#His only response is confusion and anger. He underestimated her until the very end because she was a woman | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marwritesgood · 3 years

Text

Only You | S. Basset

Pairing: Simon x WOC!Reader

Timeframe: Season One

Summary: While Y/n prepares to leave London, Simon is confronted by Philippa.

PART ONE

masterlist

A/N: One more part after this :)

Y/n sat with the eldest of her cousins in the drawing-room. Despite the number of workers present and eligible, young Elizabeth begged her older cousin to braid her hair before she left. Y/n could not resist her sweet smile. She also knew she would miss Philippa’s children terribly, just as she would Philippa.

“There you are!”

Y/n and Elizabeth jumped at Philippa’s abrupt call.

“I’ve called for a carriage as you requested, my dear,” Philippa began as she sat with her niece and daughter. She could no longer bring herself to hide her concern and sorrow. “Though I hope you know there is still plenty of time to reconsider your decision.”

Even if it were at the very last moment, if Y/n were to say she wanted to stay, Philippa would be ready to call it off in a moment’s notice.

“My mind is decided, aunt Philippa,” Y/n responded monotonously. She intentionally averted her eyes from her aunt. Philippa knew her niece far too well. Y/n’s best chance at concealing her genuine emotions was to avoid looking her aunt in the eye.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Y/n had become accustomed to floating through seasons with no intention of marrying anytime soon. The prospect of finally accepting a marriage proposal, to a man she had no sincere desire to marry, was frightening. She could not let Philippa know for fear that she would convince her to do otherwise.

“Lizzie,” Philippa whispered to her daughter. “Dear, please join your siblings in the other room.”

Y/n sighed defeatedly. She should have known better than to think she could keep anything from her aunt. Her cousin exited the room in a half-done braid, leaving Y/n to stare at her hands while her aunt studied her intently.

“You must understand the magnitude of what you plan to do,” Philippa said worriedly. That is what she feared most of the situation. She could not bear the thought of Y/n being miserable because of a decision she made in the heat of the moment. “I know you are hurt, dear, but you do not have to leave so soon.”

Y/n sniffled, taking her aunt by surprise. She could no longer hold back her tears. Not after the exhaustingly painful week, she had endured.

“I do, aunt Philippa,” Y/n cried, laughing bitterly. Philippa’s brows knitted together in both confusion and concern. “I cannot bear to stay in London another day... The longer I stay here, the harder it will be to leave.”

Philippa frowned, lifting her hands to wipe Y/n’s tears away. She had not yet found out what happened between her niece and Simon. All she could conclude was that Y/n’s heart was broken finally again.

“He admitted to courting Miss Bridgerton,” Y/n explained. It pained her to recount what Simon said the night before, but she felt it was the only way to put rest to Philippa’s attempts to keep her in London. “- and he admitted he intends to marry her.”

Philippa inhaled sharply, closing her eyes tightly as she did so. Though she did not have an incredibly close relationship with Simon, she always believed him to be a good man. A man who cared deeply for her niece.

Glancing back to her niece, Philippa pursed her lips and pulled Y/n into her arms, hugging her closely. As she cried softly into her shoulder, anger began to erupt within Philippa. Y/n was the last person she deemed worthy of such heartbreak.

“The carriage will be here before evening,” Philippa informed Y/n, who was grateful that she would no longer keep her from leaving. “I have one matter to attend to, but I will be home before you to leave.”

Y/n nodded before returning to her younger cousins. Once she left, Philippa called for a carriage to take her to the Danbury estate. She had more than a few unkind words to offer the Duke of Hastings.

***

Simon found himself, yet again, standing idle in the maze’s centre outside the Danbury estate. He had barely any rest the night before, so he headed straight to the maze once there was sunlight.

Before he could leave, however, of Daphne being introduced to Prince Friedrich reached him. Thus there ruse was no longer necessary, subsequently leaving Simon in dire need of a moment alone with his frustration.

If he had only told Y/n the truth the night before. If he had only kept her from leaving. If he had not rejected her in the first place. Perhaps he would not be in the situation he was in.

“Your grace.”

Simon’s train of thought was abruptly broken when a worker approached him. He turned to face the man, eyebrows raised. The worker held his hands behind his back.

“You have a visitor waiting for you in the sitting room,” he explained. When Simon remained silent, the worker specified who it was. “... Lady Bennet.”

Simon’s heart began to pound. He nodded and returned inside with haste. Philippa Bennet, though kind and friendly by nature, could scare him half to death. Simon remembered watching how she would fearlessly berate and humiliate any man who so much as treated Y/n less than kindly.

He never imagined he would be one.

Once he was inside, he halted outside the entrance to the sitting room. There was no telling how Philippa would treat him, especially after the way he had treated her niece before. Simon took several deep breaths before he cautiously entered the room.

“Lady Bennet,” he greeted as he walked in, his head bowed partially in shame and partly in fear.

“Your grace,” she responded, her tone sharp and piercing.

She stood from her seat and glared at the duke as he made his way in. She spoke previously to Lady Danbury, who left just moments before Simon entered. It wasn’t until the worker exited the room, closing the door behind him, that she began to raise her voice.

“You can be of no loss to understand why I am here.”

Simon remained silence, which provided Philippa with as much of a response as she needed.

“My niece just informed me today of your revelation to her at the gala,” she stated, referencing to him admitting to courting Daphne with the intention of marrying, which was not the truth. “I assume you have an explanation, your grace... Otherwise, you truly are the deceitful, heartless man I never imagined you would become.”

Simon winced at the description. It resembled too much of his father, which was the last kind of man he ever intended to become. Philippa raised her brow and remained silent, waiting for the explanation she knew would eventually be provided.

“I was dishonest,” he confessed, his expression overcome by the shame and guilt he been burdened by for the past week. Philippa remained puzzled, though relieved that there was more to the story than what her niece was led to believe. “My courtship of Miss Bridgerton was all an act... To help attract more suitors for her, and to improve my image in the public eye.”

Philippa folded her arms. While she was glad to hear that he was not actually courting another woman after Y/n, she was still angered by what he had done. Not to mention the immense pain it inflicted upon her niece.

“I assume you lied to my niece as a means of upholding your ruse?”

He was taken by surprise, having expected her to scold him for his stupidity, just as he believed he deserved. His expectations were not necessarily misguided. Philippa intended to do just that. However, she first sought clarification.

“Yes,” Simon admitted sheepishly.

“I heard from Lady Danbury that Miss Bridgerton will soon be courted by Prince Friedrich... Does this mean your lie will no longer continue?”

Simon nodded, causing Philippa to sigh. Her line of questioning made incredibly clear to him how unnecessarily reckless he had been with Y/n’s heart. She was astonished by his foolishness. He could tell.

“I am deeply sorry, Lady Bennet-”

“I do not care for your apologies,” Philippa hissed, causing Simon to sink back. “You are to explain this to my niece yourself... She must hear the truth from you.”

Though Philippa was desperate to race home and tell Y/n the truth, she knew there would still be heartache on her behalf. Only Simon could indeed amend the issue.

“I cannot,” Simon cried, before inhaling sharply as he went to complete his sentence. “-I cannot bear to face her... I imagine I am the last person she wishes to speak to.”

“You are mistaken, your grace,” Philippa said flatly. He could not have been further from the truth. “I have often, particularly now, struggled to understand why... but she cares for you. Very much so. Even despite all the pain, you seemingly continue to cause her.”

“That, I struggle to believe,” Simon mumbled.

Philippa scoffed. It was a wonder Y/n was in so much pain. He seemed to consistently underestimate just how much she cared for him. She pondered for a moment, thinking of the best way to clarify to Simon the extent to which Y/n loved him.

“This is her second season,” Philippa stated, slowing her speech just to make absolute sure Simon could understand her point. “-and she has yet to be married... why do you think that is?”

He stared blankly at Philippa, which only infuriated her more, though she continued, despite it.

“I was incredibly confused when I received a distraught letter from my sister at the end of last season,” Philippa began. “-She informed that Y/n had received 3 proposals... all from, what she described as, honourable men.”

Philippa studied Simon’s reaction closely, hoping he would catch on soon. He was taken back. During Y/n’s first season, he feared the day she accepted a marriage proposal.

“My confusion was then, of course, put to rest when I remembered Y/n confiding in me about her affections for you.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows in disbelief. It was not possible, he believed. After he turned Y/n away following her confession, he assumed her feelings would fade.

He deemed his love for Y/n inevitable because loving her was easy to do and difficult to avoid. But he believed loving him was a challenge; a chore. He saw himself as broken. Haunted by the trauma inflicted upon him by his father. His vow to never marry was, truthfully, not the only reason he rejected Y/n.

Simon did not believe Y/n truly loved him. He struggled to imagine anyone could.

“You cannot possibly insinuate that I-”

“You idiotic fool!” Philippa blurted, interrupting Simon from, yet again, downplaying just how much Y/n cared for him. “Forgive me, your grace, but she confessed her feelings to you, did she not? Thus surely you must know how much she cares for you... you must know, Simon.”

He was dumbfounded. Overwhelmed by the prospect that Y/n’s love for him was true, tears stung the corners of his eyes. Philippa could not believe it. She knew of Simon’s past, but she was shocked to see how much of an effect it had on the poor duke. How unwilling he was to accept that he was loved.

Sincerely and unconditionally.

“She intends to leave London this evening,” Philippa sighed sadly. Before she spoke again, she moved closer to Simon, looking him in the eye intently. She felt sympathy having understood why he acted the way he did, but she would not let him continue to do so. “If you truly care for my niece, you will not allow her to leave today without knowing the truth... She deserves as much after all she has done for you.”

Philippa exited the room briefly afterwards, leaving Simon to contemplate how on earth he would earn Y/n’s forgiveness and her trust.

***

Lady Danbury was puzzled as she watched Philippa Bennet rush out of her estate hastily. They had shared a brief conversation before she left, just as Simon arrived in from outside. Philippa had informed Danbury of Y/n’s plans to leave London and accept Mr Graham’s marriage proposal.

While she knew the situation was tense, Lady Danbury sat with ease, on the outside seating area towards the left side. Of the many roles she played in her life and society, the matchmaker was one she most enjoyed.

She hummed to herself as she took a sip of her earl grey tea, amused by the thrill of the current situation. Once Philippa’s carriage was out of sight, Lady Danbury began to count backwards from twenty. As she reached one, the sound of Simon’s quick-paced footsteps became increasingly loud.

“What seems to be troubling you, your grace.”

Most would have been startled by how Lady Danbury spoke with her back to Simon, but he had grown used to her being a step ahead of him. In fact, that was the very reason he found himself turning to her.

“I presume you already know,” he answered as he sat in the chair beside her.

Danbury chuckled, placing her cup back on the table before turning to her pseudo-nephew. He loved him as her own son, but she was far from oblivious to his flaws.

“I expected you to be eager to follow Lady Bennet.”

“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he frowned, glancing down at his hands that could not seem to stop trembling. For most of his life, he carefully considered every decision he made to ensure perfection. This was unchartered territory.

Simon half-expected Lady Danbury to laugh, or to smile warmly at him before offering her advice. She had done just that for as long as he knew her.

However, Lady Danbury did not respond in such a manner. She scoffed loudly before gripping her cane and turning to Simon with a disappointed glare.

“Well then you are a fool,” she spoke harshly.

Simon’s eyes widened. If he were not already sitting, he likely would have stumbled back. Despite his apparent shock, Lady Danbury was not fazed. Instead, her glare grew more intense.

Similar to Philippa, Danbury was subject to Simon’s countless confidences regarding his feelings for Y/n. She was past waiting excitedly in anticipation for the two to finally be united. Now, she was irritated at how long it was taking Simon to act on his affections. Mostly after Y/n had already made clear hers.

“You care for her, do you not?”

“I do,” Simon answered, not a moment after Lady Danbury spoke.

Silence fell amongst them. Danbury’s eyes narrowed in both confusion and frustration. Was it not clear to Simon what he needed to do? She held her cane with both hands. Simon sighed.

“That is precisely why I cannot go to her,” he explained. Lady Danbury groaned audibly, prompting Simon to further clarify his defence. “After all the pain I have put her through, do I not owe it to her to give her peace?”

“She will not have true peace until she knows.”

Simon averted his head slightly, his posture slumping down significantly. Lady Danbury began to realise that there was more to it than he was admitting to.

Simon looked out towards the maze’s direction, and all he could think of was her, and the night before. All he could see was her expression when he lied about the nature of his relationship with Daphne. Not to mention how she walked away from him crying, and the way he let her go.

“I... am terrified,” Simon whispered, his voice shaky. Danbury inhaled sharply, before looking at him intently, remaining silent all the while so that he could continue.

After a moment, Simon turned to face her. His eyes were glassy, and the wrinkle on his temple deepened as he furrowed his brows. He was no longer trying to defend himself. No longer trying to uphold a ruse or a confident demeanour.

He was exhausted from doing so. All he wanted was to fix what he had broken.

“Every attempt I have made at explaining myself only seems to hurt her more,” he frowned. “She is leaving today because she seeks to be away from me... and I will honour her wishes, so as to not subject her to any more pain than I already have.”

It made sense to him. He had no luck when it came to making amends with Y/n. He felt incapable of fixing anything. It was clear that, as well as happiness, he was also incapable of giving her peace. And she deserved that, at the very least.

“And then what will you do?” Lady Danbury questioned, curious to know the extent to which he believed what he was doing would fix anything.

“I... will wait,” he replied, confident in his response, leading Danbury to worry. He did not have the luxury of time, and it seemed she was the only one out of the two of them who knew this. “When she is ready to speak to me, I will explain the truth to her... and hopefully by then I will be able to do so in a way that does not hurt her.”

“Simon,” Lady Danbury said gently. She knew she was right to have called him foolish. However, Danbury realised that he was foolish out of his love for Y/n and lack of trust that he could love her. “She is not leaving London because she seeks to be away from you... She is leaving to accept a marriage proposal.”

Simon’s blood ran cold. He felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Before, he sat content in the comfort of knowing he had time to wait. Now all he could sit with was the terror of uncertainty.

“Your life decisions have been largely based on fear and on vengeance, but you do not have to continue to live this way,” Lady Danbury said, reaching out for his hand and taking hold of it firmly. “However, you cannot do so if you continue to deprive yourself of what brings you joy.”

She had held onto these words for a very long time after Simon announced he would not marry or have children. Danbury had always hoped that Simon would have a heart change eventually, but it was clear that they were running very short on time.

“You deserve an abundance of happiness and of love, just as anyone else in this world does, your grace,” Lady Danbury said with conviction. She was ashamed; it took her so long to realise how badly Simon needed to know this. “But you will only receive as much as you pursue. So allow me to ask again; what will you do?”

Simon lifted Lady Danbury’s hand and kissed it affectionately- his way of thanking her for, yet again, talking sense into him. Without waiting another moment, he raced towards the stables in search of his horse.

