#and it would explain why Six out of all the kids having dreams dreamt of the Lady and not a place/specific moment in time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lookwhatyoumademedohaha · 10 months

Text

And that kids is, how I met your mother Chapter 5 - Cornelia Street

We were in the backseat Drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar "I rent a place on Cornelia Street" I say casually in the car We were a fresh page on the desk Filling in the blanks as we go As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead Leading us home

And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends I'd never walk Cornelia Street again That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

And baby, I get mystified by how this city screams your name And baby, I'm so terrified of if you ever walk away I'd never walk Cornelia Street again I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

Summary: While you are beginning again in Ravka, Kaz Brekker contemplates and reminisces about how you were the one who quietly made a home in his cold heart and is addicted to the terrible ache in his heart that he feels keenly at your absence in his life.

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x Reader, Nikolai Lantsov x Six of Crows Reader, Kaz Brekker x Reader, Zoya Nazyalensky x Reader (Platonic), Nina Zenik x Reader (Platonic), Genya Safin x Reader (Platonic), Six of Crows x Reader (Platonic).

Warnings: Pure sweet fluff, humor, lots of angst, unrequited love that might be requited, denial, pining, mentions of death and violence, Dregs being legends, Kaz Brekker being an absolute emotionally constipated asshole in denial.

A/N: Hi everyone! I’m very grateful for your kindness, love and support that encourages me to keep going! I apologize for the delay but here is the long awaited Chapter 5 to this work, you have all been waiting for patiently so thank you for your patience and understanding! I’ve written this chapter from Kaz’ POV explaining his feelings and thoughts because I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time and it was a challenge but I finally did it!

I hope you all like it and I’m excited! Let me know your thoughts and comments on my work because I really struggled through writer’s block on this one.

I love you all! Happy reading!

Chapter 1 - Until I Found Her

Chapter 2 - Labyrinth

Chapter 3 - Call it what you want

Chapter 4 - Someone to Stay

Ketterdam was dark and dismal full of hidden secrets and monsters in the shadows. The city was built on blood and secrets and no one knew that better than the man who now ruled it, Kaz Brekker.

As Kaz Brekker strode through the crowded streets of Ketterdam filled with gullible pigeons and hungry monsters, he felt empty and alone. It was a feeling now he knew all too well though he tried to ignore it. The feeling ached and hurt him in places he didn’t know he had for the last few weeks. Kaz felt terrible these days, his mood completely sour and ill - tempered than usual frightening the Dregs, hurting his enemies and concerning his friends. Kaz couldn’t sleep the last few weeks as he tossed and turned restlessly in his empty and cold bed and in the rare moments he sunk into a fitful slumber, he was dreamt of you and woke up with sweat running down his forehead and gasps.

In the moments of sleep, he dreamt of you. The dreams always started the same way... there you were smiling at him as he reached for you, as he pressed a hungry kiss onto your sweet lips devouring you eagerly as both of you indulged in happiness and love that was only yours. But it would all fall down when the thick darkness began to envelope their surroundings and though they tried to escape it, you both would be caught in it, trapped within a dark and deserted place where nothing grew. Kaz remembered feeling your hand brush against his in the darkness. It wouldn’t make sense but suddenly the darkness would thin out slightly and they were both alone in a ship that had been wrecked as a storm poured down on them. In his dream, Kaz and you were trying to find a way out of the ship wreck but out of the blue, a shadowy figure shoots at Kaz but the bullet never reaches Kaz. Kaz wonders why he is unharmed as he realizes that in the cold of the stormy night, you had wrapped yourself around him and taken the bullet for him. Kaz watches you bleed as the life drained away from your eyes and the storm drowns you and he loses you.

He hates this feeling of helplessness and fear he feels when he wakes up and realizes it isn’t real, it was just a nightmare but it hurts more when it hits him that you aren’t around to quiet his fears with the gentleness in your eyes and the touch of your hand.

Since you left Ketterdam, the days dragged on and time seemed to pass by completely slowly infuriating Kaz who was haunted by you and took out his anger on everyone else. Everyone in Ketterdam feared him more than ever, and the Crows were praying for your swift return.

Kaz remembered the first time he had seen you. It was a moment he would never forget.

The cold season was oncoming and the Crows had heard of stories of the number of children increased in Ketterdam who were shivering in the cold, starving and had no shelter. As they made their way to the Slat that provided them warmth as they talked and laughed, Jesper’s eyes had landed on a girl dressed in a shabby and raggedy dress standing on the dirty and wet street with baskets in her arms as she stared at him hungrily.

Jesper was used to people staring at him. Everyone stared at him in admiration, fear, awe and lust and Jesper loved it. But Jesper had never felt anyone stare at him hungrily with a wistful look. It made him feel sad as he met your hungry and starved eyes that stared at him greedily and thought that you were one of those poor beggar children who had nothing to eat and no one to go to. It never occurred to him that you had been staring at him hungrily because you were greedy and starving for the warm and happy life he led with his friends, the laughter and mischievousness that glittered in his kind eyes and that you just wanted to go back to the better days where you had your brother by your side, and everything was just perfect and unspoiled. Jesper only saw your ragged clothes, hungry eyes, skinny figure that shivered in the cold.

And that’s why Jesper thrust his hand into his pocket and took the money he had been meaning to gamble and took off his coat as well as he walked toward you with kindness “Here you go, dear. Take this money and my coat. It’ll keep you warm.”

You had been startled and alarmed as you realized the boy with a warm and sunny disposition you had been staring at had mistaken you for a beggar girl and you realized you looked like one of the shabby and skinny poor children, the ones you had always been generous to back at home. The realization hit you like a hurricane with humiliation as you grew red and then deathly white in embarrassment as you thought of how far you had fallen down from grace.

And that’s why you broke into a laugh because you were close to crying as you exclaimed your heart touched at the boy’s kindness because all your time spent in Ketterdam, kindness had been very rare to you “Oh no! Oh no, thank you! I must refuse!”

The Crows who had been watching the scene unfold, waiting for Jesper patiently looked in intrigue and interest at you. Kaz raised his head to truly look at you because it was your voice that had interested all of them especially him as he took a few steps forward to listen to you. You did not speak in a manner of an ordinary street child but your manners belonged to a girl who was well bred and raised in a good household. A manner of a princess, mused Kaz as he looked at you intently.

But Jesper was not to be moved away as he placed his coat over you and put the money in the palm of your hand with kindness etched on his face “You mustn’t refuse! Don’t worry, I have plenty of coats and trust me, this one will keep you really warm. And you must use this money to buy food. If there’s anything you need from me, just ask for Jesper at the Crow Club.”

You saw something so kind and generous in his face that you knew to refuse would break his heart and you didn’t want to disappoint him. So you tightened the very warm coat around you and gratefully accepted the kruge from Jesper who grinned happily though your pride felt stung and your cheeks burned bitterly. You had known that you looked weary and shabby but until now you didn’t know you looked like a beggar girl.

His grin reminded you so much of your brother and his kindness was such a beautiful thing that you choked on a sob of humiliation and pain, reminiscence and happiness as you flung your arms around him “Thank you! Thank you so much! You are such a kind, sweet and generous darling boy!”

And with those words, you let go of Jesper who smiled happily and you left feeling warm. Kaz’ eyes widened at your response as Jesper skipped back towards them with a happy grin and Kaz reprimanded Jesper “Jesper! Why did you do that? That girl is not a beggar! She didn’t speak like a beggar or look like a beggar!”

“And she didn’t beg. I thought she would be angry with you. Sometimes, it makes people angry to be taken for beggars when they are not.” said Inej who felt sympathetic for you but she agreed with Kaz because there had been something very different about her.

“She wasn’t angry.” replied Jesper dismayed at his friends reactions but firm in what he had done and happy because he had made a difference in your life as he smiled widely “She was very happy. She laughed and hugged me and said I was a kind, sweet and generous darling boy! And I was!”

Kaz and Inej exchanged thoughtful glances as Kaz felt mystified by you and said “An ordinary beggar girl would have never said that. They would have just accepted the money and thanked you quickly or even respectfully bobbed a curtesy.”

From that moment on, Kaz Brekker was profoundly interested in you. Not just Kaz Brekker but the Crows and nearly all of the Dregs. You knew nothing of this new interest in you and never appeared at the Crow Club seeking Jesper Fahey but whenever you passed the Slat in your broken shoes and worn out clothes, your hair tucked with a ribbon, faces would appear at the window to take a good look at you, many discussions concerning you were held and you were nicknamed at the girl who is not a beggar. It was hilarious when the Dregs said it in a hurry.

Inej who had followed you and found information about you, told Kaz and Jesper about you “She is alone in Ketterdam. She doesn’t have anybody - she’s an orphan. She’s kind of a servant at the Van Eck mansion. She runs errands, carries parcels and does anything they tell her to.”

Inej’s anger was evident as she spoke fiercely, her hands clenched “They work her to the bone - sending her on long and tiresome errands without any proper clothing. And they punish her, hit her and deprive her of food and starve her and she doesn’t even have a proper place to sleep.”

Jesper looked like he was one second away from marching to the Van Eck mansion and getting you out of there but Inej wasn’t done as she continued “But she’s really strong. She’s friends with a crow that comes to her window and a rat in her room that she tamed.”

Jesper started laughing in amusement and wonder as his eyes gleamed in fondness “Oh! She’s odd that one but I believe I am beginning to like her!”

Kaz hid the little smile that threatened to burst at the thought of you taming and being friends with animals as he listened to Inej “And as for people who are nice to her... the Van Eck boy and her are friends. He’s the only one who is nice to her in that house.”

“What? You mean, Van Eck’s son is friends with the girl who isn’t a beggar?” asked Jesper in interest and intrigue as he snorted in amusement while Kaz sat up in interest “What? Does his daddy know?”

“No. The visits are secret and very rare. The Van Eck boy comes to her room at night whenever it’s safe, with food and books. And she reads to him and tells him stories and they talk and pretend that the attic she lives in is somewhere nicer. But she’s not a beggar.”

Kaz listened to this in rapt attention as he thought of you braving your unbearable life with a vivid imagination and determination. Perhaps that’s when Kaz had begun to like her unbeknownst to him.

The next time Kaz saw you was when he was on his way to the Slat after a negotiation and he spotted your dark mane of hair tied with a narrow ribbon as you slipped through the crowd and something in him ignited fiercely as he followed you quietly in interest. This day was a wretched one. His leg ached bitterly but he followed you nevertheless as he observed you were dressed in a dark blue dress that had grown shabbier and worn out, your shoes were downtrodden and wet with water that filled it, the coat around your shoulders was Jesper’s, your face pinched and starved and cold with blue and your heavy thick mane of dark hair was tied in a narrow ribbon.

That day was wretchedly freezing and dreary, the street wet and sloppy and Kaz observed how the wind tried to drag the coat Jesper had given you as you waded through the mud, the water filling your broken shoes. Although Kaz knew of your position in the Van Eck household, he truly did not know the extent to which the ill tempered and depressed staff treated you as a slave driving you on errands on the worst days. Kaz didn’t know that today of all days, you were trying to keep away the thoughts of your ravenous hunger by thinking of more pleasant and lovelier thoughts of being in dry and beautiful clothes, eating the most delicious food in the company of those whom you loved the best. He did not know for you, your imagination and making up stories and pretending was your way of coping and being strong in the hell of this city.

Kaz observed you stop at a bakery as you stared hungrily at the pastries, buns and cakes on display when your attention seemed to shift to a little beggar boy with untamable wild curly hair, a pale face with big hungry eyes and dirty clothes as he wrapped himself with rags to keep warm from the freezing cold. The boy was younger than Kaz himself and Kaz observed you talk softly and kindly to the boy for a few moments, your lips nearly blue from the cold. Kaz waited in the shadows as he saw you finish the conversation with the little hungry boy and look at him with an odd look in your eyes.

Kaz watched keenly as you entered the bakery where you were greeted by a friendly and kind boy with unruly brown hair and watched you point for three waffles. The nice and warm ones that had just been made. Kaz quietly watched the baker boy throw in five waffles in the bag for you and you seemed to point his mistake to Kaz’ surprise. Kaz wondered why you wouldn’t just take it and leave when you were so hungry. But the baker boy just smiled kindly and gave the bag to you as you stumbled out of the bakery and look at the little boy who seemed to be crying in suffering and starvation.

Kaz urged you to leave. You had what you wanted, there was no time for you to think about others.

But to his great shock, you knelt down before the boy as you gently smiled at him and handed him one waffle. The boy looked at you in amazement as if you had performed a miracle and began to eat it up wildly as if he was afraid that the waffle would vanish any time if he didn’t devour it up soon. Kaz was frozen in shock as he watched you place the rest of the waffles in the little beggar boy’s hands as you said something kind to the boy and ruffled his hair. The savage beggar boy was too hungry to give thanks as you left him to eat knowing that he was starving and the beggar boy looked up to see the vanishing figure of you at the end of the street.

Kaz didn’t know why but he knew that you could have eaten up all five waffles without hesitation. He had seen it in your eyes. And yet, you had sacrificed it for this poor child you barely knew. As he reflected on his thoughts, curiosity got the better of him as he strode toward the boy.

“Who gave you those waffles?”

The boy nodded toward your vanishing figure and Kaz queried curiously “What did she say to you?”

The boy looked at Kaz distrustfully but answered “Asked me if I was ‘ungry.”

“What did you say?”

“Said I had nothin to eat.”

“And then she bought the waffles and gave it to you?”

The boy nodded and although Kaz knew the answer, he had to hear it from the boy’s mouth “How many?”

“Five.”

Something in Kaz’ seemed to ignite at the answer. He had seen it was five but he couldn’t quite believe that the girl would be so stupid, self - sacrificing and kind to give the food she could have sustained herself with to a complete stranger who she didn’t know. It was absolutely an act of stupidity to Kaz and yet it moved and touched Kaz in a way it had not before. Ketterdam was a city known for cruelty and exploitation with darkness of the hearts spreading through it like a disease but this girl had proven that her heart was a ray of sunshine, the kindness and goodness in her soul was still not snatched by this city even though she faced the worst trials of adversity.

Kaz felt himself transported to his childhood where Jordie and him were completely poor and hungry. How different would their lives have been if there had been someone like her, someone who had been willing to share and listen to their woes and someone who had been completely good and kind to them without expectations and conditions.

Kaz thought of your hungry eyes and cold figure. He knew you had wanted those waffles. He knew that you could have eaten all of those waffles and even more but instead you chose to give it to a little boy who was hungrier and colder than you were.

Perhaps your act of goodness stirred something in his cold heart because Kaz inquired “Are you still hungry?”

“I’m always ‘ungry. But it ain’t half that bad now.”

Kaz was inspired by your little act of goodness that was enormous in his eyes as the next few words slipped his mouth “Go to the Crow Club and tell them Kaz Brekker sent you to be looked after by Inej Ghafa. She’ll help you get yourself warm and give you something to eat.”

The little urchin got up and obeyed because he didn’t care what was happening or what happened next as long as he was given a place where warmth and food was supplied. As Kaz looked at the little urchin leaving, he realized that he had done this for your sake and he decided to follow you because now he had started to see you, he couldn’t stop.

Kaz found himself at the Van Eck household where he saw you entering it with baskets and parcels in your hands, completely exhausted.

Kaz hid among the bushes having a good vantage point to see everything going on as he saw Van Eck accompanied by his son, both of them dressed in warm clothing as they sat at a table full of warm food with books scattered on it as Van Eck who was in a foul temper scolded the quiet son.

When you entered the garden, you ran into Van Eck who was already in a savage temper as he snapped “Where were you? You have been wasting time, lingering out and about for hours.”

Kaz noticed how tired you looked but you still managed to reply faintly and politely “It was wet and muddy. It was hard to walk because my shoes were so bad and slippery.”

“Do not lie. You shall go without dinner tonight.” stated Van Eck savagely while his son turned quite pale.

“I have had nothing to eat since this week.” Kaz heard you reply in a faint and low voice and felt himself tremble in savage anger.

“Then all the better! You shall have no breakfast, lunch or dinner tomorrow either! That will teach you how to behave like a proper servant!”

Kaz was certain you were trembling in hunger and cold as you grew pale and on the verge of breaking down when the son spoke up softly yet boldly “Father, please! She’s just a girl. You cannot starve -”

Van Eck slapped his son so hard that the boy nearly stumbled back and you gasped in horror and fear while Kaz watched in curiosity “You will speak when you are spoken to! Have you no pride? She is not a girl, she is a servant and she will be treated as so! Truly, Wylan, you disappoint me with that soft heart of yours. Go to your room and think about yourself. Have you never thought of what I think of you and try to become someone that I can be proud of?”

Wylan’s eyes were misty but it was your face that caught Van Eck’s attention. It had caught Kaz’ attention too for your face was serious and solemn, quiet and sad as you fixed your eyes on Van Eck who glared at you fiercely.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kaz’ eyes were on you as you stood steadfast and fearless in front of Van Eck as you answered quietly “I was thinking.”

By the expression on Van Eck’s face, Kaz realized that he had dealt with situations like this with you before as he demanded “Thinking of what? Beg my pardon for thinking.”

“I shall not beg your pardon for thinking.” you replied honestly as Kaz’ looked at you, your expression serious and sad as you replied quietly “I was thinking of what my father would think and do if he knew where I was today.”

Kaz’ saw Van Eck go red and then a dangerous purple as he flew at you and shook you violently, slapping your cheek and boxing your ears as you gasped in pain from the endless blows you received as Van Eck ignored Wylan’s protests as he snapped “You insolent child! How dare you be so impolite to your employer!”

There was a fire of fury that ignited in Kaz as he watched you take the blows in agony and pain as you hid back your tears. When Van Eck was finished with you, your cheeks were red and smarting and there was a slight wound from the blows you received but Kaz’ felt curious and awed as he saw your eyes were bright as stars as you let out a little amused laugh that shocked Van Eck who saw that you were not frightened by him.

Kaz felt curiosity stir as he watched you in amazement as you laughed and then bobbed a mocking curtesy “Excuse me for laughing if it is impolite but I cannot help it when there is a clown in front of me.”

Kaz couldn’t help but grin at her daring sassiness as she ran away leaving Van Eck struggling with his rage and Wylan hiding a small smile as his eyes lingered on her vanishing figure.

That day, as Kaz sat in his office in the Slat, he thought of your tight and pinched face, your starved and hungry eyes that held determination and thoughtfulness in them and your quiet polite manners and daring bravery. Kaz was fascinated by you from the moment he had seen you. You reminded him of a girl in his childhood. You were vastly different from this girl but yet there was something about you that reminded him of the girl back in his village Lij.

Everyone called her the Little Empress. She was the daughter of a rich and respected man who was a businessman in Ketterdam. Her father kept her in the grand mansion and there were many stories and rumors about her and her dangerous father that Jordie used to tell Kaz to pass the time because Kaz was fascinated by the fairytale life they lived. Kaz remembers the times he did catch rare glimpses of her and believed that the name Little Empress fitted her.

Kaz had seen her traveling in a carriage with her father as she held onto his arm. Kaz had seen her hand in hand with her father, surrounded by elegant governesses and intimidating men and women as they walked through the village commanding respect. Kaz’ eyes widened in awe and wonder every time he glimpsed her, for she looked very pretty and beautiful in her velvet dresses trimmed with furs, lace and satin dresses with puffed sleeves, lovely hats, ermine coats and muffs and tiny gloves that fitted her little hands, handkerchiefs and silk stockings that Kaz heard the villagers whisper that the little girl had a wardrobe that was much too grand for a child of seven. Kaz had learned the father was a gangster from his father but fond of his little girl and wanted his child to have everything he admired and everything he admired himself. Jordie murmured that though she had everything, the little girl was not spoiled because once Jordie had bumped into her on an errand and when she had seen Jordie cold and shivering, she had offered her silk scarf and her cloak and insisted on buying him a hot meal and food for his family as well. Kaz had never spoken to the Little Empress but all he knew of her is that she lived grandly with a gangster father who spoiled her, governesses who taught her everything she needed to know and people who protected her.

Though Kaz barely remembers much of his life in his village, one of the memories he does remember is meeting the gangster, the father of the Little Empress who visited their farm to buy a horse for his daughter. Kaz’ father knew the gangster through casual acquaintance for both men had fondness and affection for horses and greeted the gangster excited about finding a horse for his daughter. They both walked around as Kaz’ father talked about the special qualities of each horse but the gangster was waiting for the right horse.

Kaz and Jordie left their village after their father’s death and a week after that, they heard that the gangster’s house was burned to ashes with everyone in it and there was no possibility of any survivors. Kaz had thought of the Little Empress burning in the fire and had felt a pit of sadness grow at the thought of the gangster and the pretty Little Empress dying in the fire. Their faces were now blurry to him but he still remembered the excitement and amazement he felt every time he caught a glimpse of her.

You were not like the Little Empress at all. You were dirty, shabby, poor and worn out. But there was something in your manner that reminded him of the Little Empress. Something bold and kind, smart and resilient that impressed Kaz who was lost in thoughts of you.

Kaz kept an eye out for you but after a while, you stopped passing by the Slat and Crow Club with parcels and baskets in your arms. Kaz waited for you to pass by the Slat and Crow Club but as days went by, your presence did not grace them and the Dregs felt worried about the girl who was not a beggar. Kaz hid all the worry as he sent Inej to look out for you but you had disappeared from Ketterdam. Kaz felt something in him sink in dark pain when Inej bought back the news that she couldn’t find you anywhere as he realized that you had not survived the cruelty and mercilessness of Ketterdam. After your disappearance, the Van Eck boy mysteriously disappeared as well. Though Kaz, Inej and Jesper searched valiantly for you, their efforts were in vain because you were nowhere to be found and no one knew of where you were.

After many months after your disappearance, Kaz Brekker who was working on a heist regarding taking down one of the prominent gangs that abducted young children heard stories and rumors of an infamous spy and an intelligent detective who could find anyone no matter how far they ran and how hard they tried to hide away from the rest of the world. This spy was a shadow, an enigma and a mystery that had no name but many people in Ketterdam owed their lives to this spy because this spy would take any job given to them and do it successfully with style. This was a unique spy different from the ones who dominated Ketterdam. This spy took on cases of murder, missing children, abusive households, exposing corruption and helped people with their skillset. The stories and rumors boasted of a spy who was dangerous, uncatchable, intelligent and always one step ahead of those who thought they had the spy in a trap.

Kaz searched for this ruthless and smart spy endlessly because it was rumored they were working on the same case as him and secondly their skillset could be valuable to him. Finally, you got into a fight with one of the Dregs leaving him seriously injured. Kaz who had seen the injuries on his Dreg decided to find you once and for all as he send Inej, Jesper and Nina to inquire and found out that you occasionally hung out at a particular pub where people knew your identity but protected you. He learned that you went by name Pandora Silvertongue in the profession.

Kaz remembered stepping into the bar that belonged to the boy with unruly hair that had been kind to you that day. The boy had now upgraded his bar to a dining and drinking pub where the patrons were drinking and eating, laughing and singing like strangled cats while the boy smiled as he poured them more drinks.

When the boy with unruly hair saw Kaz, Inej and Jesper enter, his eyes widened in recognition and fear and Kaz announced in a steely voice that was not to be challenged “Is there anyone named Pandora Silvertongue?”

Everyone was quiet in fear and fright as no one dared to breath and Jesper took one of his revolvers and shot it to the air startling the patrons who screamed in fear as Kaz announced once again with authority “I said is there anyone named Pandora Silvertongue?”

The private room of the bar opened up as a girl with a spring in her step, color in her cheeks stepped out calmly as her eyes glinted with understanding and fearlessness. Kaz’, Inej’ and Jesper’s eyes widened in shock and amazement as they recognized you, the girl who was not a beggar who they had thought disappeared from Ketterdam but here you were alive and well.

Kaz could feel his breath quicken as his eyes never left you who was dressed in a fine dark blue dress as you looked at the Crows and then at the bartender with authority that you commanded naturally “Steve, get them a drink. Everyone else go home.”

Everyone obeyed your command as they immediately stumbled out of the bar. You seated yourself at a table carelessly and elegantly without extending an invitation to the Crows to join you because you showed no signs of fearing them while Steve poured fine whisky for all of them as you had ordered.

When Steve finished pouring the drinks, you looked at the bartender with a quiet gleam in your eyes “You go home.”

“But -”

“I said go home.” you said in a calm and quiet voice but everyone understood you shouldn’t be challenged as Steve cast a good protective and concerned look at you and scuttled to the back.

You lit a cigarette airily and carelessly as you looked at Kaz Brekker as if he was nothing special who was still recovering from his shock and Jesper broke the silence with a grin “The girl who is not a beggar! It’s you! We were so worried about you! We thought you had died - or disappeared but you look so awesome!”

You smiled slightly but before you could reply, Kaz spoke sharply in a hard tone “So I suppose you are the infamous Pandora Silvertongue because you are looking up and down at me like you aren’t afraid of me.”

You merely smiled as you replied calmly and quietly taking a puff of your cigarette “I want to know what you want, Mr. Brekker.”

But before Kaz could say anything, Jesper jumped in “We’re so glad you are alright. We were worried about you, you know? I mean, we used to make up stories and theories about who you were. You probably don’t remember me -”

“Jesper Fahey from the Crow Club.” you said with a genuine smile as you nodded at him “I never forget anyone who has been kind to me. Thank you for being warm and kind on one of the many dark days I had.”

“Oh... it was nothing.”

“No, it was something. It was something extraordinary.” you replied with a genuinely warm and grateful smile as Jesper felt appreciated and happy.

“I want to know what you want, Mr. Brekker.” you replied calmly and quietly as you took a puff of your cigarette. “What are you doing here?”

“Your name is Pandora Silvertongue. In the past few months, you have earned a reputation for being a dangerous spy and an intelligent detective who no one can hide anything from. You also tutor Ketterdam students. You’ve made yourself more enemies than friends. You’re in danger.” informed Kaz calmly with a deadpanned expression as he gazed at you skeptically and perceptively.

“You’ve done your research but you are still not answering my question.” you replied in amusement as you dabbed your cigarette into the ashtray

Kaz saw you raise your eyebrows at him and intrigue spark in your eyes as he began “A few weeks ago, someone started to capture Dregs. Not just any Dregs, female Dregs were targeted, lured into isolated areas, tortured and killed. Their eyes were gouged and hearts were ripped out and after three murders, a note was left at the fourth murder.”

You listened to Kaz who handed you the information on the murders as you looked through the papers “This is all the information we have on the killer. We’ve tried to follow and keep tabs on each Dreg but there is little progress. We need to know who the killer is so we can take him down.”

“I need to examine the bodies of the victims and visit the location of each murder to determine the behavioral patterns of the victims and murderers, preferably with one of you so I can role play and get inside their minds.” you replied thoughtfully as you flipped through each page quickly while Kaz nodded “Was the murder weapon left at the scene?”

“No. Who would be stupid enough to do that?” laughed Jesper rolling his eyes at you.

“Killers who enjoy the thrill of the chase. To them, killing isn’t just a crime, it’s an emotional release and enjoyment.” you replied as you ran your hand through your hair, your face full of concentration and focus making you oddly attractive to Kaz “Was anything taken away from the victims when they were found?”

“Their weapons.” answered Kaz curtly

“Well, I’ll look into everything about these girls. From their family backgrounds, traumas, how they were recruited, special skills, who they were close to and their daily routines. I also look into their autopsy reports.” you stated firmly as you closed the file and looked at an unreadable Kaz, a hopeful Inej and amazed Jesper who listened attentively to you and you were silent for a few moments as you read the note “But I can tell you this about the killer from the note.”

Kaz leaned slightly forward in interest as he waited in anticipation “Did you ever wonder why there was a note left on the fourth murder? It’s because the first three killings didn’t get the attention he wanted it to. So, to get the glory and revel in it, the killer left the note. What he doesn’t know is... he also left clues as to how to find him.”

Kaz raised his eyebrows because he couldn’t quite believe you had found clues regarding the killer so soon but he nodded at you to continue.

“From what you told me about the killer, he is not confident enough to initiate social contact so he lures them into isolation. Look at the letters, the style of writing - not confident enough but charming enough to be trustworthy. Emotional indicators are analyzed through slants. The writer’s handwriting shows signs of emotional repression and violence. And the pressure if you look closely is excessively heavy which shows that he is uptight hiding trauma and can easily overreact with excessive violence.” you stated in one breath as you gestured to the handwriting in the letter while Kaz looked at you in hidden wonder and admiration, impressed by your intelligence.

Jesper was the first one to find his tongue “You got all that from his handwriting?”

“Handwriting is an indicator of personality and behavior. It symbolizes your emotions at the given time just like your facial expressions parallel the way you are feeling and speaking.” you replied smartly while Kaz processed this new information “But the interesting thing about this note is - it’s a line from a Kaelish poem. It says ‘Mirror mirror on the wall, tell no more lies about who you are.’”

Inej looked at Kaz and Jesper and then at you thoughtfully as she offered “So then, we are looking for someone Kaelish, well versed in literature, educated, narcistic and organized?”

You looked at Kaz confidently and smartly, with a grim glint in your eyes “I would cut off Kaelish. This person wants you to narrow it down to Kaelish people. Right now, you are looking for someone who knows the language of Kaelish, who is well - versed in literature, violent when provoked, smart and organized and charming and trustworthy and someone who needs to be in control. This was a person all these three girls knew and trusted... and maybe, it’s someone you know too. Someone who knows the procedures of the Dregs and how things work in there. This was someone who stalked each girl, observed the times she did everything, places she went to, people she talked to and organized the crime accordingly.”

“So we cannot eliminate the possibility that it might be one of the Dregs.” replied Kaz calmly as he thought of the possible suspects and the people who the three girls had in common.

“No. In fact, I believe you might have even met the killer, perhaps offering condolences for the deaths of the girls or trying to help in any way they can to find them. Keep a sharp eye and trust no one.” you replied sharply and grimly and then after a long moment of silence, your lips curved into a smile “How do you feel about the violin?”

Kaz, Jesper and Inej exchanged surprised glances because that was the last question they expected “What?”

“Well, I play the violin when I’m thinking. Will that be a problem? I also need a large space to pace about, I’m a coffee addict and I don’t talk for days on end and sometimes I talk to myself because I’m the only one in the room who makes sense. Will that bother you? Potential colleagues should know the worst about each other.” you stated easily and calmly with a charming and sweet smile as you finished the last of your whisky.

Jesper and Inej exchanged amused glances at how Kaz looked surprised at you taking charge and twisting the conversation to surprise him as he replied “Colleagues? Who said anything about becoming a Dreg?”

“I did. Told Nina Zenik day before yesterday over waffles that I must be a difficult and dangerous woman to work with because Pekka Rollins’ has his eye on me because I just took down one of the slavers. Now here her employer is... Kaz Brekker, the Lieutenant of the Dregs, the owner of the Crow Club, clearly wanting to get to me before Rollins does by testing me to see if I am worthy of his time and investment and lives up to Zenik’s word.” you said casually and nonchalantly as if the answer had been simple enough for anyone to understand and Kaz wondered if you had set this up on purpose as he watched you stand up and put your coat on “It isn’t really a difficult conclusion.”

Jesper grinned “I really like her.”

Inej grinned wider as she nodded “Yeah, I really like her too.”

“I’ll be in contact. I need to establish my investigation so I’ll be moving in as a bar girl and Brekker’s secretary tomorrow. That way, I can discreetly find out about what happened to the girls and who they associated with and perhaps even lure out the killer.” you replied briskly in a composed and matter - of - fact voice that Kaz did not like because he was the boss as you moved across the room swiftly “I don’t need a room, I have my own place so I won’t be around for that. I’ll meet you in the evening around at five to go check the victims and locations. Sorry, got to dash... have important things to do.”

Kaz was surprised at the nonchalance and fearlessness you held toward him and the way you treated him as your equal as he called out “Is that it?”

“Is that what?” you inquired politely as you stopped mid - step to look at Kaz in curiosity.

“Well, we just met and now you are part of the Dregs without my permission?” replied Kaz smartly in a deadly and dangerous voice as he looked at you coldly while Inej and Jesper exchanged amused looks because Kaz seemed to have met his match.

You didn’t seem fazed at all, in fact you seemed surprised and amused “Problem?”

“We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where we are meeting this evening and I suspect Pandora Silvertongue isn’t your real name.” replied Kaz smoothly and smartly as he raised his eyebrows at her with a smirk because he had to admit she had the nerve and daring combined with her intelligence and curiosity which felt oddly attractive to Kaz.

“I know you are the Lieutenant of the Dregs, Kaz Brekker. I know you sent the Wraith to follow me yesterday. I know that Per Haskell is a puppet and you are the puppet master who one day hopes to be the leader of the Dregs but is waiting for the opportune moment. I know that you are an orphaned farm boy who was raised outside of Ketterdam in a village judging by the hint of the rural accent that is audible under your Kerch. I know you came to Ketterdam with someone you loved dearly - the last of your family members - perhaps an older sibling. Since you are standing here alone, I know that your older sibling must have died in the firepox plague that overwhelmed Ketterdam but somehow you managed to survive and climb up the ladder in the streets, developing an aversion to touch, trust issues, avoidance of friendships, hyper vigilance, protectiveness toward Jesper who possibly reminds of your sibling by the way you look at him and reprimand him and hunger for revenge. You think the world is out to get you and you are distrustful of every single person you come into contact with because you were let down by someone you cared about. You like to think you are detached from weakness but you do care... and the reason I know that is you permanently marked yourself with that tattoo on your wrist... R... it stands for something personal... perhaps a name of someone you care about with love or hate... a reminder to you. I know that you like to pretend you are different from the rest of the criminals in the Barrel by dressing up in black like a mercher and distinguishing yourself away from them but the gloves - they hide something - perhaps your touch aversion? I know your limp is psychosomatic. And just one mention of Pekka Rollins, your face is filled with hatred but you are not competing with him for power - no, your eyes are filled with revenge. It’s personal and you intend to be the last man standing.”

Kaz’ eyes widened as you began your explanation and analysis of him and he felt completely exposed and slightly frightened when you deducted and observed his weaknesses and shames that the world did not see because he hid it so well from them. Kaz couldn’t breath as he listened to you cleverly and calmly rattle out facts about him that no one else knew but seemed completely transparent and obvious to you and when you finished, Kaz’ knees were slightly wobbly and his grip on his cane was tight as he looked at you with something akin to fear and reverence in his heart.

Inej and Jesper exchanged slightly anxious looks as they looked at Kaz who had gone completely pale and you grinned and winked at the three of them “That’s enough to be going on, don’t you think? The name’s Pandora Silvertongue until you’ve earned my real name and meet me in front of the Church of Ghezen!”

Kaz had been shaken to the core and had wondered how you knew about these personal things. The next time he had met you to help you with your investigate, he had been completely cold and threatening as he demanded how you found out his secrets but you simply explained your observations that had led you to conclude your deductions about him. Those observations were sharp and clever, things that the rest of the world were stupid enough to ignore and it had shocked Kaz you were clever and sharp enough to pick up on those little things.

Though Kaz hadn’t liked how you had first approached him, he understood your value as a person and a member of the Dregs immediately. He knew that he could not let you go because there were a dozen more powerful and cruel men who were willing to get their hands on you and use you unkindly to their advantage. Kaz had enough information on the city to know that Pekka Rollins had a keen eye on your talents and wanted you all to himself. And Kaz was not going to let a dangerous and talented girl like you be Pekka’s property.

“That’s enough to be going on, don’t you think? The name’s Pandora Silvertongue until you've earned my real name and meet me in front of the Church of Ghezen!”

You worked undercover as a bargirl and Kaz’ secretary for two weeks in the Crow Club and the Slat. Kaz noticed that you wasted no time in charming everyone and making friends with people who warmed up to you and opened their hearts, confiding their deepest and darkest secrets to you. You were an efficient and effective hard worker who never gave anyone reason to doubt that you were a spy as you observed and worked on the case. There were times you would drive Kaz crazy with your endless playing of the violin at midnight when you needed to think, your coffee addiction that was worse than his and you muttering under your breath, spouting completely random but interesting facts that surprised everyone out of nowhere and sometimes completely zoning out lost in thought ignoring his presence. Kaz found it truly annoying and exasperating but Inej, Nina and Jesper who were slightly patient with you found it amusing that Kaz had found someone worse than him.

Through his time with you, Kaz couldn’t believe you were real. Whenever you presented developments in the investigation, there were somethings such an elegant intelligence and raw thought that he had never seen in anyone else. He always would be surprised by your findings because you would up with observations that no one else would think of and was surprisingly accurate. Kaz never showed it but he was in awe of your intelligence and wondered where you had trained your mind to be like this and learned all these things.

You had found the killer soon enough and suspected that Anika would be the next target. What you hadn’t expected the killer to do was twist his plan and take Inej hostage. Kaz and Jesper had set out to find the killer with the Dregs with your help and you were ordered to stay out of the line of fighting. But the killer had been too smart for Kaz and Jesper planning own traps for them forcing them to watch when he tried to torture Inej under the impression that Inej was Pandora Silvertongue.

