbled lowly, not bothering to get up and properly greet his rival. “You have some nerve, showing up here after you tried to kill my wife,” Yixing replied, his inner monster waiting just below the surface, begging to be released. Chanyeol simply smiled as he played with one of the rose petals before answering. “I’m actually surprised that she survived. I guess I’ll have to do better next time,” he stared straight into Yixing’s eyes, awaiting his reaction. The threat made Yixing snap as he leapt towards Chanyeol, his monster taking full control over him as he pinned him to the nearest wall, his forearm lightly choking the tall man.

“Why are you even targeting her? I’m the one your clan is rivaling with! Why don’t you just try to kill me?!” Yixing asked, shaking with rage. Chanyeol somehow managed to chuckle under his hold, further testing his limits. “We never planned on killing you. We wanted to destroy you and your legacy that you built. And the only way we could do that is by taking away your most prized possession, the love of your life. You know, it was pretty foolish of you to fall in love, it makes you extemely vulnerable,” Chanyeol shook your husband off and strode to the end of your bed.

“Although, I can’t blame you. She is beautiful,” Chanyeol licked his lips slightly. He looked at your glaring husband when a thought suddenly occurred in his head. “What even makes you think that she’ll be happy to see you once she wakes up? Do you really think she’ll jump into your arms, begging you to always stay by her side? How are you so certain that she won’t just leave you?” Chanyeol aksed, leaning against the foot of your bed. “Y/N loves me, she would never leave me, especially for scum like you. Besides, even if she wanted to, she would never be able to. In case you forgot, I have eyes everywhere,” Yixing spat out, inching his way closer to Chanyeol until he was within arms reach.

Chanyeol chuckled, “Oh yeah, Y/N really thought I was scum when she practically begged me to take her with me as I was leaving.” “You’re lying,” Yixing growled lowly. “Do you want me to list the number of motives Y/N would have to leave you?�� Chanyeol asked, but continued before Yixing had a chance to answer. “As for your watchful eyes, they didn’t seem to find me while I was in hiding,” Chanyeol taunted. “I would’ve done the job myself if I had known that you kidnapped her. And then I would have made you wish you had never been born,” Yixing spat back, his patience long gone.

Chanyeol smirked, “Why don’t we test that out? I’ll kidnap your wife once she wakes up and then we’ll see how long it takes for you to find us. I’m sure with a little sweet-talking she’ll think that I was really saving her from you, that I’m her knight in shining armor. I bet she would even comply to my ... deepest desires.” He bit his lip at the thought of the two of you sharing intimate moments together.

That was when Yixing saw nothing but red as he grabbed onto Chanyeol and flung him halfway across the room. He got on top of his opponent and grabbed him by the collar, staring down at him menacingly. “I’ve had enough of these games. It’s time we settled this once and for all,“ Yixing growled, throwing a punch at Chanyeol when he tried to move. “Stop targetting her. I’m the one you want, the one you hate. Why don’t we settle things like men? A fight to the death, one on one,” your husband suggested. “What makes you think I’ll come alone?” Chanyeol asked through gritted teeth. “Because you’re a prideful man that still has a bone to pick with me. You’re not going to hide in the back while your men ambush me,” Yixing chuckled darkly.

“You’re right... but why would I take you up on this offer. What’s in it for me?” the trapped man asked. Yixing rolled his eyes, “Do I have to spell everything out for you?! If you, through whatever miracle, managed to kill me, you can deliver my head personally to your leader. And that will get you on his good side, make him favor you more. It might even get you to rise up in the ranks. Now what do you say?” Chanyeol thought about it for a minute before he answered, “Okay. Deal. Now... where and when will we have this showdown?” Yixing stood up and brushed himself off while answering, “Tonight at midnight. At an abandoned warehouse downtown. I’m sure you already know which one I favor.” The giant smiled as he stood up and headed towards the door, “Alright. I’ll be there.” He stopped at the doorway to look at your resting form one last time. “And once I’ve defeated you, I’ll be making your wife my bitch,” he winked before leaving. Yixing’s blood was boiling at that last comment and looked around the room, trying to calm down. He spotted the rose Chanyeol had brought lying on the floor and tore it apart, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Just wait for tonight, he thought as he sent his monster back into his subconscious, promising it freedom in a few short hours.

Yixing drove down to the warehouse where he and his men always took their victims to finish them off. Nobody knew where he was going, he didn’t even confide in Minseok of his deal with Chanyeol. He simply told his friend to take good care of you in case he never made it home afterwards. He would be damned if he let Chanyeol take you as his own with nobody there to stop him.