***

Philippa stood sadly as she watched Y/n say goodbye to her cousins. Significant time had passed since she arrived home and Simon still had not arrived. However, despite the dire circumstances, she refused to give up hope.

As Y/n pulled away from her cousin, Elizabeth, she turned to Philippa, who stood between her and the carriage. Her bags had already been taken into the carriage. Everything was in line for her departure. All she had to do was say goodbye to her aunt, yet somehow that seemed to be the most challenging step.

“Aunt Philippa,” Y/n said cautiously, after noticing her sorrowful expression.

“You do not have to go,” Philippa cried, reaching her arms out and placing her hands gently on her niece’s shoulders. She did not care if she sounded like a broken record. “Please, my dear, if you possess even an ounce of doubt, you mustn’t go.”

“I have already made my decision,” Y/n replied, trying to comfort her aunt, who she knew was only concerned for her well-being. She wanted desperately to put Philippa’s mind at ease. “He is a good man... I will have a good future with him.”

“But you do not love him,” Philippa argued. Y/n quickly realised just how much her aunt had rubbed off on her. She could not yet figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

“I cannot be so naïve as to base my choosing on love,” Y/n criticised.

“Yes you can,” Philippa insisted.

“How can you be so certain?” Y/n inquired, trying her best to refrain from scoffing at the irony in her aunt’s argument. “You are married to a Lord. You will never need to worry about bearing financial burdens, and it is because you accepted the proposal of a man mama matched you with.”

Y/n expected this would end her aunt’s argument against her marrying Mr Graham.

“Your mama did not match me with Lord Bennet,” Philippa confessed, taking Y/n by great surprise. “Your mother asked me not to tell you at the time, but... Lord Bennet and I met during one of our visits to London. We remained in contact for the better half of my first season, and we eventually married because I fell pregnant... with Elizabeth.”

Y/n’s internal conflict increased significantly in intensity. She always admired the love shared between her aunt and her husband. She always admired the life they had together. However, she also accredited this to her mother’s strong-willed matchmaking and stubbornness.

Her aunt noticed her reaction and sighed. She reached out and took hold of her niece’s hands, gripping firmly. Philippa had been saving that revelation for when her niece was grown enough. It frightened her how quickly that moment arrived.

“I know that the odds have always been stacked against women like us... but that does not mean we settle for men who do not care for us,” Philippa posited, challenging what Y/n previously believed to be true when it came to love and marriage. “You are allowed to prioritise what you want in a husband as well as what you need.”

Y/n’s heart began to pound. She had craved to hear those exact words ever since she prepared for her first season. If only she had heard them before she found herself in the situation she was in.

“You deserve to be with a man who you love and who makes you happy,” Philippa added, causing Y/n to flinch. She knew where her argument was headed. “A man like-”

“-Like Simon?” Y/n questioned in annoyance.

Philippa sighed, answering her niece’s question.

“I know that you hoped it would be his proposal I would be accepting... I hoped for the same,” Y/n sighed. Having her aunt as her confidante meant their hopes for her future coincided—all except this time. “But I have waited for too long. I cannot keep putting my life on hold out of hope that he will have a change of heart... and that he will show up at the last minute on a white horse. I cannot do it.”

“Then disregard Simon for a moment,” Philippa said. “- and answer me this, will Mr Graham make you happy?”

Y/n scoffed. She could not keep relaying the same message to her aunt.

“I have told you, marrying him will guarantee me a good life-”

“I have no doubt that he will provide you financial stability,” Philippa interrupted.

Y/n was startled. Until then, all she was focused on was securing a promising future for herself. Until then, all she equated that it was a future free of any financial burden.

“But will he make you happy?” Philippa asked, narrowing her eyes. “When you are forced to endure his arrogance, his ignorance and his temper daily. When you are inevitably made to bear his children, thereafter reduced exclusively to their mother and his wife, and are no longer your own individual person. When it dawns on you that you will be stuck in this position for the rest of your life... Do you truly believe you will be happy?”

Y/n could not answer her aunt. Philippa knew her answer. They stared at one another, each with an expression far different from the other. While Y/n was started and frightened, Philippa remained concerned yet hopeful that her niece would finally change her mind.

Before either of them could speak, a worker approached Philippa and beat them both to it.

“My lady, the carriage is ready for Miss Y/L/n’s departure.”

Y/n was quick to turn away from her aunt. She glanced at the other worker who stood by the carriage, holding the door open for Y/n to enter. She turned back to her aunt, who visibly feared what she was about to do next.

“Goodbye, aunt Philippa,”

Y/n pulled Philippa into her arms and hugged her tightly. She knew her aunt was still very much worried and concerned for her. However, she hoped that Philippa would cast them aside for just a moment, and let her see this through.

When Philippa hugged her back and smiled wearily at her as she walked away, Y/n knew she was doing just that. And for that, she was extremely grateful.

As the doors to Y/n’s carriage closed, she closed her eyes and braced herself for the future she was going to commit to the day after. In an attempt to forget what her aunt had said to her, Y/n waved goodbye once before looking away.

She glued her sight to the road ahead, refusing to look back to the street behind her, or the gates to her aunt’s home.

The very gates Simon would ride through moments after, only to realise that Y/n had already left. That he had spent so much time hesitating and waiting for the right moment, he missed his opportunity to see her before she left.

That he was too late.

NEXT PART

@deakesthegreatest @smol-grandpa

#simon basset x reader #simon basset imagine #duke hastings x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #simon basset #duke hastings #bridgerton

880 notes · View notes

sweetbunnykook · 3 years

Text

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

#bunny:fic #yandere bts #yandere fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bangtan fanfiction #bangtan angst #bangtan smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #only you #chapter 9 #I did not follow the outline I made for this chapter LOL this was an unpredictable chapter even to me

603 notes · View notes

intergalactic-padawan · 3 years

Text

inquisitor - Ezra Bridger

Requested: yes, by the beautiful @raganbridger! Sorry for the wait, it's finally here!

Warnings: angst, dark side!reader, confusion, mentions of bad injuries/blood, betrayal

A/N: You asked for le angst, so here it is! I've had this idea for a long while and this request was the motivation I needed to start. LOTS of alternative endings were written, this was mostly the reason it took so long.

Pronouns of reader: she/her

*ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE! I make mistakes just like everybody else 😉*

-"oh, good, you're awake"

You sit and inhale sharply, focusing back on the real world, startled at the strange voice.

Well, not so strange per se. You knew who was talking to you. What was strange was why he was talking to you.

Before you can adjust your vision to the unfamiliar environment, the memories from hours earlier instantly come flooding back.

Malachor. The place where jedi go to die.

An easy kill for you and your inquisitor colleagues.

That's what they had said on the ship, at least. You, on the other hand, knew better than to underestimate how slippery those jedi could be - especially if they fought side by side, like they always did.

You remember cornering the younger one during the fight. His skill was minimal compared to yours, which would give you an advantage against his master if he were to die first.

The boy and his friends go after the sith holocron. There had been a blinding light when it was placed at the altar.

And also, the jedi knight who was blinded by your former master, Maul.

Maul.

Not only had the cursed man left you for dead years before, he had come back from hiding to haunt you and join forces with your other enemies.

But you were an inquisitor. You wouldn't - you couldn't let him get the best of you, not this time.

You feel a light hand pressing your forehead and recoil in fear, reaching for your lightsaber, only to feel it was not there.

-"whoah, woah, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you" - it was the padawan you'd been fighting before - Ezra Bridger. He had placed you and his master inside a cave in a planet you were not familiar with when you'd escaped Malachor.

You'd escapd Malachor? But how?

You couldn't have, unless he'd carried you back to his ship.

-"hey, hey, it's alright."

-"what do you want, jedi?" - you wince in pain again.

-"a thank you would be nice, actually. I did just save your life"

-"a foolish mistake. One you will pay for with yours"

You reach out for your lightsaber, but can't feel it anywhere close. Scouring with the force for its presence, you quickly realize he must have hidden it outside the place.

-"Nope, absolutely not" - just as quickly, he slaps your outstreched hand - "I may be an idiot, but i'm not stupid. Your lightsaber's not here, it's caused enough damage already."

You rub the hand he pushed away, more shocked at his actions than anything. How DARE he?

-"Then what do you want from me, if not revenge? Why treat my wounds if not to finish the battle we started?"

-"Listen, I'm not sure if it's the adrnaline or something, but you're in no condition to fight anyone any time soon"

-"You underestimete me, Jedi. Even in these conditions you would be no match for me."

-"Like I wasn't a match for you at the sith temple?"

At the mention of the event, images of the fight start to come back.

Back at the sanctuary, you drew him away from the fight, knowing his strengh lied with his allies. Only, you hadn't imagined your former master to join his side - not until you'd seen the holocron in Ezra's hands, at least. You'd warned him: "he will use it and throw you away. Like he did to me". Needless to say, he didn't listen.

Your vision starts to lose focus at the intensity of your anger and you groan in pain, not able to sit anymore. Driven by instinct, the padawan holds your side so you won't fall completely, pressing your abdomen and making you hiss in pain.

-"ah, looks like I was right. You're conscious, but not healed" - you feel yourself be adjusted back on the ground, too weak to fight him.

-"where are we? Why did you save my life?"

He hesitates, eyes studying you, like you might attack him any second and he still knew it.

-"not so sure" - he finally answers - "maybe because now you owe me one?"

-"Did you hit your head or something?" You scoff - "Make no mistake, I WILL kill you when the opportunity rises!"

-"And that is why your lightsaber privileges have been revoked for now."

You lock eyes, studying him like he had you. It made no sense- you'd followed his group to the sith temple, tried to kill him several times, called for the man who had murdered his strongest ally, Ahsoak Tano. Why was he helping you?

With a shiver, you realize he's still holding your side, not as firmly as before but still providing support for your back. Inhaling sharply, you graze his hand and he lets go instantly, realizing how close the two of you had gotten.

Standing up just as quickly, he brushes a strand of unruly hair our of his forehead, while you you clean your throat, diverting your attention to the exit of the cave. The rain pours on the large trees outside, but you can't make out much except for the fact that you're in a forest planet (maybe a moon?) and his ship is in less than ideal conditions to get out of it.

-"here" - Ezra kneels down with two bacta patches and a piece of fabric from a medical kit -"i felt your back was pretty sore, but didn't want to take off your shirt while you were out. Your cuts need cleaning."

You hesitantly take the items, using the rocks behind you as support to lean your body on. He stands up, hands on hips, and chuckles when you sniff the gel, suspicious.

With the small bit of privacy he gives you by turning around to check on his master, you fumble with your shirt, deciding to take it off in order to see better.

-"Need some help over there?" - he asks, hearing you grunt in frustration at not being able to reach some spots

-"Not from you, thank you very much"

-"Oh, so she CAN say thank you! That's a welcome change"

You throw the rag at his direction, irritated out of your mind. Who does he think he is??

He must sense the harmless ball of soaked fabric coming his way, turning around to catch it mid-air. Now that he's turned, you see a glimpse of amusement in his eyes at your rage, giving you the answer you needed as to why he went through the trouble of saving you; it was merely to see you suffer and laugh at your expense, apparently.

His expression quickly changed when he saw your bruised torso, however.

- "who did this to you?" - he whispers, and you look down at you look down at your sore ~ well, everything~, covered only by a wrap in the bust area.

-"As you said, jedi. I may be better than you, but you still gave me a decent challenge"

"No. I didn't even hit you there." - his serious reaction to your injuries had caught you off guard, you had to admit. - "those are old and deep, you shouldn't even be able to walk!"

-"I'm not, remember?" - you motion at your debilitated situation, unable to even sit down or cross your legs properly -"But i will be, soon. And then it's over for you"

-"you know what? I think if you wanted to, you would have killed me by now." - he shoots back and you're impressed at his audacity once again.

But he had a point. Why hadn't you attacked him yet?

Sure, you had no lightsaber or phisical conditions to stand, but your force abilities were still as strong as ever. You were vulnerable, but so was he, and you weren't kidding when you said you could deal with him even at your worse.

-"you know what? " - you cross your arms. He was playing with fire now - "maybe I might"

-"and why haven't you?"

-"because I wouldn't enjoy it as much." - you snap back venomously - "I want to see you suffer before I bring you to Lord Vader"

His expression darkens at the mention of Ahsoka's murderer. His whole body stiffens as he balls his wrists and clearly struggles to control his anger at the recent loss. For a moment, you fear you've gone too far, but reprimand yourself for worrying about his feelings over yours. You're not supposed to be anything more than indifferent to the weak and ruthless to those who dare oppose you.

-"Yeah, no matter what you do, you're still imperial scum"

You're not prepared for those words to affect you so much. You're supposed to have a response, but nothing coherent seems to come out of your mouth, so you settle for an an uncomfortable silence.

It doesn't last for long, however, as his comlink goes off. It's his droid, asking - no, demanding - that he go help him with repairs on the ship. He hesitates, looking at you and contemplating how bad it would be to leave you unnatended in the company of his defenseless master.

-"Dont worry."- You reassure him. -"I won't make his situation worse. Maul is the worse you can get, and I refuse to step that low"

You can see he doesnt like it, but leaves for a few moments before returning with what must be the droid that talked to him before. It was a C1 series unit with an orange top and a bratty atitude, you could tell that much by just seeing him interact with the jedi.

-"Chopper will stay here, just in case"

-"I understand. It's fine."

-"I wasn't asking if you were fine with it. Behave" - you can't be sure if his command is directed at you or the droid, but you weren't about to ask.

The coldness he now had to his voice was understandable - you had worked to get him to that emotional state - ,but you felt hurt at the change. The droid didn't do much to help you think clearly about what just happened, and by the look of it, your frustration would only grow bigger in the many hours it would still take to repair the ship to a normal flying condition.

'He thinks i'm imperial scum, huh?' - you think as you scour a pile of your belongings with the force, not too far away inside the cave.

Bad news, your lightsaber really wasn't there.

Good news, your wrist comm was.

'i'll show him imperial scum'

With a plan forming in mind, all you had to do now was be patient and wait for the right time. There's no exchange of words between the two of you when he gets back, which makes time fly by before he's betrayed by exaution and finally gives in to sleep. You take care of the droid easily after that.

Activating the tracking beacon, you start to leave the cave, but not before noticing the boy's lightsaber beside him. It was a bold move, he could easily wake up if you took it, but you knew that if he woke up to see you gone you'd need it to compensate for your injuries.

You were still on opposing sides, after all.

You knew there had to be an imperial ship near the planet, and they would pick up your signal in an instant when you called. Wallking to a less dense area of the forest, away from the crash site, you're proven right when, in a matter of minutes, a shuttle tripulated by four troopers and a senior lieutenant meet you on the ground.

-"and what of the jedi?" - the higher ranking woman asks when you finish your brief description of the events that led you there.