Jesper was full on panicking “PLEASE! LET HER GO! SHE’S NOT PANDORA SILVERTONGUE!”

The killer laughed as he looked at Jesper who was trying to break free “I don’t believe you.”

“You should you know. Pandora Silvertongue is nothing like her.” came a cocky and confident voice out of the dark shadows alarming everyone and getting the attention of the killer.

Inej let out a gasp, Jesper looked around in amazement and shock at your voice that had echoed out of the darkness and Kaz swore his heart jumped out of his chest in alarm and relief with overwhelming emotion that he could not describe.

“How would you describe her, Mr. Brekker? Beautiful? Intelligent? Resourceful?” your voice asked from the distinct darkness as Kaz had tried to look around trying to search where you possibly might be hiding.

Kaz had muttered “Disobedient.”

The killer who was one of the new Dregs grinned maniacally “Then you know what I want, don’t you, Silvertongue?”

You had answered as you had taken down one man through the darkness “I believe I do.”

The killer was maniacal at this point as he called out for you as he flashed his knife with a grin when you had appeared out of nowhere and hit the killer with a large brick on his head making the killer fall onto the floor in an unconscious heap as you had rolled your eyes at the killer “Moron.”

You had saved Inej, Jesper and Kaz in time much to their relief. Kaz had seen enough proof that you were worthy of being in the Dregs and offered you a position of the spy in part of the Dregs. You had accepted and from then on, the Crow Club and the Slat had become your home. You had become a loyal ally, a talented spy who was excellent at your job and a close friend to Kaz. Soon Kaz trusted you with the most important missions that you completed brilliantly, valued you as an important part of the Crows and began to see you as a close friend who he liked.

Kaz prided himself on being someone who had a control over his emotions. After all, he was the most feared man in Ketterdam and his stoic and cold nature required a certain level of control. But when Kaz was with you, he felt something warm flood within him whenever you smiled at him reassuringly and teasingly, he found himself becoming a boy who craved to feel the flutter of his heart whenever you laughed at his dark and dry sense of humor, the reassurance he felt when you stayed up late with him planning heists and cleaning messes after parties. He found his eyes searching for you in the crowded Crow Club and lingering on you for a moment too long as he gazed at your charming and charismatic demeanor that enchanted him. He found your company enjoyable as both of you walked the streets of Ketterdam from the harbor to the marketplace to the Slat and you chatted enthusiastically about anything on your mind as he found himself listening in fondness as he memorized the expressions of your face. He looked forward to the nights where both of you would sit on the roof together gazing at the view of Ketterdam and looking up at the stars as you both shared bottles of whisky and laughed and confided your insecurities, wildest dreams, deepest secrets and untold thoughts to each other as he felt a connection of understanding and trust he had never felt with anyone else.

Kaz remembered when one day Jesper had dragged him to one of his games where they had to disguise themselves and fool as many Dregs as possible. Kaz and you had been friendly competitive rivals as Kaz promised to beat you in the game. But he had been destroyed when he had only managed to fool two Dregs and you had managed to fool around ten Dregs with your disguise and cover story.

Kaz walked toward you who was drinking as he scowled “I blew it. I only got through two Dregs.”

“Woah! I got to ten.” you had replied with a playful and sympathetic grin as you looked at him.

“I can’t believe I lost this stupid game! I was so excited for this. What happened?” exclaimed Kaz as he sat next to you wearing a scowl as he looked completely frustrated.

“Well, maybe you being excited is what happened. Like every time we’re planning heists, you’re always super intelligent, you take your time, you stay calm and examine every possibility. But every time we do dumb games like this, you get excited and act like a crazy idiot. My advice... don’t act like a crazy idiot.” you replied with an insightful and thoughtful smile as you looked at Kaz with a soft glimmer in your eyes.

Kaz was surprised at your answer that made him think because it made sense at how perceptive and true it was “Thanks. That was surprisingly wise.”

“Yeah well, motherhood really opens a woman’s eyes. I finally feel as if I’m finally part of something bigger than myself.” you had dramatically said as you touched your fake pregnant belly that was part of your disguise in the game while Kaz rolled his eyes at you and slapped the fake belly in exasperation.

You placed a protective hand on your fake belly as you gasped dramatically “Hey don’t you dare touch Kazper Jr! That’s right! It’s your baby!”

Kaz had to stop himself from laughing outright as he played along “Are you saying I knocked you up?”

“You sure did!”

Kaz liked it when you were with him. With the rest of the world, he knew you were a gold rush. Everybody wanted to have a taste of you and wanted to know what it would be like to love you. Kaz couldn’t keep his eyes off you because you were an inviting temptation as you flirted and talked with the people with such charismatic and charming sweetness that he felt a flicker of twisted jealousy that crushed him. But when you were with Kaz, though you still teased him with that charming twinkle in your eyes, you displayed a soft sense of vulnerability you never showed to the rest of the world. There was a softness and sweet sincerity in you that you gave Kaz that you never showed the rest of the world and before he could stop himself, Kaz had opened himself and showed his deepest and darkest parts baring himself vulnerable and you had accepted and loved him unconditionally.

Kaz knew he felt something special for you, something that he never felt for anyone else and something that he couldn’t afford to feel for you in this world. In this world, sentiment was the greatest weakness and it would be used against him by the countless number of enemies who he had made on his way to greatness. So he tried to keep a distance from you as much as he could but there were times he was just drawn to you and he couldn’t stop himself from indulging in your company and worrying about you.

Before the Ice Court, Kaz had promised Nina that he’d keep an eye on Matthias. So as he searched for Dregs who could infiltrate Hellgate, befriend Matthias and protect him, you had volunteered eagerly. But Kaz had turned down your suggestion feeling something akin to terror of losing you to the darkness and cruelty of Hellgate but when he realized that there was no one else he could truly trust and that you were not backing down from this assignment, he had reluctantly sent you into Hellgate to spy on Matthias. Your absence had been absolutely maddening as the Slat felt cold and empty without you and he worried about your wellbeing in Hellgate. When the chance to break into the Ice Court had arrived, he had seized the opportunity to break you out along with Matthias.

Kaz remembered when he had reunited with you after your year in Hellgate. You looked completely different, grown up as if you had lived through darkness and survived to tell the tale. But the kind twinkle in your pained eyes was still there as Kaz finally caught up with you and found himself smiling genuinely in relief as he had said “Can I get a free woman a drink?”

The grin you had given him reassured his heavy heart that despite the pain you had endured, you were still completely in sync with him as you said the words he had wanted to say “I missed you, Kaz Brekker.”

You had been by his side through the Ice Court Heist and watched him take down Pekka Rollins as he enjoyed his vengeance on the man who had destroyed his life.

Kaz remembered the aftermath of celebrations when they had overthrown Pekka Rollins and taken Ketterdam to themselves. He had stood with bruises that didn’t seem to hurt but felt victorious and triumphant as he heard Nina, Inej, Wylan, Matthias and you celebrate with Jesper who announced loudly to the Dregs.

“Alright everyone! Pekka Rollins is history, we are absolute legends and we can finally walk freely around Ketterdam!” exclaimed Jesper in an absolutely celebratory mood, feeling blissful as he looked at the Crows who were grinning madly “Who wants waffles?”

You had grinned at Jesper’s infectious mood but had approached Kaz who was staring out of the window at the view of Ketterdam as you looked at Kaz “Hey, you alright? You did it. You finally got your vengeance on Pekka Rollins.

Kaz’ lips twitched into a small smile as relief and victory blossomed in his chest at his accomplishment and looked at you curiously because he knew if you didn’t have such faith and optimism, he couldn’t have done it “How do you do it Y/N? Keep hoping. Hope is dangerous and it clouds your judgement. And yet after everything you’ve gone through, after everything that happened, everything I did... how did you still manage to hope that it could all work out?”

You smiled gently as your eyes gleamed knowingly and sincerely as you looked at him softly “Because of you. You don’t realize it, Kaz... but you’re actually the most hopeful person I’ve ever met.”

Kaz’ eyes widened as his breath hitched at her unexpected words that he was completely taken aback by as he stared at you in disbelief and surprise seeing only the truth and kindness etched on your face as you said honestly “From the day you crawled out of that harbor having lost everything you ever loved, everyone assumed your place in the world was in the bottom as the weak and lonely, a boy who was defined by loss. But you wished for more. You dared to dream and hope as you worked to climb your way up and gain the power. You dared to hope to succeed in the craziest heists and became someone who everyone feared. You dared to hope to bring down the man who was responsible for your brother’s death.”

Kaz felt breathless at how you saw him and you smiled at him brightly “Now it’s all over. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

Kaz’ lips curled into a soft smile as he looked at you hopefully “I guess in the end, there really is no end. Just new beginnings.”

You had tended to his injuries patiently with tenderness and kindness he did not deserve. You had saved his life countless times from taking your first gunshot that was meant for him and committing your first murder as you killed a man in cold blood to protect him.

You had stood by his side through every questionable decision and defended him when you disagreed with him. You had been loyal to him even when he had pushed you away and lashed out at you in a cruel manner. You weren’t afraid to pushing and telling him when he was wrong and cruel with the stubborn and fiery look in your eyes. You had seen his lawless demons and dangerous ghosts that haunted him but had understood him and helped him work through it. You had seen him as the darkest demon who was dangerous and cruel and yet loved the monster within him. You knew about how he struggled with touch from the very beginning but never questioned or mocked it but simply allowed Kaz to take it slow as he started it with simple fleeting brushing of shoulders to soft fingers interlocking with each other and holding hands to the feeling of being close to you without drowning in the waters.

You were unlike any other woman he had ever met.

Kaz sighed as he buried his head in his hands as he remembered when it all went wrong. He had an important mission that required him to retrieve information and steal a valuable documents from the vault hidden in a highly guarded mansion of one of the merchers in Ketterdam. The mercher had a reputation for throwing lavish parties to make connections and relationships so Kaz had decided to ask you to be his pretend wife so they could disguise themselves as guests and get into the vault.

Kaz’s eyes had flickered toward you when you had entered into his office. He had pretended to be busy but the truth was you had a way of making him painfully aware of every breath you took and every smile you flashed as you brought a warm light into his cold life and he informed you of what he needed. You had grown completely silent and your smile had vanished slightly concerning Kaz who raised his eyebrows at you waiting for your answer.

“No.” you had replied curtly and crisply as you had looked away from Kaz. “Ask Inej or Nina. Or -”

“Y/N... I want you.” Kaz had replied softly as he had slipped out of his seat and stood in front of you “You and I work well together. We make a good team together. And you are the only one I trust for this.”

His gloved fingers had brushed against yours as he looked deeply at you waiting for your answer and you had surprised him as you smiled at him warmly as red dust scattered on your cheeks and you replied “Ask me properly and I might say yes.”

Kaz had smiled genuinely as he watched you walk away. Later, you were working late into the night with him as both of you were looking through information on a mercher that Kaz wanted to rob. Both of you dug into boxes of information that you had found of books, letters, documents, and photographs of the mercher’s life. As Kaz and you sat side by side enjoying the comforting silence of the moment, and Kaz found a photograph of two lovers laughing on the porch of their old house. It felt hard to explain but in that photograph, he saw himself and you living that life.

You had looked over at him with a small smile as your eyes flickered at the photograph “They look very happy. They must have loved each other very much.”

Kaz looked at you and he felt time stand still as he couldn’t find the right words to describe how he felt in that moment with you as he felt breathless staring into your enchanting and warm eyes and finally broke the silence as he asked “Y/N, do you want to dance with me?”

You had blushed but your smile was answer enough as you had accepted his gloved hand. Kaz’ lips twitched into a smile as he felt your hand rest upon his gently and your other arm holding onto his shoulder gently as he ran his hand softly along your waist and placed it on the small of your back. His breath hitched as he looked at your tender and sweet eyes that twinkled brilliantly as both of you began to dance around the room to the slow and romantic music echoing from downstairs as the rain splattered outside.

At first, Kaz hated that he was nervous and clumsy tripping over himself and stepping on your toes. He was the Bastard of the Barrel who had humiliated and overthrown Pekka Rollins and now ruled Ketterdam inspiring fear with intimidation and violence and yet he couldn’t properly dance with the girl he possibly liked.

You had grinned brightly much to Kaz’ mortification at his mistakes as he stepped on your toes once again and you offered “Hey, do you want me to teach you how to do this so you don’t hurt me or possibly yourself?”

Kaz had flushed a bright red in mortification as he had nodded “Yes.”

“Hold your back straight. Now you will lead and I will follow. And now one, two, three...” you began softly with a tender and encouraging smile as you let Kaz guide you across the floor and much to his surprise as Kaz followed the gentle hum of your words, Kaz found himself dancing without causing you any grievous injuries.

Kaz felt his breath hitch and his heart race as he danced with you smoothly and his eyes flickered down to ensure his feet were not going to hurt you when you instructed him gently “Look into my eyes. Dancing is seeing one another for who they really are, understanding and trusting each other. That’s why I love it.”

Kaz had looked into your eyes and had seen you who had always been there for him through thick and thin and had changed him in the most unimaginable ways as he murmured softly “I see you.”

You had sucked in a breath as your eyes had grown wide but you had smiled softly and joyfully “You dance incredibly.”

“All because I have a talented teacher.” replied Kaz smoothly with a soft smile as he spun you around as you chuckled.

Kaz had never felt so light-hearted and happy as he spun you around and held you in his arms as both of danced perfectly together in harmony. Kaz knew it felt foolish to give in so easily to how he was feeling but in this moment, he didn’t care as light and humor danced in his eyes feeling weightless, all the burdens and worries he carried washed away as he held you in his arms as you glowed in happiness and laughter.

Kaz felt free and weightless laughing in delight as you spun him around as you laughed in amusement, breaking rules of dancing but he didn’t care because he knew this moment with you was right and wanted this forever. He couldn’t let go of this perfect moment where the stars had aligned and everything felt just good to be true as Kaz spun you around and dipped you down, his hand supporting your back, stopping you from falling. You held onto his shoulder trusting him to hold you and never let you fall and break. Kaz pulled you up once as you held onto his gloved hand and his nose brushed against your forehead swaying to the soft and romantic song echoing through the Slat as both of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

“Y/N...” murmured Kaz as his eyes fluttered open, memorizing every inch of your face and committing you to memory afraid you would vanish if he let you go “Will you marry me and make me the happiest man on earth?”

Your heart rate escalated through the roof and your eyes had widened in surprise as you stared at him in speechless amazement as he took out a ring that had a crow with a R engraved on it as he held your hand tightly in his “Marry me, Y/N and be my partner in crime for life.”

Kaz saw you chuckle and smile at him as you nodded “Yes. I’ll be your partner in crime for life, Kaz Brekker.”

“Kaz Rietvald.” confessed Kaz softly, his voice barely a whisper as he looked at you vulnerably “Kaz Rietvald is my real name. The name of the boy who came to Ketterdam with hopes of making it with his brother. The name of the boy who died in the harbor that day.”

You had looked at him with understanding and sincerity as he swallowed a lump of emotion and confessed “But when I’m with you... I feel like Kaz Rietvald once again. The boy who believed in magic and beauty of the world.”

“Kaz...” you had murmured as you looked at the ring that held great meaning for you now and then at Kaz with so much you wanted to say to him but he shook his head as he placed a soft and fleeting kiss on your hand.

“Y/N...” he whispered as he slipped the ring onto your hand with his own trembling hands and then placed a sweet and tender kiss on your forehead “You are the reason.”

The reason that he was alive. The reason that he still felt alive. The reason that he looked forward to waking up every day. The reason that he paid attention to all the magical little things you did. The reason he felt worry whenever you were hurt and wounded. The reason that he dared to dream once again.

From there on, Kaz had felt connected to you in a way that he hadn’t before. He had wanted to practice perfecting the image of pretending to be an engaged couple so he encouraged both of you to do little things that couples do. But it was easy to forget that Kaz was pretending when he hid sincere love notes inside your room, replaced the wilting flowers in your room with your favorite flowers and left little gifts for you. It was easy for Kaz to forget that you were not his to lose when he found little notes filled with jokes and small affirmations inside his files, his favorite books annotated with your thoughts and sentences highlighted that reminded you of him, flowers pressed to the pages.

It was easy to get lost in the act of being your husband when he exchanged knowing and lingering glances with you in secret, whenever he would feel the twisted dark feeling of jealousy when he saw any man look at you in the wrong way, when you bought coffee made exactly how he liked it in the mornings and when he was working late. It was easy to forget that you weren’t his lover when both of you worked late until night, your head resting on his lap as he ran his hand through your hair smiling down at you as you read your books, when he listened to you play the violin, when he shared meals with you and cuddled with you relishing the comfortable silence and teasing each other and confiding his secrets in you.

It was easy to forget that you were not his wife when he had seen you laughing in amusement, your eyes gleaming brightly and his lips had met yours passionately and tenderly as time stood still and his heart beat violently out of his ribcage when you had kissed him back with equal tenderness and desire. It was easy to forget that this was all just an act when he would indulge in the pleasure of nipping your earlobe and placing a trail of kisses from your cheek to your neck and collarbone taking his time to taste you and feel your body tremble underneath his touch.

It was easy to forget it all because you were easy to fall in love with deeply and madly until it was too late for him to back out.

When the day came for the party, he had dressed up and you appeared in front of him making him speechless as his eyes widened because you were a breathtaking sight to behold. You were wearing an off the shoulder satin long emerald green dress that hugged your curves perfectly. You were wearing simple pearl earrings, your hair braided into loose waves and your cheeks pink and your lips ruby red as you smiled at Kaz.

Kaz had placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you away and whispered into your ear “You look beautiful.”

You had blushed when you felt his lips brush against the nape of your neck as you squeezed his hand gently “You don’t look so bad yourself”

At the party, everyone was full of admiration for Kaz and you as a couple. Kaz and you socialized with the crowd of aristocrats, merchers and businessmen as you charmed them with your signature charisma that got enough information for Kaz. Though Kaz was not much of a social creature, he observed you morphing into the form that you needed to take in order to charm and lure your target into giving you what you wanted.

As the time drew near for them to rob the vault, Kaz and you were talking with a few ladies and gentlemen who were very impressed with the both of you, the affectionate and loving couple and one woman had asked Kaz how he knew you were the one for him.

Kaz had frozen at the question but his panic had disappeared as soon as it had come as he tightened his arm around your waist as he replied to his surprise with the truth of his heart “She makes me laugh. She’s smart, kind and funny and accepting of who I am. She’s truly the kind of woman who comes once in a lifetime. She’s beautiful and impossible. The way we got here was unexpected. But no matter how I think about it... we were meant to be. And the more time I spend with her, I know that I don’t want to lose her.”

Everyone cooed over the answer but you had frozen at Kaz’ answer as you looked at him in amazement and surprise but Kaz didn’t meet your eyes. The lady was insistent on knowing what you liked so much about Kaz that you knew you had to marry him. You wanted to hit that woman with the tray of champagne because she was putting you in a very awkward position at the moment.

“He is... well, one night we were just gazing at the stars and talking when I looked over at him and it struck me that he is my closest friend. He’s awesome, intelligent, strong, brave and protects those who he cares about. How could I not want to be with him?” you had replied easily and sincerely with a tender and sweet smile shocking Kaz who had not expected such an answer that sounded terrifyingly real.

Both of you had escaped the crowd and made it to the vault in time. You had distracted the guards while Kaz broke into the vault and took what he needed. Both of you were on the verge of an escape when both of you heard footsteps heading your way. Kaz had looked at you with desperation and desire as he had pushed you against the wall but before you could say anything, his lips were moving against yours passionately and fiercely, roughly and hungrily devouring you as his hands explored your body and sparks flew within him as you kissed him back with fierce passion and overwhelming emotion as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer toward you.

Kaz couldn’t stop. He knew what he felt for you was a weakness. And if anything, you felt the same way about him too. And Kaz was secretly ecstatic that you felt the same way toward him. But Kaz had realized as he broke into the vault, he was a criminal. He was Kaz Brekker, the King of Ketterdam, the Bastard of the Barrel who had no weakness and who could not afford to love anyone. Kaz had realized the true harsh reality that he could never love you the way you deserve to be loved. He was not a man made for love. He was a monster created for chaos and cruelty. And you were weakening him, bringing his softer and vulnerable side that he had hidden from the world for so long. He couldn’t let it happen. As Kaz kissed you, he kissed you goodbye as he held you in his arms trying to keep you with him for a bit longer but he knew he had to end it before the world ended him.

The guards who had been patrolling cleared their throats when they had seen you and Kaz and you had narrowly escaped their scrutiny and attention as a very handsy couple. When both of you had left the party, Kaz hardened his heart ignoring your pleasant conversation and then your inquiring questions. It didn’t take you long to notice this sudden change in Kaz who had grown cold and distant from you.

“Kaz!” you had snapped as you shoved him getting his attention “What is wrong with you? What’s going on?”

“Y/N... I’m not your fucking husband, so stop nagging me!” snarled Kaz harshly, the softness in his eyes completely gone as he looked at you coldly “It’s over. We completed our mission. I got what I needed.”

Kaz started walking away because he didn’t want to see your fallen face when he heard your trembling voice speak up “Is that it?”

“Is that what? Did you think this was real? It was just a game... part of a mission.” replied Kaz coldly, his eyes flashing with harshness as he began to break the one thing he was falling in love with.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. I don’t believe you. I know you feel the same way I do, Kaz.” you had replied with a trembling and shaky voice that you tried to keep strong as you looked at him with a pained expression “You - please don’t do this. You can’t just do this to us and then run away from all these feelings because you are scared.”

“Scared? Y/N, I don’t love you. You are an investment to me.” replied Kaz cruelly and harshly shoving down the voice screaming that he was lying as he glared at you. “You are nothing to me!”

You remembered how safe you felt with Kaz and how he had always assured you that you belonged and had a home with him as you felt everything you thought you knew burn once again into ashes as your heart shattered into pieces at the words carelessly and brutally uttered by Kaz and you sucked a breath as you looked at him in disbelief and heartbreak “You don’t love me?”

Kaz answered with cold silence that rang loudly among both of you and he could hear your heart shattering into pieces and had to hold onto looking at how your once bright and happy face now fell into an expression of shocked disbelief and pained suffering as you tried to understand how your world could quickly fall apart. Kaz couldn’t bear to look at your pained expression any longer so he decided to walk away from you, to leave you alone and save himself from the pain.

“I don’t believe you. Two hours ago, at that party, you wanted me. You were in love with me, Kaz. All these months, you made me believe we could share something special.” you called out, your voice shattered and hurt but there was a sliver of spite and anger in it that stopped him within his tracks as he closed his eyes and stiffened because he was losing you because this had to end “But we can never be that because you put yourself above everyone and within you is -”

“Is what? A cold monstrous dark dead heart?” snapped Kaz clenching his jaw as he turned around to look at you with a dark and cold look in his eyes as he thought of how everything they had built up on a shaky ground was now falling apart “I thought you knew better by now. I don’t have a heart, Y/N.”

“Who knows? Because you never show anyone who you are!” you had spat out with tears in your eyes as you looked at Kaz with hurt and pain. “You aren’t letting me in, Kaz!”

“Nothing good comes from loving people! Everyone leaves in the end. I intend to live my life knowing that I have no weakness that my enemies will not exploit against me and knowing that I have no one who loves me mourning for me when I’m gone wishing every single moment that I would come back for them!” yelled Kaz fiercely, his eyes flashing with powerless reminiscence of a destroyed childhood and suffering that had made him monstrous as he looked at you knowing that he couldn’t afford to love you, not when he was weakened with you, not when he could never give you peace.

“Well then, I love you! Isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?” you had screamed at him hysterically, tears rolling down your eyes as you felt nothing but piercing heartbreak and completely broken at how casually cruel and brutal he was being breaking you into pieces.

Kaz’ breath hitched as he froze at your confession, his heart skipping a beat traitorously with hope and happiness but he collected himself reminding himself that both of you could never have a shot in the dark because he was too damaged to be loved by you as his lips curled into a cruel sneer “You disgust me! It’s too bad for you that I don’t love you. That you didn’t make the cut into my heart. Why would you do that to yourself?”

“You - you shouldn’t have let me in! You shouldn’t have made me feel safe with you! You shouldn’t have made me feel like I belong with you and the Dregs are my home!” you had snapped in unbearable pain that burned every inch of you as you gasped through a broken sob and looked at Kaz who looked so pretty like the devil through the tears as you slapped him “Because now it’s far too late!”

Kaz felt the sting of the slap but your words lashed across his heart more than the pain of the slap. He clenched his jaw as he felt his heart bleed in unbearable pain as he looked at you in hurt and wistfulness. He wanted to take back all his cruel words that broke you and crumpled you but he knew he couldn’t do that.

And as Kaz looked at you, he wanted you more than anything in the world. More than all the kruge and the most beautiful paintings and precious jewels that he spent his life chasing to steal. Kaz was painfully aware of the aching desire he had to call you only his and to come home to your bright smile and tender heart every single day. Kaz wanted more than anything to hold your hand through life and death and to love you with all your scars and bruises and protect you from the rest of the world. Kaz had never felt this kind of powerful love and aching desire for anyone in his life, the kind that made him want to live each moment and love fearlessly. He wanted you so much that he was afraid that what he shared with you could bring him back to life as Kaz Rietvald or break him down.

Kaz loved you. Kaz had so much love inside him that he wanted to give you but he was terrified of how much you meant to him and what he would do to the world if you ever were hurt. As Kaz looked at the moonlight shining upon you, Kaz believed in Saints who had created the most perfect punishment fitting for him. For he was a monster, and it was only fitting for a monster never to hold and have what he loved the most in this world.

Kaz felt you sense his reluctance and desire for you as you took his hand in yours and caressed his cheek gently as he was hypnotized by your tender eyes as he stared at the one that he loved and dreamed of as you softly and earnestly confessed “Kaz...I know you are scared. I’m terrified too. But I want you. I love you with all your flaws and scars, Kaz. Don’t give up on us. So let’s stop pretending and do this for real.”

Kaz’ breath hitched as he leaned toward you, drawn in like a moth to a flame. He could feel your breath fanning against his cheek as he inhaled in your intoxicating perfume and felt your hot skin against his lips that longed to kiss you. His eyes fluttered shut and his heart was racing inhumanely as his mind forgot to remind him that you were a bad idea. You were an addiction he couldn’t yet give up on and wanted more and more until he was completely satisfied. Kaz had an inkling he would always be wanting more of you as his hand held the nape of your neck wondering how something that was so rationally wrong could feel so perfectly right.

He did not ask for this. He did not ask for you in his life. You were beautiful, intelligent, dynamic, wonderful and brighter than fireworks in the night sky. Kaz did not ask to be plagued by these feelings for you, to be driven to distraction every time you entered a room.

“Say you want me like I want you maddeningly.” your voice whispered as your breath fanned his cheek, and Kaz couldn’t breath or think as he was lost in his storm of feelings for you as his lips lingered close enough toward yours eager to taste you.

But your words jolted him from this madness as he took a deep breath and stumbled back from you, realizing that he had been giving into his weaknesses and he breathed heavily trying to compose himself. What had he been thinking? What was he doing? This wasn’t fair and - this wasn’t right. Kaz ran his hand through his hair as he convinced himself that this wasn’t love, this was a distraction, a fleeting infatuation that would pass with time. You were not going to be his destruction. Kaz felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he convinced himself that he was not the one for you. You deserved someone better, someone who was not broken and damaged who would only bring you down.

“I don’t love you. You were a pleasant distraction from my work.” replied Kaz firmly and coldly as his heart cried out at the lie but he knew it had to be done as he looked you in the eye “This isn’t a fairytale, Y/N. I am your employer and you are my Dreg. So stop being delusional and be what I need you to be and do what I need you to do.”

Then it had taken everything in Kaz to walk away leaving you alone in the dark, the masterpiece of what they had torn apart as you felt alone, tears of heartbreak and pain running down your cheeks.

It hadn’t taken long for everyone else to notice what had gone wrong between you and Kaz. Both of you had been inseparable, never one without another and now both of you were distant and apart. Kaz kept his distance coldly and cruelly from you refusing to listen and talk to you as you tried to fight for them again and again and the brightness in your eyes began to fade away slowly as you wondered where you had gone wrong as you sat in the dark choking on your sobs dying inside of pain and heartbreak.

Kaz didn’t know that you were trying to hold onto him as you stayed in your room. After a while, you stopped coming to see Kaz but your presence lingered with him as he heard you play the violin, vulnerable, soft and sad, melancholy heart tugging and heart breaking melodies that would float through the Slat down to the streets. The melodies you played were piercingly agonizing, beautifully emotional and reminded Kaz every single moment of the memories he had shared with you, the unconditional joy he had felt in your presence and now the sorrow that ached within him at your absence as tears sprung into his eyes. He wasn’t the only one affected by your emotional performances. One of the most toughest Dregs who was violent had burst into tears when he had heard you performing a heartbreaking farewell song.

One day, Kaz couldn’t bear it any longer as he quietly walked toward your room as his eyes fell on you facing the window playing an achingly sad and sweet melody that touched Kaz’ cold heart feeling that your melody was a breathtaking story that never got a happy ending.

“Is it a sad song?” asked Kaz softly as he lingered at the door, his eyes full of sadness and curiosity when you had finished playing and he noted that you didn’t look surprised at his presence.

“Nothing is sad until its over. Then everything is.” you replied quietly and contemplatively, your eyes full of grief and heartbreak as you looked at him with a sliver of hope in your heart.

Kaz had felt a lump of emotion swell up in his throat as he tried to speak but he was too lost in your eyes that mirrored how he felt and you took a step toward him “Kaz... I just wanted to say -”

“Y/N - I just came to say it’s enough.” said Kaz clearing his throat and taking hold of himself as he took on the coldness and harshness against you who looked slightly confused “Enough of your melancholy whining and playing the violin! It’s a headache and distracting all of us from doing important things.”

Kaz had watched you freeze in shock at his order, your eyes burning bright in disbelief and hurt and Kaz knew it that you loved playing on your violin. Your violin was the most precious possession in the world to you and you would never give up your violin to save yourself. You loved playing music on your violin more than anything in the world and to hear Kaz order you to stop playing the violin was an equivalent to ordering you drown yourself and kill yourself.

The despair and grief in your eyes flashed into cold anger as you gripped your violin protectively “You once looked me in the eyes and told me that you would be by my side until the end. But it’s wonderful to see that you are okay being a liar who wants everything to revolve around you. I guess my pain - the pain you caused is such an imposition to you.”

“Y/N... I’m sick of you! So please stop playing the violin! If you so much as play a note on that stupid thing, I will burn it!” exclaimed Kaz who had felt anger that derived out of guilt and self - loathing as he glared at you with lightning in his eyes.

Kaz saw you were paralyzed with shock at his cruel words that he suddenly regretted as he looked at your grief-stricken expression but he didn’t want to stay and dwell on it as he turned away but as he took a few steps away from you, he heard you say in disappointment and sadness “I thought you might be different than the rest of the monsters in this world. But I guess you are all the same.”

Kaz had frozen but before his anger could get the best of him, he had marched to his office. You had looked down at the streets of Ketterdam that were haunted by your father who had come before you, your brother who you had lost to the cruelty of this city and the one person you had always felt like you belonged in this godforsaken city had abandoned you making you feel unspeakably lonely and terrified, unbearably heartbroken and hurt. You had been the phoenix in this city rising from the ashes every single time they burned you but you were getting tired of rising and fighting like it was nothing. Kaz had dealt the final blow.

When Nina had offered to take you with her, you had not hesitated. Kaz had been surprised that you had accepted and something in him wanted to stop you from leaving to Ravka. But he stayed silent as you packed your bags and left for Ravka with Nina without saying goodbye to him as he had the deadly sinking feeling that he was losing you.

Kaz had expected that he wouldn’t miss you at all. After all, it was good that you were far away from him as possible and it would give him time to move from this disaster. But the air was thick with loss and indecision as he realized the truth of the saying that you never knew what you had until it was gone. Kaz had thought your absence would only satisfy him and give him the satisfaction that he was right all along.

But Kaz had been completely, utterly, tragically wrong.

Because after you had left, everything seemed empty and wrong to Kaz. Your absence could be felt in every single vein in Kaz’ body and your absence taunted him as he felt the little things about your presence in his life. His office that had once been full of light and warmth, a place of shelter from the cruelty of the world where he shared sacred moments of sincere smiles and easy conversations with you had now become cold and dark, empty of your vivid intelligence and easy laughter that lit it up as Kaz stared frozen at the blueprints, maps, documents, contracts that didn’t make any sense to him any longer. Your scent of sharp jasmine and comforting pages of books lingered on his pillow that he buried his head into every night trying to hold onto you as he missed you terribly. Kaz missed your incredible intelligence and imagination that saw the world through different eyes and observed things that everyone else missed. Kaz felt your absence ache terribly at the lack of beautiful, magical and lovely music that you would play on your violin during the most random and inconvenient times of the day when you needed to think. Kaz missed the little things from the little soft and knowing smile you had reserved only for him, the midnight conversations that made them smile and cry, the afternoons you would come back from your favorite café to share coffee and pastries with him, your furrowed brow when you were focused on sketching, and the playfulness and childlike innocence you exuded brightening his life.

Kaz couldn’t bear your absence that echoed in this godforsaken city of Ketterdam. Ketterdam, the city that used to be a reminder of Jordie was now driving Kaz mad by screaming your name everywhere Kaz went. Kaz couldn’t walk past and live in this city of blood that was now haunted by you as he was reminded of you in each place from your room that used to be scattered with papers, books and boards that were marked with ongoing investigations but now was empty of activity, the marketplace you frequented bargaining with the vendors driving them to despair, the bookshops in the University District you lingered in for long hours, the Crow Club where you laughed and drank with the Crows sharing intimate and secret glances with Kaz, the library where you loved to read losing track of time, the waffle house where you and Nina loved to eat waffles, the hot chocolate stand where you and Kaz would always buy and drink hot chocolate after a heist or a job or whenever they passed it by, the crowded canals where you liked to sit and sketch landscapes of Ketterdam, the harbor shore where you liked to run into the sea and jump around in the waves childishly and freely and the bar your friend Steve owned where Kaz had first met you.

Your seat at the table was empty and no one in the Dregs dared to sit on it. Everyone in the Dregs missed you too. Jesper didn’t frequent the Slat often and when he did was restless and anxious, Wylan was quiet and thoughtful as he worked on his bombs but when something went wrong, he would be frustrated and once snapped in anger at one of the innocent newly recruited Dregs because no one else except you understood him and his love for inventions. Inej prayed daily to her Saints to keep you and Nina safe, posted letters all the Crows and the Dregs wrote to you, sent you little trinkets, and tidied your room replacing the wilted flowers and arranging it. Matthias would try to raise everyone’s spirits as he reminisced of good times with you making everyone smile and laugh and encouraging the Dregs to keep going but inside he was worried for your wellbeing since you were the first friend he had from Hellgate until now.

Kaz also was subjected to high sass levels of incredibly frustrated and angry intelligent, skilled and protective teenagers and your friends in the Dregs who were first seen by you and touched by your kindness to them in the streets and were forever in your debt for giving them a home and a purpose. This was the worst punishment yet for hurting you and he wished that he had never done anything to you because the revenge from the kids and friends in the Dregs who loved you was worse than any humiliation he had been subjected to.

He had once come down in the morning to get coffee but the last of the coffee was taken by the dark haired, sassy kid called Hari who had marched into the kitchen completely covered in blood as he held an axe and glared at Kaz as he marched away with the jug of coffee, never letting Kaz get coffee at any given moment. The red head named Betty who was completely mad at Kaz had arranged to deliver the most distasteful cakes that tasted horrible to him every single day with the most hurtful and imaginative sayings on the top ranging from ‘IT’S GARBAGE DAY. CAN’T BELIEVE THEY HAVE A WHOLE DAY DEDICATED TO YOU’, ‘SORRY YOU ARE SUCH A HATEFUL BITCH’, ‘YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS A JOKE’, and a cake with a middle finger on it that said ‘YOUR LOSS’. There were three kids named Tony, Sabrina and James who helped you with your investigations and whenever Kaz ordered them to do anything, they would defy him sassily by shrugging him off and not taking him seriously. There were two twins named Rob and Hal who pranked Kaz every single day after he had broken your heart, nearly driving Kaz crazy but Kaz could never trace the prank back to them but Kaz knew it was them when they smirked in amusement whenever they saw Kaz covered with glitter and pink confetti or Kaz’ hair completely blonde and purple. The curly haired boy named Joe who you had given all your waffles to on that terribly hungry day would replace Kaz’ gloves with brightly colored, crazily patterned leather gloves, hide Kaz’ documents in places where Kaz couldn’t find them, replace Kaz’ coats with bright and colorful coats, redecorate Kaz’ cane into silly shapes and replaced Kaz’ perfume with a spray that made Kaz smell like rotten eggs for days. A medik you trusted and had taken into the Dregs named Hungyun would sharpen his blades and recite facts about surgeries and how to dispose of a body whenever Kaz passed him by so Kaz avoided him all together.