As confident as Yixing was in his ability to take down his rival, he also wanted to make sure that, in the event that Chanyeol did defeat him, he would still end up in a world full of pain and suffering. Yixing wanted it to be known that even if he were to die, his clan, his legacy would still remain powerful. For this reason, he called a few of his best hitmen to attack Chanyeol’s clan at midnight, when they would least expect it, knowing they would all be at their boss’ mansion, awaiting Chanyeol’s Arrival. “Make sure nobody escapes alive,” Yixing had said before dismissing them all. He caught ahold of one of his most talented arsonists and ordered him to go with them. “I know you can make it look like an accident,” he flashed him a dark smile.

Yixing never felt calmer going into this battle. If anything, the idea of beating someone up seemed boring to him. He wondered if it had been his monster the whole time who took pleasure in all the agony he put his victims through, as he pulled up into the vacant parking lot adjoined to the warehouse. He cast his ponderings aside as he got out of the car, feeling his monster stirring inside him, aching to be released. He spotted another car beside the warehouse and knew that Chanyeol was already inside waiting for him. His eyes grew dark as he let his monster overcome him, readying himself for battle, excitement at the prospect of killing his prey filling his veins.

He threw the doors to the warehouse open and spotted Chanyeol sitting on a chair in the middle of the empty room. “I see you came alone,” the giant said, getting up from his seat. “I’m a man of my word,” Yixing stated, throwing off his jacket, tossing it to the side. “So how is this duel to the death going to work without any weapons?” Chanyeol asked, tossing his own jacket to the side. “We’re both skilled enough as fighters to kill someone in hand-to-hand combat. Besides, there’s plenty of stuff lying around to be deemed as a weapon,” your husband answered, stripping off his shirt, flexing his muscles intimidatingly at his opponent. Chanyeol smirked, “Well alrighty then. I can’t wait to beat you to a pulp.” He ripped his own shirt open and flexed his muscles in response, beckoning Yixing over. “Since I did try to kill your wife, I think it’s only fair that you get to throw the first punch,” he said.

Yixing didn’t even hesistate at that offer, leaping over to his enemy to deliver his first attack, a punch to the stomach. Chanyeol felt the air leave his lungs as he doubled over from the impact, trying to recover when he felt hands grab the back of his head, slamming it down onto Yixing’s knee. The giant saw stars momentarily as he collapsed to the ground, his anger forming as he heard your husband speak, “You know, a death match usually consists of both parties fighting. But if you want to just accept your fate, I have no problems being the only one to attack.” Chanyeol moved forward to catch Yixing’s leg mid-kick, pulling it to him, making him fall to the ground.

Now it was his turn to attack as he scrambled up and positioned himself above his rival’s laying body, delivering hatred-filled blows to his head. After recovering from the first shock, Yixing grabbed his fist before it landed another harsh blow, trying to use his opponent’s energy against him to push him off. Chanyeol felt himself struggling against the match of strengths and grabbed his enemy’s throat, choking him with his free hand. The threat of blacking out only fueled the monster even more as he started twisting Chanyeol’s arm in the opposite direction, his eyes cold and apathetic as he stared into the other man’s pain-filled eyes. It wasn’t until Yixing heard the satisfying ‘crunch’ of his opponent’s arm breaking did he let go, kicking Chanyeol off of him as he let go of his throat to hold his now twisted arm.

Yixing got up and brushed himself off, not paying any attention to a cursing Chanyeol still huddled on the floor. He wiped off some of the blood oozing out of the cuts on his face and gently touched around his left eye, almost completely swollen shut, as he searched for a weapon around the vacant room to put an end to this fight. His back turned to his opponent, he spotted some metal chains in the far corner of the room, perfect for choking out his victim. He started towards them when he was struck in the back with a chair, knocking him to the ground, air leaving his lungs as the object broke into smaller pieces. He was sure that the impact had broken a few ribs and he felt small chunks of wood pierce through his skin. He looked up to see Chanyeol towering above him, eyes dark with malice, his right arm hanging limp by his side.

Before Yixing could stand up, he was held down by the weight of Chanyeol’s foot pressing down onto his pelvis. He moved upwards towards one of his kidneys and applied more pressure, causing Yixing to cry out in pain. He knew what he was doing: he wanted to watch him suffer by hitting his pressure points, exactly the kind of sadistic method the monster inside of Yixing would choose before putting an end to his victims’ misery. Chanyeol moved his leg down to one of his knees and started crushing the joint. Yixing clenched his teeth together, not wanting to give his enemy pleasure in hearing him scream out in pain, and searched around for something he could use against Chanyeol. He spotted one of the legs of the chair lying next to him and grabbed it, twisting himself around, using the momentum to his advantage and thrashed the weapon into his assailant’s knee.