Well, not all events. You'd left out the part where Bridger had helped you recover.

You could just tell them to take the two jedi for excecution. You were supposed to do it, in fact.

-"it's just me. And the younger one's lightsaber" - you finally answer, not exactly knowing why you'd deliberately just saved them.

She nods curtly and escorts you back to the ship without a second glance. It was a good story so far, but you would have to work on it if your superiors were to believe it.

-"Wait- " - you start, second-guessing your motives for not giving away their location. One of the troopers turns to you expectantly.

-"yes, sir?"

You hesitate for a moment, ready to do what you'd beeen taught to do your whle life. Kill the jedi.

Kill the jedi.

A tingling crept up your sides, where the padawan had touched earlier to give you support. You try to betray the gut feeling pressing you to do your duty as an inquisitor, but it's stronger than you. Something is forcing your better judgement to be leaving your natural enemies alive.

-"nothing." - the tingle goes away as soon as it had come, leaving an unusual feeling of relief. - "Thought i'd sensed something. Let's leave"

'Perhaps it's for the best'. - you think as the shuttle's door closes. After all, you did owe him one for saving your life - whatever his reason was for doing so.

That was what you told yourself as you boarded the ship, at least. Now, the next time you saw him, there would be nothing to stop you from finishing him and his friends for good.

Hope you like it? I gave him a 'hands on hips' moment in honour of your videos for a more personalized touch hahahaha

#ezra bridger fic #ezra bridger #ezra bridger imagine #ezra bridger x reader #ezra bridger x you #ezra bridger x y/n #inquisitor!reader

57 notes · View notes

saphirered · 3 years

Note

I love the way you write Lucien, and was wondering, if you aren't too busy (and don't mind a second request from the same person), could I request a part two wherein the reader and Lucien make it to the bedroom (no explicit details, or anything) when he and the Tomb Takes are invited into Widogast Tower?

Thank you! Lucien's such an interesting character to write. So much is revealed about his character by paying attention to the details. I tried to play into those things so I hope you like the way this turned out! 😘

Caleb goes through his usual ritual of summoning the tower. The Tombtakers wait watching him closely but one in particular keeps a very close eye on him; Lucien. He’s still very much uneasy around spellcasters of this caliber and with what the wizard had already displayed he knew better than to underestimate your little group. You’re a danger and have already proven you could be much more than a hurdle in his way. He’s looking forward to the challenge.

But there your stand bouncing on your feet stretching and curling your fingers to preserve any warmth now you’ve stopped moving, patiently awaiting the familiar door to appear. Lucien finds himself at your side just slightly behind you. You don’t have to look over your shoulder to know it’s him. He already radiates enough of a presence you’re constantly aware of where he places himself.

“If you’re still cold, love, how about we test those perks of the infernal bloodline?” The whisper is barely loud enough to hear so you’re confident the others hadn’t heard the words but the little too short distance between the two of you is compromising enough should anyone turn around and see.

“Depends. Are you offering?” You keep your eyes on the mid-spell wizard. There’s no change in your voice. Just neutrality and indifference to the offer made. You know better than give Lucien the pleasure of any kind of response your friends might catch onto just to get a rise out of them. He’s a selfish man and loves causing conflict but he won’t tear you away from your friends even if that means he’ll have to dispose of you and your Mighty Nein at the end of the road. His goals come before everything and everyone no matter how much he might prefer to keep you around. He knows better than to attempt to keep around someone who will grow to have a vendetta against him after his task is completed no matter what he offers you. He knows where your loyalties lie and there’s nothing he can do about that but hope maybe your interests in him change into an emotional attachment enough to take you off the playing field all together. Slim chances but never impossible.

“Funny.” Lucien offers a brief chuckle as the iridescent doorway appears. Caleb turns around allowing everyone to enter. His eyes fall on you just as Lucien leans in a little closer to your ear.

“Perhaps I am.” He pulls away and steps past you usual smirk on his face as he approaches the wizard. While Caleb keeps his opinions to himself you’re aware despite your explanation of the actions Fjord witnessed you have more explaining to do.

A brief tour later and sleeping arrangements for the Tombtakers set up, you’re pulled aside by Fjord at the dinner table. You knew this moment was coming and under the cover of Jester and Veth keeping the Tombtakers busy and Beau annoying Lucien to death you have a chance at a private conversation among company. You’re aware that the moment you set out for a side bar Lucien will notice and spy on your conversation. He’s not stupid enough to know such action is rooted in potential conflict be that between you and your friends or your group and his and he’s not about to be blindsided.

Fjord offers the seat next to him between himself and Caleb who’s already dug into his dinner. Thank the gods Fjord does because at least that lowers any suspicion. With a smile you accept and sit down between the half orc and wizard, filling a plate of your own. You notice Lucien glance over to you before Beau compels him to return his attention to her. Okay now it’s clear the others are in on this game. Good to know the Mighty Nein hasn’t lost their touch. You’re all going to need it and you feel as if it’s going to be sooner rather than later.

You begin with small talk but thread off into a conversation steered by hints, dancing with words to get across what you’ve been able to gleam from Lucien in your most recent interactions. You’re fully aware Lucien is using your interactions for the same purposes so you feel it’s only fair. He can’t deny the fact that’s exactly what he’s been doing regardless of the fact that you both enjoy your interactions and engaging exactly in what your mutual attraction persuades you to do.

Fjord chokes on the waffle he was eating when you let it slip what Lucien had offered you while Caleb summoned the tower earlier. Things clear up for Caleb and he’s clever enough to know your pleasantries with Fjord are more than just that. He gets what you’re really talking about. It’s good to know he doesn’t have to mistrust your loyalties entirely but he worries still. He knows what people like Lucien are capable of and he knows what it takes to be a spy, but the question is; do you really have the guts to do what’s necessary at the end of the day? He hopes still and he’ll trust the advantages and insights you’ve been providing over the lack of clarity and selective honesty Lucien himself has provided.

“I’m sorry. He said what?” Fjord coughs as you pat his back and offer him his cup, playing it off your friend simply took a wrong bite like the tentative soul you are.

“Do you really need me to repeat that?” You glare at the half orc. He does not need you to repeat those words. You know how flustered Fjord gets at the mentions of intimacy and you can’t really afford going into details right now or he might expose your little sidebar.

“Are you going to accept?” Caleb asks. He doesn’t make eye contact and stays focussed on his food keeping up the illusion he’s not part of this and has been distancing himself ever since he caught onto Lucien’s advances earlier.

“Do you need the distraction?” You’d already made up your mind and you’re going to take it but that doesn’t mean no one else can benefit from the distracted Nonagon. Caleb knows how to play this game so you’ll take his opinions over those of the others.

“If you think you can handle it.” Caleb knows some people would be fine with sleeping with someone for the benefits it achieves but in the majority of those cases the feelings are one-sided or nonexistent. He knows well enough your previous flirtations indicate feelings are very much involved on both sides and that might just not bode well for anyone if you slip up. If Lucien slips up, there’s plenty of advantages of be gained.

“I guess I know what I’ll be doing after dinner. Don’t waste this opportunity.” You say intensely putting a look of anger and annoyance on your face as you get up from your seat pushing Caleb’s shoulder as you do so. Caleb sends you a similar expression, grasps your arm but you pull it free and leave. Game on. You planted the seeds of doubt, clear for the Tombtakers to see. Best to pretend there’s some infighting and solidify your own position.

“Beau, could you do me a favour and convince Caleb my life’s choices are none of his business. You seem to have much better luck getting anything through that thick skull of his.” You smile exasperated and Beau gives you a confused look as you move your eyes in the direction of the wizard. Beau takes the hint and with one last witty remark she leaves you with Lucien.

“Everything alright, love?” Lucien leans back in his chair studying your every move corner of his lips turned up as he watches the latest bane of his existence settle with the wizard. Oh, how he’ll love to just squeeze the life out of that one. She’s too much to bear in his opinion and he doesn’t know how you put up with the monk.

“Don’t start.” You warn. Lucien lifts his hands in surrender not pushing the subject further. Any elaboration in your end would be directly deceptive right now and you do not feel confident enough in your skill to pull that off.

“You look like you could use a break, or a distraction. Why don’t you show me around?” Not needing to be told twice you take Lucien’s hand. You will yourself to float up and the tiefling follows after speaking the word. While he’s paying attention to your destination you quickly look down over your shoulder. Caleb offers you a single curt nod. You don’t return it but he knows message received as they finish up dinner.

“So where to first?” Lucien asks once the iris beneath you closes cutting off visual on the others beneath.

“Well, since you’ve already seen the floors below and where you and your companions will be staying I would offer to show you the laboratory and study, though, I doubt you’d be interested.” You don’t look at him as you glance up hoping Caleb would have changed your room enough to a nondescript one because with Lucien you don’t know what tiny detail might give him leverage you wouldn’t want him to have.

“And here I thought you’d offered to open up your bed to me.” Lucien jokes. You step up close and put your finger right under his chin.

“I offered to fuck you. I didn’t offer to share my sleeping arrangements for anything other than that. That you’ll have to earn, love.” You take a step back dropping your finger and begin floating up once more.

“Is that the game we’re playing? If so, challenge accepted.” Lucien gives you one of his devilish grins and floats after you until the two of you reach the right floor. You don’t make a grand ceremony about showing him around but instead enter your chambers. You’re very glad to see a very nondescript furnishing, a stained glass display that only shows you and the Nein and your connection to Mollymauk in more detail. Nothing Lucien could read anything off himself outside of things he already knew.

“Oh, I thought you said you were done playing games?” You tilt your head innocently as he enters the room, the door closing behind him. You lean against the back of the couch behind you crossing your arms waiting, watching every move just as he is. You because you’re trying to read whatever you can from him. He because he has half the mind to expect this to be some sort of trap but that won’t prevent him from engaging in whatever happens next.

“New game. New challenges. New rules.” He steps close. Some might expect Lucien to act in a predator and prey-like manner but no. You got clear insights he’s much more akin to an insatiable curiosity and playfulness, never satisfied, not even if he’d own the world. It will never be enough. It shows you the risks of the game more so than before. One wrong move and you’re gonna get burned. Then again, you know the feeling. The only difference here is you know satisfaction well enough you won’t let it be your own undoing nor will you ever let pride get in your way and Lucien’s ego and overconfidence certainly is his.

Fingers curl up the side of your neck until they find the back of your neck. Unaffected you keep your eyes locked on the bright red ones right in front of you. You feel another arm wrap around your waist, sliding down around your back and over to your behind. In a swift motion you’re lifted until you’re sitting on the back of the couch. Lucien steps in between your legs. Still you remain unfazed.

“Is that all you got? I expected more from you.” You tease. You know how to push these buttons. Moving your hair out of the way he softly begins trailing kisses up and down your neck, leaving little bites here and there. There’s a gentleness you didn’t expect him to be capable of.

“Challenge accepted.” Lucien’s lips find yours and you’re pulled into a deep kiss feeling wandering hands caress your body as they go. That’s more like it.

————

“Perhaps we should do this more often.” Lucien lays sprawled out on your bed one arm behind his head staring at you as you put on a shirt, making no effort to remove himself from your bedroom just yet. What can he say, the place and company are much preferred to that of any other travel company currently available.

“Told you getting it out of your system wouldn’t fix a damn thing.” An hand grasps your shoulder and pulls you back onto the bed. Lack of surprise and neutrality has been a good tool in persuading Lucien to respond to anything so you’ll keep it going.

“It provided clarity. But just because I like to see that smile of yours, I won’t deny I could get used to this.” Your legs on either side of him, Lucien plays with your fingers. It does make you smile and he seems very satisfied with himself. Letting go of one hand he brushes his fingers up your hip and underneath the shirt you just put on.

“Careful. Is that affection I hear speaking? What will your Eyes of Nine think?” You gasp grazing your nails over the one on his chest.

“For now? They can go fuck themselves. Let them wait a little longer.” Satisfied with the answer you lean in and kiss Lucien. You just hope the Nein’s using this time wisely.

“Let your overlords wait while you fuck me? How appropriate.” You joke between kisses.

“Good thing they need me more than I need them.”

“And yet you run after their every whim. I don’t know if that makes you the dog or them since you seem to be the hand that feeds them.” There comes the ego again. The nefarious smirk is enough to tell you you’re right. He’s playing much bigger of a game he’s letting on, to anyone and he’s holding all the cards in his hands. The realisation hits that Lucien is not the pawn in the game the Eyes of Nine are playing, no he’s the one playing them. The others need more time and you need to buy it for them now more than ever. Though, that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying any of it. You’d have done so regardless. Perhaps it just makes you feel more justified in sleeping with the literal enemy you see Lucien become in the future.

“Those sound like fighting words, love. You might want to watch your tongue.” You lean in close but just far away enough to prevent your lips from touching.

“What are you going to do about it?” With that you’re flipped over onto your back. Satisfied with your action and Lucien’s response you close the distance wrapping your legs around him. Time for round two.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #mighty nein #mighty nein x reader #lucien x reader

35 notes · View notes

phantoms-lair · 3 years

Text

The Phantom Detective Redux Chapter 3

“Vultures, that’s definitely Vlad’s work.” Danny glared at the ceiling. He wished the little girl who also spoke English had told him that over the phone. He could have been flying around trying to find them instead of wasting time getting here.

In all of the mess of last night with him accidently turning Conan into a halfa (and wasn’t THAT unsettling? Was that a new power he could just do? Could Vlad?), he’d never gotten a clear answer as to why Vlad was after Conan.

Like, yeah the kid was scary smart, but Danny hadn’t realized it until he’d spoken to him and as far as he’d known Vlad hadn’t. And his initial guess that it was because he was the detective's son (in an attempt to blackmail said detective) was dashed by Conan admitting he was under a ‘witness protection program’. He doubted Vlad wouldn’t have done the research to show that.

He needed to find some way to keep him safe, but most of the methods he knew for keeping malevolent ghosts out weren’t exactly safe for Halfa use. Which Conan was now for unknown reasons.

He could think about that later. Right now he needed to track the vultures, save his fellow Halfa and-

His train of thought was interrupted by the door slamming open and the girl he had saved yesterday from Skulker storming in with Conan in her arms. She did not look happy.

This was borne out as she began yelling at them in Japanese, only for the small girl to say something involving his name.

“I don’t speak Japanese, but I am very fluent in being thrown under the bus.” Danny said with a mild glare as the angry girl turned on him.

The short walk to the Professor’s (it hadn’t been very far) had given Ran more than enough time to build up a heady steam of indignation. As much as she wanted to shake Conan-Shinichi and demand answers, she couldn’t do that right now. He wasn’t waking up, which scared her and fed her anger even more.

Shinichi had been lying to her. And Agasa had been helping him. And if one couldn’t give her answers, the other would.

She barely stopped to kick off her shoes as she marched in the door. The Professor was there with Ai-chan and someone she didn’t know. In any other circumstance, she’d be more discrete, but she was done.