Matthias who had noticed Jesper’s restlessness, Wylan’s frustration, Inej’s worry and the Dregs’ sass had gathered them for a project to cheer you up by making an album about how much you meant to them and soon all of them enthusiastically joined in the creative venture. The only thing that calmed all the Dregs and Crows from starting a revolution was your letters to them that kept them happy that you were doing fine.

Kaz received your letters and he read them the moment he received them. You wrote so beautifully about Ravka and how it was so different to Ketterdam. Every letter was a piece of you that he clung onto as he read it over and over again, tracing your elegant yet messy handwriting full of enthusiasm and sadness as you described everything in vivid detail, put down your own thoughts and confessed how much you missed him and couldn’t forget him no matter how hard you tried. Kaz tried to write back but every time he tried to write, words failed him as emotions overwhelmed him because he didn’t know where to start and he knew if he wrote back and really confronted how he felt, he would be giving into weakness. He couldn’t afford to be weak. So he wrote the letters he wanted to write to you secretly and locked it away and read your letters over and over again never sending you a response hoping that in time you would forget him.

But the thought of losing you terrified him. Because that was kind of heartbreak time could never mend. Kaz could never feel this kind of love for anyone again and though he was adamant in holding onto strength of not giving into his weakness, he never wanted you to leave him for another because it petrified and terrified him. He could never walk the streets of Ketterdam again if you were not by his side.

Kaz knew he had to do something when he dreamed of you and started seeing visions of you in broad daylight. The first time Kaz had seen you in broad daylight was when he was supervising the Crow Club and he had seen you laughing in the Crow Club and you winked at him with that charming and knowing manner that always made him blush and his eyes widened in wonder and disbelief because he couldn’t believe you had come back so soon but then you vanished. Kaz had blinked in confusion realizing that he had hallucinated you but that was just the beginning. When Kaz had been walking down the street, he had heard you call out his name cheerfully and his heart had soared in traitorous hope as he swerved to look in the direction where he heard your voice and saw that it was you with your sweet disposition and bright eyes running toward him with wind in your hair and his knees had almost given out but then the vision of you disappeared as a girl ran past him to hug her lover behind him. Kaz tried to shut you out but you were impossible. You were in his head and you didn’t leave. He saw you sitting in his office looking at him in disappointment and anger, tears of sadness rolling down your cheeks as you begged him to love you.

Kaz couldn’t bear it any longer. Kaz didn’t care how long Nina had said she would be gone with you. Kaz needed you with him. Kaz wanted you with him because he couldn’t live without you since this was hell. Kaz pulled out a new paper and wrote a letter to you ordering you to come back home to him because he couldn’t live like this any longer. He hoped that once you got the letter, you would not hesitate to come back.

After all Ketterdam was your home. Ketterdam was where you belonged. Ketterdam was where he was. There was nothing special tying you to Ravka.

As Kaz sent the letter, he looked at the sun setting down on the horizon and muttered with all the sincerity and piercing agony in his heart as he remembered the rare masterpiece he shared with you, remembered you all too well “I miss you, Y/N. Come back to me.”

Taglist: -

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@khaleesihavilliard

@mochinoms-doesart

@simrah1012

@hauntedenthusiasttragedy

@marissat1998

@queenofspades6

@xhaliemax

@ladespedidas

@angie-likes-to-read

@thatsassyhufflepuff

@adajoemaya

@liliandodiaj

@unicornfairytail

@b1bbles

@luvly-writer

@geekmom3

@drinkfantasy

@chickencouncilrep

@justsomecreaturewandering

@cruc1o

@stickyfictioninwriting

@mdanon027

@mxltifxnd0m

@mochinoms-doesart

@outlawqueen17

@chengtheauthor

@wwwlusspace

@jinswig

@miaajnielsen

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@moonstars-marie

@valntynebaby

@br0wni3

@aesouth

@the-number7

@mxtokko

@4-everm-0-re

@liliandodiaj

@themermaidscales82

@h-l-vlovesvintage

@drinkfantasy

@willowpains

@omg-itsmee

@xceafh

@sweet0pia-uwu

@allmisfittoyswelcomehere

@kateswone

@meghan52300

@willowpains

@moonstars-marie

@mymybirdie

@mr-underhills-things

@bey0ndne0

@bwormie

@suckmyaries

@mdanon027

@bey0ndne0

261 notes · View notes

bellshazes · 1 year

Note

Drabble about whatever Cleo and Joe are up to, or coffee shop shenanigans? 👀

Tell me how to reach you - Cleo and Joe open several lines of unconventional communication in Joe’s answering machine.

[Thursday, 8:17 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. If you’re looking for a Joe Hills not in Tennessee, you have the wrong number. If you’re looking for Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee, or if you just don’t care which Joe Hills you’re calling, start talking after the beep.

Hi, Joe. I am, frankly, freaking out quite a lot right now so I’d appreciate a call. A serious call, and I know you’re going to think I’m kidding, but I want to have a serious call with you about dreams. And... possibly past lives. I know you’re thinking to yourself that this is clearly some kind of trick or joke, which is exactly why you should listen to how much I am trying not to panic right now and call me back, seriously. Not meaning to threaten you for once, I mean be serious when you call. Please and thank you.

[Thursday, 8:19 PM]

Hi, Joe, it’s me again. Do not call when I’m asleep or I will be very, very cross. I did mean to threaten you that time. Okay, talk soon.

[Friday, 11:58 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. Currently I am requesting all correspondance be sent via dreams, as I will not be checking this voicemail during my astral communication experiment to prevent information contamination. If it's not time sensitive or you're trying to talk to someone who isn't me, go ahead and leave a message after the beep.

Hello, Joe, this is - this is not what I expected earlier when you told me you were going to try something out to help me. How am I supposed to explain what I learn to you if you won't - Joe. I wanted to tell you the dreams are definitely real, we are up to a whole three and a half confirmed dream-sharers, but that doesn't mean I have been gifted long distance telepathy. I hope I'm the boogeyman in your dream tonight, you hear me? Dream of that and call me about it. In great and gory detail, I can't wait to hear it.

[Saturday, 4:50 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. If it's bad or urgent, leave me a message - otherwise, all good news is best transmitted by thinking really hard and sending it to my dreams. I am no longer accepting nightmares, bad omens, curses, or threats of bodily harm by that medium, but you can leave them after the beep if you really want.

Joe, I wouldn't have to leave you threats of bodily harm in your voicemail if you didn't keep talking to me only through your answering machine. I don’t know whether to be upset because you’re being stubborn about this, or delighted that maybe I do have long-rage telepathy that allows me to express my displeasure with you. I would be much happier if you would call me back, though.

[Monday, 9:21 AM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee and pleased to announce I’m now accepting correspondance about dreams in addition to correspondence by dreams, which is still the best way to reach me. If you don’t care about my preferences or who you’re reaching, feel free to leave a message after the beep.

Of course you’d be somehow already be asking for - Joe, listen. Last night I dreamt you owed me roundabouts six million and were trying to weasel your way out of it by making - what would you have called it, some kind of Rube Goldberg problem machine - you were creating inconveniences so I’d have to let you fix them for a credit. Which was incredibly, predictably obnoxious of you, but it was also incredibly predictable. It was exactly what I would’ve done if I were in your shoes and I dreamt I knew that for absolutely certain. You are always like this, every time, all of the times. Do you get it? You were almost charming, building me my - well, if you’re serious about this dream telepathy... thing... you can call me back and tell me what you made. I know you do listen to these eventually, despite what you said before. Don’t make me wait too long.

[Tuesday, 2:46 PM]

Howdy, this is Joe Hills recording this message from Nashville, Tennessee. Voicemails are places you leave messages for people, like, “Cleo,” you could start, if you were trying to call someone named Cleo and not Joe Hills, “I got your dream! I thought it was really sweet how you negotiated down instead of killing me like you wanted to. I’ll call you at the usual Wednesday time to compare notes.” As always, you’re welcome to leave your own contextless missive that may or may not be reaching the right ears at the wrong time since you so kindly just listened to mine. Just don’t start talking until after the beep - or do, I’m not the boss of you.

I can’t believe I’m confirming plans this way. You’re going to have to tell me about all the other voicemails you’ve gotten when we talk tomorrow, which you probably already know whether you listen to this or not. I was convinced we had a standing Monday arrangement... maybe I am going crazy after all, who knows? Or maybe it’s just because it’s you. You are just the worst, every single stupid version. I suppose I’ll have to keep putting up with this until tomorrow at least.

[Tuesday, 2:59 PM]

Howdy, Cleo. Of course I listen to you, especially all the stuff you’re not saying. You’re my friend, and I’ll listen tomorrow too. If you’re not Cleo, standard disclaimers and preferences still apply until otherwise stated. You know the drill.

You know what - nevermind an apology. I had a feeling. Talk tomorrow, Joe. Sweet dreams.

#peter writes #i've 'cleo calls joe freaking out as referenced in the diner scene' on my to do list anyway #and i think joe 'how big IS the moon getting let's measure it' hills would be funny and serious and weird about past-life dreaming.#which is not at all an excuse to not have to reveal my lack of confidence in writing his voice LMAO #do it again au #also title is from sea of love because 1. hey joe they say love is a virtue don't they #2. if i stay here trouble will find me #3. if i stay here i'll never leave #4. well. you know how it is with the natl

132 notes · View notes

nut-in-me-jojo · 2 years

Text

Always Will Be - Chp.2

Pairing: Yan!Gyutaro x Fem!Reader

Chapter: 2

Series Warnings: NSFW, extreme depictions of death, extreme violence, dead dove don’t eat, forced relationship, yandere, non/dubious consent, kidnapping, degradation, slut shaming, stockholm syndrome, poverty, dacryphilia, misogyny, dumbification, (If you don't like dark yandere's this story isn't for you.)

Word Count: 3.8K

Summary: Gyutaro has lived for over a century now, still plagued by memories of the past and haunted by its ghost. You are one of his only two regrets.

Cold. Ice-cold. That’s the first thing that registers in Gyutaro’s brain as chills racked through his twisted body. His instincts kicking in as the second thought came. How could it be this cold in the store house? Did someone manage to break through the walls, exposing them to the elements? The most worrying of them all being the sun.

Eyes shooting open only to screw back shut as his vision was flooded by the distinct shine of daylight. Clawed hands flying up in reaction to shield himself in vain from the fatal brightness.

But the burning never came, only the sensation of cold tiny pricklings on his grayed skin. Daring to crack an eye open, he could tell that he was lying on his back staring up at the sky.

Gyutaro laid there dumbfounded, eyes glued to the snowflakes that sprinkled down from the sky that should be incinerating him right now. Well, the snow would explain why it’s so cold but nothing more.

“Daki?” He called out, turning his head to his right where she had been laying. But his sister was no longer at his side, only endless white fluffy snow for as far as the eye could see. The upper moon beginning to panic as he clamored to his feet.

“Daki! Where are you?! Da-!” His calls for her being cut short by the sound of children’s laughter. He turned to face the source only to freeze in place at the sight of three familiar faces as they played in the snow without a care in the world.

The first being his own, but he could see that it was his old self. His hair still black, eyes still blue, and teeth not yet fangs.

Next was Ume who was yet to become the fallen princess Daki; she was grinning ear to ear and she looked very young. Gyutaro guessed that she must have been maybe five or six.

And last was Yuna; just as beautiful as he remembered her. And given how young Ume appeared, he further guessed that himself and Yuna were maybe nine.

The three of them looking dirty as ever and all clad in straw boots that Gyutaro remembered they would make themselves by hand for the harsh winters. The two girls laid flat on their backs, arms and legs spreading in and out as they made their own snow angels. His former self idly sitting by and watching them from atop of a large boulder; a content smile pulling at his chapped lips.

Gyutaro stood there still, shell shocked by the sight before him. What the hell was going on? How was any of this possible? How did he even get here? The questions only piled on more by the second before the delayed realization finally struck and an explanation became clear.

This was a dream. It had to be. But that couldn’t be possible either. The demon hadn’t dreamt in over a hundred years, the ability to do so having been taken from him once he had been turned. It didn’t seem like it could be a dream either, merely because of how vivid this all was. He didn’t think he ever even dreamt like this as a mortal. But how else could one explain him standing unharmed in the sun; looking at 3 ghosts of the past?

Placing one foot in front of the other he drew closer to the trio; the need to get a better look at Yuna unbearable and overcoming his senses. But the kids didn’t even look at him, not noticing him in the least.

“Oni-Chan, help me up!” Ume demanded, seeming to deem her angel complete now.

“Can’t you do anything for yourself?” His younger self huffed.

“I don’t want to mess up my Angel!!” She retorted.

“Just help her Gyu-Chan, I’d hate for her to throw a fit.” Yuna chuckled, her voice sending chills down Gytaro’s back. It had been so long since he had actually heard her speak. Too long.

Gyu-Chan sighed before sliding off from his perch to go and give in to Ume’s demands. He stood before her and grabbed hold of her outstretched arms to pull her to her feet. She turned to face her creation, bouncing on her feet gleefully. “Looky! Looky!” She chirped.

“I see it, very nice sis.” He complimented before glancing over to Yuna. A feline smirk on her lips as she stretched her arms to him for the same treatment. “You guys are so annoying.” He groaned with a roll of his eyes, but that same content smile returned to him.

Gyu-Chan pulled her to her feet, though Yuna stumbled a bit more than Ume. His arm linking behind her back to steady her against himself, their eyes locking for just a little too long before Ume interrupted.

“Look! It’s a mommy angel and a baby angel!” She declared, pointing to the larger and smaller indents made in the snow.

“Hahaha, yup it sure is.” Yuna agreed as Gyu-Chan’s hands dropped back to his side again.

“I’m hungry…” Ume griped, tone changing in an instant.

“Stop whining, we’re all hungry so don’t remind us.” Her brother admonished.

Though Yuna didn’t share his same scowl; her countenance only reflecting patience and sweetness for the younger child. She stepped closer to her before speaking again. “Ume-Chan, if you could eat anything in the world right now what would you choose?”

Ume paused for a moment to think it over before answering. “I’ve always wanted to try the takoyaki everyone gets in the city!” She decided.

“Hehehe, yeah that stuff has always looked good huh? I wouldn’t mind trying some myself. Wait here just a minute ok?” She told her, before moving towards a bush that had since withered and lost all its leaves before crouching down and snapping a twig off it.

The two waited a minute with arched brows before Ume’s childish impatience and curiosity took over. “What are you doing??” She asked.

“Wait just a little longer, these things take time to cook!” Yuna replied.

Ume did as she was told before Yuna came back over, something hidden within her hands. “Ta-dah!” She presented, opening her cradled hands to reveal a handcrafted takoyaki out of snow. She had even used the twig to gently carve in the sauce and sprinkled chives to further sell it.

The two only stared at the fancy snowball in her hand. “What’s wrong? Don’t you wanna try it?” She egged on the five year old.

The siblings were quick to pick up on the charade, as the trio were quite used to playing pretend to pass the time since they never had any toys to play with.

Ume carefully pulled the fake octopus ball from her hand before sinking her teeth into it. She chewed a bit before it melted in her mouth. Gyu-Chan was just about to comment on how “dumb” this whole thing was before Yuna gave him a look that ushered him to shut up and not ruin the moment, which he surprisingly obeyed.

“Is it good?” Yuna queried, gaze sanguine. Gyu-Chan’s face mirroring hers, hoping this could satiate his hungry little sister.

“Yeah! I want more!” She beamed, making the older two release a breath of relief they had been holding.

“Alright, coming right up!” Yuna smiled.

Yes, Gyutaro could remember this now. Ever since this day it had become their tradition in the snows of winter. Yuna was quite creative and had always invented many of their games they would play growing up. Quite the crafty one, she would come up with all different types of snow dishes for the three of them to enjoy. And by the end of it, their bellies would be so full of water it was almost as if they had enjoyed the real thing.

Her name suited her, it meant kindness after all. She was always good for making their lives feel just a little less desolate. And she was always there to fill in the gaps of Gyutaro’s worn out patience when he’d had enough of Ume’s brattiness.

Gyutaro wondered briefly how the two of them had actually met. He couldn’t remember for the life of him, all he knew was she had always been there.

Suddenly the ground began to rumble and shake, Gyutaros body instinctively moving to take the defensive. An earthquake? The shaking only worsened, his surroundings and the three kids beginning to blur and spin out of image before he found himself somewhere else.

A very familiar place that Gyutaro hated wholeheartedly. This place represented the bitterness in his heart and his first spawns of hatred for this world; the streets of Rashomon. There was no snow anymore, and by the sticky humidity that coated his skin he guessed it to be summer time.

He craned his neck to get a better look at the sun that shines even more brightly now that it wasn’t hindered by clouds. But miraculously, death still didn’t come.

His eyes were no longer used to the sun’s glare, as they strained to take in its beauty. It all felt so foreign by this point, he hadn’t quite realized until now how much he had actually missed the warmth it brought to his skin.

Gyutaro blinked as he felt a rock hit his chest, making him face forward. A few feet away stood three young girls; some of his old bullies. They continued their pelting, rock after rock hitting him all over his body. But for some reason, it hurt more than it should have. His arms seemed to move on their own as they flew to cover his head and face, as he stood cowering under the barrage of rocks.

‘What the hell are you doing?! Kill them! Move!’ He urged himself mentally, but no matter how hard he tried his body remained rooted in place.

“How dare you show your ugly face around here! Do us all a favor and hurry up and die already, you stink up the whole town!!” The bullies shouted at him.

Gyutaro was at a loss, he couldn’t move his body at all still. His rage only building as he was left with no choice but to stand and take the abuse. He’d be sure to rip their heads off one by one just as soon as he could. When would this fucking dream end already?

As he kept struggling to gain back control of himself, his arm was grasped and his feet were moving on their own; running away from the bullies. He opened his eyes to see a small hand clasped around his wrist and (H/C) locks streaming in his face as they dashed through the alley. In fact, his own wrist looked small compared to who was grabbing him. He glanced down to see that his legs were shorter and his skin was white; human.

“Come on! Faster! Or they’ll catch us!” His savior called over her shoulder. His brows lifting at the sound; it was Yuna. Gaze shifting to her hand, he hadn’t felt her touch in so long. He didn’t care that they were running; he wanted to feel more of her soft touch that he’d been deprived of for too long now. But alas, he still couldn’t move.

“Come back here, you cowards!” He heard his three tormentors yell from behind.

“This way!” Yuna told him as they whipped behind a corner and then another before suddenly she was diving inside of a tipped over barrel that was hidden behind crates and wooden planks; dragging Gyutaro along inside with her.

“Shh!” She shushed, placing a finger over her lips as the two squished themselves further inside. The two stared outside the opening of the barrel, remaining quiet until they saw the feet of the bullies pass them by, still screaming profanities at them before the sound of their footsteps drifted away.

“Are you hurt?” She asked, concern laced into her features.

Now that Gyutaro could have a better look at her, Yuna appeared even younger than Ume was earlier.

“N-no…” Seems as though Gyutaro’s lips were now moving without his control as well. “Why did you help me?” He interrogated, suspicion clear in his tone. Naturally he didn’t trust her, kindness being something unknown to him. Never in his life had anyone done such a thing for the filthy street-rat, surely there had to be some kind of ulterior motive she was playing at.

“I…don’t know.” She replied candidly.

“You don’t know?” Gyu-Chan probed, his face indicating that he was quickly growing irritated with her nonexistent answer.

“I…well, you were getting hurt!” She blurted.

“And?” He galled.

“And…well, I um..” She trailed nervously at his visible crossness with her.

“Yeah, well thanks…I guess. I’m out of here.” He huffed with a roll of his eyes as he moved to exit the barrel.

“Wait no! Don’t go! They could still be out there!” She warned, grabbing ahold of his arm again. That same fluttering returning to his chest at the feel of her touch.

“So what? The hell do you care?” He snapped, his arm involuntarily yanking itself out of her grasp.

But Yuna had always been quite stubborn when she wanted to be, as she grabbed his arm again. This time with just a little more force. “Ok! Ok! I helped you because…because I know what it’s like! I know how you feel! They’re really mean to me too because we’re just alike!”

Gyutaro blinked a bit before irritation became full on rage as he ripped himself out of her grasp yet again. “You and me? Alike? Don’t mock me! How the hell are WE alike?! I’m ugly as sin and you’re not! You’ve probably never been hated just because of how you look! You wouldn’t know SHIT about me!” He fumed.

Yuna only sat on her knees, her visage ridden in confusion. “Ugly? I don’t really know what you mean but I don’t care! I do know how you feel; everyone hates me because I’m so dirty! No one cares if I’m hungry or when I’m hurt! I’m all alone! All the time! And you…you’re dirty like me, you’re so skinny like me, so I know you must be hungry like me too! And you’re always all by yourself on the street like me! And I know you’re sad just like me! I see it! We’re the same!” She insisted, desperate tears starting to brim in her pretty eyes. She hung her head, little hands gripping into the hem of her raggedy kimono. “I just thought…that maybe we could be friends…cause I thought you might be tired of being alone…like me..” She warbled out.

Gyutaro was utterly stunned by her claims, his eyes wide and cheeks flushing. His heart felt like it had stopped, ceasing to work after hearing something so unbelievable, the sheer proposition entirely unknown to him. “You…want to be friends with me?” He asked anxiously, his angered tone now diminished.

She said nothing, only nodding her head in response, still too nervous to look up at him.

��And you don’t think I’m ugly?” He kept on.

This time she shook her head, with even more vigor than she had given her nod.

“Well…what’s your name?” He tried.

Now, she looked at him. “Yuna.” She gently replied as a tear fell down her cheek and off her chin. Seems as though that she had been crying harder than she had let on.

Perhaps they really were alike, he too was desperate for somebody. Letting go of his mistrust, he allowed himself to be vulnerable. “I’m Gyutaro.” He introduced. “Don’t…don’t cry anymore…I don’t like that stuff.” He added, though it was a lie. Even as a human, he had always enjoyed seeing others suffering. But in this case, with his newfound first friend, he did not for some reason.

And for the first time, she smiled at him. “‘Kay.” She vowed, using her sleeves to wipe away her stray tears. Gyutaro felt like he was suffocating under her endearing gaze. He couldn’t remember a time where someone had shed a smile upon him. Everyone’s glares holding nothing but disgust for the likes of him. Yet she wanted him, welcomed him even. The look in her eyes made him fidget uncomfortably as he was entirely not used to this, yet the warmth that she radiated coerced him to scoot closer to her.

“Hey, what’s that?” She nosed, pointing to the scythe that stuck out of his kimono band. She certainly moves on quick.

Gyutaro didn’t know what she was talking about until he followed her pointed finger to the said scythe. “Oh, this?” He quirked, pulling it out for her to see.

“Wow, that’s way cooler than what I have!” She beamed before reaching into her own kimono to reveal a slingshot.

“What…is that?” Brow arching quizzically as he studied the odd contraption.

“I…don’t know what to call it, I made it myself out of garbage…but look!” She said, lacing her finger through the small satchel in the band. “You put rocks in here, and then you pull it back…” She explained, giving him a demonstration as she tugged it back. “And then let it go!” She declared, completing her demonstration as she released the band. The satchel snapping forward and popping against the side of the barrel.

“Woah..” Gyutaro breathed out in awe. She had made that?

“Aheh!” Yuna giggled. “I use it to catch food sometimes!” She added.

As if on cue, Gyu-Chan’s stomach let out an aching roar making his cheeks redden and causing Yuna to laugh again. “Maybe we should try and find something to eat? She proposed.

“Yeah..we should.” He agreed, crawling out of the barrel with Yuna following.

And that’s how it was from then on, anywhere he went, Yuna went. And when Ume had been born, the duo became a trio. His life had always felt so bleak back then, but those two became his everything in all of the nothing that he had. Even if this was just a dream, Gyutaro never wanted to wake up.

And with a snap, everything went dark. Gyutaro finding himself looking out into complete blackness that surrounded him entirely. “Yuna? Ume?” He tried calling out.

And suddenly, a scream of pure agony ripped through the nothingness like a siren.

“HELP ME, GYU-CHAN!” Came Yuna’s voice, though it wasn’t that of a small child. No, this was her voice, her real voice. And the sheer terror and panic in her tone sent shivers down the fearsome demons spine and his blood run cold.

“Yuna!” He shouted back into the darkness, making a mad dash through the void. He didn’t even know where he was going, this black abyss he found himself on seemed to have no exit in sight. But all sense had now left him, he had to find her, something was beyond wrong.

“PLEASE! HELP ME!” Her pleading cries echoing all around him. He couldn’t even tell where to run because her voice was everywhere at once.

“YUNA!! WHERE ARE YOU?!” He bellowed back, his tone shifting to match hers in its dread as he flailed on through the dark.

“Please Gyu-Chan, I can't do anything, there's too many of them! Make them stop!! Please, it hurts, it hurts so bad!!! Please find me! Please!” Her pleads now choppy between screaming and sobbing as she wailed helplessly into the darkness.

“YUNA!!” He tried once again.

“No! Stop it! Please! You’re hurting me!! I’m sorry!! I won’t do it again I promise, you can have it back!! Just stop!!! GYU-CHAN, PLEASE!!!” She screamed bloody murder.

“YUNAAAAAA!!!!!” He screamed til his vocal chords felt to snap, tears now streaming behind him as he sprinted onward into the inky black in search of her.

“Oni-Chan! Oni-Chan! ONI-CHAN!!!”

Gyutaro’s whole body jolting as he was brought back to reality by his sisters voice. His body covered in a cold sweat as he panted, still trying to come back to earth from the horror he’d just endured.

“Oni-Chan, you’re scratching yourself!” Daki exclaimed worriedly. Hands struggling with his as she seemed to be trying to pull his own claws off of his now slashed open and bloodied chest.

Gyutaro still struggles to gain his composure, staring wide eyed into his sister’s matching ones. The concern that she had only carving itself deeper into her delicate features.

“My god, what’s happening to you?!” She fussed over him.

“I-I don’t know.” He responded breathlessly, forcing himself to sit up, grabbing his knees to try and ground himself.

Again, how was any of this possible? How could he dream? How could he dream of something he couldn’t even remember? He knew he had no recollection of how he had met her, but now he almost really felt it in his bones that what he had experienced was the real thing. It had seemed so déjàvu, so very vaguely familiar. He knew that what he saw in the snow really happened, but the finite details of it all had been so enhanced there were even small things he couldn’t remember that were there.

So…if those two experiences were accurate…was that last bit really what her final moments were like? Crying, screaming, and praying for him to save her? Tears threatened to well in the demon's bloodshot eyes at the idea of it.

Daki huffed, her concern already melting down into annoyance. “I don’t understand, you’ve never done this before, and ugh, you got blood all over the fucking bed and-“

“Listen to me,” He cut off. “I just…I had a dream-”

Now it was Daki’s turn to interrupt. “Huh?! What do you mean? You’re telling fibs, we can’t dream-“

“Let me finish! Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” He spat back. “I’m telling the truth, I had a dream for the first time since…before.”

Daki seemed to calm down a bit before questioning further. “Well, what did you dream about?”

“I dreamt…that we were human again and…Yuna was there. It wasn’t really a dream, it was more like…memories I guess.” He went on slowly, still trying to collect himself.

“Why are you dreaming about her? She’s been dead for forev-“

“Again, I fucking know that!” Gyutaro’s patience already wearing thin with his stupid sister. “I don’t know why, but all of it was so real…”

“Well, it was just a dream, why’d you have to make a mess over it?” Daki grumbled.

Gyutaro only rolled his eyes before standing. He’d had enough of her.

“Are you leaving?” Daki asked.

“It’s sundown right?” Her brother double checked.

“Well, yeah.”

“Then I’m off.” He dismissed.

He needed to clear his head, to sink his teeth into someone, to forget what he’d just been forced to relive. And he was going to find that if it killed him tonight as he sauntered off to find his next meal.

Hi again! I’m so glad you stuck around to the end! Since it’s never exactly made clear what the age difference is between Gyutaro and Daki (except in their modern version) I decided I’d take the liberty of placing about a 4-5 year age difference between them. It makes more sense for Gyutaro to have cared for her when he was a little older rather than as a 2 year old lmao. Another thing, I kinda doubt that Gyutaro is his actual birth name, IF he was even given one. So since Gyutaro is all I have to go off of, Gyu-Chan it is!

Chapter 3

#yandere gyutaro #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x you #gyutaro shabana #kimetsu no yaiba gyuutarou #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kny gyuutaro

69 notes · View notes

tomtenadia · 3 years

Text

Remember Us - 7

I know we are in full Rowaelin month but I thought to give you part 7 as a present...

There is a small library scene in perfect theme with Day 4. (This is not part of Rowaelin month. Just a coincidence)

The chapters are getting less angsty. As I mentioned in a post a few days ago... i Finished the story and it has 10 parts. That was the original plan and I promise a HEA

-------

Rowan had spent the entire day going through all of their albums. Evalin had offered to look after Freyja, but instead he had kept the girl in his arms while sitting on the carpet and and album in front of him.

He had just finished the one about Thomas and now opened the one dedicated to his daughter. They were both still a working in progress as it looked like Aelin would just record the stages in their lives.

“Look, who is this one?” The little girl pointed at the picture and babbled something.

“This is you.” He told her in a loving tone “the most precious thing in our lives with your brother.”

“You did it, Fireheart.” Rowan kissed the head of an exhausted Aelin, while the doctors were busy cleaning and checking on their daughter.

The nurse walked to them with a bundle in her arms and gave it to Aelin “I think your daughter is ready to meet you.” And placed the baby on Aelin’s chest.

Rowan sat at her side, his arms around her shoulder as he drew closer his two women.

“She is like you, Ro.”

He kissed her forehead “I love you both. Madly.”

In another photo he saw Thomas in the hospital bed near her mother, kissing his sister head and the caption read Thomas is officially a big brother and he finally gets to meet his sister.

“ ‘Mas” babbled Freyja, pointing at the photo.

“Yes, that is your brother.”

Page by page he followed his daughter life and as it happened for Thomas, some moments became familiar all of a sudden.

Looking at photos had been a great idea but with Aelin’s captions had been even better as it was as if someone was actually telling him the story.

He looked at a couple of more albums but then he felt an headache coming and his vision was getting tired as well, so he grabbed Freyja and went to lie down on the sofa, making sure that she was tucked in safely between him and the back of the sofa. Evalin was busy doing chores around the house. He pulled the little girl to his chest and he started humming a tune while his hand caressed her head.

Not long after they were both asleep.

Evalin appeared back in the living room not long after and when she saw the scene in front of her she almost cried. Then she took her phone and snapped a picture and sent it to Aelin Your husband and your daughter are having some quality time together.

“How’s the study session going?” A younger Rowan paused beside a table in a university library.

The blonde woman in front of him groaned in exasperation “med school. Of all the degrees I choose from, I went for the worst one.” Her head collapsed heavily on the books in front of her “I want to be a neurosurgeon, I don’t care about the kidneys. Why am I studying this crap?”

Rowan smiled and placed a cup of coffee on the table “you need caffeine.”

Aelin lifted her head “yes, in IV.” She extended her arm and Rowan chuckled “you are the doctor, you will have to perform that on yourself.” He laughed and patted her head “I can tell you the legal repercussions of me performing such a procedure without a licence.”

Aelin grabbed her coffee and drank avidly “smartass.”

“A smartass you love?”

“Keep dreaming, Whitethorn.”

When he woke up again he was not ready for the splitting headache. He tried to sit up but dizziness hit him hard and then a wave of nausea. He jumped off the sofa but crashed on the carpet. Rowan fought to stand up but his body refused to obey “Evalin,” he croaked, grabbing his head in his hands.

A moment later Evalin was at his side “Rowan, are you okay?”

He crashed back down on the carpet and groaned. Evalin slowly helped him to sit back up and she felt panic rise “I should call Aelin.”

“No,” said Rowan in a whisper as he stood shakily and sat at the opposite side of the sofa away from his sleeping daughter. He should not be around the kids. No one should be around him while he was in that state.

And in that instant nausea hit again and he grabbed his stick and slowly dragged himself to the bathroom, collapsed on the floor and emptied the content of his stomach in the toilet.

***

Aelin had just finished surgery when she noticed the worried text from her mother. Rowan was not well.

She changed from the scrubs, paged her second, told him she had a family emergency and that she had to go back home. They all knew her situation and he was understanding. She had finished her surgeries for the day so finishing early was not much of an issue.

She drove home with her heart racing with panic. She knew the complications after a brain injury and she was worried. Her mother had not specified what happened but her tone seemed frantic.

Once in front of the house she parked quickly and once in the house she found it quiet. Her mother was sitting on the sofa reading to Freyja and Thomas was on the carpet playing with his toy cars.

“Where is he?”

Evalin looked up at her “in bed. He was sick, complaining of strong headaches and he said he was tired.”

Aelin dropped her backpack and ran for the bedroom and found him asleep.

She walked to him and sat at his side at the edge on the bed and slowly caressed his head. Her strong, amazing husband looked fragile, tucked in bed and sleeping on his side. The time in the hospital had left his mark and his frame was now thinner. Her hand ran through his hair once again and then deposited a gentle kiss and in that instant his eyes popped open as she chastised herself for it.

“Hi you,”

“Hi,” his voice gruff “you are home.”

“Mum texted me that you were not well.”

He tried to sit up but Aelin kept him down “you need to rest. What are your symptoms?”

Rowan’s head collapsed back on the pillow “headache, dizziness and nausea.”

Aelin’s hand was in his hair again “it’s normal. From one to ten, how bad is the headache?”

“Seven.”

She stood and came back a moment later with a glass of water and a tablet “Just a light dose to help you a bit.”

Rowan took the water and the medicine and once he was done Aelin lay down at his side, snuggling close to him, her hand on his chest. Rowan’s arms as if on instinct went around her frame but did not hug her tight. He had no energy.

“I dreamt…” he closed his eyes for a second “I dreamt of us in the library. You were complaining about your degree and kidneys,” he told her softly “I brought you coffee.”

Aelin chuckled against his chest. She did remember exactly the day “that was when I started to fall for you.”

“Tell me,” he said, his lips brushing her hair.

“Somehow you had memorised my schedule,” she began her tale “so you would pop up in the library and keep me company studying. You with your laws and me with my crazy med stuff.” She looked up at him and found her husband staring at her “during my anatomy exam you offered to be my skeleton and I revised on you.” She flicked his nose and the gentle flinch of his nose reminded her so much of him, his usual reaction “At the end of a crazy exam you brought me cake and once my session of exams was over you asked me out.”

Rowan gave her a weak smile and she could see the tiredness in his face “you asked me to move in with you on my birthday and my present were the keys to your flat. I moved out of mine the next day and Aedion moved in with Lysandra and took my place.”

“Are we good friends with them?” He asked with interest. So far they had never discussed their friends and he thought it was time to try.

Aelin nodded “Aedion is my cousin. Lys and I were flatmates and she is my best friend.” Her hand brushed his hair once again, the gesture was relaxing and Rowan seemed to enjoy it too, his features much more relaxed “then we have Lorcan and Elide and the six of us kinda form a nice tight group.”

“Do they know about my condition?”

Aelin nodded “I explained to them and the only reason they haven’t visited is because I knew it was going to be too much so I told them to wait.”

“Thank you,” he said softly while his hand brushed her back “I can’t just yet.”

Aelin nodded again and his expression morphed as if he wanted to ask her something but hesitate. His hand moved “can I?” And Aelin knew what he meant. She took his hand and pushed it under her t-shirt and on her tiny baby bump “I don’t know yet if it’s a girl or a boy. I have a check up in two weeks and will see if we can find out the sex.”

His thumb moved gently as if to greet their child with his free hand he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said a bit too quietly.

“I should let you rest,” Aelin tried to move but his hand grabbed her writs and pulled her back down against him. He had been enjoying that moment they had shared. His arms went around her frame and pulled her to him.

“You love to cuddle.”

“Do I?” He told her rising an eyebrow.

“Sometimes when mum takes the kids we do enjoy a lot of naked, adult cuddling.”

Rowan’s heart raced in terror “I am not…” he stopped “I can’t yet.”

“Shh…” said Aelin, placing a gentle finger on his lips “We are not doing anything you do not want to do.” She told him with love.

He pulled her even closer and tucked her head under his chin, and the position felt familiar all of a sudden, her scent enveloping his nostrils. Everything about her felt familiar, the shape of her body against his, her scent, they way she fit perfectly in his arms.

They were in silence for a moment until two small cyclones joined them.

“Dad.” Shouted Thomas quite loudly and Rowan groaned, his head not appreciating the decibels coming from his son.

“Quiet, Tom, dad is not well.”