Chanyeol grunted loudly in anguish as Yixing rose up and stared daggers into him. The two stared at each other in disgust for a couple of minutes while both caught their breath. They were done playing games, both just wanting to see the opposing party dead. Yixing growled lowly as he charged toward the giant, knocking him down to the ground as he proceded to choke him, straddling him in the process. With his good arm, Chanyeol retaliated the choking attempt, not ready to give up the fight so easily. Summoning his strength, he head-butted Yixing, causing him to lose his grip on his throat. Chanyeol stood up with your husband’s throat still in his hand, his fingers clawing at his rival’s arm as he felt the ground beneath his feet disappear. He felt himself start to black out from the lack of oxygen and the weight of the impact with Chanyeol’s own head.

An image of you flashed before Yixing’s eyes, which ignited a spark deep inside of him, giving him enough strength to kick his opponent square in the guts, sending him backwards and releasing him from the giant’s grip. Yixing rushed around behind Chanyeol and locked him in a choke hold, his neck one quick turn away from being snapped. Yixing had the perfect opportunity to kill him, to end this game once and for all, but he hesitated. He wanted to see him dead, to have him pay for what he did to you, but something deep inside of him didn’t want to kill anymore, he was sick of it.

Chanyeol noticed the hesitation in his enemy’s actions. Knowing he couldn’t free himself out of the choke hold with pure strength, most of his depleated anyway, he tried to catch Yixing off-guard in a last attempt to kill his rival. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, “now’s your chance to finally kill me. I know you’re just aching to see me dead. Especially after what I did to your wife.” Yixing glared at him and tightened his hold on Chanyeol, not answering his question. “You remember what I did to her right?” he pressed on. “I didn’t just try to kill her. I befriended her, finally made her happy for once in her miserable, isolated life. I gave her something to look forward to, something worth waking up for each and every morning instead of cursing her existence. I stole her heart. And isn‘t that the real reason why you hate me, why you want to see me dead?”

Yixing’s face inched closer to Chanyeol’s as he stared menacingly at him. “My beloved Y/N would never fall in love with a creature as low as yourself,” he growled lowly through gritted teeth. He flexed his muscles, readying himself to kill his rival, when a gunshot sounded the air. Yixing saw Chanyeol’s pupils widen before he watched the life leave his eyes, his body slumping against his own. He stared in bewilderment at the dead body in his arms before noticing the bullet wound in his chest, right where the heart was centered.

Yixing heard footsteps coming closer and looked up to see Minseok carrying a gun, shock written on his face. “So this is what you deem unimportant to tell me?! A fight to the death?” Minseok asked after a few moments of silence. “Did you follow me here?” Yixing asked, ignoring his friend’s outburst. “Well somebody had to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid!” he answered, putting the gun away and streched out a hand to help his friend up. “You didn’t have to come, I had the situation under control,” Yixing said, pushing Chanyeol’s corpse off him and stood up. Minseok caught him as he groaned in pain and exhaustion, “And was it part of your plan to have Chanyeol beat you to a pulp?” Yixing chuckled as he was led back to his car, “Even a skilled fighter such as myself doesn’t come out of a fight unscathed.”

Minseok placed Yixing gently in the passenger’s seat of his car before he went over to his own car to talk to the bodyguards he brought with him to discard of Chanyeol’s dead body and any evidence of a fight. As Yixing waited on Minseok to return, he replayed the last conversation he had with Chanyeol in his head. He felt remorseful, not because he didn’t kill his rival, he couldn’t care less about that fact, even though his monster would’ve been seething with rage over the missed opportunity. What really struck him were the things he had said about you and the isolated life you had to live. Have I really been treating her so badly? he asked himself, a single tear escaping his eye.

Minseok came back and drove his friend to a doctor while Yixing stared out of the window, lost in his own thoughts. After what felt like hours of silence between the two, Yixing spoke up, “Thank you for being there, Minseok. I really appreciate it.” His friend looked at him in curiosity as he continued to look out the window.

Something had changed within Yixing, this much Minseok knew. Many of his men would think that they lost their fearsome leader, that he had died alongside Chanyeol, but he knew his friend better than that. He believed he had simply been reborn, casting his monster aside in the process. In his eyes, that made Yixing even stronger than before, not being controlled by the hatred inside of him. He never bothered to ask him why he hadn’t killed Chanyeol, it didn’t matter. He knew his friend started prioritizing other things, that death and vengeance now only played a miniscule role in his life, and for that he admired him.

You had woken up two weeks after the duel, Yixing sitting by your side as you opened your eyes. You saw tears fall down his cheeks as he pulled you in close, whispering to you how much he missed you and how relieved he was that you were okay. You hugged him back, amazed by all the affection he was showing you and at the same time worried that it would all end soon, like it always did. He never stopped showering you with love, however, he seemed like a changed man. It almost felt as if the past years were all one giant nightmare that you had finally woken up from. All it took was for me to face death for him to change, you thought solemnly as he took you home the day of your release, his hand never leaving yours.