“Hakase, why did I just see Shinichi turn into Conan? Why did he look so strange? What else have you been keeping from me?”

Everyone in the room looked at her in shock. Surprisingly, it was Ai-chan who spoke first. “Danny did something weird to him. We don’t understand what.” ‘Danny’ glared at her and said something in English. That was all the impetus Ran needed to turn on him. “What did you do to Shinichi?”

He responded in English again. Ran wasn’t doing badly in her lessons, but he spoke too fast and she was too flustered to translate.

Cona-Shinichi held protectively in her arms, she lashed out with her right leg. The boy ducked back, still shouting in English. Ran shifted her weight and struck again.

The kick should have smacked him in the head, if not for the fact that his head detached from his shoulders, floating half a foot above. There were twin thuds as Ran misstepped her landing and Haibara fell to the floor in a dead faint. Agasa didn’t look much better himself.

Danny reached up, grabbed his head, and pulled it back onto his shoulders. Conan was still out cold and the only other English speaker had fainted. Great.

He looked to the Professor in a silent plea for help while the kicky girl just looked at him in terror. The Professor looked at him with a bit of fear in his eyes, but he turned to the girl and began to speak. Danny only hoped they were friendly words.

"Ran-kun, I know was Danny-kun did was scary," And wasn't that underestimation. As much impossible as he had seen in the past day, that took things one step too far. "But he has been trying to help fix whatever it is he did."

"H-He's a monster!" Ran stammered, clutching Shinichi tighter to her.

Agasa winced. Not just for Danny's sake, but for Shinichi's as well. At least he hadn't been awake to hear it. "Danny-kun's not normal, it's true. But that doesn't make him evil."

"What is he?"

"A yūrei hanyou. At least that's as close a translation as Shinichi-kun and I got." Not much use in hiding that little tidbit when she'd seen him transform.

"You mean yōkai hanyou. A yūrei hanyou doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't and that's driven Shinichi-kun up the wall." Once quite literally. He'd paced to the end of the room and had gotten halfway up a wall before realizing what was happening. Gravity had temporarily reasserted itself, only for him to catch himself mid-fall, levitating a few inches above the floor before falling the rest of the way. But it didn't seem like a good idea to mention it at the moment. "That's the best translation we have though. Danny-kun doesn't speak Japanese."

Ran turned her attention to the harmless looking boy she's just seen decapitate himself. He was a monster and he'd done something to Shinichi, but apparently was trying to help? She needed answers so badly, but didn't think her English comprehension was good enough to understand them. She thought for a moment and cradling Shinichi in one arm she pulled out her phone. She typed a few moments then held up the screen for him to see. On one side was Japanese, on the other the words 'What did you do to him'

He looked at the screen then pulled his own phone out of his pocket and began typing before showing her 'I think he absorbed some of my ectoprism. I don't know how. It's never happened before.'

Ectoprism? Okay she didn't know that word. And somehow Shinichi absorbed it? 'What is ectoprism?'

Danny assumed she meant ectoplasm. 'Basically the essence of ghosts. The accident pushed a lot into my DNA.'

Ran felt a shiver down her spine at the idea of 'Ghost Essense' being shoved into someone's genetics. 'What kind of accident' She regretted it a moment later when he saw her question and just looked sad and uncomfortable.

He was claiming to be part ghost, was she asking about his death? Was that a taboo subject? Somehow the question 'Are you dead?' didn't seem any better. So she switched her question. 'How did you make Shinichi a child?'

He stared at her phone, but this time just looked confused. He fumbled with his phone a bit. 'What is a shinichi?'

She gave him a look and pointed at the child she was holding. He typed back and showed her 'Conan is a shinichi? I don't know why he was older. It was weird. Maybe it's because he's an adult for his age?

That gave Ran pause. Danny's answers had all been about ghostly things, none of it about Shinichi deaging. And the fact that he didn't seem to know his real name was even a name... "Hakase?" Ran asked in a dangerously sweet voice. "Is there a reason Danny-san, who I was just told was responsible for this, doesn't know Shinichi's real name, and in fact seems to think Conan-kun somehow aged up into Shinichi?"

"Ah well, that is to say, the part Danny-kun's responsible for, that only happened last night." Agasa definitely looked nervous as he helped Ai onto her bed.

Her eyes narrowed. "Okay, then why don't you tell me the rest of the story."

Well apparently whatever he'd said had been enough to turn her attention to the Professor. She was still mad, but not at him, so good? He had no idea what was going on, though.

He wished he had someone with him that could help him explain and spoke Japanese and English and... Danny smacked himself in the face then hit a contact number on his phone. "Jazz, are you free? I need some help?"

"Kisaki-san is talking to Mom so sure. Is this about Vlad?"

"Kinda, but not really." Danny sighed. "So Vlad's been targeting this kid I thought was the detective's son-"

"The one you thought could see right through you?"

"...Yes, and you will understand once you meet him, but that's not the problem. The problem is I...kinda turned him into a halfa last night."

There was silence on the other end, then "*What? Danny what the actual fu-wHAT DID YOU DO????”

"I just touched him Jazz. And it was like my transformation ring spread like fire over him." Danny ran a hand through his hair. "And now someone I think is his older sister is here, and I'm using google translate to try and explain, and there's something else going on she's mad at this professor guy over and...Jazz I need help." He heard her sigh over the phone.

"Send me your address, I'll be right there."

Danny hung up and texted her the number. He looked over to the girl and Professor, they were talking about something, something that seemed serious. Also that word shinichi kept popping up. It had something to do with Conan, and he really wished he could find a translation.

The more Agasa talked, the more Ran wanted to scream. She felt hurt, used. She looked at the child who wasn't still wrapped in her arms. She wanted to rage at him, but he still wouldn't wake up and that kept an undercurrent of worry beneath all her anger.

"Was this all just a game to him? A joke I was too stupid to figure out?"

"Ran-kun no he..." Agasa looked at the still unconscious Shinichi. "You've never seen the back and forth. It's torture. He used to scream..." Agasa shut his eyes. In a way he hated that Shinichi had become so used to the pain he didn't anymore. “There was a very real chance each transformation would kill him. As it is, he has permanent heart damage, barring this whole ghost thing that none of us understand."

"If Shinichi-kun were truly selfish, he could have started over. Left everything behind and began a new life. That would have been the smartest thing he could have done. But he clung to the one thing that made his old life worth keeping. He clung to you, because you were the most important thing he has. And he'd rather face death then leave you behind. He never took a cure without the intent to see you."

But Agasa was wrong. She had heard the screams. In the diplomat’s house, and after the case where Shinichi was being impersonated. She’s always convinced herself they were nothing, since nothing appeared to be wrong afterwards, but that sound had shaken her.

And Shinichi was still Shinichi after that last incident, which meant after being in that pain he’d immediately gone through it again

“How are you sure? About the heart damage?” Ran asked quietly.

Agasa was quiet for a moment. “Ai-kun had a bad cold and started to feel pain in her stomach. The doctor wanted to do an ultrasound to check her organs, but she was scared, so Conan volunteered.” He didn’t mention that this had been carefully orchestrated. Not the illness or the kidney infection, but when Ai realized she might get an ultrasound she got the idea to give them a chance to check Shinichi’s internal organs in a way she normally couldn’t.

If the technician hadn’t been focused on the frightened little girl and looking at the screen when she held the scanner over Shinichi’s chest…

“I saw the scarring myself, on the ultrasound screen.” Agasa was very solemn. “He’s been cut off from the temporary cures since, but with so much damage already done-”

“Dai-job-boo-dee-sooka?”

They turned and saw Danny, looking at his screen. He was frowning as though he knew the pronunciation of whatever he was trying to say was off. Finally just turned his phone around so they could see what he was trying to say. Daijōbu desu ka Are you okay?

No, she was very much not okay. She fumbled for a moment with her own phone, now even less willing to put him down. ‘Conan’s heart is hurt’

Danny frowned. The kid was a bit young for romantic heartache so - oh. Oh no.

His face must have given something away, because her eyes narrowed. ‘What’

‘I had a bad idea’ he typed back. He didn’t want to say more, but the look she gave him demanded it. ‘Ectoplasm should not affect a normal person, but if he was probably very close to death’

The response hit Ran in the gut harder than any of the blows she’d taken during her matches. Whatever Danny had done to Shinichi had happened because Shinichi was dying. And he was dying because he refused to give her up.

A sudden knocking at the door startled them all. Danny brightened and ran for the door.

Ran and Agasa shared a confused look.

Danny came back with a young woman with bright red hair. "Hello, you must be Conan's older sister." The girl said in clear, but accented Japanese. "My name's Jazz, Danny's my little brother, he called me to help."

"Your brother?" Ran asked, even as she inwardly shrunk at the reminder of Danny still being under the misconception she had been until not to long ago. "Are you...like him?"

"One hundred percent normal human, if that's what you're asking." Jazz reassured. "But I've been helping my brother adapt for the past years, so I'm very familiar with what's going on." Of course the early days were her weak spot, as she hadn't known till about two months later, and hadn't been let in on everything till the stupid test incident.

"Do you know why he won't wake up?" Ran asked in a small voice.

Jazz asked Danny something in English, then nodded and turned her attention back to Ran. "Basically his system didn't have the ectoplasm reserves for what he tried to pull off to escape the creature that kidnapped him-"

The what that did what now? How many loops was she being left out of?

"-and his body strained itself trying to maintain. He'll sleep until his ectoplasm levels are back at a safe amount. The first time Danny tried pulling a stunt like that, he was out for four hours."

"His ectoplasm levels? I don't understand. Danny-san said that he'd absorbed some ghost-essence from him but..."

Jazz pinched her nose. "Right. Google translate. Okay, so normally ectoplasm, the 'Ghost-Essence', has no effect on humans whatsoever. But there are rare cases that involve a lot of ectoplasm and a fair amount of electricity that can alter a human body to the point where their mitochondria start creating it instead of the usual oxygen based chemical energy. This causes the person to exhibit certain ghost-like traits."

"Yūrei hanyou." Ran whispered.

"In a nutshell." Jazz agreed, making note of the term. She'd take it over halfa, if for no other reason that Vlad must have approved of the term for it to be bandied about so much.

And now Ran understood what Danny had done. No wonder he'd had trouble explaining it, the concept shouldn't exist. This wasn't some one and done magical side effect of absorbing some ectoplasm from Danny, something that shouldn't have even happened if he hadn't been dying by inches.

Co-Shinichi was in the process of becoming a yūrei hanyou. That's why he'd looked so strange as Shinichi. Unbidden, every scary story about people becoming monsters flooded her mind. No. No she could not focus on that because obviously it wasn't true. Danny still had a close connection to his human family. His big sister had stood by him, she'd have to too.

(Though she had no idea how to define her relationship to him at the moment)

"I can answer any questions you have, but we might want to wait until he wakes up, I'm sure he has a bunch too." Jazz continued on, unaware of all the thoughts running through Ran's head.

"He speaks English, wouldn't Danny have-"

Jazz let out a frustrated puff of air. "Oh I have no doubt brother dearest tried explaining. But Danny's not," she glanced at her brother, "he's not the most adept at explaining things even when they're not deeply personal and he's not panicking all over the place, which it seems is what he's been doing. Not that he doesn't have reason. This nice family vacation has turned into a cluster." She sighed deeply. "But one thing I really need to impress is how important this is to keep a secret."

Ran felt something dark curdle in her stomach. That sounded enough like what Agasa-hakase had been saying to bring the bitter feeling back. "Why?"

Jazz clenched her hand worriedly. "Are you familiar with a law in America called the Anti-Ecto Act? It basically states that 'Ectoplasmic Entities', despite being sentient and sapient, are not living people and don't the same - or any- inalienable rights. And they don't differentiate between yūrei hanyou and true ghosts."

"If Danny was discovered, he'd be taken to a government facility. The Agents were boasting about all the painful experiments they were going to perform on him. Thankfully Danny convinced them they were wrong about him." She certainly wasn't going to go into the magic artifact with mind wiping capacity.

“But for a short time we had proof of how people would react to a yūrei hanyou's existence. Those that knew him stood by him, but..to anyone else, he was just a monster, a threat. And I don't know if Japan has an equivalent to the Anti-Ecto Act, but I do know that you place a greater emphasis on conformity than America does. And yūrei hanyou definitely break that mold."

Ran wanted to argue that Shinichi had never conformed to anything, not since preschool when he'd accused the teacher of trying to do something terrible to her. But she knew the difference between excelling and nonconforming, and the truth was Shinichi excelled, physically and mentally.

This was very different. If word got out Conan was Shinichi, these mysterious people in Black Clothes would kill him. If word got out he was a yūrei hanyou, his life would be effectively over. It felt like balancing on the edge of a knife. Shinichi standing on tiptoe, trying to avoid falling into ruin. "How did your parents take it?"

Jazz's expression darkened. "Our parents' work was instrumental in helping draft the Anti-Ecto Act."

"What? How could they?"

"They don't know. Danny always insisted if they did, they'd change. They'd love him anyways. But it's been two years and he hasn't told them. I don't think he's ever going to. In some ways he feels safer with actual malevolent spirits that definitely mean him harm, because he knows they can't hurt him the same way Mom and Dad can." Emotionally or physically. "It's not healthy growing up and hearing your parents talking about how much they'd enjoy ripping apart beings like you 'molecule by molecule'."

Ran shuddered. Hearing it that way, it sounded like the ghosts weren't the scary ones in this scenario. And if Jazz-san was right about Danny not being able to explain things well, Shinichi might have no idea of that added complication. "So what now?"

"The first month to month and a half are going to be the roughest part. His body doesn't know what to do with its ectoplasm, and will have trouble regulating its use. This results in ghost powers that randomly go off, especially in time of high emotions. After that he'll be able to control it more, no more passing out, for example, since his powers will simply fail rather than push him past his limits. Or accidental power usage. Once he hits the two month mark, he'll be fine, it'll just be a bit awkward until then."

Two months. She could keep it together for two months. “Is there any way to wake him up?” She asked. It helped being told this was normal, but not as much as him waking up would.

“We always let Danny sleep it off, although…” Jazz trailed off as she thought for a moment. “Would you be willing to let Danny hold him?”

“Why?” Ran was loath to let Shinichi go, and moreso to Danny, who was the reason Shinichi was turning into a yūrei hanyou in the fist place.

“His body needs ectoplasm right now, and barring letting it generate naturally in his cells, Danny’s the only other source we have.” Jazz explained calmly.

It made sense and she hated it. She held Conan a little closer and almost screamed as Danny suddenly changed in a burst of white light. The last thing she wanted to do was hand Conan over but…

But she’d seen those green eyes and white hair before. On Shinichi. Danny and Shinichi were the same, being afraid of one would be being afraid of the other, and she couldn’t bring herself to be afraid of Shinichi like that.