The little boy zipped his lips and climbed in bed. Freyja padded to her father’s side and extended her arms in a gesture to be picked up. Rowan turned and lifted his daughter in his arms and pushed her under the blankets with Thomas and Aelin joined them a moment later.

“We are keeping company to dad but we need to be quiet. Can we do that?”

Thomas nodded eagerly and Freyja kept sucking on her pacifier. The little girl climbed on her father chest and Rowan rolled on his back to help her curl up properly. Thomas was tucked in at his side and Aelin’s arm reached over and enveloped them.

“Sorry, they really missed you.”

Rowan shook his head “this feels really nice and normal.”

Aelin smiled and brushed Thomas’ hair “believe me on a weekend it is, and if I am not working the four of us love a long morning in bed together.”

He chuckled and loved the image “What about the names?”

Aelin grabbed Freyja’s hand in her and kissed it “Thomas was a character in a sci-fi series that we both love. He is an Admiral and quite amazing. He is actually my fictional husband. Freyja, we took it from a mythology book.”

Rowan laughed “so I have competition.”

“Can you be an admiral?”

“I order you to kiss me, soldier.” Rowan felt a smile tug at his lips and Aelin stared at him with fondness. Then leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Bleah,” said Thomas in protest. Aelin stamped a big kiss on his cheek “feeling better now?” And the boy grinned and climbed down from the bed “lego.” And he ran away.

Aelin sighed “he has a lot of energy.” And now that her son space had been vacated she scooted closer to Rowan and her hand was on the girl’s back on top of Rowan’s.

“I love the kids. It’s been only a few days but I love them madly already.” He whispered looking down at his sleeping daughter. Then back at Aelin and for a brief moment he saw sadness in her eyes. Loving the kids had been easy. His feelings for her were far more complicated. He felt something but could not put a name on it yet.

“With you is…” he paused, searching for the right words. He had caused enough pain already “complicated. There is something, I can feel it, but I don’t know if it’s just the memories or my actual feelings.” His hand ran through his hair “I don’t know how to explain it clearly.”

Aelin kissed his forehead tenderly. For as much as she wanted her husband back, she was not going to rush him. He would need time and she was willing to wait. She had waited at his bedside for so long to have him awake again that she was happy to take even the small acts of affection he was willing to give her.

“I want you to have your husband back, and I am trying…”

“Shhh…” she said to him, a gentle kiss on his lips “I have him back, and I can see more of him coming back everyday. You don’t realise it but he is there.” She patted his chest “My husband is right here in my arms.”

Rowan’s hand grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to him for a fierce kiss. Aelin melted at the contact. The kiss felt like coming home and for a moment it swept away all her fears.

“Does your husband kiss you like that?” The smirk on his face and his playful tone was him and she pulled back, coming up for air.

“Seems like you remember this part very well.”

“It does help that my wife is stunning.”

Aelin smiled. He had called her his wife. Had he accepted his life? Had he accepted them?

She looked at him in his pine green eyes looking for an answer.

“Yes.”

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowan x aelin #aelin galathynius #domestic fluff

49 notes · View notes

everyonesfavoritelesbowrites · 3 years

Text

RATLD Headcanons pt. 4

Fears and insecurities

Raya and Namaari both have nightmares of the betrayal in Heart.

During those six years, Namaari can't remember a night where she didn't have a nightmare. Almost all of them of the betrayal.

Having to be careful, Raya learned to sleep very lightly. The smallest amount of noise will make her spring into action. So she didn't get into deep sleep often, but whenever she did she would get nightmares as well.

While Namaari's dreams were mostly focused on her betraying Raya and it going a bit too far. Raya's dream were of her Ba or Namaari going too far.

With more interactions with each other throughout the years came more dreams

Namaari would have dreams where in a fight one would kill the other. Raya would dream similarly, but a lot of them would focus around the Druun.

Raya has many dreams of the Druun getting her, (sometimes getting Namaari but she didn't understand why it got her all worked up).

Namaari would sometimes dream of Fang's famine 100% worse and watching everyone die while she lives in Luxury. (Although she also grew up with not enough food, leaving her a malnourished child)

After the event in Spine, Namaari consistently dreams that she kills Raya instead of Sisu intervening.

She also had dreams of killing Sisu and Sisu not coming back or she would come back and blame her\revenge.

Raya dreams of the fight in Fang's throne room where instead she didn't hesitate and kills Namaari.

Raya also has a hard time sleeping in an actual bed once everything is back to "normal". She's so use to sleeping in trees or caves or against TukTuk that it's accutally too soft.

Raya also wakes up constantly, worried she'll be Druun food or just hearing the smallest noise.

One day she just can't take it anymore and goes for a walk, where she runs into Namaari who looks like she's having a panic attack.

"What are you doing out here, princess Undercut- woah, are you okay?"

They end up telling the other about their dreams and how the beds are too soft for Raya and somehow they end up in the same bed having the best sleep they have ever had.

If they are together it just becomes an unspoken routine where they will sleep together to have a peaceful nights sleep.

They almost always end up in each other's arms but they don't talk about that

Chief Virana and Chief Benja thinking they are sleeping together, like sleeping sleeping together and are surprised when they find out they aren't even dating yet

They wake up when the other has a nightmare and comfort them.

"You're okay."

"Just breath."

"I'm still alive, see? You didn't have the guts to actually kill me."

"Look at me."

"Do you need to go for a walk?"

"We can talk to Sisu if you want."

Raya wonders why Namaari's room is so... empty so she tries to ask her in a way where she can just play it off as a joke if Namaari gets uncomfortable

But Namaari tells her

Namaari tries to not get sentimental to any objects because she's afraid she'll lose them and the events that happened after giving her Sisu necklace to Raya haunt her.

She keeps any sentimental items she gets stored safely away so she won't lose them. It's mostly drawings kids make her or things Raya leaves behind

She also feels guilty to have such an extravagant room, to live in such luxury, when her people have a major homelessness problem. This goes side by side with her food insecurities, although she was pretty malnourished as a child.

She also thinks she deserves to be lonely, not that she already does did feel lonely, but making her room bare helps give her that feeling that she doesn't deserve anything. She thinks this is fair considering her past.

Raya is understanding but also is loosing her mind over Namaari being so hard on herself.

Raya tries to sneak some things into Namaari's room. It first disappears quickly, Namaari tucking them away for safe keeping but after a while, she tries to just let them stay.

She worries constantly, ending up just staring at whatever Raya brought in this time. Perhaps if she engraves it into her memory, she won't worry if she loses it.

It takes a while, but Namaari eventually gets to the point where she won't feel sick not putting things away. She can just let it be with only a few thoughts of worry.

Raya becoming comfortable enough to sleep through the smallest of sounds, but she's never going to not wake up to sounds, it's just too engraved into her.

Namaari smiling when Raya doesn't wake up from a small bird outside the window.

A storm comes around one night in Heart when Namaari is visiting. Raya wakes up from a loud boom of thunder and finds Namaari literally shaking.

Namaari is scared of Thunderstorms, or more specifically loud noises send her into panic.

She has trained herself to not panic when there's a single or just a few loud noise/s, but if it's consistent she just can't handle it.

Raya, unable to sleep anyway, comforts Namaari and tries to distract her.

"We could spar."

"I can ask Sisu if her brother can make it stop."

"Tell me about the things you learned about Dragons as a kid."

"Remember when [moment]?"

"When I was 15, I [tells crazy story]."

"Let's go get [Serlot name], I bet she'd love to cuddle!"

"What do you think makes the noise of thunder?"

"Hey, I thought you weren't scared of anything, dep la. How can I make you flinch like that?"

"I wish I was the one making you shake like that." "What?" "Nothing! Tell me about your cat!"

"Under the blankets, Undercut."

"Shut up thunder!"

Namaari not seeing Raya eat any food when she comes to Fang and asking who made a dish when she's in Heart.

Sisu mentions something about poison and it just clicks.

Namaari hands Raya a dish in Fang, taking her own bite right in front of her first. "Just checking for poison."

After a few times of doing this, Raya ends up confessing to being posioned when she was 13. Namaari understands and keeps tasting food for her and even starts cooking for them right in front of her.*

"Don't forget to check for poison." "Of course, dep la."

"I didn't take you for a cook, let alone a good one." "It's better than your Jackfruit jerky, that's for sure."

Namaari admits to refusing to eat meals given to her unless she pays, otherwise she has to make it herself.*

Raya telling her that she paid for foods in Heart for Namaari, even if it's a slight lie. She's the princess, she kinda gets whatever she wants.*

Namaari paying Boun after they watch him cook for them

Raya gets separation anxiety, worrying that her Ba turned to stone again although it's not posible. She even worries for Namaari but she won't admit to that

Namaari reminds her that her Ba is fine and it helps

Her Ba also comforting her about it ofc

"If anyone will turn to stone, it'll probably be me not your Ba." this doesn't help but she won't tell Namaari she has dreamt of her being stone as well

Namaari accidentally hurting Raya during a Spar and she like breaks. She refuses to talk to her and avoids her because she feels horrible and it reminds her of Spine and Fang's Throne room.

Raya ends up cornering her and is afraid she did something wrong but Namaari admits that she's beating herself up for hurting her and Raya's heart swells and breaks at the same time.

"I've done worse to myself."

"It's literally nothing."

"It won't even scar."

Raya also hates to hurt Namaari.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry! Here, get me so it's fair!"

"I didn't mean to, I swear."

"If it does scar, it'll look sexy..." "What?" "I mean awesome, it'll look awesome. You're not sexy at all."

Raya notices Namaari acting strange around Sisu and asks about it. Namaari explains how whenever she looks at Sisu or even hears her or someone mentions her, the memory of shooting her replays in her head. She explains how she has nightmares about it and hates herself for it.

Raya comforts her by explaining how it wasn't her fault, or at least not entirely. Raya admits how she should have trusted Sisu.

"It's all in the past, we can't do anything about it, Namaari."

"I feel like I have to make it up to her... to everyone." "You literally saved the world but go all out I guess."

Raya stages an "intervention" for Namaari, bringing Sisu to talk to her so they both can make it better for Namaari.

"Don't you hate me?" "No! Why would I!?"

"I don't hold it against you, Namaari."

"What can I do to make it up to you?" "You don't have to do anything! You already saved the world!"

"Well... You could hang out with me more often."

Afterwords, the tension is much better but it takes a bit longer for Namaari to really open up with Sisu.

Namaari also ends up taking with Chief Benja about trying to take the gem. He's too understanding.

"I understand if you despise me, Chief Benja." "I don't."

"If I was in your position, I would have probably done the same to be honest..."

"If I had known your nation was in famine..."

"I don't blame you, it would have happened either way. It was just simply a matter of who and when."

Namaari only feeling intimidated by three people. Her mother, Chief Benja, and Sisu. Maybe Raya when they were fighting but not anymore.

Raya having issues letting people in. Mostly on instinct.

She gets defensive immediately.

"Why do you [add something here]?" "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy Benturi." *Silence* "I'm sorry, [explains]."

"Dewdrop, what have you been up to?" "None of your business- fuck, i'm sorry, Ba. I was sparring with Namaari."

"Are you okay?" "Who cares?" "...... I do?" "Right, sorry, I'm good."

"Where did you get that scar?" "Minding my own fucking business- I mean, I tripped on a rock accutally." *Namaari still processing*

Raya eventually gives in but it takes a while and a lot of comfort from Namaari and sisu but whatever

*I elaborated on this before

#ratld headcanons series #ratld #rayamaari #raya and the last dragon #raya #namaari #sisu #ratld headcanons #headcanon #headcanons

52 notes · View notes

fulokis · 3 years

Text

Fulokis WandaVision Rewrite- Chapter 2

Wanda furrowed her brow at her brother, "This is Vision, my husband. I swear you two have met before."

Peter processed what to say, "It's all a blur, honestly probably a side effect of being dead. Hey is that a Nintendo Entertainment system?"

"You and your games." Wanda said letting the subject of her brothers death go for the moment.

"You and your sitcoms." Peter shot back from inside the fridge. Grabbing a Capri Sun he speed over to the pantry and grabbed a chocodile, before heading back to the entry way to examine Vision.

"You never told me your brother had powers too." Vision said uncomfortably stepping to the side after Peter poked his face. "Or that he had died."

"Yes well..." Wanda said trying to figure out what to say.

"It runs in the family." Peter offered up still examining Vision.

"What no it doesn't." Wanda said furrowing her brow "Since when has it run in the family?"

"I believe what your brother is trying to say Wanda, is that it has something to do with genetics, rather than chance."

"Bingo!" Peter said.

"Shhhh." Wanda scolded, "If you wake up the kids I swear I will kill you."

"Kids?" Peter asked "First I'm an Uncle?! And second you had kids with the toaster over here?"

Vision frowned and Wanda shook her head, "Just try to be quiet okay?"

Peter chuckled, "You say that as if I'm not capable of being quiet."

"Vis can I talk to you for a minute?" Wanda asked half dragging the sinth into the kitchen.

"Are you okay Wanda?"

"Yeah yeah I'm fine why wouldn't I be?"

"Wanda you said I had met your brother, and that your brother had died. Neither of which I was aware of until now."

"Ohh I see. Yeah you two have met, it was quick. Literally he just ran past you. And about the whole death thing don't listen to him he's being dramatic."

"Wanda I find generally that people aren't dramatic about death." Vision said with visible confusion.

"He..." Wanda started, "We were six, and at school and well he choked on a potato because he was eating too fast. He was quiet at school I'm not sure why, but um the teacher wouldn't listen to me until he passed out. And the teacher went over to check on him... and his heart had stoped. The teacher started to try and revive him, and I don't know why but I went over to him and held his hand through it. He's fine but it left both of us shaken up."

"Oh I see." Vision said "Wanda do humans often claim premature death when they have no pulse?"

"Sometimes yes." Wanda said. "Look Pietro is probably going to need to sleep on the couch, he lives pretty far from here."

"Don't worry darling your family is my family." Vision said embracing Wanda and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

"You know this house reminds me of home!" Peter shouted from the living room.

Wanda sighed looking up at Vision. "I suppose I should go talk to him."

Vision smiled "Ill leave you two to catch up." He said before moving out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Wanda walked over to the living room and sat down in the chair next to the couch. "So..."

Peter smiled "Do you still have that little thing mom gave you? The one with the other half that she game to me?"

Wanda smiled and laughed slightly, "Yeah I do. I'm assuming you lost yours?"

"Nah, it's in a safe place." Peter said. "At least I think, honestly don't remember exactly where I put it."

"Of course you don't. Although I'm sure you remember where you put moms special rock."

"In the cookie jar." Peter said smiling at the idea "No robber was ever going to look in that ugly old thing."

"Ugly? Dad would kill you if he ever heard you say that." Peter froze for a second, he knew he had something important to tell someone or say or something. Something about his father. "Pietro?"

"Sorry I guess I just haven't thought about them in a while." Peter said watching as Wanda got up.

"I'll make some hot chocolate." She said humming to herself a familiar tune.

"Thanks." Peter said standing up and walking into the kitchen to throw away his trash. "It's nice here. This town, your home, your family."

"Yeah I lucked out." Wanda said staring into the microwave.

"Yeah you did. I'm actually a little surprised."

"How so?"

"Well you settled down, you have a family. You don't have to worry about the world. You always wanted it, but I knew that you were terrified you wouldn't get it."

"Is it a bad thing?"

"No." Peter shook his head "No not at all. I think mom and dad would both be proud of you. They would've loved to meet your kids."

"Pietro you haven't even met my kids."

"Aw come on sis, you worried I won't like them?"

"No I'm worried they won't like you. There's a difference."

"Eh they'll like their old uncle P." Peter said and Wanda laughed. "But I'm being serious mom and dad would've loved them."

"Here." Wanda said handing Peter the hot chocolate mug to him.

Peter took a sip "You added a bit of cinnamon."

"Yeah just the way mom liked it." Wanda said, "Of course I'm not good with a stove in the way she was."

"It still tastes good." Peter said taking another sip, "So Uh how did you and toaster meet?"

"You really don't remember?" Wanda asked.

"Like I said it's a blur, although it's probably for the best."

"Yeah... for the best." Wanda said.

"I know that look." Peter said. "You're going to go watch a sitcom aren't you?"

"Maybe." Wanda replied setting the mug of hot chocolate she had made for herself on a coaster in the living room.

Peter followed her out to the living room walking over to the bookshelf in the corner. On the bookshelf sat a lonely chess piece. Peter picked up the black queen, running a finger along the piece. He stopped, he could remember something about the piece in his hand.

"She's lucky you know." Wanda said.

"What?" Peter asked sure for a second he heard a mans voice saying the words.

"She's lucky." Wanda said walking over, "Dad tried to teach you but you never had the patience."

"How is she lucky?" Peter asked.

"She's like us, unusual. We have powers like she does, and yet she's still not the most powerful piece on the board. She's always treated like she's second best, so she's lucky for anyone who is like her." Wanda explained.

Peter took a sharp breath, a memory came back to him almost as if he was reliving it. Through the fog in his mind he could remember. Him lounging on a couch Ororo sitting curled up in the sun on the other side of the couch reading a book. On an adjacent couch Jean was leaning on Scott having a hushed conversation with him. Jubilee and Kurt were sitting on the floor looking at a game of Life spread at their feet.

Peter had headphones in, but he didn't have any music playing. He knew that everyone else just figured he did and they let him be to take his 'nap'.

"Check." Charles said.

"Check mate." Erik replied placing a piece down.

"No it's not." Charles replied.

"Yes it is."

Charles sat and examined the board for a second "Fine you win this one my friend."

"You seem distracted today Charles."

"Distracted me? Never."

"Gah!" Kurt yelled in surprise accidentally teleporting into the table the two older mutants were using for their chess game. Peter startled at the loud noise and looked down to see a chess piece roll towards the couch. "Sorry Professor."

"Not to worry Kurt, we were done anyway." Charles said, "What startled you?"

Kurt started to explain to the professor what had happened. Peter tuned out the conversation sitting up and stretching. He bent down and picked up the piece that had rolled near the couch.

"She's lucky you know." Erik said watching the young mutant as he got up from the couch.

Peter nearly froze, he couldn't believe that Erik was talking to him. "What do you mean?"

"She's like us, powerful but always treated beneath those who have not evolved to a higher purpose. Always serving in the shadows of the less evolved."

Peter looked at the man slightly confused, "Has she brought you any luck?"

"A couple times yes." Erik replied, "She brought me family when I needed it."

"Oh." Peter replied, "Uh here." He said reaching out to give it to the man.

"Keep it." Erik said, nodding to Peters leg "You look like you could use a little luck."

"Heh luck, I don't need it." Peter said, "After all I did break you out of the pentagon without it. The legs just a little fluke that's all."

"Peter that's not something you need to boast about." Charles said handing Erik a a couple of renegade chess pieces.

Erik took the pieces from Charles and put them back with his set. Peter attempted to give the queen back to Erik. "Keep it, Ill get it back from you the next time I visit."

"Next Tuesday then?" Charles asked.

"Next Tuesday." Erik confirmed walking out of the room.

Peter waited until the man was out of earshot, "Why wouldn't he take it?" Peter asked Charles.

"Erik is a mystery that few can solve Peter."

"Haven't you professor?" Peter asked.

"Oh believe me I've tried." Charles said. "Best not to worry about it."

Peter looked down at the chess piece in his hand, he knew he was going to keep it close for the weekend. He had to keep it safe, if not for him but his father.

"Pietro?" Peter heard through his thoughts.

"What?" He asked still holding the chess piece.

"Are you okay?" Wanda asked touching his shoulder.

"Yeah, I just miss them ya know." Peter said mulling over the memory that he just seemingly formed.

Wanda nodded and gave him a hug. Peter went to place the queen back on the shelf but Wanda stopped him closing his hand around it. "Keep it, you could use some luck."

Peter wanted to protest but Wanda had already wandered off heading up the stairs. Peter walked over and sat down on the couch turning the piece over in his hands. Something wasn't right, or at least something didn't feel right. Peter sighed knowing he would have to mull over his thoughts later. Setting both his mug and the queen on the table he lie down on the couch and closed his eyes attempting to get some sleep.

The dreams he had were unsettling. He'd dreamt many times of death and dying, and yet these felt too real. Peter felt the pain, pain that shouldn't have been there. He'd been shot, he knew that in fact he was sure of that. And yet in his dream he nearly had his skull crushed while something pulled him towards the ground. What was even more unsettling was the man from his memory seemed to be the one trying to kill him.

Peter startled awake the last image of a man with a helmet, staring directly at him. He looked around the room to get his bearings. Wanda's husband sat in the chair next to the couch, reading the mornings newspaper. Peter turned his head slightly to read the headline on the paper.

"Restless night?" Vision asked.

"What?" Peter asked, "Oh yeah. Nightmares. Come to think of it do you get them?"

"Nightmares?" Vision pondered, "No I don't think so. Although I do get some unsavory images occasionally during my rest period."

Peter sat up, "Must be simple to be a machine. No reason to have fake memories."

"My memory has fallacies, although much less so than a human." Vision said paying much more attention to his newspaper than Peter.

"Mutant." Peter mumbled under his breath out of habit.

"What was that?" Vision asked.

"What? Nothing. I didn't say anything. It's you. You must be hearing things."

"I process audio input." Vision corrected looking up from his paper at the ten year old coming down the stairs. "Billy! Come say hello to your uncle Pietro."

Peter looked at the kid, "Uncle P is fine."

Billy walked down the stairs slowly and came to sit on the opposite side of the couch closer to his father, clutching closer to the blanket he'd wrapped around himself. "He takes after Wanda."

Peter smiled and nodded at Vision, "Hey."

"Mom said you were very far away." Billy said.

"Peter smiled mischievously, "She wasn't wrong about me being far away, I mean I do live pretty far away..."

"Woah your hair is cool!" A kid shouted running down the stairs.

"Hey, Tommy what have we told you about running in the house?" Vision reprimanded.

The boy ignored his father and jumped on the couch right next to Peter "Can I touch it?"

Peter made a weird face, "I guess." He replied.

"Aww I thought it would feel cool too." Tommy said, "Who are you? Why are you here? Are you a secret agent?"

"That's Uncle P Tommy." Billy said.

"Woah!" Tommy yelled.

"Tommy what have we told you about yelling!" Wanda said coming down the stairs.

"But mom..."

"Listen to your mother kid." Peter said.

"See your Uncle knows what he's talking about."

"Do you listen to her Uncle P?" Billy asked.

Peter smiled and got up and sped towards Wanda, letting her stop him with her magic much to her resignation. "Nope." Peter said with a grin watching as the kids faces lit up with surprise. Wanda gave him a playful slap on the shoulder at his response, "But you should listen to her, she gives some good advice."

"That's better." Wanda said as the phone rang. Wanda sighed and picked it up, "Hello?... oh no...hold on... vis can you handle it?" Wanda asked nodding at the fact that Tommy had stolen his brothers blanket and started using it as a cape. "... what were you saying?... is there anything I can do?... are you sure?... okay feel better."

"What is it?" Peter asked.

"Vis Hon, Agnes can't babysit for us, she's come down with the flu."

"Rats, if only there were someone we could get to watch the kids." Vision said winking towards Peter.

"No, I am not letting..." Wanda started.

"Awwww." Billy said, "But mom I want to hang out with Uncle P."

"Please!?" Tommy asked.

Wanda frowned, "Oh I don't know. Vision what do you think?"

"I think that's an excellent idea. The kids get to hang out with their Uncle, you and I get to spend some time to ourselves. And Agnes doesn't have to worry too much about the kids. It's a Win-Win-Win situation dear."

"I'm still not sure." Wanda said.

"Don't sweat it Sis, nothing I can't handle." Peter said showing off his muddles for the twins.

"Please mom please??" Both boys pleaded.

Wanda sighed "Alright fine, but only because I'm outvoted."

"Yay!" Both twins shouted.

"But and this is a big but, you have to behave yourselves." Wanda said, "No T.V. After 9 and no desert after dinner you hear me?"

"Yes of course we hear you mom." Billy said, "Can we watch T.V. Until you go?"

"Yes you may." Wanda said, "Pietro can I talk to you?"

"Yeah." Peter said following his sister into the kitchen. "What's up?"

"Are you sure you're up for this?" Wanda asked watching as Vision helped the boys with the T.V.

Peter snorted, "Oh come on sis, how bad can they really be? Cause I've died and come back, not much can be worse."

"Pietro that's what I'm worried about. You sure you don't want to rest, or take it easy?"

Peter placed a hand on Wanda's shoulder "My dear sister I've never once in my life taken it easy, and there's no way in my afterlife life I'm going to take it easy either."

Wanda smiled and shook her head, "You're still awful at jokes."

"Aw come on you know I'm better at practical jokes." Peter said pulling his sister into a hug. "But my point is I'll be fine and your kids will be fine, I won't let anything happen to them I promise."

"Thank you." Wanda said, "I'll do the same for you if you ever have kids."

"I know Wanda, I know." Peter said, his mind slipping back to the memory of the chess piece and the dream he had experienced the previous night. Something was wrong here he could feel it, something about the town, about Wanda's husband, about Agnes. They felt fake in a way, almost as if they weren't meant to be there. He felt uneasy most of the time, especially as he tried to parse out what was actually real and what was fake. One thing he knew for sure, Wanda and her kids were real. And he'd be damned if he let anything happen to them.

<< Previous Next>>

#quicksilver #dadneto #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #wanda maximoff #peter maximoff #pietro maximoff #billy maximoff #tommy maximoff #the vision #agnes #xmen #x-men #ralph bohner #agatha harkness #vision #fanfic

43 notes · View notes

hotchley · 3 years

Text

aaron

summary: “some of us grow up to catch them.”

ssa hotchner. former prosecutor. unit chief of the behavioural analysis unit. best shot in the whole of the quantico building. dad to jack and his entire team.

aaron hotchner. just a boy, trying to make it through the day.

(alternatively known as the backstory, the moments between, and the hotch episode we never got)

read chapter one here!

chapter two: the moments in between

trigger warnings for this chapter : minor character deaths, death of a parent, implied/referenced child abuse, court cases involving a not guilty verdict to a charge of abuse, arson, references to cancer, references to the death of a child, vomit/sickness, references to self-harm and suicide, stabbing, canon-typical violence, blood, implied/reference drug addiction, references to domestic violence (this is between hotch's parents)

Aaron Hotchner was a lawyer full of contradictions.

He had graduated at the top of his class, but he never once referenced his own father’s abilities when he started practicing. And instead of becoming a defence lawyer- a role that would have led to him holding a position of power within weeks- he became a criminal prosecutor.

He claimed it was what called to him.

In reality, it was because he refused to let anything else be tainted by the memory of his father. He remembered the nights where his father would come home and talk about the horrible things his clients had done. He remembered how he had laughed and said he would be able to make all of those things go away with a few words. He remembered how his stomach had tightened at the injustice of it all.

But he wasn’t a scared little boy anymore. He was an adult. He was as close to happy as he could be when he spent his days looking at photos of people who had lives, and hopes, and dreams that were cut short. When an ordinary day at work meant putting some bad people behind bars whilst he was forced to let others go free.

When he was in court, he was amazing. He was cold and emotionless. People genuinely believed he had no emotions, that there was nothing that could faze him. Killers and abusers would hurl insults at him, defence lawyers would pull random laws from nowhere and he would take it. He would think on his feet and come up with something. But then there were sudden moments where he would look so vulnerable. Like when he spoke to a child, a young woman, the family that thought they hadn’t done anything to save their loved one.

The only time he would smile was when the blonde woman in his life would appear. Sometimes it was with lunch, dressed semi-casually, hair slightly messy and pen on her face from whatever it was she was doing. Other times it would be in a pretty dress. Those would be the days where he would look mildly terrified for a moment, before grinning and leading her out the office. On the bad days where they would be forced to come in on a weekend, she would come in with her own work and keep him company.

Haley had gone into teaching. High school history, although she always helped with the various productions held. She was a natural with the kids, always doing her best to be understanding and helpful, instead of confrontational and harsh. Despite this, there were still nights where she would come home, not saying anything. Those nights, Aaron would wrap his arms around her and let her cry about the injustice of the system.

Those were the nights he remembered just how lucky he was that she had taken a chance on him, unlike everyone else, who had left him to suffer. He didn’t want to think about where he would’ve been without her. Or if he would’ve even been anywhere on this earth.

So their lives weren’t perfect, and he woke up screaming some nights, but they were good. They both had stable jobs in the same area, which meant they could eat dinner together and fall asleep in each other’s arms every night. Haley liked linking their hands together so she could look at their wedding rings.

The wedding had been small, more for her parents than anyone else. He still didn’t believe he was worth loving. She had always dreamt of a wedding, but with Aaron none of that seemed to matter. What mattered was him being around. Her parents however, weren’t having any of it and even offered to pay for the wedding if that was the problem.

Haley had very kindly told them to keep their money. If her and Aaron were to get married, they would do it the way they wanted to, with their savings and their budget.

In the end, the wedding had been a compromise. Haley’s entire family, all of her high school friends and sorority sisters were invited, and everyone but Meredith attended. Aaron’s mother and brother came, as well as some of his friends from law school, but the list of people he actually wanted there was even shorter than Haley’s. She refused a seating plan for that exact reason.

After they cut the cake, they managed to sneak away for a few minutes. The wedding had been outdoors. They could see the stars. And when Aaron looked at her, he fell in love all over again. He could hear the music faintly, and so he had offered his hand and they had danced, feeling like they were seventeen all over again. That night, there had been no darkness inside him. Only joy.

And as one of his favourite authors, Joseph Campbell, had written: find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.

But when you saw the things he did, it was difficult to find a place where joy could survive. And even when it was there, it was temporary. Because no matter what he, and everyone else in the district attorney’s office did, the evil never stopped. There was always somebody else getting hurt. Another victim not being believed. A lawyer quitting because they couldn’t keep looking at the worst of humanity and surviving.

Aaron’s own last case haunted him years after he joined the FBI.

He had been on edge for a while. Christmas had come and gone. With it, the never-ending questions from various colleagues and family members about when he was next coming home. When was Haley going to have a baby? Were they even trying for a child? Was Aaron having some difficulties? Or worst of all, when was he going to let go of his grand delusions and silly ideas and settle down as a defence lawyer?

Returning to his real home- the apartment him and Haley resided in, that had come to life with their little knick-knacks- had been a relief. She wasn’t fond of going home and seeing everyone that had failed Aaron, but she loved her family and friends. Aaron could never get away fast enough. She respected that. It was why they worked.

The new year came, and with it, new cases.

Aaron wasn’t trying to bring a killer to justice with only the evidence from the crime scenes and the testimony of families. He was trying to save an innocent child and make sure the only monsters in their life were the ones imaginary ones under the bed, instead of the father they said was abusing him and his mother.

It was like looking in a mirror. An innocent child finally snapping and telling the police the truth about their home life. But where Aaron had been mocked and told to stop being a liar, the police had listened. Gathered the evidence. They had done their job. Now it was time for Aaron to do his.

He poured over the files for hours. He found every piece of evidence he could. He would not fail this child. Not the same way he had been. He would find the truth behind every hospital visit, between every tear they had ever shed and he would make sure that the old bastard’s wife and son never had to be scared for their lives ever again.

Aaron was going to do what nobody ever did for him.

It was a week before the trial. New evidence had been located. It was all important, obviously, but there was something they were missing. Something Aaron knew would make all the difference to their case. He just needed to find out.

His phone lit up. Sean was calling him. He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t be dealing with his younger brother’s complaints in that moment. And he certainly couldn’t be lending him any more money. Him and Haley were saving for a mortgage. Then they would have a real home. Somewhere to call their own.

Somewhere to eventually raise their own children.

Sean tried to call him two more times. And Aaron declined two more times. It was a bit strange that he was phoning so consecutively, but it was probably nothing. No, not probably, definitely. It always was.

He turned back to the files, making sure his phone was on silent. When the clock ticked to six, he hurriedly locked majority of the files away in his cabinet and put the ones that had just come through into his briefcase. Haley had planned a nice evening for the two of them. But if- when- he woke up in the early hours of the morning, at least he could do something productive.

There were two more missed calls from Sean. Aaron made a mental note to phone him when he got home.

“Give me fifteen minutes to shower and then I’m yours, I promise,” he said as he entered their living room, shoes already neatly put away on the porch.

There were two packed bags on the couch. Haley was sat, wearing a black dress, hands in her lap, landline next to her. Her head was bent, but her body was shaking as tears slipped down her cheek, dampening the fabric.

Aaron felt bile rising in the back of his throat as he knelt in front of her. “Baby,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“Baby, what happened? Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“Your mom’s gone,” she said.

“What?” Aaron whispered.

“I’m so sorry Aaron. I am so- that wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you. It’s just- Sean said she was admitted to the hospital earlier, and she passed away about an hour ago. They phoned here because you didn’t answer your cell phone. I tried to explain everything, really, but they wouldn’t let me speak and-”

“She’s really gone,” Aaron said.

Haley embraced him, awkwardly wrapping her arms around his neck as he sobbed, the knowledge still not sinking in, but the emptiness in his heart was threatening to overwhelm him entirely. They sat like that for what may have been hours or minutes as his body shook. Only when his tears turned to hiccups did Haley pull away, gently wiping away his tears with the sleeve of her dress.

“You should shower. There’s nothing else you can do now,” she said.

Aaron shook his head. Haley stood and led him to the bathtub.

“All you need to do is keep your head up for me, okay?”

The shower had no effect on him. Haley helped him dress. He felt like a small child, needing someone’s assistance to button his shirt up. But he couldn’t make his body cooperate with him. He couldn’t do anything, still in shock that she was gone.

Haley put the bags in the boot. Aaron got in the passenger side. He spent the journey staring out the window. When the buildings became more familiar, he closed his eyes, not opening them until they reached Haley’s old home. He turned to her in confusion.

“Sean is staying with a friend tonight. Going back to that house is not something you need to do today. My parents already said we could stay with them.”

Of course they did. Because everyone must’ve already known that his mother died. His mother had died and he hadn’t been there because he’d ignored his brother’s phone calls. What kind of person did that make him?

Haley no longer had the key. She rang the doorbell, one arm still wrapped around him as they awkwardly stood outside. Hotch remembered the first time he had gone to her house for dinner. It had been after his father passed away. He’d spent the entire meal feeling uncomfortable. Like the Brooks’ weren’t going to approve of him.

Her mother had hugged him, cradling the back of his head, whispering her condolences, both for what had been lost and for what the town had failed to do. Roy Brooks had shaken his hand, saying that anyone would be proud to call him their son. Jessica had dragged him to one side and said they’d all known about Haley sneaking him in during the night, but nobody knew what to say.

When he got home, he crawled into bed and sobbed. For the first time, somebody loved him unconditionally.

It was her mother that answered the door. When she saw who it was, she ushered them in. Aaron remembered at the last moment that he was supposed to take his shoes off. Haley led him to the living room.

Roy embraced him. “You’re freezing,” he whispered. “Darling, put some tea on. Aaron, how are you feeling?”

He shook his head. He did not deserve kindness. Not in this moment.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to talk. Just drink some tea and then got some sleep. Haley’s old bedroom has been set up for the two of you. And we’ll both be here if you need anything. The next few days are going to be draining for both of you, so please, don’t hesitate in asking for any kind of support.”

“Thank you Papa,” Haley said, rubbing her husband’s back.

Aaron tried to smile, but it was forced and uncomfortable.

Roy was the one who drove him to the funeral home. Haley had offered, but she had already driven them from their apartment, which had tired her out because she hated driving, so Aaron had declined, having every intention to bear the burden alone. But as he was slipping his shoes on, Roy had emerged, saying nobody should have go alone.

Sean was waiting outside for the two of them, eyes red, biting his nails. When Aaron looked at him, he couldn’t even imagine him as the eighteen-year-old about to go to college that he was. When Aaron looked at his little brother, he just saw the little boy who didn’t understand that their dad wasn’t coming home. Only this time, there were no comforting lies to give him. He understood everything. Including Aaron’s failure.

“How could you?” Sean whispered the moment he saw his brother.

Aaron looked down.

“She was in the hospital, constantly asking where you were. She didn’t care that I was there. She just wanted to know where her precious baby was, and I had to keep lying and say that you were coming when in reality, I had no fucking clue where you were. It was not supposed to be me holding her hand. It was supposed to be you. But you weren’t there, and so you have no right to turn up, now looking all sad and pathetic.”

Michael Hotchner had not been right about much. But he had been right about one thing. Aaron Hotchner was his mirror. Sean Hotchner was his son.

“Sean Hotchner. That is enough. You do not get to disrespect your brother or your mother like that. Go inside, and do not create another scene,” Roy snapped.

When Sean departed, he turned to Aaron, who was shaking.

“Son?”

“He’s right,” Aaron whispered. “I should have been there. He- Sean phoned me and I didn’t answer because I thought it was stupid and I had this case and- I failed her.”