Doubt filled your mind once you returned home and although everyone was happy and relieved to see you were well, you still feared that soon everything would go back to the way things used to be. You dreaded the thought of being isolated once more, of having to rot inside this prison you called home. Most of all, you were terrified of having to see your husband’s eyes grow dark once more, signaling the return of his monster. Sure, you had escaped death, but could you be happy returning to the horror that was your life?

You held Yixing close to you during your first night back home, trying to cast away the bad thoughts as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, stroking your hair while you fell asleep. You expected to wake up the same way you had been for years, alone in your king-sized bed while Yixing negotiated with random partners in his office, having been wide awake long before you. It came as more than a surprise to you when you turned around and came face-to-face with your husband, still lying next to you, his features soft as he flashed you a dimple. He looked like an angel in the dim morning light, oozing perfection even with tousled hair, taking your breath away. “How long have you been staring at me for?” you asked playfully as he pulled you closer to him, so that your bodies were touching each other. “You know I lose track of time when I stare at you, my love,” he said in his low, husky morning voice.

You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming as he started placing kisses around your face and neck, his fingertips dancing across your soft skin. This really isn’t a dream, you said to yourself as you felt the sudden, sharp sensation of your pinch. He took your hand and kissed the place you had just hurt yourself, staring deeply into your eyes. “What would you like to do today, my love? Remember, Minseok told you to take as much time as you needed to recover. And I’m here to fulfill every wish my angel has,” he smiled sweetly, gently playing with your hair. “But what about you? Don’t you have work to do?” you asked, skeptical about this whole ordeal. “Don’t you worry about that. I already have everything taken care of,” he simply stated.

You looked at him confused, this whole thing seemed to good to be true, it was almost as if your husband had been replaced by an imposter. Yixing knew exactly what you were thinking as he rolled you on top of him, placing his hands on either side of your face as he stared intensly at you. “You’re probably thinking ‘who are you and what have you done with my husband?’ am I right?” he asked with a chuckle, your eyes widening in response. “Well... I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you were in a coma. And I’ve changed too, for the better, I hope,” he started to explain. “I had almost lost the most important thing in my life and I don’t ever want that to happen again. I had been so obsessed with the thought of having you that I never once considered losing you. And I was too focussed on my empire and keeping you safe that I hadn’t realized how isolated you must have felt. My love for you was, and still is, so strong but I had never adequately shown you, I was never able to fully devote my love to you.” He stopped to place a long, loving kiss on your lips.

“I let myself be controlled by my demons, but I will never let that happen again,” he continued after parting from your lips. “From now on, you will be my main priority. I’m going to shower you with love and affection and make sure you never feel lonely again. I’m going to give you the happy, carefree life you deserve to live. And I will personally protect you from all the dangers in the world,” he whispered, pulling even closer to him, his lips ghosting yours. “What about the mafia?” you asked, the thought burning in your mind. “I will still be watching over my empire, but I have leaders now, men that I trust will make the right decisions and answer to me if things get out of hand. Something I should have thought about before you had gotten hurt,” he said, his voice filled with remorse as the events of that fateful day replayed in his inner eye.

You felt a single tear of joy escape your eye as you kissed your husband passionately, unable to express your bliss with mere words. You had never thought you would live to see the day when the mafia would play a less important role in his life than you. The two of you parted breathlessly, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes as you both caught your breaths. Yixing was the first to break the silence, “Why don’t we go on a trip? Take our minds off of everything that happened and enjoy some new scenery. We could fall in love all over again... and maybe work on getting a new pair of feet to roam these halls,” your husband suggested, his cheeks growing pink at the last statement.

Your heart started racing at the thought as you turned over onto the bed, pulling Yixing with you so that he was now on top of you. You gently stroked his back as you took in all of his warmth. “I would love to go on a trip with you and fall madly in love with you all over again. It will be like our second honeymoon,” you started, giving him a small peck on the lips. “As for your... other wish,” you felt your cheeks grow red as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. “Well, call me greedy but now that you’ve made me your main priority, I would like to be showered with your love for a while before I have to start sharing it,” you smirked, pressing your hips into his. He growled low in pleasure, giving you a devilish grin as you both stared at each other with lust-filled eyes. “If that’s the case,” he started, his hands running up and down your curves. “I think I should start by sending us both to paradise,” he winked, slipping off both of your sleeping attires.

He started kissing from your neck down to your collarbone, leaving a trail of love bites as you moaned in bliss at the feeling of his soft lips grazing your skin, your fingers intertwined with his. You bit your lip in anticipation of his next move while he gave you eskimo kisses, his eyes filled with nothing but love for you. He moved to kiss the shell of your ear before he whispered something to you. “I may be a changed man, my love,” he started, his hot breath tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “but you can still call me monster in bed.”

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