She reluctantly handed him over. Danny cradled him and his arms began to glow green.

Before she could change her mind, Shinichi’s eyes blinked open and he looked around blankly.

He felt...not warm, but it felt warm. Like in the laying in a sunbeam way, or being cozy in a blanket on a cold morning. But it wasn’t a temperature thing. It was weird.

He opened his eyes and saw Danny in his ghostly state. “Why are you holding me?” he asked dryly.

“More I’m recharging you.” Danny answered back in the same tone. He raised a glowing hand. “You used up all of your ectoplasm and knocked yourself out. Now that you’re back with us, hopefully your sister can calm down a bit. Also what’s a shinichi, she keeps using that word.”

His sister? Wait, he couldn’t mean… “Ran?”

“Who ran?” Danny asked, but Conan ignored him and looked around.

“Shinichi,” she said in a tone that meant the jig was well and truly up.

“Seriously, what does that mean?” Danny grumbled.

Conan gulped and flickered for a moment.

“Nope, gonna need you to stop that.” Danny chided him. “I know you can’t really help it at this point, but you’re still low on power.”

Conan was only half listening to him, half to the one person in the roof he didn’t know. “Invisibility and Intangibility tend to trigger as a fear response, and if he’s like Danny, he’s going to be on the verge of both of those until he’s more settled.” The young woman then turned to him. “Hello Conan, my name is Fenton Jazz. I’m Danny’s older sister and I’m here to hopefully explain things a little better.”

"Now keep in mind, the science of this isn't my main area of expertise, but between listening to my parents ramble my whole life, and helping Danny for the last two years-” Jazz began. She’d gone into full lecture mode. Ran and Agasa were sitting on the couch with Haibara between them, and Conan between Ran and a once more human Danny.

“- I've picked up a few things. Now mind you some of this will be theoretical, but I'll let you know when those things come up and - Danny are you falling asleep?" The last part was said in English.

"I don't speak Japanese Jazz, I'm not going to get anything from your lecture because I can't understand a word of it. Yesterday sucked and Vlad could be doing something at any moment, plus I was just used as a human battery. Lemme rest."

She rolled her eyes. "Ignoring my brother, let's go back to what makes a ghost."

"Death." Said Haibara bluntly.

"Yes, but also no. While the death of a living thing is certainly the most common way ghosts are formed, not all deaths created ghosts, nor are all ghosts the result of something dying. The real answer is ectoplasm.”

“A living being is made up of two parts, a body and soul. Bodies are well documented, souls less so. They're not physical and made up of what I'm going to call, for lack of a better term, spiritual energy. When a living being dies usually the soul passes over or dissipates - we've got nothing to help figure that out so we're not dwelling on it. But very rarely it doesn't. Instead the spiritual energy in the soul is converted to ectoplasm and the being becomes a ghost."

"Unlike spiritual energy, Ectoplasm is..." Jazz faltered for a word. "It's more in your face. Where the soul can't be seen, ectoplasm can't help but express itself. It can be solid or ephemeral, and can mimic any state of matter. It's potential can be almost limitless, however the potential in each individual ghost is limited."

"All ghosts have a core, which is a bit to a ghost what a soul is to a living being. Though it's a part of them, it can't be seen or extracted." Her parents had tried, which she didn’t like dwelling on. "But is ineffably a part of them. The core also functions a bit like a nucleus, as it defines what a ghost’s focus is, what powers they have, and their inherent nature. As a ghost's appearance tends to be a reflection of their self image, that can change over time. But the only way to alter a ghost’s core is by forcing them to experience something literally soul shattering. This...it's something that will never end well and that's all I'll say on the matter." She'd seen it happen to Danny in another timeline and she'd never let anyone go through that if she could help it.

"There are two more kinds of ghosts, but they're not what you want me to be here for, so I'm just going to touch on them briefly. Throw-offs are ghosts that are created by the will of other ghosts, formed of their own ectoplasm but as an independent being. Penelope Spectra, the ghost of an abusive psychologist, created a throw-off named Bertrand to act as her personal assistant. Likewise the self-styled 'Captain Youngblood', the ghost of someone who died as a small child created a parrot to act as both playmate and parental figure. Both of them can shapeshift to better suit their creator's needs, though without a larger sample size I can't say if that's a coincidence or a common trait of Throw-offs."

"The final kind are what I call Spontaneous. The limbo ghosts tend to be stuck in unless they find a way to the world of the living seems to be made primarily of ectoplasm and sometimes unlife just happens. This can range from barely sentient blobs, such as ectopusses, to beings of comparable human intelligence, like Skulker, whom you met yesterday. But for now let's move on to the rarest ectoplasmic beings, which is what you actually need to learn about. Halfas, or as you called them yūrei hanyou."

Jazz motioned to the small boy sitting between Ran and the now snoozing Danny. "Conan-kun here is the fourth to ever exist, as far as we can tell. We only have minor observational data from the first, the third was a special case, so mostly what I'm going on is Danny, since he and his friends have been cataloging data practically since day one."

Agasa nodded, pleased they had thought to do so.

"So yūrei hanyou are usually created by a living person being ground zero for a rift between worlds opening due to ectoplasm being charged with an incredibly powerful electrical current. And by which I mean ‘could kill several people in seconds’ powerful. Thankfully the ectoplasm changes it enough that the person exposed enters what I call the 'Schrödinger State'."

"Alive and dead at the same time." Conan said darkly.

Jazz nodded. "The person's spiritual energy is fully converted to ectoplasm without the soul separating from their body. This gives you access to a ghost form. In addition, as I explained to Ran-san earlier, the mitochondria in each cell are producing ectoplasm instead of it’s normal adenosine triphosphate, which allows you to manifest ghost powers in your human form. But your body hasn’t learned how to regulate it yet. That's why you're unstable right now. Not helping that is because of the energized ectoplasm that creates them, yūrei hanyou are by default some of the most powerful ghosts in existence."

"Really?" Ran asked with some trepidation. She didn't like hearing about ghosts, though the more lecture-like nature of Jazz as opposed to Sonoko's scary stories made it more palpable.

"As I said, despite what living in Amity Park might have you believe, becoming a ghost is really really rare. Much less than 1% of people who die become ghosts and those who do are mostly weak enough that if they make it to the land of the living they can't be seen, heard, or affect anything. Most ghosts need to find a way to siphon energy from elsewhere to boost themselves enough to do anything. Some feed off human emotions, others find a nexus point saturated in ectoplasmic energy. But the process can take years to decades depending on the abundance of the source. And that level of power, the type that takes decades to achieve. That's your starting point."

"Power absorbed through the environment or emotions is reliable, but temporary. They would constantly need to recharge to maintain a steady output." Hence Spectra's need to feed the misery that fed her. Without a flowing source her power consumption far outstripped what her core was capable of. "That's not to say ghosts can't become more powerful in their own right, just that it's not a quick process."

"Here's where we're entering some of the more theoretical stuff, namely how Ghosts can permanently raise their power. One theory is self awareness. Ghosts who are the result of dead humans tend to be composed of memories and emotions from when they were alive. And that in better understanding those, they deepen their own abilities. I won't say it's untrue, but as many ghosts wouldn't have the patience for it, it would be at least highly uncommon."

"Some, shall we say, rather biased individuals believe ghosts can strengthen themselves through human suffering. They are wrong. While ghosts can feed off human emotions, including negative ones, as we established before it's a temporary fix. Then we get to the theory I have the most faith in. Obsession fulfillment."

"What fulfillment?" Conan asked, startled.

Jazz winced. She was used to this part being common knowledge. "I mentioned ghosts tend to be made of emotions and memories. Usually there's something tying it all together into a drive. This drive, usually referred to as a fixation or obsession, is central to the ghost's being and usually forms their identity to a greater degree."

"It's...easier for yūrei hanyou. It's there, but more of a compulsion than an all consuming drive. Something they can choose to ignore, but it won't necessarily be easy to do."

"So I'm going to develop one of these?" Conan's voice was small.

Ran snorted. "Going to? You've been obsessed with mysteries and mystery solving since at least kindergarten. I really doubt there's going to be a noticeable difference."

"Going back to before,” Jazz continued, though it would be cute if Conan-kun’s thing was solving mysteries to be like his father, “it's my personal theory that the best way for ghosts to grow their core is by successfully doing whatever their fixation is focused on. It also explains the growth difference between Vlad and Danny."

Conan had been looking like he was halfway between sulking and being relieved, but he shot straight up at the mention of their culprit. "How so?"

"Vlad's fixation is about having things. Once he had his powers stable, it was easy for him to just take whatever he wanted through force or trickery. He's only been active twenty some years, but his power levels had risen to a degree it takes most ghosts centuries to obtain. Talking with other ghosts I've been able to chart a pretty steady growth - until two years ago."

Conan raised an eyebrow at Jazz's self satisfied smile. "What happened two years ago?"

"Vlad found three things he couldn't obtain through money or power. Ownership of the Green Bay Packers, since they can't be owned by an individual by their charter. The love of his college sweetheart, since Mom has standards. And for Danny to love him like a father and hate our actual Dad. Don't think I have to explain why that's not happening. But because of those three things, he wasn't getting what he wanted. He tried to get them, but it didn't strengthen him since he never actually succeeded."

"Danny's fixation is-" Jazz rolled her eyes fondly, "- being a hero. He's driven to help people who need help, even putting his personal safety at risk. It's something he sadly gets to indulge in often, sometimes multiple times a day. As a result Danny's growth has eclipsed Vlad to the point where he's almost caught up to Vlad's core power level in a mere two years."

It was good to know there was a strong chance Danny could supersede Vlad in not too much time, at least on one playing field, but that brought up a new worry. "So if my thing is solving mysteries, and I solve them fairly frequently, this is going to get worse?"

"Worse is a bad way to think about it." Jazz said gently. "I won't say parts of it aren't going to suck, especially for the next month or so, but it's not all bad. However illogical they may be, powers are useful as long as you have control, and that's something you can have with a bit of work. Can you honestly tell me there's no time being invisible would have been useful as a detective? Or walking through walls would have made an escape easier?"

He didn't like how easily past examples filled his head. Heck, if he's been invisible when spying on Vodka that night, he wouldn't be three feet high now. "I still don't like it."

"Neither did Danny at first. In fact he downright hated it. But now it's so much a part of him, I don't think he'd know what to do if he got back to normal." Honestly probably get himself badly hurt trying to protect other people. "Do you want me to keep going, or is that enough for one day? I know it's a lot."

"If there's nothing vital, I think I'm good." He had more than enough to dwell on.

"I don't know if Danny's mentioned this, but be aware around things meant to ward against spirits, they can be uncomfortable." Jazz advised. "Other than that you should be good."

Ran sighed and glanced at her watch. "We should probably go home. Dad will be getting worried."

"You go. I think I should stay here until I'm a bit more stable." Conan winced, "Imagine trying to explain any of this to him. And it's not like I can hide it." As if to prove his point, he started to sink into the cushions.

"Danny wake up!" Jazz said sharply. Danny shot awake and rolled forward, ready for a fight. Jazz simply pointed to where Conan was stuck in the couch. He rolled his eyes and turned his arms intangible to pull him out. "Would it be okay if my brother stays too? He can help Conan and act as a defense if Vlad tries to silence him again."

"Certainly. There's not a lot of extra bed space but there's somewhere Shinichi and he can go if needed." Agasa said

“Who’s Shinichi?” Jazz asked.

“There’s that word again,” Danny muttered.

There were awkward looks abound, but no one answered either sibling. Jazz sighed. “Unless you have anymore questions, I’ll see you tomorrow Danny.”

Danny blinked. “Tomorrow? Aren’t I going to the hotel with you?”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “I just said you should stay with Conan to help him manage his powers and in case Vlad makes another attempt.”

That made sense but…”I’m guessing, like most of what you’ve been saying, you said it in Japanese. The language you know I don’t speak.” He grinned, knowing he had her.

Jazz stared at him a moment, then pinched her nose. “Point to you. I’m still heading out.”

“Wait,” Danny stopped her. “In your lecture did you mention Halfa’s regeneration ability?”

“No, and you really should start using yūrei hanyou, like they do.” Jazz advised.

Danny rolled his eyes. “And why would I want to change the only word I’ve had for myself for the past two years.”

“Do you really think all those ghosts would use a word to describe Vlad that he didn’t personally approve of?”

Okay, any distance between himself and Vald was good. “Okay, but seriously. Please tell her about yurry hanyo healing.”

“Yūrei hanyou,” Jazz corrected his pronunciation. “And they’ve all had to deal with a lot of new information at once. Non essential things-”

“It’s essential. Trust me.”

Danny looked so serious Jazz sighed and gave in. “Before I go, brother dearest wants me to go into a little more detail on one of the perks of being a yūrei hanyou, namely their healing capacity. Though not instantaneous, they do heal much faster than baseline humans and can recover completely from injuries humans never could without so much as a scar. I have a theory about how it’s related to their core, but that’s far from proven.”

Injuries...like heart scarring. Ran gave Danny a grateful look. “Thank you.” Both for telling her and...she may not have liked the idea of Shinichi becoming a weird ghost hybrid, but from what she’d been told earlier, it very well have saved his life.

Agasa and Ai shared a look of their own. They’d need confirmation but if that were true it would be a huge relief to both of them. Conan glanced around and read the reactions of everyone except for the honestly confused Jazz. “You told them.” He accused Agasa.

“Yes he did.” Ran confirmed. “And I’m glad he did. And- we can talk about this later.” It was obvious Danny and Jazz didn’t know the truth about Shinichi and it wasn’t her place to tell them. “But rest assured, we will.”

Conan gulped and his form flickered again, before vanishing completely from sight.

“It’s a good sign your ectoplasm is regenerating.” Jazz said. “That being said, it’s obvious there’s something you��re not telling us, so if you’re trying to keep other people from figuring it out, you need to be better about the fact that you’re hiding a secret. I won’t ask what it is, we understand better than most how life or death a secret can be. But at least one of your secrets isn’t just your own.” With that, she walked out.

Danny sighed heavily. “I really need to learn Japanese.”

#Phantom Detective #Danny Phantom #Detective Conan #Ghost Writing #I have so many theories of how halfa's work #And Jazz became my mouthpiece #Ran hasn't forgiven him #not completely #but it's a big step forward

56 notes · View notes

flowerfan2 · 4 years

Text

The One That Remains

Johnlock, 2k, A03

Summary: Sherlock wakes up in hospital confused... but it all turns out even better than he could have dreamed.

Sherlock’s head feels heavy, and is throbbing dreadfully. There are voices nearby – he can tell they are trying to speak softly, but each sound crashes into him like storm-churned waves against a cliff. His mind is filled with fog and he can’t make sense of what he hears. Regretfully, he lets himself slip back into unconsciousness.