“Look at me. It’s not your fault. It was her time to go, and you cannot spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. Sean is angry and grieving, and he doesn’t mean a single word of what he said. You’re a good man, doing a good job and you make my daughter happy. Don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

Aaron nodded, not truly believing him. He followed Sean into the funeral home, where they spent the next few hours in a tense, uncomfortable silence. Aaron wanted to comfort his brother, but he didn’t know how. Not when Sean stood as far away from him as possible.

The funeral was a day later. Once again, Haley held his hand until the priest called him up to say a few words. Aaron managed to make it through his eulogy with minimal tears, but the moment he was back beside his wife, he turned away from the grave, letting the tears fall.

The people were silently judging him for what he had failed to do. Roy glared at everyone that dared tried to voice these opinions. They were wrong. Aaron hadn’t failed anyone. He’d gotten there the moment he was supposed to, and if those people were even half as religious as they liked to claim they were, they would know that.

“You take as long as you need,” Haley whispered, when everyone else, even Sean had departed.

Aaron nodded, holding the flowers he’d grabbed from the car to his chest like a baby. He watched as Haley left, going to sit in the car to give him the space he needed. He’d told them all to drive home, that the walk would do him some good. He watched on unsteady legs as the car faded from view.

And then he fell to his knees, sobbing, one hand pressed to his mouth to stop too much noise from escaping, the other blindly feeling around for the flowers left by Sean. Their mother had hated roses- somehow, she always managed to prick her finger on the thorns. The only reason they had ever been in the house was because on the days where people would come round, his father would turn up with a bouquet of them, and she would dutifully smile and accept them.

Aaron moved the roses so they were hidden by all the other flowers they had left. And then he put his own small bouquet of carnations right where the headstone would go.

“Mama, I am so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he walked away, unable to stand the sight of the grave anymore.

The defence ripped him and his witnesses to shreds.

The verdict was not guilty.

The child was sent home.

“You promised me,” they sobbed as their father stood with an easy smirk on his face.

He was sick the moment he got home. Haley didn’t say a word. She just showed him an advert for the FBI that had been posted through the letterbox. When he stared at her, she smiled. Said that she had married Aaron Hotchner the man, not Mr Hotchner the prosecutor.

Two weeks later, he was enrolling in the FBI Academy.

Six months later and he was Agent Hotchner. He liked that. It was his own, and nobody would ever associate the title with his father. He could be his own person.

Then David Rossi gave him the nickname of Hotch and he couldn’t be happier. It would’ve made his mother smile. And his father turn in his grave at the utter shame of his good name being reduced down to something so mundane.

But being a profiler was tough. Every case meant dealing with the very worst of humanity. And even among the worst, there was a hierarchy. Some cases were just more disgusting, more scary and more scarring than others. A few cases reminded him that profilers were all just a step away from becoming unsubs themselves. That the line could and would blur before any of them even realised.

Vincent Perrotta left him vulnerable. Physically and emotionally. Jason had told him to loosen his tie and undo his top button, but Aaron needed the reassuring pressure of both things at his neck in order to maintain some kind of illusion of control in spite of the damage done by the wire.

He didn’t open up to unsubs. One of the most important parts of conducting an interrogation was to make them think you understood them without giving away anything about yourself. And most of the time, he was good at doing that. He pretended to understand the hatred of children, pretended to agree with them when they claimed that all women were just manipulative bitches and he pretended to find it amusing when they thought that the person doing the act was right.

The key word was pretend.

He wasn’t pretending when he looked Perrotta in the eye and told him the one thing that only Haley and Dave were aware of. Had it been any other time, it would’ve been funny. His own team didn’t know what his father had done to him, but this serial killer did, and it was all because he’d slipped up and said us instead of them.

Hotch had never been so thankful there was a bathroom on the same floor as his office that nobody ever used. The moment Perrotta turned away, the realisation that his crimes had never been inevitable causing more distress than the murder of the woman had, Hotch had bolted.

He hadn’t eaten since the incident in the night. It hurt to swallow. Which meant despite the minutes he spent retching over the toilet seat, hands trembling because how many times had he looked in the mirror and seen the exact same look that he’d witnessed on Perrotta, nothing came out.

Morgan was stood by the door.

“I know we have a no profiling rule.”

“Then follow it.”

“Reid’s doing your paperwork. He’s surprisingly good at forging your handwriting and I’m not sure I want to know why. That means all you need to do is sign it. Go home.”

“You’re not my superior Morgan,” Hotch snapped.

Morgan didn’t even blink. “I know. But you won’t write me up for insubordination. There’s no reason for you to be here, but there is every reason for you to be at home.”

Their relationship was a strange one. They trusted each other as agents- it was the only way they were able to go out in the field- but not as individuals. But then every once in a while, Derek would do something like this and Hotch would wonder if it was his way of saying that he did indeed care.

He was right though. There was every reason for him to be at home.

The living room light was off, so he immediately headed upstairs. Jack was asleep in his crib. Hotch felt uneasy in the nursery. Both he and Haley knew this was their forever home, which was why they had a nursery- it could be Jack’s bedroom until he moved out- but after Karl Arnold, he wasn’t sure how he felt about not being able to see him in the night.

“He won’t wake up if you hold him,” Haley said from the doorway.

“You should be asleep,” he replied, feeling guilty that he must have woken her.

“No, I shouldn’t. What happened?”

“How do you know something happened?”

She shrugged. “I know you.”

He sighed. “I don’t want to burden you. You already put up with enough from me.”

She crept closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he was transported back to the bathroom, only now the scars on his back had healed but not faded and more, both visible and hidden, covered his body because profiling always damaged people.

“You’re not burdening me. I’m asking.”

“Serial killer. His dad abused him and his mom. I accidentally told him that some of us grow up to catch them. But Hales, the look on his face. It was like he finally realised that everything he did had been because of him, not because of his father and I just, I sympathised. What kind of person does that make me?”

“A good one.”

“I saw myself in him. The person I might have become if you hadn’t saved me,” he confessed, still watching his son.

Haley’s grip loosened. He realised what he had said.

“Aaron that wasn’t me. You saved yourself. You got out and you decided you were going to break the cycle. That was you. I just helped you along the way. Hey, look at me.”

He turned, tears in his eyes. Haley smiled, still as bright and good as the day they met. She took his hands and lifted them to her lips, placing a soft kiss to them before leaning past him and lifting Jack up. The baby stirred slightly, but did not wake, even when Haley handed him to Aaron.

“You won’t hurt him. Or me. You will never be like the people that you hunt down. I will die before that ever happens,” she said. There was such raw passion in her voice that the tears finally fell.

Haley would die before he hurt someone. And he had made a vow to her father the day they married that he would keep her safe, and a second the day he joined the FBI that if Haley were to die, it would not be because of his job.

“Thank you,” he whispered, putting Jack down so he could press a kiss to her forehead.

“I love you,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world for her to do. Because to her it was. She just wished he could understand that.

He didn’t know how to say the words. Not in the way that she needed. So instead he smiled, took one last look at his baby and walked away. He pretended to be fine because Haley shouldn’t have to worry about her. In reality, the moment she fell asleep, he went and checked the locks. Again.

The darkness shouldn’t have been able to creep in, but it did. It always did.

“I hope Morgan wasn’t too rough with you,” Gideon said, taking the seat opposite him.

Hotch looked at him. Gideon gave him that smile that never seemed to be aimed at him anymore. He sighed, fiddling with the pen he’d placed on the paperwork he hadn’t touched since boarding the jet. Talking to Abby’s son had been more painful than he’d expected, but somebody needed to do it. It was the least they could do for him.

“I’ve handled worse,” he replied.

Gideon hmmed at that. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I made you some tea. Herbal. Apparently it’s calming. You should drink it.”

Hotch stared at the mug like it was going to poison him. Then he carried on staring out the window. It was dark, and there wasn’t really much to see, but he couldn’t keep looking at the sympathy on Jason’s face. It made him feel sick. He wasn’t the one that had lost a father that day. He had just gotten too close, again, despite constantly telling everyone that wasn’t something they could do.

It was impossible to get the image of him burning to death out of his mind. Whilst he wanted to believe Abby’s death had been swift and painless, much like his own father’s heart attack, he knew that was impossible. He’d seen enough burn victims to know it took time for that happen. He wondered if, in those final moments, Abby regretted his decision.

“Hotch there was nothing we could have done to save him,” Gideon said gently. He wished Dave was still there. He would know what to say, what to do. Gideon had never had that relationship with Aaron. He liked to think he had that relationship with Spencer, but Aaron was different. He didn’t understand him.

“I should have stopped him. He should have had more time. If only so he could look at his son and tell him what was going on.”

Gideon tilted his head to the side. “Spencer mentioned that you had gone to see the family. Why didn’t you send JJ? She is our media liaison, that’s her job description, not yours.”

“JJ wouldn’t have understood. I had to go. It had to be me.” Hotch didn’t really know why he was telling Gideon any of this.

“It was your penance, wasn’t it? You think it’s your fault that he died, so you decided to make the fallout your responsibility. Hotch, you’re the Unit Chief now. The team look to you. You can’t tell them to do one thing and then do the exact opposite.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be SSA Hotchner, or even Hotch. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be Aaron, because even though Haley and Dave- the only people that used his first name- had always treated it like something precious, the ghost of his father made him think the only way it could be said was with disdain.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew Jason was watching him. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, watching the other members of the team. JJ and Emily were laughing at something that Morgan was saying. Reid was smiling. Hotch felt relieved. It had been far too long since Reid had smiled, and he knew he was the one to blame.

Jason followed his gaze. “They’ve all come so far, haven’t they? One day, they won’t even need us.”

That startled Hotch. His eyes met Gideon’s and he realised his mistake immediately.

“I see. It wasn’t just Abby you saw yourself in. It was his son. That’s why you went. You were compensating.”

“Please don’t profile me,” he whispered, knowing it was useless.

“I’m not. Now I know I’m no David Rossi or Haley Brooks, but I am here. However much you may not agree, I am.”

It was useless to say that he didn’t think that. Because he did, and it was written in the hesitance of his decisions. Of his constant watching. Of the pile of paperwork in his office that was meant to be Jason’s.

“I wanted- needed- to know who it was that my father had been having an affair because everyone, including my own mother, had known. But then he was diagnosed with cancer and all of that became irrelevant. I never got my answers, and it still hurts, even now.”

Nobody, not even Haley, knew about that. She obviously had her suspicions, and she knew about his lack of closure, but he had never properly told her.

Jason wasn’t saying anything. Hotch looked at him and saw that the other man was looking past him, not at him. He followed his gaze, and realised he was looking at Spencer. He swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled as Derek ruffled his hair.

He turned back, and saw that Jason was watching Spencer with the soft smile he had never managed to evoke. He blinked back tears. He missed Dave. He wanted Dave because Dave would know what to say to stop him feeling like such crap. Jason didn’t. Because Jason loved Spencer more than he loved Aaron, and Aaron couldn’t even fathom resenting either of them for that because it wasn’t either of their faults.

It was just a fact of life. But that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting when instead of replying, Gideon stood and went over to the other members of the team, intently listening to whatever it was Spencer was saying.

Haley would tell him to phone Dave. But he couldn’t disrupt his book tour like that. Instead, he kept staring out the window, trying to forget how beautiful the flames had looked against the darkness of the night or how deep down, he almost wished it had been him in there.

It was too close to the line between profiler and unsub.

He bottled up his emotions and hoped that Jason would stay. If not for him, then for Spencer. Because he couldn’t be that person. He was barely that person for Jack.

Jason did not stay. Neither did Haley. They both reached their breaking points and then Hotch pushed them too far.

Deep down, he knew the moment where they both decided they couldn’t take it anymore, the moment where they finally admitted to themselves that they deserved better and they took the steps to get there.

He just never expected they would happen on the same day. He supposed he’d bought that upon himself though. It was him that had said Jason was okay to return to work, for the purely selfish reason that he couldn’t do it alone even though he knew Gideon needed more time. It was him that had left on the case because Morgan had asked him to, even though Haley had asked him not to.

What kind of marriage was that? He didn’t know who had phoned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know but there was no guarantee that Haley was having an affair. To suggest that she was would be cruel. It would only be because he didn’t want to have to take accountability for his part in the breakdown of their marriage.

It did take two to tango.

But where Jason took a piece of Spencer’s heart, Haley took the reason Hotch had never been able to stop hunting down monsters.

Morgan told him they would survive without Gideon. Hotch knew they would, but he wasn’t sure he could. Gideon’s departure, as much as he didn’t want to seem narcissistic, would reflect on him. He hadn’t saved him. He hadn’t been able to save his marriage- because Haley had done all she had and it had been his turn- and now the unsub’s last words were haunting his memory.

He had always taken pride in the fact that he was a difficult man to profile. A face schooled into a cautious look of neutrality, suits that hid the fact that he never seemed to have an appetite anymore. The only thing that ever gave away his nerves was the small hand thing he had never been able to stop doing.

For his own profession to be used against him in such a way, so soon after he had failed to save so many people- the six agents in Boston, Elle, Jason, Haley- was disarming. He wasn’t sure what he was meant to do. Normally, he would’ve gone to the home where Haley would have left a light on for him. He would’ve watched his son sleep and just stared at him in awe. He would’ve pressed a kiss to Haley’s forehead before climbing into their bed and seeking her warmth. Maybe, if it had been too late to go home, he would’ve taken Jason to the piano night down at the bar.

But Haley had taken her warmth and the thing that made their house a home with her. All the rooms would be dark when he got back. Jack’s room would be empty. Their bed would be cold.

He hadn’t slept alone since college. It hurt, to wake up in the morning and not see Haley’s hair, messy and knotted.

He just didn’t want to be alone, but who was he supposed to tell?

“Reid. I’ll drop you home. It’s been a long few days,” he said.

Everyone else had left. Reid looked up with wide eyes. He looked so painfully young, and Hotch felt a slight pain in his stomach. What was this job doing to him? Spencer deserved better than sleepless nights and painful memories that would never be forgotten. Hotch guessed that one day, Spencer would be added to the list of people he had failed to save.

In some ways, he already was.

“I can go myself,” Spencer mumbled.

“Reid. Let me do this. Please,” Hotch said.

Spencer nodded. “Okay.”

They left, the car far too silent for either of them to be comfortable. Hotch wanted to debate something intellectual, if only to soothe Spencer’s nerves, but the words classic narcissist still left a bitter taste in his mouth. And his mind had gone completely blank regarding anything else.

“We’ve driven past the turning. The route that you’re now going down would mean that getting to my apartment would take an hour extra.”

Hotch kept his eyes on the road, subtly checking that the car doors were locked. “You’re coming home with me. I don’t think you should go home alone.”

Reid turned to face him properly. “I don’t need you to treat me like a child. I get enough of that from everyone else. Gideon left me with a letter, just like my dad. He’s not going to come back and rationally, I have to accept that, because refusal to do so won’t change anything.”

“Maybe. But you should know better than anyone that we can’t control our brains.”

He realised the moment the words left his mouth that it wasn’t the right thing to say, and he immediately regretted them. What Reid thought he was trying to imply was definitely not what he was, but the words had come out wrong and now Reid was going to hate him too.

“I do. Know that. Don’t need you reminding me.”

He sounded just like Jack. Hotch swallowed. “I know. I’m sorry, that came out badly. What I meant was that you’re allowed to feel like you’re being irrational. Missing Gideon is a valid emotion, regardless of the way he left us. You. I meant you.”

They were stuck at a red light.

“Hotch, why haven’t you transferred?” Reid asked suddenly.

He shifted slightly. “My reason for doing it is no longer a thing.”

Reid frowned, and Hotch hit the gas.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Is it our fault?”

Hotch shook his head. “Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault.”

Reid wasn’t convinced.

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he blurted out. “That’s why I’m taking you to the house. Because I can’t be alone and I need to feel like I’m doing something to help someone otherwise, what is the point in all of this?”

“This is about what the unsub said, isn’t it?”

They hadn’t had a conversation like this in so long. Not since before Hankel, his brain supplied.

“It’s true though, isn’t it? I failed to help Elle. I failed to help you, and Jason and Haley and god knows who else,” he said.

Spencer looked at him, chin tilted “You said: Haley and I made our decisions. It was never anyone else’s problem, and it is most certainly not your fault. How is this any different?”

Hotch sighed. “I had a responsibility to the other members of my team because I am meant to be their leader. You, on the other hand, are still just a kid, who has no connection whatsoever to my marriage.”

“I may be young, but I am in no way a child. And no, I didn’t have any connection to your marriage but I still don’t get your point. Elle and Gideon made their decisions of their own free will and there is nothing anyone could’ve done to stop them because when somebody is that determined to do something, they will always find a way.”

They’d pulled into the driveway. Hotch still hadn’t adjusted to the curtains still being open, for everyone to see and it took a moment to adjust to the darkness. The porch light hadn’t been on for a while, yet it was still a shock to the system. Haley’s light was just another thing he had taken for granted.

“When did you get so smart?” Hotch whispered. In some ways, he felt like he had watched as Spencer had grown from the new agent, doubting his worth and his abilities, to the slightly more confident that he had a family man that was now sat next to him. He hoped Spencer never lost his softness, or the things that made him the person he was, for there was nothing sadder.

“Hotch, I’ve always been smart. When Gideon returned after Boston, you introduced me as your expert on everything and then I told the man we were interviewing that I have an IQ of 187.”

“Never change Spencer.”

“I wouldn’t know how.”

There was a short silence.

“Would you stay the night?” Hotch asked.

“I thought that was what you wanted.”

“It is. But I want this to be your decision. If you’d rather be alone, then I will take you to your apartment and we’ll never speak about it again.”

They sat for a few minutes, and Hotch resisted the urge to tell Spencer to hurry up.

“I think I’ll stay the night,” he finally decided, voice small.

Hotch breathed a sigh of relief, not even caring that the house was still littered with small traces of Haley and the life they had spent together.

The two of them ate in relative silence, and then Hotch set them both up in the living room. He wanted- needed- to keep an eye on Spencer, but he told him that when Haley and him bought their first apartment and started living together, they would camp out in the living room because there was nobody to tell them not to.

He left out the part where it was also because Aaron had never really been allowed to sit wherever he wanted and do whatever he felt like.

There was some old documentary about the Russian Revolution in the background. Spencer had fallen asleep, his head in Hotch’s lap. Without even realising, Hotch had started stroking his hair, much like he used to do for Jack.

The light in the living room was on, and not once did Spencer wake. Hotch made them both breakfast- pancakes, because the look of joy when he said he probably had all the ingredients was not one he wanted to destroy- and Spencer gave him a genuine smile.

Neither of them spoke of it again, but Hotch felt a little lighter. A little bit more like the Aaron Haley had fallen in love with again. Maybe he couldn’t save everyone, but he saved Spencer, and even if it was only a little, and well after he should’ve, at least he had done it.

That would be enough to keep the darkness out, if only for a little bit.

Megan Kane died and Aaron- not Hotch, because Hotch would say that you can’t take cases personally, no matter how much you wanted to, held her hand. He held her hand as she said thank you for staying and not leaving. He didn’t have the words to tell her that he didn’t walk away for selfish reasons. Because he couldn’t have her considering him to be the same as the other men she’d killed.

Not after everything she’d done. The chip was safely tucked away in his pocket, just waiting to be passed on.

Even when her chest stopped rising, he refused to let go, only doing so when the police kicked the already open door to her room in, guns raised. When they stepped onto the balcony, he dropped her hand, watching as it fell limply. He didn’t know how long he had been sat there, but it was long enough for the body to go cold.

“Agent Hotchner. We need you to provide a statement. You were the only person present when she died,” the lead detective said.

Aaron stood, suddenly so angry at everything and everyone. “She took the pills and gave me the card. And then she asked me to stay so I did. Then she died. What more do you need than that?”

He didn’t want to tell them what she’d said. It was stupid, but it felt private.

He stormed out the room before they could respond and stepped into the elevator with a heavy heart.

Both Dave and Emily tried to make him feel better the whole way home. It was all to no avail. Their attempts to comfort him went over like a lead balloon. The only indication he’d even heard them was the slight clench of his jaw and his adamant stare out the window, his report on the table, only the first sentence written. When Dave tried to crack a joke, Hotch glared and he backed off.

Emily sat by him. Whilst her general presence usually never failed to make him feel a little better, it was just irritating him. He didn’t want to talk to any of them. He didn’t want them walking on eggshells. He wanted them to just leave him.

But then he felt bad. Because the one person he wanted had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with his job, and the rest were just trying to be there for him and that should’ve been enough for him.

When they got to the office, he did something he’d only done a few times before. He put the files on his desk and then he exited it. He needed to see his son. He needed to go to his real home- because now Haley was living in the house, it felt like a home again.

Haley had responded to his message about coming by with a simple: Ok. He still felt wrong profiling her, so he didn’t.

She had changed the locks. He didn’t have the key. And so he was stood there, awkwardly waiting for her to open the door whilst he rubbed circles with his thumb over the spot where his wedding ring had previously been. The tan line had all but faded. He felt pathetic for still reaching for it sometimes.

She opened the door. “There’s a birthday party that he’s been excited about for- you’re wearing a case suit.”

“I’m- what?”

She frowned. “Why are you wearing a case suit?”

“A case suit?”

“Yes. There are suits that you would only ever wear when you were on a case because they could be washed a lot more easily, and if you got blood on them, well you weren’t attached to them. How were you not aware of this?”

“I guess it was a subconscious thing. Look, we just landed but I-” he saw Jack peeking his head around the door.

On reflex, he crouched down. He remembered how he had felt when he was younger and his father would come storming in, towering over him, terrifying and threatening. He never wanted Jack to feel like that. And so he knelt down, burying his head in Jack’s neck for a moment before letting go.

“Hi buddy. How are you feeling?”

Jack stopped smiling. “I accidentally made mommy annoyed because I drew on the wall. But then she said that sometimes people feel bad emotions and that’s okay, you just need to be good about it. And then once we cleaned it up, she said that I’m not a bad kid, I just did a wrong thing.”

Hotch felt tears prick the back of his eyes. Haley was so good. Too good.

“She’s right. One act doesn’t determine who you are,” he said, voice cracking.

“Jack, mommy and daddy need to go and talk in the kitchen, so just stay in the living room, okay?”

Jack nodded.

Hotch followed Haley, noticing the last photo that was taken of the three of them before the divorce- although at the time nobody knew- was still stuck to the fridge.

“Tell me what happened,” she whispered.

Aaron turned away. “That’s not your job anymore.”

“Baby,” she said.

He closed his eyes. When was the last time somebody had called him that?

“I know what I said then. Trust me, there’s no way I could ever forget. But I was wrong. This is who you are. And I never should’ve asked you to change. I think the divorce was the best thing for both of us, because it was needed. But I still love you. And I know you won’t tell the team. So tell me.”

And he did. He told her everything. “The worst part is, she was right. I should be here every week, but Jack’s lucky if I’m here every fortnight. Haley, I always said I didn’t want to become a father because of how he hurt me. What kind of father am I if Jack is going to say the same thing?”

For a while Haley did not speak. They were just stood, a good six feet between them. And then she threw her arms around him. The force of her touch threw him off balance. When was the last time anyone had actually touched him? If he was struggling to remember, then it must’ve been far too long.

The smell of her shampoo felt like coming home and before he knew what was happening, he could taste the salt of his tears.

She stroked his hair and he relaxed into the touch, despite all the knots. He had always hated brushing his hair but loved when Haley would run her hands through it. She messed it up as he sobbed into her shoulder, and not for the first time, she wondered how many more times he could stare into the depths of depravity and come back whole.

Although, she thought to herself bitterly, he’d never been given the chance to be whole in the first place.

At some point, they’d started sitting on the kitchen floor. She was still playing with his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”

“You don’t need to be. And I will spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”

Aaron looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could not resist the urge to press a soft kiss to his forehead before tugging him closer.

“Sleep here. I’ll take Jack to the party, and you can rest. Do that paperwork that’s in your office. And maybe tomorrow, we can all go for ice cream.”

His eyes widened. They were so soft and warm that Haley had never understood how he managed to glare at anyone. Apart from the people that had offered their sympathies at his father’s funeral, despite fully well knowing the truth.

“Really?”

“Yeah Aaron. Really. Now go upstairs and rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She was, and it was like she had burst into his life in an explosion of light all over again.

Then George Foyet took that light and snuffed it out.

Haley once said she would die before Aaron hurt another person the way his father had hurt him. She said it because her death was so unlikely. It was an event that they knew would one day occur, but they never really thought about it. Though it was morbid, Aaron’s death was the one they had to prepare for. He was the one charging after dangerous criminals on a weekly basis. Haley was teaching.

Nothing bad was ever supposed to happen to her because he had promised, with everything he was, that he would keep her safe and that the horrors of his job would never touch her.

But he hadn’t been quick enough.

And now she was dead.

George Foyet had surrendered. He had surrendered willingly and without coercion, but Hotch hadn’t listened. He had carried on, even though his duty was to stop. To carry out a lawful arrest. But he hadn’t. He had carried on hitting a man that would not have been able to defend himself. Deep down he knew that was unfair to say. Foyet was taunting him by saying he was giving up.

Still, his knuckles ached. Morgan had pulled him off the body and he hadn’t been able to look. He couldn’t do it. So many things had already been destroyed by him. There was already so much blood on his hands, if he looked at Foyet he would never recover.

He was worse than his father. At least his father was a human. At least his father had never touched Sean. His father had never- to his knowledge- even attempted to beat his mother to death. But he had. He had beaten a man to death, and the worst part was, he would do it all again.

He would do it again because at least Jack was alive. Scared and confused, but alive. Hotch knew that if Jack had been the one to die, then he wouldn’t be here. He would’ve let Foyet kill him and vanish, as selfish as it was, because a life without his son was not one he wanted to live. After he found Haley, he knew he needed to consider the worst scenario: that Jack had not understood.

When Foyet told him that he would find Jack and show him his dead parents, something in him found the strength to survive. If Foyet was saying he would find Jack, then that would mean that he hadn’t already done so. Which meant Jack must’ve understood and was just waiting for his dad to come find him.

It was when Jack told him about how he had worked the case that the knowledge that Haley was dead hit him like a tonne of bricks. The first time he had found him, Jack had ran out and told his Mom what him and Daddy were doing together. Haley had smiled fondly before coming into the room, staring out the window instead of the desk.

Hotch had told her it was just a budget report. She looked down and did indeed see the budget sheet. But under that was the profile for a man who had recently lost his wife and was going after blonde mothers that resembled her.

There was blood all over his shirt and hands. Jack didn’t need to see that. The part of his brain not occupied with Haley knew that JJ was the best person for him to be with. She was good with children and had dealt with enough children of victims to know what to say and what to avoid.

Victims. Because that was what Haley had become. A victim of a serial killer and it was all his fault.

If he had just been quicker. If he had taken the deal. If he had transferred when Haley asked him to. They probably would have still ended up divorcing, but she would be alive. Jack would have a real parent. One that could look at him without turning away. Haley’s blood was on his hands, and every time he looked at Jack, he saw her. Because Jack had his mother’s light hair and kind eyes.

The day Aaron died- and god that couldn’t come fast enough- would be the day that the last piece of his father finally left the earth.

Haley’s hair was dark. That was the first thing he noticed when he saw her, lying on the ground. He’d heard people say that when someone died, you could kid yourself into thinking that they were just sleeping because they would look so peaceful.

Haley’s mouth was a thin line. She smiled when she was sleeping. Her clothes were not the ones she would have picked herself. Her eyes were still open. Aaron hated that she died alone and afraid. That should’ve been him. And her hair was dark. He cursed himself for being surprised. Of course it was dark. She’d gone into WitSec.

It just felt like a visual representation of everything he’d taken from her. Her light and innocence had been destroyed and it was all his fault. He hadn’t even told her Sam Kassmeyer was dead, which was such a stupid thing to fixate on, but anything to take away from the fact that she was gone.

When he pulled her limp, unmoving body towards him, needing to feel her against him one more time, she was still a little warm and he almost vomited right there. How close had they been that she wasn’t cold? He didn’t let go till Emily gently touched her shoulder, leading him away from the body.

The team were shielding him from the various people that had responded to the scene and if he had more energy, he would say thank you. But he was tired. And his hands hurt so much. They were still trembling.

Jack leant into his touch like it was nothing and Hotch marvelled at the fact that he seemed to adjust like it was nothing. He knew it was because he didn’t understand, but after everything that had been lost that day- two lives, a piece of Aaron, a place that was once home, the brightest light he’d ever met, Jack’s chance for a normal life- it felt like a win.

Before he knew it, the funeral was being held. He’d planned his eulogy, writing it whilst watching Jack because he couldn’t sleep without seeing the steady rise and fall of his son’s chest. There were a hundred different copies in the bin. How was he supposed to get up in front of everyone that looked to him and expected him to lead, and talk about Haley had made him feel safe?

Attending Haley’s funeral hurt more than either of his parents had. He wasn’t sure if that made him a terrible person. But when his father had died, he’d been relieved. Not happy, but maybe a little grateful. And when his mother had died, Haley had been stood next to him, her grip on his hand grounding him.

This time, she was the one in the ground. And the only person grounding him was a little boy, so much like Sean- not quite understanding, but aware enough to know the person they loved wasn’t coming home.

He held it together through his speech. Jessica gave him a soft smile before she took his place, reciting her own eulogy. Haley’s mother wasn’t able to attend because she was too unwell so her father recited both their speeches, voice cracking and tears streaming down his face.

It showed just how broken he was. No self-respecting Southern man would ever be able to shed tears that freely.

“Thank you for saying something,” Jessica said to him when they were all sat down. The team were far away enough to not hear, and he suspected that was why she had finally spoken to him.

“Jessie, this is all my fault. It was the least I could do. And I promise, I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you. To all of you.”

She let out a watery laugh. “Jessie. It’s been so long since you’ve called me that. Aar, I don’t blame you. I can’t. Because you did everything you could. I know that. And I heard you up there. You loved her. But you didn’t kill her. In fact, she’d kill me if I suggested such a thing. So forgive yourself. The rest of us have.”

“Jessica, why would you say something like that?” Roy shouted.

Jess flinched, unaware that her father had overheard everything.

Aaron shrunk down in his seat, unable to meet Roy’s eyes.

“You got my daughter killed. I trusted you. Even when nobody else did, when everybody said only bad things happened where Aaron Hotchner got involved, I trusted you. And when those people blamed you for what happened to your mother, I defended you. Because I knew you were a good man that would keep my daughter safe.”

“Dad, now is not the time,” Jessica said quietly.

“Yes it is! Yes. It is. My baby is dead, and it is all your fault. You promised me this would never happen. You swore. When your marriage died, I thought to myself: these things happen. They were young when they fell in love, perhaps they just grew up. But this- everything that has happened today? That’s on you. This is your fault. I wish it was you in the ground!”

Hotch flinched. “Roy, I-”

“It’s Mr Brooks to you now Hotchner. I treated you like a son. I- Haley did everything for you. Why weren’t you fast enough?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? Why had he not been fast enough?

“Dad, I know you are angry, but Aaron is not the person to be taking it out on! Just because he’s here and it is convenient does not make it right. Haley loved him until the very last moment. Shouldn’t that be enough to be good to him?”

Aaron just wanted everyone to stop shouting.

“She didn’t love him at the very last moment! How could she, after everything he put her through?”

“It is Hotchner going on the gravestone, not Brooks,” Jessica snapped.

Both Roy and Aaron stared at her. Neither of them had known about that, and she immediately paled, as though she’d revealed something she wasn’t meant to.

“What?” Roy spat.

“Haley called mom in the middle of the night in a panic. Said that if, somehow, this Foyet managed to find them, or if something happened, she wanted Hotchner to be on her gravestone because she loved Aaron.”

Roy’s hands were clenched at his sides and Aaron swallowed, subconsciously bracing himself for the blow that never came.

“I won’t do that to you. Ever. You may not be my son anymore, but I still would not harm you.”

Hotch exhaled, but Roy walked away before he could say anything. And the team got called away on a case.

“Did she really say that?” he asked Jessica, when it was just the two of them and their mugs of coffee. Jack had gone to sleep.

Jessica tore her gaze away from the carpet. Derek had done an incredible job of making it seem like nothing happened, but she now knew better and the thought of what had gone down made her sick. She wished she could convince Aaron to move, but she knew it would never work.

“Jess?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. She did. I was going to say something to you earlier but it completely slipped my mind. I hope that’s okay with you.”

He nodded. Of course it would be okay with him. Whatever Haley had wanted from him, he would give her. It would be too little too late, but it would still be something. Maybe it would lead to Roy’s forgiveness.

It was that line of reasoning that led to him almost accepting retirement, because what else was he meant to do? But then Jessica had offered to take Jack, saying it was the least she could do and that it wouldn’t be any trouble and he had been confused.

The gravestone hadn’t been placed yet, but he still knew where she was buried. That surprised him, because now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really remember the actual funeral. He just remembered Roy’s words. Aaron found himself talking to the air in a way he never had before, and by the time Dave found him, he’d made his decision.

Jack needed a father that could teach him how to move on and be happy. Aaron needed the team to be happy. Jessica had given her blessing, and maybe it was psychological, but everything felt a little warmer after he told his best friend that Haley already knew.

It didn’t mean he was confident that he was making the right choice. It was ridiculous, but he was terrified of how the team would respond. What if they thought he was making the wrong choice?

But on his first day in the office, they all treated him normally. Like nothing had changed. And for that, he was grateful. Emily was- as always- the only one aside from Dave with the self-destructive streak to make a comment.

Although it wasn’t the one he’d been expecting.

“I’m glad you came back,” she told him as he packed up his things to go.

There was a look in her eyes that told him she was being genuine. Her approval, deep down, meant more to him than everyone else’s, including Dave. For her to come in and say that she was happy he was there and leading the team meant more to him than he would ever be able to say. It also showed how far they had come. She had gone from insulting him every other sentence to wanting him around. He had gone from not trusting her to only being able to tell her the truth about what had really happened in his apartment.

“Thank you for letting me,” he said. If she had wanted it, she could have taken his job, no question. She wouldn’t- Derek was obviously the next Unit Chief- but she could have.

She smiled. “You keep us all safe, Aaron. How could I not?”

Emily’s hair was dark. As were her eyes. And there was a darkness that surrounded her in a similar way to him. He wasn’t sure where it came from. But she had learnt to live with hers. She had turned it into something beautiful that made people love her.

Perhaps he could do the same. Perhaps the darkness was something to welcome, not fear.

Emily Prentiss died, alone and cold, three times in one night. She died once when she told Derek Morgan to let her go because she genuinely believed Ian Doyle was still there, just waiting to hurt the people that had become her family. She flatlined in the ambulance, and Aaron had to watch as they frantically tried to revive her.

They succeeded in doing so, but at what cost?

She died a third time when Hotch had to make the decision as to whether or not she stayed. He wanted to scream at the bureau and say that it couldn’t be left to him because it was Emily’s life and if she wanted to stay and fight then she should.

But they would interpret his screaming and pleading as weakness. They would use it to deem him incapable of impartiality and then he would never know what happened. So instead of crying the way he wanted to, he kept his face neutral and argued all the reasons that Agent Prentiss- not Emily, not now- needed to be sent away and saved.

They went for it, and the prosecutor within him should have been proud. But it wasn’t. He was just tired.

Emily did not know that he had been in the ambulance and seen her die. She didn’t know that she had told him, whilst she was fading in and out of consciousness, about the darkness that she had seen and the chill that had come over her when she realised that she was dying or that he knew she wanted to believe in a better ending.

But Aaron did. It was why he found it so difficult to tell her what was happening. But he was already asking too much of JJ. JJ who was supposed to be a liaison for the state department and nothing more. But there was a haunted look in her eyes, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her, but there just wasn’t time.

He needed to save Emily before it was too late. Or maybe it already was too late. Maybe she would have survived if his own darkness hadn’t joined hers. Maybe if he’d been quicker in getting JJ or working out what had happened.

The moment he saw his own smiling face staring up at him, he should have known what was happening. But he hadn’t. And now yet another person’s blood was on his hands. When would it end? When would the people he loved stop being hurt by a darkness that should have only ever destroyed him?

His father once said the only thing he was good at was destroying beautiful things. Aaron had so desperately wanted to prove him wrong that he only succeeded in proving him right. Emily Prentiss had once been beautiful and good. One of the strongest and most resilient women he knew.

Hotch wasn’t stupid. He saw the way JJ looked at her. That was the other reason he had to be the one to tell her. Because he had seen Jason in the aftermath of the Boston bombing and Elle after she shot the rapist. He knew what Spencer’s anger and Derek’s fear looked like. He had seen the worst of each of his team members and never faltered because their darkness was nothing compared to his.

The Emily laying on that bed, broken and damaged beyond what any normal person should have been able to survive, was not the Emily they knew and Hotch was not going to let it be the Emily that JJ would remember. He would let JJ go with her to Paris because she would be stronger then.