When he wakes again, the pain has faded to a manageable ache. He holds still, not wanting to aggravate his head again, and tries to take stock. In hospital, obviously, but with a minimum of support. He carefully shifts his toes and fingers, and, reassured that nothing catastrophic seems to have taken place, opens his eyes.

“Ah, there you are.” He hears John’s voice as his face comes blearily into focus. “Gave me quite a scare this time, love.” There’s a hand grasping tightly to his, and Sherlock quickly closes his eyes again.

Clearly he has underestimated his condition. John is stubbornly loyal, and surprisingly forgiving, but he doesn’t call Sherlock love, and they don’t hold hands. Not even in hospital, not even when their world seems to be ending. He can count the times they’ve hugged on one hand (and could do so even with the loss of a few fingers). John may be getting over the grief of Mary’s betrayal, and has tentatively agreed to move back in to Baker Street, but things between them are decidedly not at the hand-holding stage, and never will be. John has made that abundantly clear on multiple occasions.

“That’s all right, then,” John says, in apparent reaction to Sherlock’s refusal to open his eyes. “Sleep as long as you want. You’re going to be fine, don’t worry.” Sherlock feels John’s fingers gently push his hair off his forehead, and it’s all he can do not to fling that taunting appendage away. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re safe. You can rest.”

He flees into his mind palace, searching for an explanation for John’s behavior. He quickly eliminates injury to himself – that’s happened dozens of times, and never resulted in physical affection along these lines, in fact it’s much more likely to elicit a reprimand. He’s considering whether John could also have been injured in whatever case resulted in Sherlock’s own hospitalization, but he can’t imagine what would cause John to act in this manner other than some type of love potion and he’s not so far gone that he’s willing to acknowledge the possibility of such nonsense.

No, the only explanation that seems even remotely fitting is that Sherlock is caught in a dream, a dream where his deepest, most secret desires are permitted to see the light of day. A dream where John loves Sherlock.

Sherlock is considering whether he can convince his brain to stay in this dream for at least a short time, enough to measure the length of each of John’s fingers against his own, and possibly hear a few more endearments uttered in John’s quiet just-for-Sherlock voice, when his musings are interrupted by a much less welcome visitor.

“Brother mine, I know you’re not asleep.”

Sherlock hears John chuckle, and then withdraw his fingers from Sherlock’s. Sherlock tenses, forces himself not to grab at John’s hand, but he tells himself he has only dreamed it anyway and tames his unacceptable response. It can’t hurt to lose something you never really had.

John and Mycroft exchange meaningless words, something inane about poor quality coffee, and then Sherlock is alone with Mycroft.

He revises his conclusion. This isn’t a dream, it’s a nightmare, and not even a very interesting one.

“Come now, brother. Open your eyes.”

Sherlock huffs and looks up at Mycroft. Pristine suit, clean shaven, eyes no more tired than usual. Sherlock is clearly not in any unusual danger, nor is the rest of the world.

“When will I wake?” he asks, realizing as he does that his dream Mycroft isn’t likely to know the answer any more accurately than Sherlock himself does.

Mycroft smirks. “You’re wide awake now, Sherlock.”

“I’m not.” Sherlock petulantly flops over on his side, facing away from Mycroft. If dream Mycroft isn’t going to help, he might as well go away and let dream John return. Dream John is lovely. Dream John should stay forever.

“You’ve been drugged. It’s altered you a bit but it will wear off completely soon. Shouldn’t have any lasting effects.”

“Go away.”

“I told John I’d stay until he returned, and I will do so.”

Sherlock twists and looks at Mycroft over his shoulder. “He’s coming back?”

A fond look washes over Mycroft’s face, and that more than anything convinces Sherlock that he’s dreaming. Mycroft’s face is not designed to look fond. It’s not in his programming. “Of course he’s coming back.”

Sherlock presses his face into his pillow and pouts. Mycroft is keeping something from him, but Sherlock can’t weasel it out of him in his present condition. Sherlock needs more data, wants to spring from the bed and examine the situation from every angle, but he’s bone crushingly tired and can’t seem to summon the necessary energy to do it. Maybe John will return, and Sherlock can rest with dream John holding his hand until he has recovered enough to break out of this confusion and return to reality.

John does return, bringing the aroma of coffee into the room. As Mycroft is still present, John comes around to Sherlock’s other side and draws a chair close. Sherlock squints an eye open, and sees John gazing right back at him. He quickly shuts his misbehaving eye. It won’t do to reveal too much, not without more information.

“It’s all right,” John says, his breath fluttering close against Sherlock’s face. A stale almond croissant, apparently, was consumed along with the coffee. Sherlock tosses away this unhelpful deduction and focuses on the much, much more interesting feeling of John’s hand stroking along his forehead and carding through his hair. “You’re okay. It’s just me, love.”

There it is again, that word, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s not for him, it can’t be, it never has been before. Sherlock doesn’t argue, though, he’ll take it, gratefully. John strokes his hand along Sherlock’s forehead again, and despite himself, Sherlock pushes ever so sneakily into John’s soothing touch. He’s rewarded with a soft sound and the feel of damp lips against his cheek, and he wonders if he can dream this dream forever, because it’s the best dream he’s ever had.

But John sits up, saying goodbye to Mycroft as his brother (finally) takes his leave. Now John’s hand is threading through Sherlock’s again, which is acceptable as it is John’s other hand this time, and it gives Sherlock the opportunity to gather further data, to compare this hand with the one previously examined, to shift each of his fingers carefully against the skin of John’s fingers: shorter than his own, nails neatly trimmed, callouses where expected…

Sherlock’s breath catches in his chest, and he freezes. If John notices he doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold Sherlock’s hand as a nurse engages him in vacuous small talk about the weather. But Sherlock has encountered something which sends his dream crashing down around him, which shatters his fantasy so completely that he might as well send John back to Mary and go home to Baker Street, alone and miserable as always. But wait- that’s wrong, John isn’t with Mary any more, Mary is dead, Sherlock knows this, he was just thinking about how John was putting the entire Mary debacle behind him… it occurs to him, like a beam through the fog of his mind, that whatever happened to him must have affected his memory.

Sherlock must have allowed his confusion to show on his face, because John has noticed this time (he does observe, occasionally), and is speaking in his worried doctor voice. But it’s not the same as it used to be, there’s something else going on, sentiment coloring his words. Sherlock can’t stand this, he isn’t able to deduce anything correctly in this state, it’s unacceptable and intolerable and it’s scaring him.

“Sherlock? You okay?”

Sherlock squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear slides down his cheek. Well done, he thinks to himself. Now he’ll definitely believe you’re asleep.

“Hey, it’s okay.” John wipes the tear away with a fingertip. “Don’t cry, love. It’s really okay. Trust me. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s okay.”

Still an idiot, Sherlock thinks. That statement makes no sense. There are any number of things he can be thinking that are decidedly not okay.

“The drugs will wear off soon, Sherlock. You got a low dose, you’ll make a full recovery. Molly went over your results from the last victims, and she’s sure of it.”

Sherlock doesn’t know what Molly Hooper has to do with any of this.

“Come on, relax. Take some deep breaths for me.” John is running his hand over Sherlock’s head again, and Sherlock can feel the offending item hard against his skin. Deep breaths aren’t going to help this situation.

“Tell me what’s wrong, love. Just tell me, let me help.”

That word cuts through him, and Sherlock can no longer control himself. “You’re married,” he spits out, anger and confusion coloring his voice. “Go home to her. Stop torturing me.” He knows it doesn’t make any sense, he knows Mary is gone. But then why is John wearing a ring?

John’s hand pauses in its journey across Sherlock’s forehead, and cups his cheek. “Sherlock, open your eyes.”

Sherlock shakes his head.

“Please,” John says softly, without even a hint of his Captain Watson voice, and Sherlock, helpless against this, complies.

John’s face is so dear, even with a few extra lines he doesn’t quite remember, and his eyes are shining bright as they meet Sherlock’s own.

“I am married,” he says quietly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Very happily married.” John shifts and pulls something out of his pants pocket and takes Sherlock’s hand in his own. “And so are you.”

Sherlock gasps as John holds up a ring for him to see, and then slips it on to Sherlock’s finger.

“This isn’t happening. I’m dreaming,” Sherlock insists, but John just gazes at him sweetly and presses a coffee-scented kiss to his cheek.

“Wait – stop it – John – this isn’t-”

“It’s okay, love. Just rest easy. You’ll remember soon.”

“What are you talking about?” Sherlock wonders if he is having a panic attack – can you have a panic attack in your dream? If you stop breathing in a dream, what happens then? Do you snap out of the dream when you die? He realizes he’s basing this particular concern on that infernal dreamsharing movie John made him watch, and drags his focus back to John. John, who is shuffling his chair even closer to Sherlock’s bed and leaning down until he’s practically embracing Sherlock.

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything until the drugs wore off, it just agitates the victims to realize that their memory is impaired. I should have realized you’d figure it out, though. My brilliant madman.” John is snuggling against Sherlock, and Sherlock can feel the rise and fall of John’s chest against his own.

“Breath with me. Come on. Humor me.”

Sherlock does, his nose practically touching John’s cheek, warm air exchanged between them as Sherlock matches his exhalations to John’s. When the room stops spinning, he pulls his left hand out of John’s grasp, and looks at the ring John placed on his finger. He slides it off, blinking at the familiarity of the sensation, and sees the inscription. The one which remains.

“You had a hard time believing this the first time around, too,” John says. “We each inscribed the other’s rings. Want to see mine?” John tugs his own ring off and shows it to Sherlock. Inside is written conductor of light.

“This is a very detailed dream,” Sherlock says, returning John’s ring to him, and letting John put his own back on his finger again. It settles easily, as if Sherlock’s hand adjusted to its shape long ago.

“A good one?” John asks, his eyes searching Sherlock’s face.

“The very best,” Sherlock says seriously. He doesn’t know what to think as John snuggles – snuggles – back down against him, one arm going around his shoulders as Sherlock lies there dumbfounded. Could John be right? Could they be married? How had Sherlock possibly pulled that off, how had he convinced John Watson to trust him with his heart? It is both too incredible to believe, and at the same time… eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth.

“All right then,” John says, tracing a finger along Sherlock’s collarbone. “Rest a bit. It’ll all come back to you soon, I promise.”

Sherlock lets himself drift off, safe and warm in a way that is perplexingly familiar. When he wakes a few hours later, his husband curled up against him, Sherlock knows this isn’t a dream. It’s his life, his treasured, improbable life, and it’s better than any dream he possibly could have imagined.

#johnlock #sherlock #john watson #sherlock holmes #johnlock fic

155 notes · View notes

krystalficloverdh · 3 years

Text

My hero - What’s the meaning of this necklace?

Chapter 10

YOU CAN READ THE REST HERE

READY FOR SOME LOVE?!

“FROM ENTRANCE ONE WE HAVE KATSUKI BAKUGOU WHO WILL BAST HIS WAY TO THE TOP!” Midnight called out as Katsuki stepped into the arena with a weird face.

“Izu-chan, what did you do to Bakubro?” Kirishima asked behind Izuku as she took her seat next to Ochako.

“He has an idiot’s face.” Mina snorted next to Izuku and the whole class stopped doing whatever they were doing to look at Izuku.

Izuku raised her head from the arena and shrugged trying to hide her blush.“Encouraging words of battle.” She said raising her fists in the air before she felt two arms around her shoulders.

“Kiss good luck?” Mina teased her, she was about to say it was a joke when she noticed her friend bright red. “YOU DIDN’T!” She and Ochako beamed, Izuku covered their mouths making the others look at them.

“It was on his cheek.” Izuku said as she felt her hands being slapped her hand away by her friends.

“You do realize that there’s no turning back, right? In our tribe we do not take lightly these things.” Mina explained.

“I know.” Izuku groaned.

“FROM ENTRANCE TWO WE HAVE OUR FAVORITE COLD YET HOT PRINCE SHOTO TODOROKIIIIII!” Prince Mic shouted as the prince stepped in front of Katsuki and the weird face the blond was making transformed in pure rage.

“START!” Midnight screamed over the arena.

In a matter of seconds Todoroki sended a big wave of ice against Katsuki, half of the arena was covered in ice.

“KACCHAN!” Izuku widened her eyes and jumped over the edge of the stands worriedly because she couldn’t see him.

The ice got scattered with a loud bang because of a fiery blast from Katsuki, he jumped from the big hole he created and lunged at Todoroki with a death glare. “The stronger the magic...the more imprecise the impact!” Todoroki tried to touch him but he blasted himself away as he grabbed his opponent by his head and shoulder, he threw him over his shoulder with all his might. “ARE YOU UNDERESTIMATING ME?! IDIOT!”

When Todoroki almost landed out of the bounds he used a wall of ice and slid back towards Katsuki who blasted him again and Todoroki to let out some flames but died in an instant.

“AM I NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU USE IT?! HOW DARE YOU LOSE YOUR WILL AFTER HURTING HER LIKE THAT! DO I HAVE TO SACRIFICE MY HAND TO MAKE YOU USE IT LIKE HERS!” Katsuki said darkly.

“Bakugou you…!” Todoroki flinched, finally realizing part of Bakgou’s reason for winning.

“BASTARD! DON’T YOU DARE TO LOOK DOWN ON ME! I WANT AN INDISPUTABLE FIRST PLACE! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Katsuki shouted at him, making Todoroki’s eyes widen in shock. “IF YOU HAVE NO INTENTION OF WINNING THEN DON’T STAND IN MY WAY!”

“Ever since I fought Midoriya I became unsure...If I was correct or not, I want to be a hero!” Todoroki’s thoughts rang as he looked at Katsuki running at him, he was about to give up when he heard familiar voices in the stands. “Sorry Bakugou…”

“COME ON! GIVE YOUR ALL!” Izuku screamed and the rest of the class got up as well.

Midoriya!

“FIGHT WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE! PLUS ULTRAAAAA!” The class cheered and the rest of the arena screamed loudly.

Todoroki’s flames came to life as he looked at his classmates. “So you stopped fucking around?!” Katsuki screamed as he lunged at him spinning in the air. “SCHNEIDER BOMB!” He shouted with his final new attack that looked like a tornado full of explosions.

Todoroki swung his arm filled with fire but at the last moment his flames went out and a loud rumble of ice was heard along with a loud explosion.

“What…?!” Katsuki’s voice was filled with confusion as he saw the unconscious body of Todoroki over the ice, he stood up and clutched the prince’s shirt while trembling in anger. “A win like this...I DON’T FUCKING WANT IT! OI!” He yelled but fell unconscious as well because of Midnight’s interference.

“BAKUGOU WIIINS!” Midnight raised her hand to the arena while Izuku looked confused at Todoroki.

What the hell happened? Why not use his fire side like with her? It made no sense to Izuku...

The class paled at the scene, knowing that the moment the blond wakes up there will be hell.

“He’s going to be so pissed.” Kirishima shook his head and clapped Izuku’s. “Well, I leave it to you Izu-chan!”