That would be the Emily she would remember.

“Emily? Can you hear me?” he asked as quietly as he could.

She turned slightly, but even that small movement seemed to cause her pain. She opened her mouth to speak and winced.

“Don’t talk. You’re still too weak to do that. I just, I need to tell you what’s going to happen, okay? Because a lot of things are going to change and I want you to know exactly how this is going to play out.”

His hands were shoved in his pockets. One of them needed to be strong and pretend that everything was going to be okay, and it sure as hell couldn’t be her. But she saw and tried to motion to him. He shook his head. Soon she would be leaving him, and he did not want to remember her touch as being cold and almost lifeless. He wanted to remember her touch as being warm and comforting.

Without looking at her, he told her how they were sending her to Paris. His voice did not tremble and he did not break but he couldn’t face her when he was done talking. Instead, he stared at the floor and focused on the white tiles.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me? I do not want to be sent to Paris whilst everyone else tries to deal with this.”

“Em. I’m trying to do the right thing,” he pleaded. He couldn’t have her hating him. Not after everything that had happened between them, and certainly not everything they had both done to gain the others trust.

“The right thing would have been to let me die,” she hissed.

He closed his eyes and it was only a few days earlier. He had told Clyde Easter that if anything happened to her, he would destroy him. The knowledge that he could do it without even flinching should have terrified him, but it didn’t. In some morbid way, it relaxed him.

When he turned his back, the knowledge that he had disarmed the other man bought him more joy than it should have, and again he was reminded of how thin the line between profiler and unsub really was.

“Mr Hotchner,” Clyde had called out.

Hotch had frozen, hands clenched at his side. How many years had it been since someone last called him that? And yet he still couldn’t hear the title without thinking of his father. He was an adult now, the man shouldn’t have held that influence over him but he was still terrified and he hated himself for it.

He’d turned, just enough so he could see Clyde’s face.

“I did my part. If she dies, that’s on you.”

And it was. It was all his fault. She had trusted him to keep them safe, but he had failed. Again. He had destroyed her, just like he had destroyed so many other good people. He didn’t deserve to be a coward anymore, so he looked up and met her eyes.

Weak and damaged as she was, she still managed to glare with a hatred he had only ever seen once. When she had been a college student, arguing with her mother. And he’d been both terrified and relieved to see that she could be so ruthless. Terrified because to him, she was just a girl and she shouldn’t have known how to hate like that, but relieved because he wasn’t the only one with such potential for darkness inside.

He left without another word. JJ had comforted Reid and Garcia because he had been too busy throwing up the single bite of sandwich he’d managed to choke down. And he knew something had happened to her whilst she was working for the Pentagon. He knew she wouldn’t be able to stay.

It was why he let her take Emily to Paris. He didn’t tell her what Emily had said to him. He just told her to ask if she could remember anything from the hospital. He spent the entire time waiting for her to respond. He was talking to Dave when there was a text from JJ. All it said was she doesn’t remember anything she said.

And it became slightly easier to breathe.

The funeral was difficult.

First thing in the morning, he had dropped Jack off with Jessica. Jack did not know it was a funeral that his father was attending, and so he was quite content to just sit in the living room and play with his toys whilst Aaron and Jessica stood in the hallway, talking in hushed whispers.

“Don’t you think he should go?” she had asked.

Hotch shook his head. “No. He already went to Haley’s. I can’t take him to Emily’s.”

“But he should be able to say goodbye to her.”

“Jessie, please. I can’t tell you why, but he can’t go to the funeral and I swear, as soon as I can, I will tell you everything but he just- I need him to not be there.”

She stared at him. “Aaron, you never need to beg for anything from me. I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Jessica didn’t understand that him and JJ were the only one that knew the coffin was empty. It was the second coffin in a year that Aaron was forced to stand beside. When did it end? When would the members of his team stop losing the people they loved?

Ashley Seaver was a child and he never should have let her stay on the team after that first case. She was meant to be a training agent, who was supposed to believe that her job would make a difference and protect people from a life like the one she had been forced to live. And yet here she was, stood at the grave of a team member whilst the rest fell apart. Hotch wanted her to remain good and hopeful, but he just didn’t know how to do that.

In some ways, he resented JJ. She was able to go back to the Pentagon and get away from the looks of her coworkers. She didn’t have to look out of her office and see the empty table that had once been Emily’s, nor did she have to go through the drawers of her desk and decide what would be kept and what would be thrown.

Aaron ended up keeping everything in a box at his apartment because he didn’t have the heart to throw anything away. Not when Emily wasn’t really dead, even though her photo was still hung up outside.

He needed to talk to someone, but there was nobody. So, he ran off to Afghanistan for three months working on a project he didn’t fully understand or see the point in. The guilt at leaving his team and Jack only slightly overshadowed the relief he had that nobody looked at him and seeked comfort. They just needed him to do a job.

Everybody else had grieved losing Emily. JJ had her closure for making sure she was settled in Paris, and from what Hotch could understand, she had been pushing the boundary as much as she could regarding the no communication rule. The team had each other, but he had nobody.

Then Ian Doyle died, and Emily Prentiss came back to them, but he didn’t come back to the team. Not really. For Derek was able to forgive Emily for what she did because the relief he felt at her return was enough to overpower his anger at her. Dave had suspected the whole time. Spencer was just glad that he hadn’t lost someone else, and that JJ had also been returned to them.

They could forgive JJ because it had never been her decision to leave them. They could forgive Emily because of everything she had been through and because she had no say in what was done to her.

It was Hotch that had failed to stop the move from happening. It was him that had made the decision to fake Emily’s death and not tell the team. He had chosen to leave them, and his son, for the summer. Yes, it was unfair to blame him, and it was likely his hands had been tied, but they were angry. They needed someone to direct that anger towards.

Every time they snapped at JJ or Emily, it felt like kicking a puppy for they would just look so hurt and upset that they immediately wanted to apologise. But if they shouted at Aaron, he would just take it. He wouldn’t argue or defend himself. He just took it, the ghosts behind his eyes not ones they could acknowledge in the moment.

He maintained his façade and pretended everything was okay because if he wasn’t okay, the team would have no use for him and he would become dispensable and there would be nothing left for him. Except for Jack. But he wasn’t sure how much he wanted Jack to see him. Since Emily’s return, his nightmares had gotten worse and he woke up screaming more times than he cared to admit.

And then one night, when Jack was staying with his cousins and grandfather, the nightmares got so bad that he barely managed to make it to the bathroom before he was vomiting up the meagre dinner he’d eaten.

When there was nothing left, he leant against the bathtub and sobbed. His own team hated him and there was nothing he could do because they were right. He didn’t trust them and he had fucked up so badly there was no redemption for him.

Jessica hadn’t been able to sleep. She had let herself into the apartment to see how Aaron was because there was a pit in her stomach, like something was terribly wrong.

“Aaron?” she called out.

There was no response, which on the one hand could have been a good thing because it would mean he was sleeping, but it could also mean he was refusing to speak to anyone. She wasn’t an idiot. When Emily had come to see Jack after that hearing thing because she needed something good, Aaron told her the truth. And then lied by saying he was fine after carrying that burden around himself.

The bedroom was empty. She told herself it didn’t mean anything, that he could just be in the shower or getting a glass of water. She crept along to the bathroom. Inside, he was vomiting and she knew it would eventually turn into sobs.

Without considering what she was doing, she dialled Derek Morgan’s number. He’d given it to her at the funeral and asked her to keep him safe. She had done her job as his sister, and now it was time for his team to their job as his family.

“Jessica?”

“Aaron’s sick and I think it’s your fault,” she said without thinking.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh god, no, not like that. I just- he’s being sick and I know that it’s because he’s been bottling everything up since the funeral which wasn’t really a funeral but oh, you know what I mean. I just- nothing I do will make him feel better. He needs you. All of you.”

On the other side of the line, Derek scoffed. “Jessica, Hotch is strong. Are you sure he’s not just got food poisoning or something?”

“I don’t think he’s eaten enough for that to happen.”

“Look Jessica, I’ll get the team together but I don’t know what you want us to do. Hotch made his decisions, and we can’t forgive him at the drop of a hat. We all need time to process.”

“Derek! He lost his wife to this job, are you really going to stand by as he loses himself trying to save all of you? I have never asked for anything from any of you, but Aaron needs you now. He’s just too scared of rejection to admit it.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

Morgan hung up and Jessica sighed.

“Jessie?” Aaron called out.

“Hey Aaron. What happened?” she asked, acting like nothing had happened.

“I don’t feel good,” he whispered.

She pressed a hand to his stomach. Damn him and his emotional constipation that meant all of his pain manifested physically.

“I know. I know. But it’s okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll get you cleaned up and then you’re going to eat something.”

He nodded and let her move him around as she pleased. The weight he had lost made her cringe. The last time he had looked so weak, he was seventeen and his father was dying of lung cancer.

The team all arrived at the same time, all in their pyjamas.

Aaron saw them and turned away. “Jessie, what are they doing here?”

“You need them Aaron. Whether you want to admit it or not, you need them.”

He shook his head as the medication Jessica had made him take after weeks of avoidance caused his filter to vanish and fuzziness as to what he was doing. “Don’t deserve them.”

“Yeah you do man. I’m sorry for how I was acting. I know you trust us and I never thought about how everything must have made you feel because I was angry,” Derek said.

Hotch shook his head, tears running down his cheeks.

“Can I hug you?” Derek asked.

Hotch didn’t respond, so Derek sat in front of him instead. “You’re forgiven Hotch. I promise.”

Hotch just stared but relaxed ever so slightly and didn’t protest when the other members of the team gave him small smiles or hugged him.

And the next day, they spoke to him, not as a boss, but as their friend. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was back where he belonged. Things weren’t perfect- they never were- but he no longer felt like the villain in his own story.

He felt like he was worthy of a small amount of love, which meant the darkness had not won. Not completely.

There were cases that were difficult. There were cases that made him want to quit, or curl into a ball and forget about how the outside world existed and was constantly hurt innocent people that didn’t deserve it. And there were cases that he knew would haunt him until the day he died.

Watching Jimmy lose his fight, the one thing that kept him going, just so he would be able to see his son one last time was something he would keep seeing every time he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about how he was the first one to realise that was what he wanted.

The team had all been waiting in various places, and he knew it wasn’t really what he was supposed to be doing, but when he looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a desperate father. And he thought of Jack. If it were Jack, he would do whatever it took to see him one last time. He deserved to see his son. And his son deserved a father.

Because when he looked at Jimmy he did not see the unsub his team had been after. He saw a broken and damaged man that was doing what it took to survive. Under normal circumstances, he’d been frightened by that but so much had happened that he almost felt desensitised when it came to relating to unsubs. His hands still went cold at the sight of every crime scene he visited. The bureau therapist would say the fact that he clung to that feeling both at home and in the field was unhealthy, but the bureau therapist had also deemed Jason, Elle, Spencer, himself and Emily fit for work after their respective ordeals.

“This isn’t a trick is it? Because you’re a federal agent, this isn’t your job,” he said.

“I’m a father first. And your son is holding on so he can say goodbye to you. I’m not so heartless that I would deprive you of a goodbye.”

He pressed a hand to his mouth. “He’s really going to- I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Am I a horrible person for not being here sooner?”

Hotch still blamed himself for not being there when his mother died. “No. No you did your best and you cannot think like that. I promise, when it came to your son, you have done nothing wrong. I’ll give you some privacy.” He hated to add the second part but he had to. “And I don’t want to, but you must understand-”

“I broke the law and you need to arrest me. I know. That’s fine. Everything will be fine because you have let me say goodbye to my baby.”

Aaron watched them through the window, a single tear coursing down his cheek as that was all he would allow himself until he made it home.

Sometimes, it was not the cases that made him question the reason behind doing any of this, but these moments where there was nothing that anyone could have done. They spent so much time putting bad guys away, and for what? The universe to just throw other tragedies in people’s faces.

Ryan closed his eyes at the same time that Aaron looked away. The raw grief both parents were feeling was something personal. He already felt like an intruder. He saw the man comfort his wife, who’s sobs had died down to silent tears as she placed a final kiss to her boy’s forehead.

They comforted each other.

Aaron wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t saved Jack from George Foyet. If he would still be alive now, or if he would have just let Foyet kill him because a life without Jack was not one he was capable of surviving. He wondered if Haley had survived instead, would they have been able to comfort each other, or would she blame him for the loss of her son? If Jack hadn’t survived, Hotch did not want to think of what his response would have been because the darkness of it scared him.

No parent should ever have to bury their child, and no child should ever have to be that strong for their parent. He admired Ryan for holding on for as long as he did, but he shouldn’t have had to. He should have been playing games with the other children and worrying about his favourite cartoon characters, not how many breaths he had left.

He stood outside for longer than he should have and he was gentler with the handcuffs than he ever remembered being. The last words he whispered were an apology that Jimmy did not want. Before he returned to the hotel, he stopped to see his wife.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “And if I knew what to say, I would. But I don’t so please, just, find a reason to hold on. Anything.”

“Agent Hotchner, you gave my son the one thing he wanted. A chance to say goodbye to both his parents. That has to be enough for now.” She hugged him and was polite enough to not comment on how his own body shook with the tears he was unable to repress.

He gave her his card, and then he left her, alone, to process her losses.

On board the jet, he sat slightly apart from the rest of them, which they all took as their cue to leave him alone. Emily Prentiss had never liked listening to him, and so she took the seat opposite him. Hotch had to smile. That was the woman he knew. Not the one that was overcompensating for everything.

“I made you a cup of tea,” she said to him.

Hotch looked down at the mug and grimaced slightly.

“Jason did the same thing after the case with the serial arsonist. Do you remember? He was trying to get me to open up about how I related to the unsub.”

“Did you?”

Hotch shook his head, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose I did a little. He wasn’t really paying attention.”

Emily made a non-committal sound at that. “Look I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

He shook his head. “No. I can’t. Ryan just- he didn’t even look like Jack, but when I saw him, I just- they were a normal couple. They didn’t deserve to lose him like that.”

“Nobody deserves to lose someone they love that much like that. But they do. And we can’t stop that. What we can do is stop the bad guys who hurt other people and we do, whenever we can. Please don’t beat yourself up over this.”

He understood what she was saying, but he couldn’t accept it. Haley had been too good for him, and he deserved to have everything good taken from him because he hadn’t been able to save her when it had been his fault that she was forced into that situation.

She smirked. “And Rossi may have mentioned a woman making her way into your life. Beth is it?”

Hotch rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. And it is just a bike ride.”

“You should go. Even if nothing happens, training is better with a partner. And you won’t be betraying Haley. Or Jack. If this thing works out, it will be because Beth understands that Jack doesn’t want or need another mom.”

Hotch looked at her with soft eyes. “Yeah. Maybe I should go.”

He did, and it was such a success that they ended up going on more than one date. She was excited to meet Jack, and they both loved each other. Even the team, who were always weary of potential partners, seemed to accept her as one of their own.

It momentarily convinced him that love could survive the horrors of their job.

The sound of the gun that Diane Turner shot herself and Maeve Donovan with sounded louder than even the three shots he had heard over the phone when George Foyet took Haley from him. His ear started ringing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Alex close hers and lower her gun.

What had been thinking? Alex had already lost a son, and every case put the one she had just found at risk. Even now, she had the sense to look away. He was still holding his gun like there was something he could do.

Before he was aware of his actions, he had dropped it. Something that he always told people not to do, especially if the safety was off because you just couldn’t guarantee anything. The sound it made as it hit the ground was still nothing compared to Spencer’s sobbing.

Reid was on his knees, eyes closed as though that would stop him from seeing Maeve’s dead body, both her and Diane’s forming a pool around them. It would be another funeral for him to attend. It wasn’t fair. Reid was still just a kid compared to the rest of them, he didn’t deserve to see all the things he had been subjected to.

Hotch knelt beside him. “Reid?” he whispered, keeping his voice as soft as quiet as he could.

Reid shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should’ve done something. There were so many different endings to this series of events and at least half of them involved Maeve living and me dying, which is something everyone could have learnt to live with.”

“Spencer. That isn’t true,” he said, a lot more firmly.

Spencer’s sobs had calmed to hiccups. “It wasn’t supposed to be her.”

“I know,” he said, and he wrapped his arms around him. He felt Reid go limp against him as more sobs wracked his body. Reid was resting his head on Hotch’s shoulder and on instinct, he felt himself stroke the younger one’s hair, the same way he did to Jack when the little one couldn’t sleep.

He knew that grief caused people to go numb. When Reid pulled away, he kept one hand on his arm to stop him from being an idiot. Only Alex was still there, hovering by the side lines. The others had gone to stop the police from coming in too soon. They were giving Spencer the space to process.

Hotch wished they hadn’t. Jason and Emily were the ones that Reid turned to when he needed something. And if not them, then Derek and maybe JJ. But Jason and Emily were gone and Derek and JJ were dealing with other things.

And he was the only one who’s partner had ever been murdered by an unsub. He just didn’t know how to provide comfort. He didn’t know how he was supposed to tell Spencer that everything was going to be fun and he would recover because the truth was that he would never be the same. Aaron still wasn’t the same. It wasn’t possible, but sometimes his lower torso still ached the same way it had when Foyet first pushed the knife in. He wouldn’t lie to Spencer, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

“I need- I never got to hold her. I need to hold her. Hotch let me go! I need to hold her, just once. Just once so I can remember her.”

The last time Hotch touched Haley, she was barely warm, but still lifeless. It overshadowed every single casual touch they’d shared since they were seventeen and it was all he could ever think of when he remembered her. He would give anything to forget the last time he held her.

Perhaps one day he would. But Spencer had an eidetic memory.

“I can’t let you do that,” he said.

Spencer shoved him. He wasn’t strong enough to knock him over, but Hotch hadn’t been expecting it and he lost his balance slightly. They both looked down at Reid’s hands. Reid looked at them like he couldn’t believe they were part of his body. Hotch looked down at how pure they were.

Reid had killed unsubs when it was the only way to save other people, but he was still innocent in so many other ways. He’d never hit the table to intimidate a suspect because that was Hotch’s job. He was the one that played bad cop, whilst they trusted Reid to successfully empathise.

Reid had never killed a man with their bare hands.

Hotch momentarily let go of Reid, and Reid tried to use that opportunity to grab Maeve’s hand. But Hotch was quicker, and before Spencer knew what was going on, Hotch had grabbed both his wrists and was holding them in front of his chest.

Both their eyes shone with tears.

“Let me go,” Spencer begged.

“No. Spencer listen to me. You don’t want your one and only memory of her touch to be when she couldn’t respond. You know better than me that she is going to be unresponsive. You won’t be able to kid yourself into thinking that she did indeed clasp your hand. Her perfume will be tinged with the stench of blood and she will be cold. Remember Maeve as the woman that made you smile. That was warm and bright. Not like this.”

Spencer relaxed against him, the tears falling. Hotch pulled him closer, holding him tight. At some point, Alex crept forward and gave the two of them a hug. She told them they needed to go. Reid shook his head. Between the two of them, they managed to get him down the stairs.

“I want to go to my apartment,” Reid stated after they took his statement. Hotch had sat with him the whole time. Reid’s monotony scared him and he wondered if the look on the officer’s face was the same as the one that been on Strauss’ after he spoke about Foyet.

“Spence,” JJ said, reaching for him.

“My apartment. Please. Hotch?”

Hotch knew why Reid had asked for it to be him. Because if he declined, Reid could come after him. Say that when Haley died, leaving behind a young son whose memories of his father were patchy and disrupted, Hotch had refused to stay with anyone. Instead, he had sat in the darkness of his apartment in case the monsters from Jack’s dreams came to life once more.

“If you need anything,” he said with a sigh, because he was the only one that understood.

Spencer nodded. But Hotch knew he wouldn’t.

They drove in silence. Hotch itched to say something but what? He understood what it was like to lose the one person that made your life better, but at the end of the day, he hadn’t been there. He had heard it over the phone. Spencer would see the images every time he closed his eyes.

“Would you like me to come up with you?” he asked.

Reid shook his head, exited the car but did not close the door.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quick enough,” Hotch mumbled.

Reid’s pause meant he heard him. His lack of response meant he didn’t have any words of comfort that would not be lies. Perhaps that hurt more than Jessica’s sad smile when he got him and distractedly ruffled Jack’s hair, unable to focus on what he was saying properly.

He’d made the right decision in not letting Spencer touch the body. He knew he had. It didn’t stop him from wrapping Jack up in the coat Haley had picked and going to her grave. He knew Jack was missing his mom, so the trip served a dual purpose.

Jack liked to lay flowers at the graves that didn’t have any because- in his words- it would mean everyone would be as happy as his mommy was. As he did that, Hotch spoke.

“I didn’t let him touch her. I need to convince myself that was the right thing, but what if it wasn’t? I have years of touches to hold onto. He had never met her before then. What if one day, he wakes up and resents me because he can’t even imagine what she feels like?”

If Haley were alive, she would rub his shoulder and tell him he was a good man that needed to stop doubting every decision he made because he knew his team better than they knew themselves and that Reid would never hate him.

Be annoyed at him for specific things he did and lash out because he was in the wrong, yes. But hate him? Never.

Only Haley wasn’t alive. Hotch sighed, called Jack over and hesitated slightly when Jack held his hand out. Hours before, he had been holding a gun, ready to fire. He hadn’t been fast enough, and now another piece of Spencer had been lost to the abyss.

When Spencer didn’t return to work immediately, he was relieved. At least he was taking the time he needed to grieve and recover instead of rushing back and never dealing with the pain until it got so bad he could hardly breathe without holding back a sob.

He turned up on their case. Everyone else was excited to see him, because it meant he was alive. Hotch wasn’t so sure. Reid had never known anything other than the BAU, and that was partially his fault for not putting his foot down and telling Gideon the kid needed more experience before working as a profiler.

But there were people that needed saving, so he let it go.

And then he heard Spencer tell Dave how he wasn’t sleeping because he kept seeing Maeve asking him to dance but he had never been able to touch her. It was like a punch to the gut. Spencer had never touched Maeve because Hotch had told him not to, and now he was paying the price.

He didn’t hear Dave’s response. He used that moment to tell Alex he needed the bathroom. She seemed slightly taken aback but shifted out the way for him.

When Spencer came in after that, he seemed peaceful. He had danced with Maeve. Now, even though it wasn’t real, he had his closure because he’d been able to touch her, which was all he had wanted. Maybe it had something to do with being touch-starved.

Hotch thought of Haley. What would he give to see her one last time? Just to say he was sorry?

He was telling the team about a missing girl, but it was getting harder to breathe, and he couldn’t make out what the screen in front of him was displaying.

Before he knew what was happening, the world around him was going black and the frantic shouts of his team were not enough to bring him back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her.

“Haley?” he whispered.

She looked beautiful. Her dress shone, and her hair was the same blonde it had been the day she’d gone into witness protection. She looked like the girl that had exploded into his life and taught him how to say I love you. That had taught him the meaning of light and who had changed his life forever.

“Hi baby,” she said with a grin.

He smiled. His light had come back to him.

70 notes · View notes

olde-scratch · 3 years

Text

So I watched LUCIDS 1-4 without any prior knowledge...

and here were my thoughts. I didn’t watch any backstory or anything so enjoy my suffering.

PART 1

“So what happens when the people inside of their dreams go to sleep?” They die

“What happens when we wake up? Do they go on living while we’re not there?” THEY DIE-

“Who are they anyway?” they’re faces that our brain catalogs and stores for later use, although it’s also arguable that every time we dream we go to an alternate reality and inhabit the body of another version of ourselves. Now, were you in a car accident and trapped underwater or-

Are they twins?

(Me tuning out to do something)

“-the squirrel in spongebob was your soulmate, making you a Sandy simp-”

Me, snapping back to the video: hold up-

[missed the part about the worksheet, realized it when i rewatched 10 mins later to make this post]

yall speakin gibberish idk what youre saying-

“I’m gonna go to bed.” bro it literally looks like morning-

“You should get some sleep you look terrible.” i get six hours of sleep a night minimum and i look worse than him shut up bro-

“jump into someone else’s dream” ah i know this con-

why they all got the same face-

haha funni meme

“--an interruptiion can create feedback and tear them apart.” Death. I long for thee.

Is that Karl Jacob’s jacket?

“a second grader” makes me think this is a different school system. [i was wrong? i think?]

“[get him to] eat your apple”

[in the dream sequence] weird dream, but ive had weirder. now, Why Pamper’s-

why does he suddenly have a knife-

“You put a filter on the Dreamscape feed?”

“Technically, you are seven years old.”

???????????

the second hand embarrassment is UGGGHHH

[reading the description] you mean like the guy who was knocked out for 2 minutes on a football field and woke to find he’d dreamt 17 years of his life? oh this shall be Fun

PART 2

[I check the description] “jasper cult” what the fu-

how many camp camp references can i make during this

Is the apple a reference to religion or does the creator just really ilke apples?

“meal.”

“meal?”

meal????

Wait why couldn’t that guy eat the apple? If he wanted it in the fruit bowl, wouldn’t there be a chance of the guy eating it anyways?? Why can’t the guy who brought the apple eat it?

well he’s Dead

[debating if I should read the backstory}

n a h h h h h -

Was he gonna feed the dead guy the apple or something? Why is he upset about the apple in this scene???

oooo the grownups are fightinnnngggg

Is he an antagonist?

HE WROTE A BOOK???

oh now i want food

ESTABLISH JUSTICE ENSURE DOMESTIC TRANQUILITYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“I watched all those aforementioned shows” what shows did i miss something what-

man why you gotta hate on her jane austen fanfic let her live bro

string theory! i can get behind that! sorta-

o no he found the memes-

BOY GOT KNOCKED OUT-

kim there’s people that are dying-

is SHE an antagonist?

quinn? calling himself jasper? u sure hes not just nonbinary? is this just a metaphor for transphobic parenting?

“He died... but somewhere, he grew up.” So is your plan to take a Quinn from a different universe and make him your own, thereby robbing another version of yourself from happiness? When does this ever go well?

Yknow most people, when they lose a kid,,,, kinda,,,,,,, dont go on a ceaseless quest to find another version of their kid that grew up without knowing that another version of his mother was invading other peoples’ dreams to find and kidnap him,,,,,,,, like aint u got a therapist-

“Once you get past the point of not knowing what’s real anymore, you realize it doesn’t matter.” Well, I Got Called Out-

PART 3

“you’re real, oliver.”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

“you’ve been infected by the anti-love parasite of Mandadon” the amatonormativity is strong

so anyways ive been infected since birth hbu-

“James Jasperson, creator of Japple” did you mean to Fancy Well-Educated Man in a Black Turtleneck? cause the only FWEMBT i allow near me is prof. hidgens

“are you winning?” says the capitalist

why did you rewind to see his face?? you have the same face????? is this just bc the creator doesnt like working with other people cause in that case same but???????

“it’s a bad idea. i’m not gonna do it.” we’ve all been there. and we’ve all done it.

looks like me trying to study. (i say, a person who has studied a total of five minutes throughout their entire life.)

your “Spartan trial” looks like a bunch of guys standing on a hill pretending to be something they’re not. Let The Man Bring His Snacks.

eat the apple.

is this your first existential crisis or something what a loser lets all point and laugh

“One of you should be spared, the other shall’nt.” did you mean shant or was that a choice-

yall gonna get called out for talking shut UP

“sorry if this is too personal, btw. are you okay?”

me, confused and half understanding what’s going on and also needing to sleep cause its almost one in the morning but wanting to finish what i can find of lucids which i only starting watching cause i saw an animatic of ranboo and dream w audio from it: i don’t know anymore

“i just want my life back... i was gonna get married-” AREN’T YOU LIKE SEVEN-

ay man if this is a sacrificial cult yall gotta get daniel-

UPDATE: I H A V E N O T F O U N D I T -

“oliver”

I F O U N D I T -

WHICH ONE IS QUINN?? WHO’S JASPER???? WHICH ONE IS BENJAMIN???? I THOUGH BENJAMIN WAS SEVEN BUT I THOUGHT HE WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED WHAT-

oliver. eat the apple.

“Can you still have memories even when you’re dreaming?” One time I woke up to my alarm and fell back asleep and in my dream I remembered that I had class in a few minutes and my dream self woke my real self up so fast I thought I was gonna get whiplash. Anyways, I was late to class bc of my computer but that doesn’t matter.

NOPE I FOUND IT. HERE’S THE AUDIO. THE ANIMATIC ONE. FINALLY.

im thinking car crash. but also maybe murder. but also maybe both? is it raining or was he drowning? is he in a coma? hmmmmmm?

wait olivers the one with the apple does that mean he’s the one dreaming? is the ending gonna be him and jasper (quinn? idk) fighting against ben and mrs hills about jasper eating the apple to save oliver from the dream? hmmmmmmmmmm-

waitwaitwait i thought oliver was 7 how is benjamin 7 years younger than him if they look the same age what what what explain america explain what you mean arkansaw-

are the cuts on his nose plot-relevant or

“What if you hadn’t been driving?” So I was right about the car accident but Mrs. Hills still said he was seven so did i mishear her say that BENJAMIN was seven? but even then oliver would be 14 and that would still be illegal-

“How are you feeling?”

“Like you’re a pretty bad therapist.”

mood

“--it makes it all bearable to have power over the stories we write in our heads” that’s why i write fanfiction

HE’S GOT THE NOTEBOOK HE’S GONNA WRITE SOMETHING ONE OF US ONE OF US ONE OF US

WHAT YOU MEAN AN EXPERIMENT THAT’S HIS NAME-

[upon reading the description] so i was right.

wait was that supposed to be the twist in part 2 about the apple in his pocket is that what the existential crisis was about i thought it was because he was introduced to the multiple worlds theory-

PART 4

wait wasnt the other one january 2018 why we going back to 2017-

appol

“--the future and the past all already exist” mhm yep figured this out long ago

there was simultaneously a point in time in which i hadn’t known about this, had been looking it up, had been watching it, and had been writing an ending to this post, and had been posting it the next morning before class. that time is both now and not now. Welcome To The Multiverse Theory or whatever its called-

“--my favorite scene of the movie is waking up next to you.” Mine is eating fast food as I listen to AJJ and play Minecraft. We are not the same.

Now I’m hungry but it’s 1 in the morning and i already put my retainer in god fu-

[reading description] what do you mean previously??? she did that in the first episode????????

[still on description] WHAT DO YOU MEAN WILL QUINN BITE THE APPLE AND GO TO BENJAMINS REALITY ISNT THIS OLIVERS REALITY AND HE HAS TO GET BEN TO BITE THE APPLE WHY IS APPLE CAPITALIZED IS THIS THE DOING OF THE FWEMBT

i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have watched the backstory i should have wa-

[description] oh ive been spelling quinn right the whole time nice

i hope she rejects you /j

WAIT BENJAMIN WAS THE ONE GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE

ISNT HE IN SECOND GRADE-

HE IS SEVEN YEARS OLD HOW IS HE GETTING MARRIED ARE THERE TWO BENJAMINS THAT WE’RE FOCUSING ON-

bro get out of the road ull get hit

how do you knOW WHICH ONE IS QUINN THEY ARE THE SAME PERSON-

wait

hills wants ben to feed quinn the apple bc in his mind, that will give hills and quinn a happy ending and she doesnt want ben to see the apple bc thats gonna mean ben will know that his reality isnt reality at all. so then oliver has to,,,, not let anyone eat his apple? he just has to wake up?

IS HILLS THE VILLAIN AFTER ALL ORRRRR

wait but if ben sees the apple wont he realize that his reality is wrong and his reality will change, making it so that hills doesnt get her son? or is there some time-based rule that says they’re only transported to the reality that the person believes at that moment? or is this another stab at the multiverse thing where an infinite amount of hills gets their happy endings while an infinite amount of hills doesnt and etc etc?

i should have watched the ba-

oooo dramatique

they’re in a time loop?

nope thats a new powerpoint

wait so theyre,,,, no-

wait-

nvm-

IS THE BEN WE KNOW AN ADULT GETTING MARRIED TO ISABELLE OR NOT-

“they were actually pretty nice” didnt they throw someone off a cliff-

oh so it got confusing THEN??? NOT BEFORE?????

“it all seemed so real.” is that Not the point of vivid REM sleep hallucinations-

is oliver gonna show ben the apple and ruin hills’ whole operation

WHO ARE ALEX AND RYAN-

“what’s 25-8″ bro dont do this to me-

yep hes gonna show the apple

ayyy the guy who stole karl jacobs jacket it back

the second hand embarrassment is back and I Hate It

all that happens in episode ONE??? bro get some better writers that is bad pacing

“it’s the best!” wait until season eight. no show has a good season eight.

quinn knows about the apple thing w the dreams and multiverse and realities dont he

YOU KILLED HIM

NOT KARL JACOBS NOOOOO HES ALREADY DIED ONCE

oliver is v relatable

wHaT iN tArNaTiOn-

lemme hear that explanaton again-

is bill cipher gonna show up? i hope bill cipher shows up. i miss gravity falls

“ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” moooooooood

did hills murder quinn

is your family the jasper cult

TOXXIICCCCCC get that lady out of your life quinn that is so toxic

“ ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree! ah! a tree! ah! a tree! ah a tree!” mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooood

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT’S THE END NO WHAT WHY NO

The Adventures of Benjamin and Oliver

he is Not Good

ope-

wait so ben is equal parts an adult AND a child?? okay that clears a lot up

I MEAN HE WAS RIGHT THO BEN U CAN’T REALLY ARGUE ON THAT-

ew get off the floor

butterfly effect, multiverse theory, memory decay, and your imagination ALL exist yall gonna ignore that cause you wanna be famous?

“We already know what the future looks like!”

aRe yOu sUrE aBoUt tHaT-

to add to the list of bad things: Cats (2019)

YA BOI THINKS IT’S NOT ALREADY FIFTY YEARS TOO LATE TO START FIGHTING CLIMATE CHANGE FFFFF

BINGO BABYYYY

get what what

what mapped-

awwwww he thinks THEY’RE creating the multiverse

you gonna dismiss the multiverse theory bc of something you created in your current reality? loooserrrrrr

ABUSE YOUR GODLIKE POWERS

she draggin that seven year old

a lot makes sense now why didnt i do this first-

Jasper

the food shortages-

bro that calculators like 90 bucks at walmart

imagine meeting a stranger and they know Everything about your life like that’s gotta be so weird

what’s even weirder is them telling you you’re the deity of a cult that sacrifices animals

THAT FOURTH WALL BREAK WAS-

KARL JACOBS IS DEAD NOOOOOO

ooohhh there’s context for that

OOOOHHHH THERE’S CONTEXT FOR THIS TOOOO

w h a t -

W H A T -

Conclusion:

it’s 2 in the morning and i need sleep but hOOOOO MY GODS THAT WAS GOOD IS IT OVER OR NOT IDK ANYMORE IM TIRED THAT WAS CRAZY I HOPE QUINN AND JASPER GO ON TO BE VERY GOOD FRIENDS, AND I HOPE BENJAMIN AND OLIVER STAY VERY GOOD FRIENDS AND I HOPE HILLS FINDS A THERAPIST WAS A LITTLE CONFUSING BUT I ENJOYED IT

if i dream about apples im suing /j /lh

#lucids #nicholas podany #there's a metaphor in there somewhere #but im not gonna be the one to find it #i dont think i dreamed about apples #youre safe for now podany #for now #EDIT #I PUT 'something their not'#WRONG THERE #I HAVE NO EXCUSE #IM SORRY

37 notes · View notes

melissanovels · 4 years

Photo

♡ Here they are!! Chapters 1 & 2 of TRANSIENT TIME TRAVELLER are out! ♡

○ Read on my Website ○ Read on Tumblr (below) ○ Read on Ao3 ○

TTT is an LGBTQ+ historical fantasy novel about Aida, a time traveller hellbent on proving the innocence of a 1,200-year-old dead queen, and Lorian, an escaped princess-turned-officer who wants to drain the royal blood from their body, & the two coming together with the help of their mischievous future selves.

♡ Reblogs are appreciated! ♡

Read Chapter 1 + 2 Below:

Chapter 1: Six Weeks Before

Aida’s life was forever changed when she received a letter in the mail.

She never got letters. Being adopted into a small family in a smaller farm in Bělico didn’t bless her with birthday gifts or congratulatory mail. She estimated that no one other than her stepmother and her stepsisters knew of her existence, so Aida ghosted through life without much interference.

But she knew this letter, had been anticipating it for weeks since she’d sent in her application under her mother’s nose. It was handwritten on high-quality paper, the feeling new to her, foreign, and was branded with the seal of the Roman lion. She’d dreamt of getting these royal letters in the mail, wishful hope turning into dread come nighttime, but she hadn’t thought she'd receive a reply, let alone a letter of acceptance.