Izuku paled. “Oh no no no.” She looked around for help but the others gave her the thumbs up.

“Someone has to be sacrificed for the team.” The rest told at the same time.

Traitors.

“NOW, WE WILL AWARD THE MEDALS! THE PRESENTATION OF THE MEDALS WILL, OF COURSE, BE BY THIS MAN-” Midnight cheered to the crowd as a big muscular man lets out a booming and familiar laugh over the crowd, All Might jumped from his place while she talked.

“OUR VERY OWN HERO, ALL MIGHT!/ I HAVE BROUGHT THE MEDALS HERE!” The heroes said at the same time and an awkward silence was brought to the arena as the legendary hero landed beside her.

“I talked over you…” She whispered to him as he looked at her in embarrassment. “Now then, All Might, please present the medals starting with third place.” She handed him the three medals.

All Might laughed softly as he approached Tokoyami. “Young Tokoyami, congratulations.” The boy bowed his head so the hero could put the medal around his neck. “You sure are strong, but...However, in order to fight well against different types, you must not rely only on your magic.” He gave him a light hug. “If you train your own strength more, then you’ll have more options when you fight.”

“Yes, sir.” Tokoyami said softly, looking down at his medal.

All Might turned to the second podium. “Young Todoroki, congratulations.” The prince bowed down to receive his medal. “I’m sure there is a reason why you didn’t use your left side in the last battle?”

“I had an opportunity in my match with Midoriya...But then I became unsure of myself.” He stared at Izuku as she gave him a soft smile and then back at All Might. “I think I understand a little why you are interested in her... I wanted to become a hero like you, but I didn’t think it would be right for me to be the one to break away.” He said as his semblance turned determined. “There is still something I must settle.”

All Might nodded. “The look in your eyes is completely different now.” He hugged Todoroki and whispered. “I won’t ask for details, I’m sure you will be able to do what you need to do.”

“Yes.”

“This is too much.” All Might said shocked as he saw Katsuki chained up against a pillar attached to his podium and with a bite mask. “Young Bakugou, my boy!” He laughed as he took the mask off him.

“All Might.” Katsuki growled slowly and the hero frowned at him. “A first place like this...IS NOT WORTH ANYTHING! EVEN IF THE WORLD RECOGNIZES IT IF I DON’T THEN IT’S FUCKING TRASH!” He yelled through clenched teeth and the crowd paled at the face he was making while his friends were trying not to laugh.

What an amazing face!

All Might nodded and placed his palms over his hips as he looked to the crowd. “In this world where people are being compared constantly, there are not many who can keep aiming for the top.” He finished as he returned to face Katsuki.

His face is amazing!

“Take this medal, okay? Think of it as a wound, so you don’t forget!” All Might tried to place the medal over his shoulders but Katsuki moved his head backwards.

“I DON’T FUCKING WANT IT! BUZZ OFF!”

“Now, now.” The hero struggled as the boy trembled and finally forced it into his mouth. “Here!”

“HERE YOU HAVE IT! THE TOP THREE! THE NEXT GENERATION OF HEROES! NOW SAY IT WITH ME!”

“GOOD WORK/PLUS ULTRA!” All Might and the rest said at the same time.

“EEEEEH?!”

After everything ended, most of the arena was empty except for Katsuki who had his knees crunched down and with the medal hanging from his mouth. Izuku stopped in front of him a few meters away, she tilted her head as she crossed her arms.

“Kacchan.” She said but no response.

Okay, the old reliable...Act cute.

“Congrats for the first place Kacchan!”

“I DIDN’T WON DAMMIT!” He growled and she flinched.

“Come on Kacchan.”

“YOU CALL THAT A VICTORY?!” He stood up while fuming through his nostrils. “THAT BASTARD REFUSED TO USE HIS FUCKING FLAMES AND GAVE ME SUCH A FUCKING HALF-ASSED BATTLE!” He spat the medal but Izuku catched it.

“Chill Kacchan.” She pleaded as she got closer to him.

“I’M FUCKING CHILL!” He said as he made a demon face.

All Might was right, what an amazing face.

“I won’t let you go until you calm down.” She said sternly as she watched him tremble but he was not yelling anymore so that was good. She ran both of her hands through his hair to calm him down, her hands slid down to his cheeks while a pair of red eyes watched every move, she ran her thumbs over his cheeks and she looked around, verifying that no one was watching. “I’ll let you go now.” She whispered and gave him a quick peck on his cheek and jerked back up, wiggling a little to see if he’d calmed down completely. She smiled as she saw his whole body relaxed and with a swift movement of her head she destroyed the chains.

“Izuku…” Katsuki whispered as he took her hands.

“Let me finish...he must have his reasons...I kinda pushed him over the line.” She looked to the other side in shame. “You’ll have another chance to fight him, it must be pretty shocking for him to use that side of his that he pledged to never use.” She gave him the medal. “We’ll grow and perfectionate our abilities to come back better than ever.” She motioned him to take it and he rolled his eyes but took back the medal to put it on his pocket.

“Tch.”

“Izuku-chan!” A loud voice from behind had them jerking apart, Izuku looked over at her friends who had knowing looks on their faces saying: I’m not even sorry.

“You promised us that you'll get ready with us for the ball tonight.” Ochako pouted as the girls hugged Izuku by her arms. The freckled girl whipped her head around to see that Katsuki was being dragged away by Kirishima.

“AAAAAAAAAH!” Ochako cried in pain as Izuku waxed her legs in Momo’s room.“You’re right these come in handy!” She beamed happily as she touched her legs while the other girls nodded in agreement as they saw their own legs.

“I know right?” Mina jumped up and down. “Izuku told me a few months ago, it lasts a month.” She placed Momo’s hand over her legs. “Seriously, feel me...I’m so fucking soft.”

Izuku giggled softly as she puts on the white dress that she bought a few weeks ago while the other girls did the same, when she finished she saw how Momo was doing Tsuyu’s hair with pretty flowers with a braid. She gulped hard as she approached the princess gripping the hem of her dress tightly and the princess noticed as she saw her.

“Izuku, what’s wrong?” Momo asked as she finished the hairstyle.

“I...I want to look...cute.” Izuku whispered with her face red and her ears were ringing. “Can you help me?” She stared down at the floor and there was a silence, she looked up at her friends who stopped moving.

“IZUKUUUUU!” Her friends screamed happy to help.

Izuku smiled at her reflection in the mirror, she wore her white dress, her green corset that hugged perfectly her waist, half of her hair was down while the other half was tamed with a braid in the middle that was adorned with beautiful white and green flowers. Mina helped her with her makeup specially on her eyes and left her freckles to make her look more natural, while Momo made her some heels, the part of the heel was adorned with the same flowers of her hair.

“Izu-chan you look like a snack!” Mina said as she slapped Izuku’s ass making her yelp while covering her butt.

“I don’t think that I…” Izuku started to watch Momo’s boobs unconsciously and back at her not so prominent ones and Ochako noticed.

“Izuku-chan, worry not! What you don’t have here.” Ochako pointed at Izuku's average boobs and slapped her friend’s ass. “Gets balanced with these babies!”

“Okay, I think my ass has been slapped enough!” Izuku rubbed her butt again as she saw that her friends were ready to go. “And you shush!” She pointed at Mina who had a loud smirk of her face.

“What are we waiting for? The boys are already there!” Jirou said and the girls ran towards the ball.

The girls arrived some minutes later, the streets were full of people dancing, many people were doing magic shows for the children, the musicians over a stage played incessantly so that people could dance at the center, there was a table full of food in the background and the girls immediately knew where the boys were.

Izuku walked around through the dancing pairs looking for Katsuki, she sighed in defeat and felt someone poking her shoulder, she turned around to find Todoroki with a soft smile.

“Midoriya.” Todoroki bowed in greeting and she bowed in return. “Would you like to dance?” He asked as he extended his hand to her and Izuku took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor. “I’d like to thank you Midoriya.”

“Thank me? I think I owe you an apology for praying too much into your business.” Izuku scratched her cheek and the prince shook his head.

“Believe me, If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have realized something important ... That this power is mine and not anyone else's.” Todoroki’s lip curled in a crooked smile, he took her right hand and brought it to his lips to kiss it. “I owe you my thanks.”

“You’re welcome, you should smile more often man.” Izuku waved her other hand nervously and looked around to find Endeavor’s angry face.”HAHAHAHAHA LOOK AT KING DOUCHE’S FACE!” She and Todoroki snickered at his face.

“But seriously, I think you would have won the first place if you hadn’t slipped with the ice.” Todoroki teased.

“Ooooh! Low blow!” Izuku punched his chest softly. “I don’t know, Kacchan is very strong...He’s the best warrior of his tribe.” She said as the song ended.

“Speaking of the devil.” Todoroki said as he looked behind her.

“My fucking turn Icyhot.” A familiar voice growled at Todoroki behind Izuku, she smiled as she felt his arms around her waist. “Now...fuck off! Shu shu!”

“Thank you Midoriya for the dance and for hearing me out.” Todoroki bowed to her and she did the same before he took his leave to talk with Momo.

Katsuki spun her around so they were face to face, he pulled her closer to him and she looked at him from head to toe. His cloak was new and more red than the one he uses normally, he had his face painted with red colors over his cheeks and black over his eyes making the beautiful red to stand out more, his chest was covered with different patterns along with his arms. He had different collars of different colors, Izuku widened her eyes as she saw that the necklaces seemed to shine down the light of the moon and so his red earrings.

“Your necklaces are shining.” Izuku said in awe as she touched his collars and she felt a tug at her necklace as they danced.

“So does yours.” Katsuki whispered as she looked into her eyes.

“You look...regal? Is this a formal attire of your tribe?” She asked and he nodded. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders with ease and he grabbed her waist with his both hands in reflex. “With these shoes I’m at your eyelevel.” She giggled, she almost stumbled because of her heels but Katsuki pushed her up in the air and spun her around making her giggles to intensify. Her dress and his cloak moved along with them as they spun around a few times in synchrony, the people who were next to them had to move away a little as they saw in awe.

“Idiot! You almost tripped because of those stupid shoes.” He muttered to her as she descended from above.

“Tch...I wanted to look cute.” She pouted as they danced but felt a hand pushing her against him.

“For who?” He asked and she blushed as she saw his eyes heat.

“Isn’t it obvious? You big idiot.” She averted her eyes in embarrassment, they continued to dance a few more songs but all that time he didn’t say anything and just kept staring at her. “Kacchan you’re too quiet, s-stop staring.”

“Why?” Katsuki grabbed her by the chin so she would look at him again, his gaze dropped to her lips and he bent forward, only to lean back when they heard a booming laugh.

“WELCOME EVERYBODY! I SEE EVERYONE IS HAVING FUN!” All Might cheered over the stage with the other professors. “BUT THERE MORE YET TO SEE! WE’LL BE HAVING FIREWORKS IN AN HOUR!”

“WELL LET THE PARTY CONTINUE!” The master of the guild Nezu raised his fist and everyone cheered with him.

“You and I need to talk.” Izuku said in a serious tone, she took his hand and motioned him to follow her into the forest. A few seconds passed as they blended more into the tall trees, when she considered a good distance she stopped and turned to face him, she grabbed her necklace.“You know I’ve been meaning to ask...What’s the meaning of this necklace?”

Katsuki took his time to get close to her as Izuku continued to explain.

“You know, Mina told me some interesting things about your traditions…” Izuku grinned evilly and backed away slowly with her fingers intertwined behind her back. “Once you want to court a lady you must give a necklace to prove your loyalty.”

“Why did you kiss me?” His voice was rough, he walked forward and she didn’t notice until he was towering over her.

“Don’t answer me with another question-eep!”

He grabbed her wrists and she tried to push him but because of her lack of practice with those shoes, her heels sinked into the ground causing her to fall over the ground with him kneeling over her. He pinned her wrists above her head and her knees had automatically raised up to cage his hips when he dropped his weight against her. His body felt warm and heavy against the junction of her thighs, she could feel how his body moved subtly against her as he breathed in and out. His face was shielded by his hair and the veins in his throat throbbed. He was looking away from her for a moment and then he found her eyes by pressing his nose to hers, so close she could taste him in their shared air.

“I was gonna leave so I wanted to leave a proof that I existed...That you were mine, I knew what I wanted and that was you.” He lets go of her hands so he could brush the hair off out of her eyes as he used his elbows to keep from crushing her.

“Is that what you want?” Her voice came a little higher because of her nerves.

“Oh! that’s not even close...I want to kiss you, I want to hold you, I want your stupid freckeled face to be the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before going to sleep.” Izuku blushed more and more as he continued. “I want the whole world to know that you are mine, not with this necklace.” He paused to tug at her necklace and she trembled. “But with your heart and body, sometimes when you put yourself in danger I want to take you somewhere to have you by myself and protect you but when I see you kicking those villain asses makes me regret to think that way.” He touched his forehead with hers, his eyes desperate for an answer. “I want you.”

“Is this your romantic way to say that you...Love me?” She teased him as her hands, which had been laying above her head came to touch his chest and she could feel him trembling from her touch. She slid her hands to his shoulders and brought her hands to cup his face. “You’re not asking me for anything that I can’t give you… Kiss me, Katsuki.” She whispered.

He complied with a groan and kissed her hard with an air of desperation, at first it was sloppy from both parties but as they continued, it changed and her arms circled around his neck. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth before releasing it, then he bit it lightly and released her lip again, she arched her back unconsciously at that. She opened her mouth and his tongue immediately came out to play with hers, her hands slid up to his hair and tightened. He slid one arm under her back so he could be closer than before and his other hand angeled her head so he could kiss her deeper.

This is so not what Izuku expected to be for her first kiss but she was not complaining.

He was a fucking good kisser.

They parted for air, he lowered his head to her ear. “I saw you entering the ball, with those exposed shoulders and these beautiful freckles...But that hot and cold bastard took you away.” His hot breath whispered over her neck and she closed her eyes as she gripped the strands of his hair, he shuddered against her. He dropped open-mouthed kisses over her neck and she gasped as she tilted her head unconsciously so he could address the other side. “Be my bride Izuku.” He said as he licked the spot where her shoulder and neck met.

“Wow! slow down...Aren’t you going too fast?” She asked but let out a little whimper when she felt him bit and suck the same spot and he felt her pulse jump against his tongue. He lifted his head from her neck, he looked down at her dazed state and gave her a wicked smile when he noticed the forming marks on her neck. She looked up at his face and saw pride, possessiveness and love. “Ahhh why the fuck not?” She cried out as she pulled him back to her mouth.

The hem of her dress slid down to the point it could be seen her legs, she ran her hands down his strong shoulders and down his chest to slide them over his back. He slid his hand from her waist to stop over her butt for a moment giving her a light squeeze and down to the back of her thigh. She moaned as she roamed her nails down his back, probably too hard and his hand clenched in response.