She’d been tending to the farm, or the cows, mainly. The chickens, pigs, sheep, and goats had been taken care of and her stepmother and stepsisters had their two horses out on a carriage ride to the village, so all that was left to handle was their five highland cows. Big, burly creatures more fur than hide. It took Aida more time to heave the heavy bales of hay into their stables, to groom them, wash them, clean out their troughs. She’d hadn’t even heard the post carrier arrive, she’d been on the other side of the property. When she realized her family would be home soon, she hurried to get everything done so her stepmother would be in a better mood. Well, a less shit one.

There was one piece of mail that day, and it’d been addressed to Aida.

When her mother and sister finally came home and found Aida on the floor, frantically rereading the letter with the envelope torn with her teeth, they must’ve assumed she’d had jumped and was writhing in pain as a result.

She was writhing, but not because she’d travelled backwards in time. Her brain was spinning, eyes watering due to some type of emotion she couldn’t name. After fighting for years, she’d finally earned this damned six-year scholarship to Durante Academy.

Not that wanting to dorm at a school named after King Durante’s lineage was something she was excited about. She detested almost everything the royal family did, and she didn’t even live in Roma. Roma, or Roma City, was 1,500 kilometers away, across the sea and doing far better for itself than her home country of snow-covered farmlands. She should’ve loathed becoming a student in the country with the bloodiest warpath, the worst, most prejudiced ruler, and the shittiest armed forces since the time of gladiators.

But how she’d dreamed of walking through those academic halls, taking in the prestigious lessons in fervor and staying up late to perfect a soon-to-be perfectly marked test. Schools in Bělico, you were expected to drop out of after primary school to work your family’s farms. It made sense for some people. Agriculture was the biggest export for the country, so families expected many hands to tend to the fields.

But that wasn’t Aida’s path. Ever since she’d been adopted, Aida Mirko had set her sights on becoming a historian, and that path was only attainable in the sparkling, problematic country of Roma.

It was only after Aida heard her mother slam the door did she realize her mistake: being indulgent.

“What’re y’all doing?” one of her stepsisters, Ekaterina, asked.

“You tracked in mud,” her other sister, Olga, said. She had her upper lip curled as she looked over where Aida had run in from the fields.

Her mother looked over the mess Aida had made, then at the letter still in her hand.

Then she slapped her across the cheek and sent her glasses across the living room.

She should’ve expected it. How dare her. Here she was, trying to better herself in a world where most people wanted her kind dead, and she’d just been accepted into one of the world’s most prestigious academies known in Roma. It had only a seven percent acceptance rate. To any parent, that would’ve been cause for celebration.

Her mother grabbed Aida by the collar and dragged her upstairs to her room. Her mother and sisters lived downstairs near the warm fireplaces, while Aida had the joy of taking the stairs she struggled with and lived in the cold attic at the top of the steps. She had a fucking cane and a limp, and these people couldn’t care less.

“Mo’mma, wait—”

Her mother slammed the bedroom door behind her. “How dare you?”

Aida fell backwards into her bed.

“You ain’t going,” she decided. “You have obligations here. You work the farm, you care for us. How selfish can you be, leaving all of that to become a damned academic?”

“I want…to be a historian,” Aida said, trying so hard to carefully explain something she’d wanted for years. With her limp, it was difficult to do any sort of manual labor. She got tired easily, her dizzy spells were becoming more frequent. Her sisters, they weren’t expected to do half the chores she was forced to do, yet she did them. She hated herself, but she did as she was told because it gave her a roof over her head and food on the table and a bed to dream about a life better than this. In the rare hours she had for sleep, she studied and overworked her abilities to prove that a Visatorre deserved to learn, something that’d been barred from her people for centuries.

She didn’t expect praise, or admiration. She couldn’t dream like that. All she wished was for her mother to stop hitting her. She didn’t know why she was selfish asking that.

Her mother stood tall over her. “You ain’t going.”

Aida fixed her broken glasses over her nose. “I was accepted.”

“I ain’t paying for it.”

“I know that.”

“What do you mean ‘I know that’? You won’t be able to afford it. The journey ’cross the sea alone is ten gold.”

To her mother, it’d seem that way, but Aida had been saving up. For years, she’d been putting away her childhood allowance underneath the broken floorboard next to her bed. After turning fifteen, her mother had stopped paying her for her work. Aida had thought it was because her mother had finally seen her as a daughter more than a servant. Then she found out Ekaterina’s and Olga’s allowance had doubled.

So, she’d taken to writing school papers for the local village kids. Those who were able to write had trouble forming their thoughts in persuasive essays, so Aida wrote them top-grade papers about history, war, massacres of her own people and the rise of these dictatorships she hated, all behind her mother’s back. If her mother had found that out, she would’ve thrown Aida into the village stockades for lying because “Visatorre folk weren’t smart like normal folk.”

“I have the money,” Aida summarized.

“I don’t care if you got a fortune! Y’all ain’t gonna throw away your life and waste it on an academy when you’re needed here.”

“I’ll be gone, isn’t that what you’d want?” she shot back, the fear of speaking back pitching her voice. “I’ll be gone for six whole years, and I swear, whatever money I make—”

“‘Money I make’, she says. What money you gonna make there? You know Roma don’t take well to you folk as well as Bělico people do. You’ll be ridiculed. You’ll be ostracized.”

“So how different would it be from here?” Aida wanted to ask. Circa, how she wished she was brave enough to say that. If she’d been high, that defiance would’ve come out, but it would’ve only resulted in her being hit harder.

Aida lowered her head, feigning a defeat.

Her mother harrumphed and tied up her brown hair in a messy bun. “That’s what I thought. Now.” She held out her hand. Aida flinched. “Give me that letter.”

“No,” Aida said. “Please, just…let me keep it. For memory’s sake.”

Her mother rolled her eyes and wiped her hands on her apron. “Get up and help with the groceries, since you didn’t want to help when we came in. The rest are in the carriage.”

Aida nodded and went for her cane. It was a dark, simple thing made from a tree branch in the woods around them.

Her mother kicked it and knocked it into the wall. The force made it tip and spill Aida’s half-filled drinking glass to the ground.

Aida froze.

“Realize your stance in this house,” her mother warned, “and stop making such foolish decisions behind my back.”

“I will,” Aida said, and waited for her mother to leave down the stairs, where she heard her sisters whispering about what their mother had just told their servant daughter.

She gripped her cane as tightly as she could. The one thing about being in your twenties was that, while you might’ve been afraid of your parents and they’d wrecked your self-confidence and self-worth beyond recognition for more than a decade, if you had the money and the drive to defy the Gods, you could change your future for the better.

After hearing her mother leave, Aida went for her travel bags.

---------------------------

Nights at the Mirko household came early, as they—she—had to get up at four in the morning to take care of the livestock. Feed them, gather the eggs, change the hay, sweep out both barns, weed out the gardens. Aida half-expected her mother to put more energy into their own livelihood instead of working on how to destroy her own daughter’s confidence, but she couldn’t expect much of anything from them anymore.

Aida knew she was smart. She wouldn’t have gotten her scholarship if she hadn’t been. All the years of extra-credit and letter after letter of recommendations had paid off. It didn’t matter what her mother thought of her. She would reclaim her dignity without her.

The night she received her letter, Aida woke up at three and began packing. It’d taken a chunk of her savings to leave now, as she’d planned to leave later towards the school year where travel costs decreased, but she’d manage. She always did. She currently had seventy pieces of gold lyria to her name. It wasn’t much—it barely covered a month’s worth of groceries for her family—but if she used it right, it’d get her a life without them in it.

Because, in all her twenty-three years of living, she knew that “family” could go fuck themselves with how much good they did for her.

She dressed in a black dress fit for the night and braided her hair in her favorite way, down her front in two braids that never seemed even. She was bigger than most girls: both of her sisters’ weights combined. She hoped the school uniforms could accommodate her, and that they weren’t tacky. She needed a self-esteem boost, not a downgrade from what clothes she’d been given.

After packing her non-essentials, she got to work packing the more important items: her journals, thick with cut-outs and pictures from used books she’d pasted into it; her history texts on the once luxurious country of Siina and its murdered queen; the first book in the En Tempore Rose sextet, Pinnacle Isle; and the signed playbooks from the opera-ballet adaptation she’d bartered for in exchange for an eight-page essay.

She’d gone to see the opera once, and by “seen,” she meant she’d snuck away into the theatre for ten minutes during a family trip to Roma City when she was six. It’d been during a trading festival where they earned their summer wealth. She’d snuck into the massive theater constructed within the colosseum and caught the last few minutes of the performance before being discovered.

She’d been beaten so hard that she didn’t remember much of the opera, but she remembered loving it. Those few minutes near the stage that made her heart stop and restart with the love of her favorite stories, both real and imaginary. The ballerinas dressed in snow-white lace, the glitter that danced from the rafters. It’d sparked her desire to be a ballerina before she found out that Visatorre were neither allowed to be performers on the stage nor were they allowed to even watch a costly opera to begin with. They were a “risk” to those around them if they travelled backwards into time.

At least she had her journals. She had a dozen or so hand-bound journals she’d made herself because God knew her mother wouldn’t have bought them for her. They detailed her favorite moments in history. Nothing of wars or tyrannical, egotistical kings she couldn’t stand learning about. She was interested in the people, the interpersonal relationships between the royal families and their citizens. Their dresses, the food they ate, the ways they lived their menial lives a millennia ago.

And Eve, a magnificent, tolerant queen to a dead city-state that once held 100,000 Visatorre within its peaceful walls. Aida loved her, knew everything about her life from the minute she was born to the day she was executed. Her city-state, Siina, had once been a well-established community within Roma that could’ve rivaled the country in time.

History said Eve had murdered the Roman king’s wife, so in retaliation, he’d killed her, her lineage, and all 100,000 Visatorre of Siina, burying them within the Catacombs underneath Roma City.

Aida knew for a fact that that part of history was wrong. She’d written papers and thesis on Eve for years, and she couldn’t see the dead queen dipping so far as to murder someone she should’ve seen as an ally. She’d been a young, proud, dedicated Visatorre that housed and raised and loved the biggest population of Visatorre the world had ever seen. Yes, she was rash with some of her decision-making, and she might’ve been labeled “eccentric” in today’s terms, but to murder someone so powerful for no reason, it didn’t add up. It didn’t make sense.

So, Aida was bent on becoming a historian, to rewrite the history books with the truth rather than the propagated schlock crammed down their throats.

After zipping up her final bag, she readied her three-kilometer-long walk to the village. It was mostly leveled terrain, but still, it always burdened her legs. One bad jump six years ago had fucked up her hips, or her back, or her spine, or all three, given her exceptionally bad luck. No doctor had a concrete reason as to why Visatorre were injured when they jumped into the past, they only knew the farther back you went, the worse you came back. Some Visatorre who’d jump 100, 200 years back would come back burning from the inside or with missing limbs, screaming in pain until they needed to take something to their skull to mask the pain. Aida, with all that was stacked up against her, always considered herself lucky that she only needed a cane to get around.

She closed the garden gates slowly, taking the back entrance so she didn’t wake the easily spooked ducks. No more farmlands, no more chores done by six and being hit behind closed doors. Despite years of fucking up, making her think she was useless, too slow, too stupid to be anything more than a servant in her own home, Aida was to mentally burn this place to the ground with her accomplishments.

Or physically, if she became so bold and dire for actual jail time.

She paused at the start of the cow field, eyes darting left and right. While she wouldn’t burn down the farm—she couldn’t hurt the animals—she could do something else. Something more.

She crept into the chicken coop and burgled twenty-four of the largest eggs, enough to keep her fed for a few days, and another six for the carriage. Not hers, but her mother’s, or the one she’d already promised for Olga when she eventually married. Keeping her movements quiet, Aida smashed her extra eggs into the seats and dug the yolk deep into the hides. Then she took charcoal she always kept in her dress pockets and ruined one side of the barn in graffiti. She dumped the milk she’d gotten for that day, she let the chickens loose from the coop. Dumped the drinking water over the hay, overturned the trough. Everything she could do to make her family’s life horrible, but not enough to send an officer after her.

If they connected it to a Visatorre’s doing, she might’ve had one on her tail. Luckily, she wasn’t planning on ever coming back.

She paced herself as she made her way into the village. Idti, a racist outcropping of 500 farmers who’d sell their own daughters for a lick of gold. She kept a knife in her pocket when walking down the dirt roads, waiting to hear someone run up behind her and rob her. Luckily, the carriage house she was planning on using was close to the main road. Beyond the village stretched out a long path to the sea. She could almost smell the cold, salty air.

One driver was smoking near his carriage and reading the paper with his boots kicked up. As Aida neared with lantern and cane in hand, he gave her a look. He made no attempt to hide his ogling at her Visatorre marking: a white circle engraved in the middle of her forehead. Every Visatorre obtained one the first time they travelled, but that didn’t stop non-Visatorre from staring like she had three legs.

“I need a ride to the harbor,” Aida said, keeping her face devoid of emotion.

“Now?” the driver asked.

“Not yesterday,” she said, and gave him three of her gold lyria coins. “The quicker, the better.”

At the sight of priceless gold, the driver instantly folded his paper and sat up. “You’re the Visatorre girl who works up at that farm, ain’t you?”

“Aye.” She took out one of her own cigarettes and had him light it for her. She needed one after this week, and her mother hated the smell in the house. “Let’s say I got fired.”

“Didn’t you live there?”

“Didn’t you need to bring me to the harbor?”

The man clicked his tongue and helped her with her bags.

She took one long inhale as she surveyed the land. The morning birds had yet to begin their songs, and the lack of light let the Moon and stars shine over the country, painting it a deep blue.

“Did you hear the news?” the driver asked, making unneeded small talk. “The princess of Roma, Lucia, she just went missing. Paper’s sayin’ she vanished from her own wedding. Say she got kidnapped or something.”

“Wouldn’t be a change from what we see,” Aida said. While the royal family now was in charge of what she did, she didn’t care for them nearly as much as she cared for the dead ones. The dead ones had more of a history to them that always intrigued her. Plus, she never saw the two twin princesses. One had been married off to the shitstain of Bělico’s King Dmitri as a kid, the other barely left the palace. What was the difference if she went missing?

“Do you think they’ll find her?” asked the driver.

In the distance, Aida saw the faint outline of her home. Her mother’s home—it had never belonged to her. Her mother had tried to be a good mother when she’d first adopted Aida, but the years had tainted her into a villain Aida couldn’t wait to see get their comeuppance.

She gave her home the finger and hopped into the carriage. “Who cares about some dumb princess?”

----------------------------------

Chapter 2: Six Weeks Before, Continued

Lorian had dreamed about escaping her bedroom through the window. She never thought it would be her last-ditch effort to save her life.

She wasn’t in life-threatening danger. She wasn’t going to die if she stayed the night. Acted proper. Went back downstairs and apologized to her wedding guests, and let Prince Zaahir take her hand like she’d been proclaimed to do since she was six.

That wouldn’t kill her per se, but if it came to that, she’d kill herself. No remorse, no second thoughts. She’d warned her parents that if they followed through with the marriage, it would’ve been the final straw out of the many that they’d already broken for her.

Well, her father had. Everyone knew that despite being the reigning queen, it was Lorian’s father who controlled the country.

That night, after tearing up the wedding dress and ruining every last piece of notable art she had left in her bedroom, Lorian had collapsed into her bed and sobbed so hard, she’d thrown up. Out of everything her parents forced her through, this marriage was the one constant. Let her ruin her dresses, let her throw her infamous temper tantrums hidden from the country. But this marriage, just like her sister’s, would happen. Alliances needed to be formed between the three major countries of the world to keep war at bay, and it’d happen whether she liked it or not. Country before individual. Alliances before children.

The only way out was death.

She’d contemplated it, then kicked herself and fought for another way out. She couldn’t end it here. She had to show her parents that she did have aspirations, just ones outside of royal duties.

The giant clock just outside of Lorian’s room chimed for eleven. Per Roman customs, the wedding kiss would occur at the stroke of midnight, and so far, Lorian hadn’t let any of her maids or officers near her. Not even her own family had come into her room, though they’d tried.

First, her mother, whose frail knocks almost made her heart break. Then her twin sister, Beatrice, born only twelve minutes earlier and thus married off first to a man older than their father. Her methodical, emotionless explanation as to why this needed to marry Zaahir made Lorian break a vase to get her to stop talking.

Carmine was the last person to come. He was the queen’s right-hand man—a Constable, the highest rank given to officers—and childhood friend of the queen. He was the most sympathetic about Lorian’s plight, she’d give him that, but he, like the rest of them, told her to come downstairs and finish what was destined for her. He used to be better, back when he was more a family friend who wasn’t weighed down my medals of honor, but those days were gone, as was Carmine’s carefree nature. It’d been replaced with duties that outweighed Lorian’s happiness.

Her father didn’t come up to check on her.

But she didn’t need any more of his anger tonight. Nobody could talk her into this. She had her mind set, and it was anywhere else but this godforsaken palace.

The only one she’d let come near was Missus Sharma. She’d been Lorian’s and Beatrice’s nursemaid since they were in the womb. She’d taught Lorian mathematics, both the piano and violin, and had guided Lorian through speech therapy to get rid of her lisp yet failed. She also knew almost all of Lorian’s secrets, all of her hidden passions without the threads of marriage and princesshood dragging her down.

Lorian had told her, last year, that she didn’t want to be a princess any longer.

“I know your frustrations, Your Highness,” she’d said, this sixty-year-old maid who deserved so much more than what Lorian gave her.

She didn’t know, however, so when Lorian explained more, that she didn’t want to be a princess, or Lucia, or only a woman but something more, something different, that’d puzzled her. Her generation still lived in the mindset that’d fizzled out during this ruling—people could be who they wanted to be, whether they were a boy, girl, neither, or something in-between.

Those rights weren’t given to royal heirs, especially when it involved the procreation of royal children.

Lorian held her stomach as she thought of a way out of this. Even though she was still figuring out her identity, she was sure as fuck not marrying Zaahir for the sole purpose of bearing children. That thought was so far out of her comfort zone, it was off her radar.

Frustrated by her dwindling time limit, Lorian groaned, took the last of her pillows she hadn’t torn, and threw it against her writing desk. It scattered the letters she’d tried to write to her parents only for her to rip them up because, while his mother might hear her out, her father wouldn’t listen. He never did.

A letter fell to her ornate rug. It was hidden behind one of her jewelry boxes and slipped out when the box fell. It didn’t have a name on it, but it’d been stamped with her family’s seal.

Curious, Lorian picked it up.

Out the window & down to the forest.

Good luck.

She flipped over the note to read the rest, but that was it. It wasn’t even signed, meaning the person didn’t want to be traced back. She examined the handwriting, but that didn’t click either. It looked like the person, whoever had written it, had concealed their own personhood to make the letter untraceable.

She looked back at her door. It was locked, as well as barricaded with her wardrobe. Nobody was coming in any time soon.

She crept towards the window that faced the outer walls. In the past, they were meant to keep enemies out, like the fallen city-state of Siina. It’d once been a wealthy state where most of the Visatorre population lived some 1,200 years back. Tensions back then had been high, she was taught. Visatorre were seen as part-God, part-monster, these people who could travel, or “jump,” back in time for hours to witness a single moment in history. Stories had been created around them, painting them as the voyeuristic, nosy ghosts that deserved all the pain their jumps caused them.

Her father despised time travellers for their unpredictable powers, but he never brought it up to the public. They were a reminder of a bloody history most Romans wanted to forget, but Lorian hadn’t forgotten. She knew that the queen of Siina had murdered the Roman king due to some type of disagreement, and as punishment, she, her lineage, and all 100,000 Siinans had been brutally slaughtered in an unfair and unjust bloodbath.

Lorian grit her teeth. She hated it. She’d hated it ever since it was taught to her by her scholars and meant to sound like a victory. It wasn’t. It was the royal family’s insatiable bloodlust, and it was all the more reason why she wanted nothing more to do with the crown trying to be placed over her head.

The orchestra music from her own wedding ceremony echoed from outside. Six hundred people had been invited and were likely all dining and eating and placing bets as to whether or not Lorian would come down by midnight.

So it was odd that out of all of these guests and bustling maids and officers in the palace tonight, nobody saw Lorian’s horse, Ether, nibbling on the flowers next to the palace walls. She was bridled and had on her saddle, but it wasn’t the official, royally-sanctioned one with all the gold and rubies stitched into it, it was Lorian’s personal riding one that was worn and made of coarse leather.

And attached to Lorian’s windowsill, weighted down so as not to blow in the summer night air, was a silk bedsheet tied into other bedsheets: a less than perfect escape ladder.

Lorian pressed her lips together. Who’d set this up for her? She’d dreamed of this day for years, and it only became more real that week.

She touched the start of the makeshift ladder. It’d been tied several times behind her window and secured behind the jewelry box. Not even Missus’ Sharma would’ve seen anything awry.

Lorian turned so quickly on her heel, she tripped on the rug given to her by her mother’s mother. She pulled out the drawers of her second wardrobe not currently holding back the only door to the room and packed what she considered to be her real clothes. No dresses, nothing that was too uncomfortable to wear. She did pack her corsets to bind her chest and hide her hips. She didn’t hate her body; her boobs were fun to play with when she was in the bath or getting ready for bed. They just meant too much to her past self, and she didn’t want to remember that.

She would no longer be Lucia Maria Carolus Durante di Romano, future princess to the country of Roma and Aldaí.

She would be Lorian. Lorian…

Something. If she was going to run away, she’d have to change her surname, but she’d only landed on “Lorian” when she was a child, a nonsense name that meshed her name with Carmine’s father’s name. That was back when she respected him.

Despite living here all her life, she had nothing of real importance. Clothing she felt comfortable in, 350 pieces of gold lyria she kept in case she ever decided to really run away, utensils—she ate quite a lot in her room. She grabbed documents with her father’s and Carmine’s signatures in case she needed to forge them for her new life, and she kept her signet ring and skeleton key because she was sentimental like that. She had her dagger because her rapiers would be too long and too distracting on the run. She wouldn’t need a map because she knew the whole layout of the kingdom by heart. As for her underwear…

She looked at the dagger in her hand, then at herself in the mirror. The blond hair she’d tied up in a ponytail to get it out of her face still curled to the middle of her back. She liked her hair; it was a staple for Roman women to keep it long. Her mother’s must’ve been worth something for how beautiful it was, reaching her thighs in elegant waves, and her sister’s must’ve taken hours to prepare every day with all the braids and swoops she kept it in.

Lorian gripped the handle of her blade. She didn’t think it over because she knew she’d regret it. Nobody in the kingdom could know she was Lucia. If she were to live as Lorian, Lucia needed to die.

Her locks fell around her in spirals. Her head instantly felt lighter than it had in years, but she knew it didn’t look right. One part was uneven, the next cut too close to her scalp. She didn’t touch her bangs, as Missus Sharma had just styled them the day before, and when she was done, she didn’t look back in the mirror. She retied it into a small ponytail. Her neck felt cold yet free, another chain broken.

Someone knocked on her door.

She nestled her knife against her thigh.

“Your Highness, are you alright?”

The voice, so sweet and motherly, Lorian knew it better than her own mother’s.

“Yes, Missus Sharma,” she called out, and slowly opened her window all the way. Her curtains fluttered. It kissed her cheeks, her newly uncovered neck.

“I don’t want you to feel alone right now. I know this’s terrifying for you, and unfair. Oh, sweetheart, I know. Can you talk to me? Have you eaten?”

Lorian lifted one leg over the windowsill. She’d once climbed out of this window as a child to the giant clock tower above. When they’d found her, her father had slashed her palms. It seemed so much easier as a thirteen-year-old. “I have, and I’m alright now.” She dared a peek down the four stories and closed her eyes. It wasn’t high up. It wasn’t that high. “I’ll be okay.”

“Do you need anything from me right now?”

She swung the rest of her body out of the window. Vertigo hit her like a crashing wave. She wrapped both arms around the blanket and gave a firm tug. “No. You’ve done enough for me this week, and I do appreciate all that you’ve done.” She put more of her weight on the bedsheet ladder, then more. “G-go tell my mother and father that…I’m contemplating coming down soon.”

“Oh, you are?” Missus Sharma asked. “How wonderful! Let me bring them up.”

“I-I’ll just need a minute,” she called out, hoping her voice wouldn’t travel. “Do give me that, okay, Missus Sharma?”

“Of course, Your Highness. Oh, their Majesties will be so thrilled.”

“I’ll bet,” Lorian muttered under her breath, and looked down. What was four stories, really, other than a two-second drop to your crushing, painful death?

She bit her lower lip, said a prayer to any God that would hear her, and let gravity take her down.

Her boot snagged on a jutting brick and, while it might’ve been a two-second controlled fall, it felt longer. She anticipated hitting the ground but didn’t expect to feel the dizziness that accompanied her once she hit the earth. Her feet gave out from underneath her and she rolled over like a turtle. Ether looked down at her, chuffing.

Lorian stayed on the ground, fingers curling into the cold grass. She counted the eerie seconds of silence. Someone always noticed when she acted out. She’d be caught, subdued, reformed into what her father wanted.

Nobody came. Missus Sharma didn’t run to her bedroom window and call out for her. No patrolling officer asked what she was doing.

She breathed in a gulp of fresh air, then slowly lifted herself up with her horse. She pulled on her reins and waited. She climbed onto Ether’s back and waited.

Nobody was coming.

Nobody knew she was here.

Lucia had been killed, and Lorian had taken her first step.

She blinked back the tears. She didn’t know what had brought them on. Her cutting her hair, her knowing that this one decision might strip her away from everyone she loved for months, years. If this worked, if she really pulled everything off, she might never see them again. Beatrice, Carmine, her mother, Missus Sharma, the maids and officers who treated her far better than she deserved, her father…

She violently turned her head away and broke Ether into a gallop. She tore through the gardens, through the first gate. A lone officer on duty hadn’t been expecting anyone to pass through here and certainly wasn’t prepared to stop a galloping mare running past him. He also probably hadn’t been expecting Lorian to be crying.

She knew she hadn’t. Isn’t this what she’d wanted? To be free from a marriage to a man she’d met three, possibly four times in her life? To be free from her father’s expectations of being a subservient princess and to finally do what she wanted to do?

She ran her horse as fast as she could into the Roman night. Tonight, she was Lorian. And tonight, she was unshackled.

#Transient Time Traveller #art #original character #lgbtq #cottagecore #queer #aida #lorian #original art #oc #novel #writing #ttt #royal road #ao3 #archive of our own

105 notes · View notes

espejonight28738 · 4 years

Text

The Way Back Home

You can read it on Ao3

Relationships: Nezumi/Shion

Summary: Nezumi promised to come back, Shion promised to wait. They were young, and they had gone trough so much, but that didn’t make those promises any less true. They just needed time, and they would eventually find their way back to each other. The way back home.

Word count: 5072

Shion never truly shook off most of the habits he acquired while living on the West Block. Sometimes he would remind himself that it was only a little less than six months that he lived there. He was almost nineteen years; six months should feel like a small frame of time.

And yet, he sometimes felt like those were the only real months of his life. Everything before them felt like a distant dream, and everything after seemed dull in comparison.

His mother, always very perceptive, once asked him why he never referred to their house as home anymore. He tried to put it into words, he really tried, but how can you explain that home for Shion was a small basement with more books one person could read in ten years, and a bed hardly big enough for two teenagers even though they were fairly thin, as everyone was in a place where one meal a day was never taken for granted.

Shion never truly shook off most of the habits he acquired while living on the West Block. He felt disgusted when he saw someone wasting food, thinking in all the nights he went to sleep hungry, or all the kids that died in the streets of starvation. He would be cautious when opening the door, always making sure to have an object heavy enough to turn into a weapon if necessary... ...he only used one side of the bed while asleep. It wasn’t a conscious decision or anything, he was just used to sharing a bed now. Even if three years had passed, he still felt like someone should be laying by his side.

Nights were usually when he felt the loneliest.

But how could he explain to his mother that those were the days he thought of when he was afraid of losing himself? That in those sacred nights when nightmares didn’t make an act of presence and he woke up with a smile on his face, he dreamt of that?

To be able to see his mother daily again was a blessing, he did miss her a lot in those months, but he once said that even if he wanted to see his mother again, he didn’t want to go back to No.6. That was still true. His mother was the kindest human in his opinion, but even her empathy wasn’t enough to understand some things. There are things he never told her about, it was just better that way. She didn’t need to know that he still saw the bodies falling one after another during the Hunt every time he closed his eyes, or the fact that he had taken a man’s life without as much as a second thought, or how he thought about taking his own life after.

It was him or Nezumi.

And of course, that was the pivotal point of everything else. Home was Nezumi, happiness were his days with Nezumi, warmth was the feeling of Nezumi falling asleep next to him.

Nezumi, Nezumi, Nezumi... Where are you now, Nezumi?

He sometimes spoke of him, but mostly he wouldn’t. Weeks would pass without him saying that name out loud, but there wasn’t a day he wouldn’t think of him. In the beginning he would try to talk about him, but that made him feel even more alone.

His mother barely knew him, just a few days before he went away. Inukashi, for all that Shion was sure they cared for Nezumi, in that same sharp and distant way Nezumi cared for them, truly didn’t miss him. Inukashi didn’t care if Nezumi came back or not, and if they had even once truly wished for his return, it was only on Shion’s behalf.

Inukashi may not understand the truly extend of their relationship, but they saw enough to know Shion wouldn’t stop waiting, that he wouldn’t stop feeling like he was missing something essential.

Still, he rarely indulged Shion’s thirst of talking about Nezumi.

Rikuga was the worst of all. He really cared for Shion, but he also was convinced Shion was better off without Nezumi. He would sometimes speak so ill of Nezumi that even Inukashi felt the obligation to shut him up out of respect to Shion.

The only three people that also knew Nezumi, and they all had such distant ideas of him from what Nezumi truly was. Shion wouldn’t be as pretentious as to think he knew all about Nezumi, no one did. But he saw Nezumi being cold and cruel to the world, he saw the hatred in his heart, he heard him make the remarks that hurt the most, and he saw Nezumi cry at the idea of him dying, he remembered being led in a dance without music, and he still felt the ghost touch of gentle lips on his.

Rikuga thinks of Nezumi as the devil, and poor Shion having some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. Inukashi thought of Nezumi as mostly unpleasant and cold, and of Shion as being too naïve for letting himself get attached to someone as him. Karan thought of Nezumi as some sort of superhero that rescued her son and brought him back to her.

None of them understood.

During the first year and a half, Shion would sometimes talk to Tsukiyo, the mouse being the only one who missed Nezumi as much as him. After Tuskiyo died, without ever being reunited to his master or his brothers Hamlet and Cravat, Shion just stopped talking about him. He wondered if Nezumi had felt it the way Shion had just woken up one day knowing Hamlet was no more and experienced the same about Cravat some time at dinner a week after.

Some wishful part of him wanted to believe Nezumi would come back to him after that, but when the months continued to pass, he accepted he was still too optimist of a dreamer.

After his mother called him out on it, he tried to smile more, but he knew he wasn’t convincing, even if Karan never commented on it. Nezumi did tell him he was an awful actor. He tried to smile more, but every smile felt empty.

Nezumi, the world means nothing to me without you. Nothing.

It was still true.

I’m still waiting for you Nezumi, I will wait forever if that’s what it takes.

He really meant it, he was ready to wait all his life, but a not-so-small part of him also cried:

I can wait forever, but please don’t make me do it.

[***]

The day she got her son back, it was probably the happiest day in Karan’s life. He was really changed, his white hair and violet eyes the most obvious differences, but she immediately knew it wasn’t the only thing. She noted the small differences: how Shion was always a little bit tense, and how loud noises paralyzed him, but the day Nezumi left was the day she came face to face with the person her son was now.

His carefree smiles he would give to anyone who crossed his path were gone. Most of his smiles were gone, in general. She would go weeks without seeing more than the commissures of his lips going slightly up when he saw her in the morning or when he came home after work. In the beginning, she was sure it was the trauma of life in the West Block, but Rikiga and Inukashi got her out of her mistake, always talking about how Shion probably smiled to the guy that mugged him once, and Shion didn’t deny it.

“Shion, have you noticed? You don’t smile or laugh a lot anymore." She had told him, and it was obvious that he tried to do it more often after that, but it was also obvious that none of those smiles were authentic.

He seldom slept peacefully nowadays. He was quiet, always acting afraid of someone hearing him, but Karan sometimes heard anyways: Shion crying in his sleep. Sometimes he would mumble intelligible words, once Karan was sure to heard Safu’s name, but mostly he just called for Nezumi.

Nezumi. She would lie if she said she didn’t have conflicted feelings for the boy these days. On one hand, he was the one that took care of Shion, and for that she would forever be grateful. He even went the extra mile to tell her son was safe. That spoke of his kindness and compassion.

Yet, she had now to hear her son cry this boy’s name in his slept every night. She had to see her son feel his absence like a stab on his chest. Shion had told her Nezumi promised to come back, and she believed he would; Shion would not feel so strong for someone who didn’t deserve his trust, but as the years passed, she couldn’t help but wanting to know more about this guy she was trusting not to run off forever with her son’s heart, but Shion stopped talking about him.

First, she asked Rikiga about him. His answer did not comfort her at all.

“That rat is as bad of a person as they come. Manipulative, cruel, takes advantage of people’s feelings, maybe because he himself doesn’t have. His only redeeming qualities are his looks and his talent. The tears of someone as pure as Shion are wasted on him.”

That was... quite the antagonist view of the one Karan had of the boy. She had to remind herself that the West Block was a cruel place with no place for kindness. Everyone did what they had to survive. The only reason Shion must have gotten away with being too innocent and empathetic was because he had all these people looking out for him. Inukashi and Rikiga, but specially Nezumi.

“So, do you believe he was being honest when he told Shion he would come back?” She asked, still sure she wanted to hear an answer. This was her little boy, she had to be prepared for the heartbreak if one day Shion realized Nezumi wasn’t coming back.

Rikiga seem to be ready to answer, but he then took a long breath, followed by a sip of the coffee on his hand, he looked like he was considering for the first time.

“More than anything, I’m afraid he didn’t promise that. He’s good with his words, he may have said another thing, knowing Shion would misunderstand, thinking that would be enough for Shion to let him go. He has no consideration for anyone’s feelings.”

Karan had never once thought about that, but now she couldn’t shake off the fear of that being the reality. Was her son really waiting for someone who never said he would come back? Was he waiting for a lie? But Rikiga wasn’t done talking.

“And yet... there was something about the way he was around Shion. He acted almost like a person. He even let himself be ordered around, I once saw him helping dry Inukashi’s dogs without expecting anything in return, just because Shion asked him to.” A heavy sight scaped the man’s mouth. “If he has ever cared about anyone other than himself, then he cared about Shion. I hope he still cares enough to come back, because it would be a tragedy if Shion’s radiant smile disappeared forever with the unworthy rat.”

If that addition made her feel better or not, she wasn’t sure.

A month later, Inukashi dropped in the bakery, wanting a small cake for little Shionn’s birthday. After Shion had said the baby should had a birthday, Inukashi decided on the day the baby got entrusted into their care.

She offered some food and hot chocolate, which Inukashi happily accepted. They had a very sweet tooth, and with how mature they were, Karan sometimes forgot Inukashi was only seventeen. A kid, really.

After giving them the hot chocolate and some cookies, she had baked earlier that they, she confronted them with the same question she had confronted Rikiga.

“Nezumi?” Inukashi asked, as if the name sounded almost foreign. It probably did, Karan doubted they had heard the name in a long time. “He is a nightmare. Selfish, without empathy and... scary. Most of the time I wished I had never crossed paths with him. He always knew what to say to make you feel like shit, and he would take advantage of any weakness you showed.”

This time, Karan was slightly more prepared for the answer, but she still couldn’t help but feel at lost. How could Nezumi be so cruel and so kind? So selfish and so thoughtful? Who was this walking contradiction?

“Do you think he will come back?” asked Karan once again.

“If he promised Shion he would come back, he will. That boy is his weakness, if he ever had one. If I didn’t like Shion as much as I do, I would have tried to take revenge on Nezumi with him, but he is too likable. I will never understand how those two are so happy together, they are opposites in the worst ways.”

Karan couldn’t help but smile at Inukashi’s ramble. That sounded a lot more promising.

“Why do you say Shion is his weakness, if I may ask?”

After another bite to their cookie, Inukashi answered.

“He did stupid, dangerous things for him. He cared too much. Shion wasn’t material for the West Block, he was a burden to Nezumi. Even so, he never once tried to abandon him.” They stayed silence for a minute, as if trying to find their next words. “And he was different around Shion, he showed emotion I had never seen in the four years I knew him before Shion started living with him. He was afraid of Shion, and I didn’t understand why back then, but now I’m sure he was just afraid of what Shion made him feel. For a lonely rat like Nezumi, it must have been terrifying to suddenly care.”

Yes, that was something Karan could conceal with the Nezumi she had met. The Nezumi that acted annoyed at Shion’s antics and teased him mercilessly, but the fondness never leaving his eyes. The Nezumi that recited poetry and monologues and looked proud when Shion identified where did they come from.

A week later, she decided she would ask one last opinion. Shion had some rare free time, so she decided she would finally ask him. The pain in Shion’s eyes at hearing the name was evident, but the sweet smile that adorned his face was honest.

“Nezumi is kind, playful, smart and beautiful.” He said without hesitation. “He was also a pessimist; I think because he had too much hate inside. But when he relaxed, he was breathtaking. He had such a painful life...” His eyes filled with tears, but Karan knew better than to ask, that story was not for her ears. “He told me not to name the mice, and yet he started using the names as soon as he learnt them. I don’t know if he realized, but he always tried to make me happy or just make me feel better if he had the chance.”

Somehow, Karan felt as if that was the missing piece in this puzzle.

He even let himself be ordered around... That boy is his weakness, if he ever had one....

Nezumi stopped being a contradiction and went back to being just a boy in her mind. Still, she asked the question.

“Are you sure he will come back?”

The question seemed to take Shion by surprise, as if he couldn’t understand someone would doubt it.

“Of course he will, he promised me, and before that he promised me there would be no more farewell kisses. Nezumi wouldn’t break two promises just like that.” He seemed none the wiser about the bomb he had just dropped on his mother.

Farewell kisses?

Although in hindsight, Karan knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. She had been wrong before; this was the missing piece of the puzzle.

“How are you so sure?” Does he truly correspond you? Was the question she didn’t ask.

“Because that would hurt me, and he once told me he couldn’t even imagine wanting to hurt me, so he wouldn’t lie to me like that.” He sounded so sure, that all remainder of doubt vanished from her mind.

Nezumi, I think I finally have an idea of who you are, and I know you must miss Shion as much as he misses you. So please, please come back home.

Come back to him.

[***]

Nezumi liked bars. He never drank, of course, because that could leave him vulnerable. He needed all his senses to be as sharp as always. In fact, the only time he had ever drunk alcohol in the presence of another person was all those years ago with...

So, the reason Nezumi liked bars was because it was easy to get some amiable company that would forget about him the next day. That way no one would miss him when took his bag and jumped town. No one would get attached to him.

This afternoon was no exception. He had managed to get invited to a table with a group of friends. They were drunk and loud, but it helped ignore the ache in his chest. If he tried hard enough, he sometimes managed to convince himself he was having a good time.

The alternative was to stay all the night at whatever place he had gotten for the time being, thinking about...

Everything was going perfectly, until one of the girls started to flirt shamelessly with him, and it was not the kind of flirting that just came with the low inhibitions of the alcohol, it was the type that expected to get somewhere. Of course, being the master actor that he was, no one noted his shoulders tense at the thought of being with someone, even if just for one night. He couldn’t do that, he always ended up feeling like he was cheating.

Even if no one realized he was feeling uncomfortable, they did realize he was deflecting this girl advances.

“Come one, Hanna, take a hint and let the boy breath. You’re going to scare him away.” One of her friends said, and Nezumi couldn’t help but feel grateful when the girl, Hanna, listened and backed down.

Hanna... what’s with people and naming their children after flowers?

After that the night was pretty much ruined for Nezumi. He pretended to have fun, of course, but he disliked it even more than usual. His treacherous mind kept slipping to a basement with his books and soup and...

Stop.

After a few hours, he decided to just go back to the cheap hotel he was staying at, having decided he was not in the mood to keep on pretending.

I never had to pretend around him.

Even though his plan was to go to the hotel, his feet just lead him to the park near his hotel.

As this town was in the rise of the mountain, he had a great view. His eyes, as ever, looked south without his permission. Of course, he couldn’t see what he wanted; he was too far away, it was a futile effort.

Hamlet and Cravat always used make sad noises when they looked in the direction of No.6, they probably had missed Tsukiyo. Of course, both mice had passed away over a year ago, but Nezumi sometimes still thought of them.

That’s why you shouldn’t name them. You get attached. But you just had to name them, S-

“Hey, Nezumi, what a coincidence!"

He had heard someone coming close, so he wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t expect the stranger to know his name. He turned back and saw the girl from the bar earlier, what was her name...?

Right, Hanna.

“Should I be worried about you following me?” He asked, putting a mask back on. The girl laughed as if that was the most hilarious comment ever.

“No, don’t worry. I swear it was just a coincidence, I live down the street in the dark red house.” She explained, pointing the house she was talking about.

Such an idiot, telling her address to a perfect stranger without fear of all I could do with that information. I hate when people are so careless and trusting, it’s so annoying.

Except he used to just laugh about those people’s stupidity, it just started to annoy him when he couldn’t help but think of...

“I’m sorry for earlier,” she interrupted his thoughts “I tend to be a flirty drunk, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all.” He wished she would just accept his answer and go away, but clearly it wasn’t his lucky day. She took a step closer and look south.

“What’s that way? For the way you were looking, it must be important. Your home, perhaps?”

“I don’t have a home.”

“Childhood home, then? Family? You can tell me; we will never see each other again.” She sounded so sure, it annoyed Nezumi greatly.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you look like the type of people that can’t stay in one place. Are you running away, perhaps?”

“You’re a chatty drunk.” It was a weak comeback, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel she had hit a little too close to home.

I’m not running away from anything. Then why won’t you say his name?

“Hit the nail, I see.” She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she hadn’t. “So, running away from something, but you don’t look like the type to run away from a fight, or even from the past. That leaves us with... a person.”

He didn’t respond to that.

“What’s her name?”

He didn’t owe her an answer.

Say it.

She was just a stranger.

Why can’t I say his name?

He could just walk away right now.

And what, keep running away forever?

“His name is Shion.”

The pain hit him like a bullet, and he knew from own experience what bullets felt like. That’s why he had stop saying that name, thinking that name. It was dangerous, it made him want to go back.

“I see, I guess my name did not help my case.” She said it with such a lightness, it was clear she didn’t care at all. It looked like she was indeed just a flirty drunk. “You should go back to him.”

“How would you know? You don’t know anything about us.” The question came out weaker than intended. He sounded almost interested in the answer.

“If he is important enough to run away from, then he is important enough to come back to.” Then, like a second thought she added, “Is he waiting for you?”

“Yes.” He did not hesitate. Because for any other person there would be doubt. Three years apart, without a word. He just waited until he could walk enough to run away, and he did. Left with a kiss and a promise he didn’t intend to make in the first place.

He wasn’t supposed to promise anything, but Shion started crying, he was hurting, and Nezumi didn’t want to cause Shion any pain. He didn’t want to keep being the reason for his tears, so he made the stupid promise. And Shion promised to wait.

And that was all Nezumi needed to know that Shion would wait for forever.

“Then just go back to him, and everything else will fall into place.”

They stayed in silence for a while. The she turned around and kept going in her way back home. As if she hadn’t just destroyed the wall Nezumi used to hide his feelings for Shion. As if she hadn’t just told him to go back to what he had tried so desperately to run from.

It was mid-July; he was a little over a month away from No.6. Without realizing, he had gone nearer and nearer since he met Shion’s father. He briefly wondered if the man had arrived to the city, but then decided that probably not. Those were six months of travel; he didn’t look like someone with the commitment to travel that much to one place.

He could be in time for Shion’s birthday.

Eight years since he first met him in that stormy night. Four years since they had met again. Now, they would be reunited one last time. Nezumi had to appreciate the symmetry in their history, it was quite dramatic.

[***]

Two months later, Inukashi and Rikiga found out Nezumi came back because Shion dragged him to West Block to help wash the dogs. Both felt compelled to ask him what the hell had taken him so damn long to come back, and if he knew how bad Shion had been since he decided to just leave-

But one look at how he constantly reassured Shion with physical contact, like he was trying to convince him he was really here, and one look at how he went out of his way to remain in Shion’s visual field, how didn’t even try to argue about drying the dogs, and it was obvious Nezumi knew.

One look at how ecstatic Shion was, just ranting about topics no one understood, and smiling like he was trying to compensate for the last three and a half years that he didn’t, and it was clear Nezumi was forgiven, and Shion wouldn’t appreciate if they tried to defend his honor.

“Are you staying around this time?” Was all Inukashi asked when Shion was distracted enough.

Nezumi looked at where Shion was, washing an old dog as careful as ever, when answering.

“Yeah, probably, and if I want to travel again, I will just take him with me. Turns out, I got used to taking care of the airhead, traveling alone was too easy.” Inukashi knew Nezumi said it like that to get on their nerves, but this time it didn’t work.

Nezumi wouldn’t leave Shion behind again, no matter if they stayed or went away. That was enough for Inukashi.

Karan found out Nezumi came back the morning after Shion’s twentieth birthday. Her son came running down the stairs, the biggest smile ever on his face, and before he even opened his mouth, she just knew that couldn’t be for any other reason but Nezumi.

She was right, as few seconds later a second pair of footsteps followed down.

“Welcome back, Nezumi.” She didn’t give him a chance to escape before trapping him in a big hug, not that the boy resisted.

He looked thin, although not as much as the first time they met, and he looked tired, but his eyes shined every time he looked at Shion, which was all the time.

When Shion looked away, he did it with the fear of turning back again just to realize Nezumi was gone again. She was not the only one who noticed, because in question of minutes, Nezumi was already making sure some part of him was always in contact with Shion.

Karan knew her son, and so she knew it would take a while for him to fully interiorize that Nezumi wouldn’t disappear the moment he looked away, but they would get there. Maybe now that he had a Nezumi sleeping next to him, most of the nightmares would stop.

Eventually, Shion had to go to the bathroom and left Nezumi’s side for a pair of minutes.

“You won’t leave him again, right? I understand you had to leave, and Shion does too, but please promise me you won’t put him through that again.” She was pretty sure of the answer, but she needed a promise.

Because Nezumi didn’t break his promises, especially when they were about Shion.

Nezumi responded with an uncharacteristically earnest, at least for what she was used to from him, look on his face.

“I promise I won’t leave him again. He’s stuck with me from now on.”

The smile on her face rivaled Shion’s one when he came back to the sight of Nezumi still there, in the kitchen.

Everything would be okay.

Shion found out Nezumi came back on the night of his birthday. He was on his bed, reading Macbeth. It made him feel closer to Nezumi, as did his open window. He did not expect Nezumi to really come back that night, it just felt right.

Nowadays he was used to his mind playing tricks on him, so when he felt movement in the room, he refused to take his eyes from the book. He refused to let himself hope.

“Is Your Majesty waiting for me, or do I need to fight for the honor of using the window as my entrance with someone else?” The voice, the words, it sounded very real.

Afraid, Shion closed the book and looked up, and there he was.

Without thinking, Shion ran into Nezumi’s open arms. Hel felt real, he smelt real. If this was some cruel dream he would have to wake up from soon, maybe it would be the one to finally break him.

“Did your verbal capacity decay so much in my absence you won’t even great me back?” Nezumi teased, but he didn’t make a move to escape from the embrace.

“Is it really you?” Shion’s voice was so small and fearful that Nezumi would have almost preferred to find an enraged Shion that would had hit him and scream at him.

Almost, but he was still a selfish man, and he had dreamed about having Shion in his arms just like this every day since he left.

Carefully, putting his index finger under Shion’s chin, he made him look up. Finally, he once again had those captivating violet eyes focused on him.

“It’s me, Shion. I promised reunion would come, and here I am, asking you to take me back one more time.” He barely finished speaking when he had a pair of clumsy lips against his.

The kiss was sweet, but also passionate. Shion wondered if Nezumi had dreamt of this kiss as much as him. When they break the kiss, Nezumi can’t help but ask with a satisficed smile on his face.

“Which kind of kiss was that, your Majesty?”

“A welcome home kiss.”

Just then both realized the truth in that statement. Here, in each other’s arms, they were finally home.

“It’s good to be home.”

#no.6 #no. 6 #nezushi #shion #nezumi #happy birthday shion #atsuko asano #no.6 anime #no.6 manga #no.6 light novels #Reunion Will Come #My writing

64 notes · View notes

pinacoladasprinkles · 3 years

Text

Daisy Chains

Fandom: TUA (The Umbrella Academy) Pairing: Five x Vanya Warnings: None Summary: There is a field. There are daisies. There is Number Five. And there is his best friend. Its set during the time before the notations of wrong and right. Its a story of the time when they were allowed to be children. Word Count: 1.7K A/N: I want to file this as my first attempt at writing for the #Fiveya fandom. So, criticism and comments are welcomed. This was also initially written for #Fiveyaweek (Day Three: Childhood) organized by @fivevanya but I chickened out of posting this then. But here it is now :) Not Beta’d. All mistakes are mine.

To Five, the earliest memory that he remembers is of a field. He wants to say that he distinctly remembers the day, remembers the soft fog that enveloped the air, or the dew that dotted the grass and the yellow daisies. But he can’t. There are certain elements to this memory that are purely dream-like or a product of his brain filling in the gaps. Of the things that he is certain of is this: the time of the year, early in their childhood before their powers had manifested, the burgundy frocks of their nannies, and Vanya.

It was just during the onset of winter, when the air was still crisp, and the yellow-red leaves under his boots were soggy. It wasn’t atypical for them to go out then, as it would be later in their childhood. In fact, until the age of five, visits to the park and the zoo were a weekly event.

But the trip to the field was different from the rest. It was on the outskirts of the city, on a steep hill and away from the noise of the city. Here the sky was bluer. And the horizon seemed so far and wide, all Five dreamt of achieving that day was to run to the line where the earth met the sky.

“Let’s race to the end of that line!” He exclaimed to the others. Their nannies were setting up their picnic blanket down along with baskets of snacks and lunch, so there would be no one around to object.

“What line?” Number One asked. Five wondered why dad ever made him Number One. One could not even count up to 100 yet.

He sighed before answering, just to show his disdain. “That line,” he pointed with his whole arm extended for emphasis, “where the earth meets the sky.”

“That line is called the Horizon, Number Five.” Miss Charlotte, his nanny had informed, walking up to them. “And you can’t really touch the horizon, children.”

“Why not?” Number Two puffed, his small arms barely able to fold over themselves as he had seen his nanny, Miss Penelope (or Miss Loupee as Number Two had taken to address her) do. And while Two’s question was more from a point of offense of being told that he couldn’t do something, Five questioned the same but out of curiosity.

“Well how about I explain this when its bedtime. How about for now you kids play a game of tag?”

“Tag you’re it!” Four screamed, shoving Seven. She puffed her bangs out of the way and chased them without further prompting. She was quick, although not as quick as Two or Three or himself, but she was quick. And Five always admired how she would change her directions quickly, like a Cheetah. So far, she had only been ‘it’ a handful of times.

“Tag! You are it!” She laughed, pink cheeked and messy haired. Six smiled back and started chasing after One.

They played around for a while longer before their respective nannies, came to gather them for lunch. Well Seven was missing her Nanny, so Six’s fetched her as well. “I like how you change your direction so quickly when you are ‘it’” He admitted to Seven waiting to be served their share of sandwiches and juice.

The wide toothy smile that she gave him in return was nothing short of brilliant to Five even then. “Thank you! Do you think I did it like a Cheetah?”

“Yes! That was what I thought too!” Seven was quickly becoming his favorite. Not only was she quick, but she was also smart! And Five liked that. He wanted to be the best and have the ‘best’ best friend. “Where did you learn that from? Miss Charlotte read to me about Cheetahs only yesterday.”

At this Seven leaned in closer to him, her hand cupped near his ear. “It’s a secret, but I sneaked into Two’s room last week and Miss Loupee was reading to him about it.” It was the first secret he had ever been a part of and it made him feel special that it came from Seven.

The feeling of warmth lingered within Five long after they had finished lunch. They now sat in the grass, while Miss Miriam thought them how to make crowns out of daisies.

They were first tasked with picking out 30 daisies each and some blades of grass if they wished. And while the task was aimed to have them brush up on their counting, One and Two saw it as nothing more than an opportunity to out-race the other in picking out daisies the fastest. Three, Four and Six were bundled in a group, fretting over picking only the prettiest yellow daisies. Five would have loved to join them, it would be fun picking up only the best. He moved to join them, but his sights caught on to Vanya before he could. She was far away from the group, kneeling over a patch of densely packed flowers. He decided to move towards her, but with only five more daisies left to complete his collection, Five hastily picked them up first.

By this time, the entire group had completed filling their little baskets as well. Well, except Seven.

“Seven is last again!” Three laughed. “I bet she doesn’t know her numbers.”

They were just kids, and kids can be mean. Of course, Three just asking for attention but it would be a long time before Three would know how devastating (powerful) her words could actually be.

Tears immediately lined Seven’s eyes, Five instinctively knew she thought back to the one time when she confused her six’s and nine’s while counting. Dropping her flower basket, Seven turned away from them and starting running towards the horizon. He could hear Miss Miriam reprimand Allison, but gave it no further attention, instead he walked towards where Seven had dropped her basket. He could make her a crown, certainly that would make her feel better. That’s what Miss Charlotte did with him; Whenever he was particularly sad that story time had to end, she would make him a PB and Marshmallow sandwich. Of course, now a daisy crown isn’t in the same league as PB and marshmallow sandwiches, but he wagers that Seven would like it just as well. Picking up the basket he instantly understands, why Seven had taken so long to collect her daisies. Pristine white daisies filled the small basket. Everyone else had picked the more common yellow daisies, while Seven had spent her time searching the field of yellows for the white ones. Seven was so unique, Five thought. She was fast and smart and unique too. A perfect best friend.

Sitting down in a circle around Miss Miriam, the children closely followed her instructions. And in moments where she had to slow down so that Four or Two or One would catch up, Five turned to assure himself that Seven hadn’t strayed away. He watched Miss Ann walked up to her. Seven was soon getting her own demonstration from Allison’s nanny.

“And there! Now you all have a crown. Come on now, put them on!” Miss Miriam exclaimed. She watched enthusiastically as the children placed their crowns over their little heads and turned to one another to show off their works. Number Five remained intently watching the white crown he had made. “Number Five don’t you want to put on your crown. It is so wonderfully made.”

He blushed a little, casting his eyes back to the crown before admitting, “I made this for Number Seven. To make her feel better.”

Bless his little heart, what a cutie! Miss Miriam thought to herself. She barely restrained herself from pinching the boy’s pink cheeks, instead keeping decorum, and suggesting he make his way to her, present her the crown immediately. Miriam always believed that love bloomed in hearts young, and only wished she would remain under Sir Reginald’s employment to watch this love flower into more. She walked with Number Five to where Miss Ann and Number Seven sat. “Miss Ann, why don’t you help me pack the picnic goods back, we will be heading home soon.” She asked her colleague, giving her a wink only to receive an exasperated sigh in return. Nevertheless, Miss Ann accompanied her back, leaving Number Five and Seven, to their own devices.

“Are you still sad about what Three said?” Five opened, hoping that although she be upset enough for him to present her the crown but not upset enough to cry again. He didn’t know what he would do if she began to cry again. And that’s not something he liked, as his best friend Seven shouldn’t ever be made upset. Her nose was still a little red, but to his relief there were no tears in her eyes, “I made you a crown.” He offered.

Seven gasped, slowly taking the crown from his hands. “You made it out of the white daisies I had picked! Thank you.”

“I think it’s pretty cool, that you picked white flowers. Everyone else just picked the yellow ones. I did too. But you are unique.” She blushed at that, and that made him blush too.

But her shoulders dropped after he had placed the crown on her head. “But I did not make you a crown” she lamented, pointing to the half-made daisy chain in her hand.

“That’s okay. You can make me a PB and marshmallow sandwich when we get home.” He smiled. “I like them the most.” Seven nodded her head, trying to store away the valuable information he had provided.

They sat in silence for a while, uncertain of how to carry forward a conversation beyond what had just been said. Despite their young minds, they knew what had just been exchanged was far more precious than what could be said after. And the only way they knew to preserve the moment was through small smiles and silence.

But silence lingered a little longer than the words lodged in Seven’s chest could, and ultimately, she spoke, “Five I think you are my best friend.”

Five perked up instantly, glad to have her on the same page as him. “You are my best friend too, Seven.”

“Children gather around. It’s time to leave!” Miss Loupee called, breaking any further conversations. They stood up, holding each other’s hand like they were thought to do before crossing streets, and smiled.

“When we visit this field back, can you make me another crown?”

“I will make you a ring. And we can get married.” He smiled. And she smiled back.

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoings and right-doing, there is a field. I will meet you there.

#Fiveya #the umbrella academy #tua #Fiveyaweek #vanya x five #five x vanya #fanfic #00.05 #00.07 #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #myfic #tua fanfic #tua fic

36 notes · View notes

imanativeofswlondondahling · 4 years

Text

Becoming A Stark? (28)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 3395

Warnings: swearing, IW emotional trauma, the usual.

Author Note: There is some dialog from Infinity War used in this chapter. I don’t own it, but also there’s new stuff after it so don’t skip it. This is the final chapter. There will be a sequel that I’m not sure when will be posted but it will be coming. If you want to be tagged when it’s posted, let me know! Thank you for reading all of this and giving me so much love on my fist PP story. Let me know what you think of the finale.

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Mom have you seen my jacket?” You ask as you walk from the living room back into the kitchen. You’re already dressed in ripped jeans, galaxy converse, and a grey AC/DC shirt.

“Which jacket?” Pepper asks as she stirs the eggs she’s cooking for you.

“My denim one? I wore it yesterday? Or maybe it was the day before?”

“Have you checked your room?”

“I looked there when I was getting ready. I didn’t see it.” Instead of being dressed for the office, Pepper is wearing running gear. “Are you going into the office today?”

“In a little bit. Your dad wants to go to the park for a run first.”

“Dad running? Since when?”

“I think your birthday is making him feel O-L-D.” Pepper teases as Tony walks down the stairs.

“I can still spell even if I’m getting old.” Tony responds. In his hand he’s holding your Rolling Stones jacket. “You left this on the stairs kiddo.”

“Oh, right! I meant to take it up last night.” You shrug it over your shoulders before sitting down at the food that Pepper made for you.

“What’s with the pep in your step today?”

“Field trip. I don’t have to be at school today.”

“Field trip?” Your dad asks as he sits down next to you. “Where to?”

“MoMA. My art class is going.”

“Ah so you and the young Parker are getting out of school to go look at art. How sweet.” Your dad says with a teasing tone remembering how Peter ended up in your art class after switching in in the second six weeks. “With how much it cost for you to go to that school, I would think you would spend more time at school than on field trips.”

“It’s educational. I promise.”

“Sure it is.”

“What your dad is trying to say is have fun.” Pepper says with a laugh. “He and I are going to go so can you lock up when you leave with Happy?” You nod. “Perfect. Have fun, love you, see you after school.”

“Love you kiddo.” Your dad kisses the top of your head. Pepper places a kiss behind him. You munch on your toast as they walk towards the door. Today should be a fairly normal day, apart from the field trip.

“Slow down, slow down. I’ll spell it out for you.” Tony tries to get Pepper to listen as he tries to explain his dream from last night while they walk through the park together.

“You’re totally rambling.”

“No I’m not.” Tony throws back in his own defense.

“You lost me.”

“Look, you know how you’re having a dream, and in the dream you gotta pee.” Tony ties his jacket around his shoulders as he says this.

“Yeah.”

“Okay. And then you’re like ‘Oh my God. There’s no bathrooms. What am I gonna do? Oh, someone’s watching.’”

“Right.”

“‘Oh, I’m gonna go in my pants.’”

“And then you wake up and in real life you actually have to pee.” Pepper catches his drift.

“Yes.” Tony’s hand waves in agreement.

“Yeah. Everybody has that.”

“Right that’s the point I’m trying to make. Apropos of that, last night I dreamt we had a kid.”

“We have a kid. Y/N.” Pepper points out with a smile.

“No like a baby.” Tony explains. “It was so real. We named him after your eccentric uncle. Uh what was his name? Morgan! Morgan.”

“Right. So when you woke up…”

“Naturally.”

“...and thought we were…”

“Expecting.”

“Yeah.”

“Yes?”

“No.” Pepper smiles at him as she says it.

“I had a dream about it. It was so real.”

“If you wanted to have another kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” Pepper unties the sweater and taps on the nanoparticle home.

“I’m glad you brought this up, ‘cause it’s nothing. It’s just a housing unit for nanoparticles.”

“You’re not helping your case, okay?”

“No, this is detachable. It’s not a…”

“You don’t need that. Y/N didn’t need you to get that. I didn’t need you to get that. Your family needs you to put them first sometimes ok?”

“I know. I had the surgery. I’m just trying to protect us and future usses and that’s it. Just in case there’s a monster in the closet. Instead of, you know…”

“Shirts.”

“You know me so well.”

“God.”

“You finish all my sentences.”

“You should have shirts in your closet.”

“Yeah, you know what there should be? No more surprises. We’re going to have a nice dinner tonight. Hear all about Y/N’s field trip. Show off this Harry Winston. Right?” Pepper chuckles at his antics. “And we should have no more surprises. Ever. I should promise you.”

“Yes.”

“I will.” Tony leans in to kiss Pepper. “Thank you.”

“Tony Stark?” Pepper pulls away at the sound of someone calling Tony’s name. Tony on the other hand can only roll his eyes because this was exactly the kind of thing he was talking about. “I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I need you to come with me.” Pepper grabs Tony’s hand at this. “Oh and uh congratulations on the wedding, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, are you giving out tickets to something?”

“We need your help. It’s not overselling it to say that the fate of the universe is at stake.”

“And who’s we?”

“Hey Tony.” Bruce appears by Stephen’s side, shocking both Tony and Pepper after so much time without him.

“Bruce.”

“Pepper.”

“Hi.”

“Oh.”

“Are you ok?” Tony asks as Bruce falls into hugging him. What has happened while he was away?

“Ready for this field trip?” Peter asks as he sits down next to you on the bus.

“I’m always ready. Getting out of school for the day? Hell yeah.” You nudge your boyfriend’s shoulder. “Are you ready to see MoMA?”

“I guess so. I haven’t been since Ben died so…” Peter trails off.

“Babe, you haven’t been to MoMA since then? Why?”

“Ben really liked seeing the new exhibits and he would take me with him when he went. It just felt wrong to go without him.” Peter explains as the bus takes off from MSST and heads towards MoMA. “But there’s a first time to do stuff since you lose people I guess.”

“It’s going to be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time.” You say as you take his hand in yours. Peter leans forward on the seat in front of you so he can look in your direction.

“Well that will make everything better.” Suddenly the hairs on Peter’s arm stand straight up.

“What?”

“Something’s wrong.” Peter mumbles. “Spidey senses are off the wall.” His voice is no louder than a whisper.

“Something like a giant donut spaceship floating over NYC seem off enough?” You say pointing towards the window beside him. He turns to look and the recognition on his face tells you all you need to know. Looks like Peter may not be on the field trip after all.

“Can you and Ned create a distraction?”

“Of course. But you’ll be safe?”

“Always am.” He kisses you on the lips really quick before you tap Ned on the shoulder. Ned spins around to look at you.

“Guy in the chair needs to distract everyone with me.” You say quickly, but as Ned turns he sees the ship out the window.

“Holy shit.” He then turns towards the back of the bus and yells, “We’re all gonna die! There’s a spaceship!” You follow him towards the back of the bus as people start calling out asking what’s going on. But your eyes catch Peter’s one more time before he opens the emergency exit window with his web shooter. While everyone else is watching the spaceship, your eyes are trailing out the back of the bus as Peter jumps off the bridge. You know he’ll web himself to safety, but it makes your stomach fall to your toes every time.

Peter swings into the park where he sees a big angry alien… if he had to guess, swinging a sword/ax at Tony. So he does the one thing he knows how to do, he grabs it. “Hey man. What’s up Mr. Stark?”

“Kid where did you come from?”

“Field trip, to MoMA.” Peter screams as he’s thrown in the other direction. “Uh what is this guy’s problem Mr. Stark?”

“Uh he’s from space. He came here to steal a necklace from a wizard.” As the alien throws cars around and Tony tries to laser him, Peter webs the car and swings it back at the alien. Which might just make him more angry, but that’s half the fun. Right as the alien swings his ax down again, a red object zooms by. “Kid that’s the wizard, get on it.”

“On it!” Swinging across New York, he finally grabs the wizard when a blue light grabs the wizard and pulls them both up towards the sky. “Uh, Mr. Stark, I’m being beamed up.”

“Hang on kid!” Wong traps the alien in an icy tundra, slicing off the hand that reaches up towards them. “Wong you’re invited to my wedding.” Tony shouts before jetting off to rescue his daughter’s boyfriend, who happens to be climbing up the side of the alien spaceship. “Give me a little juice FRIDAY. Unlock 17:A.” His boots morph together to form one big foot thruster. “Pete you gotta let go. I’m gonna catch you.” He says over the comms to Peter.

“But you said save the wizard.” Peter pulls his mask off as he says, “I can’t breathe.”

“We’re too high up. You’re running out of air.” If your boyfriend dies in space, you might kill your dad, so he’s going to do everything he can to save the kid.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Peter’s hands slip from the ship as he runs out of air. But the Iron Spider suit Tony had been working on arrives just in time to grab hold of Peter and save him from falling back to Earth. Instead he just hits the ship a time or two before having air to breathe again. Peter grabs a hold of the ship and stands back up. “Mr. Stark, it smells like a new car in here!”

“Happy trails, kid. FRIDAY send him home.”

“Yep.” A parachute deploys and pulls Peter off the ship.

“Oh come on!” As Tony cuts into the side of the ship, FRIDAY alerts him of something else.

“Boss incoming call from Miss Potts.”

“Tony are you alright? What’s going on?”

“Yeah I’m fine. I just think we might have to push our 8:30 res.”

“Why?”

“Just ‘cause I’ll probably not make it back for a while.”

“Tell me you’re not on that ship.”

“Yeah.”

“God, no, please tell me you’re not on the ship.”

“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Come back here Tony. I swear to God. I will take Y/N and I will leave for good. No more surprises. You promised.”

“Pep.”

“Come back here right now.” Static starts to crackle. “Come back.”

“Boss we’re losing her.”

“I’m going too…” Pepper’s voice breaks off as the call drops. While Tony is dealing with this call, Peter is climbing up his webs, back onto the ship he had been told not to be on.

All he can mutter is “I should have stayed on the bus,” as the doors shut on the ship.

The ship is no longer in the sky. You watched it fly away. But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because now you can’t get a hold of your dad or Peter. So you call the one person who has always had to be in the same position as you- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”

“Mom tell me Dad didn’t do something stupid and get on that ship.” Your school group is starting to walk into the first exhibit hall, but you need reassurance right now, not art pieces. Pepper doesn’t say anything for a moment, trying to figure out how to tell you that your dad is on that ship. “He’s on that ship isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why? Why would he be stupid enough to get on an alien space ship?”

“Because he’s stupid enough to think that saving the world falls on his shoulders and his alone.”

“I think Peter might have been stupid enough to think that too.” You say as soon as you know your class is out of hearing range.

“What?”

“I’ve tried calling him and he’s not picking up.”

“I thought he was on the field trip with you?”

“He was until he saw an alien ship in the sky. Then he decided that he needed to be a superhero. And now he won’t pick up the phone and he always picks up the phone, even when he’s in his suit.” You voice the concerns you’re having. “And my calls to Dad aren’t going through either which makes me think that Peter is with him.”

“He wouldn’t be stupid enough to take a fifteen year old with him on a space ship.” Pepper tries to reassure you.

“But just because he doesn’t take Peter doesn’t mean that Peter isn’t stupid enough to follow him.”

“Sounds like we both need to date smarter men.”

“They’re book smart. I’m just not sure if they’re life smart.”

“I think I’d agree with that.”

“But we also love them too much to let them go.”

“That’s also true.” Pepper doesn’t comment on the fact that you just admitted that you love Peter. “But I also know that your dad will do anything to keep Peter safe if he’s with him. So you just focus on your school trip and at the end of the day, they’ll all come home safe.” Pepper’s promise doesn’t hold much truth to it, but you know your mom is trying to calm you more than anything. “I’m going to send Happy to pick you up from the museum and bring you to SI.”

“Right now?”

“No, but he’ll be there to pick you up when everyone heads back to school.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll just head back to school and then he can pick me up from school. But Mom, if you hear from Dad, can you tell him I love him?”

“He knows you love him.”

“But I didn’t say it to him this morning and if something happens to him…” You feel the tears welling in your eyes.

“Nothing is going to happen to him. He knows you love him.”

“You don’t know that. Every time he walks out the door to play Avenger, he could leave and not come back. He could die out there today. And I couldn’t take the two seconds it would have taken to tell him I loved him this morning.” The tears drizzle down your face as you mutter the words you feel in your soul. Out of the corner of your eye you see Ned waiting by the door leading to the next exhibit area. You wipe the tears from your cheeks. “So just if you hear from him tell him ok, Mom?”

“I will. Now just for now, don’t think about all of this. Just focus on the field trip and I’ll see you after it ok? Everything is going to be ok.”

“Mom? I love you.”

“I love you too Y/N. So much.” You hang up the phone and Ned walks over.

“Everything alright?”

“No, but the universe doesn’t usually ask me before it makes it’s decisions.”

“Have you heard from Peter?” You shake your head.

“I can’t get a hold of him or my dad. My mom said my dad is on that donut that flew out of the sky, which makes me think if I can’t get a hold of Peter…”

“He’s on it too.” Ned finishes your thought. “Peter’s in space with Iron Man. That’s so cool.” Ned mumbles but then sees your face. “Ok, not the point right now. What’s our plan?”

“We don’t have one. We’re not Avengers. We just wait around until the rest of them hopefully show up.” And you do what you hope is the next best step, you text your aunt- SOS.

N:Don’t worry. Avengers are on it. Focus on school.

Why does everyone think you’ll be able to focus on anything when your dad and boyfriend disappeared on an alien spaceship?

Y:you all think i’m going to be able to focus on learning when my dad and boyfriend have just gone missing? that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard of coming from two of the smartest women i know.

N:I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but this isn’t on your shoulders. The Avengers will take care of this fight. I promise you, we’ll get them back. Anyway we have to.

“Anything?” Ned asks quietly, as your tour guide goes on pointing out different pieces of art. You shake your head.

“Apparently it’s an Avenger problem, not a me problem, according to Aunt Nat.”

“It’s still cool that you can just text Avengers.”

“Ned, my dad is literally an Avenger. It loses the coolness factor when your dad leaves on missions and you don’t know if he’ll come back alive or not.”

“That’s true I guess.” He looks at the art piece next to you. “But still you get to text the Black Widow! Isn’t that cool?”

“She’s just my Aunt Nat. I’ve hung out with her watching horror movies and talking about crushes. It feels different than saying I text the Black Widow.” You glance over at the statue, trying to take it in so you can write your report when you get home.

“They could have tried to put at least one blemish on it.” MJ mutters and you nod in agreement.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Ned?” You turn from MJ to see Ned staring at his hand. It’s turning to dust in front of his eyes. “Ned, what’s happening?”

“I think something’s wrong.” His other hand starts to turn into dust and you don’t understand.

“What is happening?”

“Something that can’t be good.” MJ says and you turn to see her hands turning to dust as well. “Y/N, something is wrong. Really wrong.” Your friends are turning to dust in front of your eyes. You can’t stop it, you can’t figure out what’s wrong. So you do the one thing you know to do when something is wrong- you call your mom.

“Y/N? Please tell me you’re not turning to dust too?”

“Mom, I don’t get what’s happening.”

“I don’t know either. But something isn’t right.” Your mom sounds stressed and worried at the same time you lift a hand to run through your hair and that’s when you see it. Your hand is disappearing before your eyes.

“Mom. Mom, I’m scared. My hand, it’s going.”

“Y/N, everything is going to be alright. It’s going to be ok.” Pepper doesn’t tell you that she has tears streaming down her cheeks. She needs to stay calm for you. You’re the one fading into nothing. She can stay calm for you in this moment.

“Mom, Mom. I don’t want to go. Please. I don’t know what’s happening. Mom, please make it stop.” Pepper closes her eyes as she listens to your pleads.

“It’s going to be alright sweetheart. Everything is going to be ok.” You watch in horror as Ned fades into nothing but a pile of dust.

“Mom, Ned’s gone. MJ’s seconds away from going. I don’t want to go too. Please make it stop.”

“Everything is going to be alright baby. Just breathe. Everything is going to be ok.” Pepper lies to you.

“Mom, I love you. Tell Dad I love him too. I don’t want to go. Tell him that. I never wanted to go. Having you two as parents was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Your eyes look in horror as MJ turns into dust too.

“We feel the same about you.”

“I love you. I love you so much Mom. I’m sorry. I don’t want to go. I love you.”

“We love you too.” Pepper knows she only has seconds left with you so she wants to make sure you know this before it’s too late.

“I love yo-”

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick

Becoming A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway @iamaunicorn4704 @furiouspockettoad @daughter-of-stark @eternalharry @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365 @a-mnd @youarethereasonimsmiling @thefemalestorywriter

51 notes · View notes