“Where is that hand going mister?” She jerked out of the kiss and asked panting when she felt him tug at her corset.

“Where it wants to be.” His eyes glazed with passion and hidden promises.

“Not here! We’re not far away from the party.” She said with a red face.

“So what? Let them see.” Katsuki shocked himself at how quickly he replied, he went down to nuzzle the base of her throat and sucked. She bucked her body against his as he moved to bite her shoulder softly.

Okay, he seriously needed to stop biting her or she’ll become addicted to him she thought to herself.

“Then become addicted to me like I’m addicted to you, god I love your neck.” He said over her neck.

Shit, she said that out loud.

“That too.” He chuckled and lifted his head. He gave her a smacking kiss that had her gasping before pulling away once more.

“We should head back.” She said in her haze. She had her cheeks red, her lips puffy from their kiss, she had marks of his teeth all over her shoulders and neck.

“Haaa?! There’s no way in hell I’ll let those bastards see you in this state!” He growled. “Now that I think about it...this way they’ll think twice after getting near you.” He said as he traced her marks and she moaned, he thanked the gods for making her so sensible. “You’re so dangerous.” He said huskily and leaned down wanting to kiss her again.

“Stop it you lustful animal!” She put her hands over his mouth. She flinched when he kissed her palms, he pulled her arms and curled them around his neck once more.

“Just one more.” He pleaded over her mouth and she gulped at the look of his eyes, she sighed and nodded shyly. He smirked and gave chaste kisses, again and again, she groaned as she leaned up for a harder press of his lips.

“Kacchan!” She whined as he lifted his head again with a loud smirk.

“Yes?” He asked innocently and kissed her forehead, her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

She made a strangled sound and tugged his collars to pull him more. “Kiss me like you mean it idiot.”

He gave her a wicked smile, he kissed her hard and she sighed in pleasure. This time she had him groaning as she nibbled his lower lips, she flicked her hot tongue with his and she roamed her nails again over his back. They went like that until their kiss turned slow, soft and tender.

“Okay, we seriously need to stop.” She said as she looked at the fireworks that started to appear, she had Katsuki buried over her neck taking calming breaths as he fought for control.

“Just...give me a moment.” His voice was so deep, he sighed and sat in front of her with each leg surrounding her hips and she sat on her knees.

Izuku leaned forward and rested her head against his chest. “I love you, Katsuki.” She whispered with her face red, she realized that he stopped breathing and she jumped as she felt his hands clenching her waist hard enough to bruise.

“Idiot, I love you too.” He laid his head on her shoulder, he kissed behind her shoulder and bit her.

“Kacchan!”

Previous chapter Next chapter

#katsudeku #bakudeku #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #boku no academia #mha #fem deku #female deku #ao3 #DADMIGHT #medieval au #reincarnatedsoul

24 notes · View notes

mydarlingklaus · 4 years

Text

The Confrontation

So this is the second part of my “the merge” drabble which you can find part one here! I highly recommend you read part one first so it makes sense. This is going to be a 3 (or 4) part drabble that I’ve enjoyed writing about and hope you enjoy reading. I’ve already gotten great feedback for it. Leaving reviews on my ff.net account are appreciated. thanks :)

Summary: Aftermath of Klaus finding out that the twins have to merge. This is now the confrontation between Caroline and Lizzie.

(I will die on the hill that Klaus is Lizzie’s dad and no one can tell me shit!)

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

"Mom?"

Caroline instantly lifted her tear-stained face from the palms of her hands to meet Lizzie's worried gaze from across the room. She didn't even realize how fast the school day went and it was already lunch time—nursing a second glass of scotch that had been beside her elbow since morning.

"Hey sweetie." Caroline greeted with a sniffle, wiping away the tears underneath her eyes. "I thought you were studying during your lunch break?"

Lizzie swallowed, taking in her mom's appearance of puffy red eyes and tear coated cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" She wondered.

Despite her distress, Caroline had to push it to the side and seeing her daughter reminded her of that. She still had a school to run and daughters to raise—-chalking up Klaus' absence as a 'time away for work in NOLA' with a quivering fake smile each time they asked. 'Fake it till you make it' was a phrase Caroline knew all too well.

"It's nothing." She brushed off with a hesitant smile.

"Obviously it's something." The braided haired witch challenged.

"What do you want Lizzie? I really don't have time to just talk. I'm very busy." Caroline snapped.

Lizzie scoffed. "Yeah, I can see that." Nodding her head towards the booze. "But fine we can skip the mother/daughter chit chat and cut right to the chase. I want to know why you've been lying to us."

Caroline's eyes grew and lump in her throat jumped at the abrupt—-and accurate—- accusation.

The charade worked, the first day, but Lizzie only grew more persistent. Constantly pestering and pointing out the holes in the fabricated story, mainly Klaus dodging her phone calls—he's never done that since she was able to use a phone.

"I—I don't know what you mean—"

She shook her head. "Don't do that, please don't make an idiot out of me more than you already have!"

"Keep your voice down. School is still in session." Caroline demanded in a hush tone.

The young witch telepathically slammed the door shut behind her, earning a glare from her mother.

"I want to know what happened to Klaus, and I know it was something because he's never ignored my phone calls or texts before. And he definitely never goes back to New Orleans without at least saying goodbye—emergency or not."

Three days.

Three long and antsy days had gone by since she last seen or heard from Klaus. She called all of his siblings but they to not have heard from him either.

Caroline couldn't get that look out of her head. His face full of such disgust and betrayal he could barely suppress his boiling anger—he hadn't looked at her like that since their first days of knowing each other, when he was the enemy and she didn't know what he'd mean to her.

Not that she didn't deserve it, but he didn't even say goodbye before she had to find out on her own when his things were packed and car missing. He was big bad hybrid Klaus, so she wasn't necessarily concerned for his safety, but not knowing where he was and if he was mentally stable caused just as much anxiety.

Caroline gave Alaric an earful for informing Klaus before she had the opportunity to, which only resulted in her feeling worse than she already did. She never expected Klaus to take the news about the merge lightly, but she underestimated how hurt he'd feel. He's feeling as helpless as she now does.

After hundreds of failed calls and texts, the only thing Caroline could do was impatiently wait for this return—whenever that would be. She didn't even know where he was, crying herself to sleep every night. Missing him, yearning and worried about him. Subconsciously reaching over to the cold vacant spot on the bed beside her where his warm body usually lied to embrace her in his arms as they caught slumber together. He was her refugee and security—now he wasn't. Caroline never felt more incomplete and unsafe.

It was driving her crazy not knowing his whereabouts or his well being—she couldn't pretend that the fragility of their relationship wasn't also packing into her anxiety.

Caroline sighed, standing from her office chair. "It's complicated—"

"It always is with you." She muttered.

"Hey!" Caroline sternly pointed her finger. "I don't care how you're feeling or how upset you are, you won't disrespect me."

"You have to give respect to earn it, and lying to me about where Klaus has been when you've seen me going crazy over it isn't exactly role model behavior."

"Lizzie—"

"What happened? Where is he!"

"I don't know!" Caroline blurted.

She felt all she could do in this moment was scream. As if her anxiety wasn't already thriving on Klaus' sudden disappearance her own disgusted wasn't making it better with her accusations.

"I don't know..." Caroline repeated, looking up at her beautiful daughter who's tear-filled eyes matched hers.

Lizzie cautiously approached her mother who was now holding her hand over her mouth to suppress her sobs. She pushed her hair back anxiously, swallowing her nerves while taking a seat and crossing her legs.

"Um, did you and Klaus like break up or something?" She asked, fearing the response.

Caroline shook her head, wiping under her eyes again. "No, nothing like that."

- Right?

Lizzie let out a subtle breath of relief.

"But it is something. Bad enough for him to leave out of nowhere. Please mom." Scooting to the edge of the chair. "What happened between you two?"

The obvious concern in her daughter's voice only worsened Caroline's guilt.

There was no one in this scenario she was more angry with than herself and she hated not having the answers Lizzie wanted, but she was scared. Scared to tell her the truth of why Klaus fled in the first place—possibly losing him was devastating but losing Lizzie or Josie would be soul crushing.

Caroline took a deep breath, leaning against her desk while grabbing both of Lizzie's hands. Her beautiful and smart Lizzie, with so many aspirations and goals for her future. How was she supposed to explain that in just a few years there's a 50/50 chance she won't have one?

"Um, me and Klaus had an argument."

Lizzie's eyebrows scrunched. "But you guys never argue, and if you do it's over dumb stuff like when he wanted to fly me and Josie out to Tokyo for our sweet 16 during a school week."

Caroline sadly laughed, thinking back on all of Klaus' outrageous and ridiculous gestures that made her love him so much.

"Yeah..." She sniffled. "Um, Lizzie there's something I need to tell you and I really wish Josie was here because it's actually something I need to tell both of you."

Lizzie gulped, suddenly feeling a shiver of panic run down her arms as Caroline continued.

"Jo, your birth mother, was a descendant from what is known as the Gemini coven. When you girls were first born I didn't know what that meant or the significance until your fifth birthday when you began developing your magic...that's when your father explained it to me."

"Dad?" Lizzie questioned.

- What did he have to do with it?

Licking her lips nervously, Caroline resumed. "Being apart of this particular coven comes with a price, a curse known as 'the merge', for every new set of twins. When Gemini twins turn 22 years old the merge forces you to participate in a duel against one another to determine who will lead the coven until the next generation. Only one of you is meant to survive..."

The young witch gulped again, as she tried to process what was being told to her. This was impossible information to digest and she felt any second she was going to puke.

"So...what you're saying is that, one of us will have to kill the other?" Lizzie asked, feeling more sick and confused with every burning question popping into her head and how it led to Klaus' departure.

- Did he know about this?

She wondered.

"More like absorb." Caroline clarified. "Whoever is to win the duel would acquire the other's power. That's part of why I was doing so much traveling a few years back, why I was away from home all those long and tortuous months. It was to find a cure or some type of loophole. We were hoping this would be something neither of you would even have to know about, let alone experience."

- What the hell?

Was all Lizzie could think. She felt frozen in the uncomfortable chair, barely listening anymore to her own mother justifying her reason to keep her death sentence a secret her entire life—their lives.

Josie.

How was she supposed to break this down to her sister when she didn't fully understand it herself? Lizzie's entire life felt like a lie. What other secrets were her parents keeping from them?

How did her life take such a drastic turn in a mere of a few minutes? Just yesterday she was brainstorming prom dresses and venue ideas for the dance. Post-graduation plans of going off to New York for college and stressing over if Sebastian would follow her wherever she went. Would their relationship even make it to graduation? Would she live in dorms or pursued Klaus to pitch in for an apartment? Design school or major in literature? She was supposed to be thinking about the beginning of her life, not the ending.

"I know this is a lot to take in at once and you must have a million questions that I'm more than willing to answer." Caroline said, making Lizzie blink—-one, two, three times as she mentally jumped back into the conversation. Her face still blank as the words spewed.

The letters G-U-I-L-T couldn't be bolder on her mother's face if they tried. Her pleading blue eyes and quivering bottom lip did nothing to sway Lizzie from her state of shock.

"You can't imagine how sorry I am we didn't tell you girls sooner, but it's what we felt was best at the time. We wanted to wait until your 18th birthday with the hopes we'd find a solution by then, and you girls would be old enough to understand..."

Lizzie still said nothing.

Caroline squeezed her hand. "Sweetie I know this is scary and overwhelming. Believe me this wasn't easy on me or your father having to keep it from you and your sister, definitely not how we wanted to tell you. It wasn't our intention to lie. This was an impossible decision to make, everyday it killed me that you girls didn't know but...how do you tell your children that there are things you can't protect them from, not even each other?"

One tear fell down each of Lizzie's cheek, unsure if she was more angry or sad—maybe a lot of both. Her life was flipped, disintegrating, literally hanging by a thread and the only person she wanted to console in and seek advice from was MIA.

"You should have told us..." Lizzie finally said, coldly, when she eventually found her voice. Abruptly snatching her hands from Caroline's and placing them in her own lap.

The small—-microscopic—-understanding part of her brain was quickly being dominated by her burning rage.

Her lips quivered as she stood to her feet, stepped outside the chair to increase the distance between them. Seeing Caroline's face dramatically drop made her stomach turn, briefly, then she was reminded why she looked so distraught in the first place.

She shook her head frantically. "You—you should have told us, way before now. Way before you encouraged us to live our abnormal life as greatly as possible. Remember that?"

"Lizzie—"

"Instead of giving me and Josie false hope that we had any chance of getting out of this shit town to do anything we desire, you should've just told us the damn truth!"

"Elizabeth Saltzman!" Caroline stomped her foot powerfully, enough to shake the ground.

Lizzie knew she was crossing the line but her anger piled on top of each other until it became its own monster. But she didn't care about, not anymore.

"I had dreams, real goals for my future mom." Lizzie sobbed. "For the first time in years I felt normal and was genuinely happy. My mental health was managed and I was actually looking forward to living. I was going to leave Mystic Falls, did you know that?!"

Caroline gasped. "Wh-what?"

Lizzie scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't, why would you? But yes I had a whole plan mapped out to leave this place after graduation. Go to school somewhere new. I wanted to stay stateside for now, probably New York with Auntie Rebekah or Los Angeles with Uncle Kol. Just to start a new life, my own, in a big vibrant city where no one knew who I was. Where I wouldn't be the neurotic witch, the bipolar freak, Josie's sister, or Caroline Forbes' daughter...I'd just be me. Attending whatever college I wan and make new real friends and finally live my life!"

Lizzie looked heartbroken, as the hot tears dogged her vision.

Caroline opened and closed her mouth. This was brand new information. It never occurred to her that either of the twins desires to flee the small town they've known as home—-neither ever brought it up. This reminded her a lot of herself at their age, stores she's told them multiple times in disguise of bedtime stories. Which only pained her more that Lizzie didn't think she could confide in her about these incredible dreams.

"You—you never told me about that."

"You never asked." Lizzie fired back, crossing her arms over chest defensively.

Caroline nodded. "You're right, I should've. I've been so invested in so many things lately I allowed them to overrun you and I'm sorry. I should be more involved in your future as well as your present—"

"Is it because you know only one of us would have one?"

Caroline's eyes narrowed offensively.

"Lizzie, of course not. I always had hope we would find something by now and I'm sorry we didn't. I'm sorry this is how you found out and that all of this is happening. You have to know this is the last thing I wanted for either of you." She pleaded, reaching for her daughter who instantly pushed her hand away.

Her chest tightened at the blatant rejection.

17 years, neither of the twins had ever been genuinely angry with Caroline before, besides basic teenage angst. Never were they full blown hateful or disrespectful, not that she blamed her but the justification didn't lessen the pain. The way Lizzie was staring at her, with such disgust and hurt pulsing through her bloodshot blue eyes made Caroline's stomach turn. She was taking the full beating for something initiated by both her and Alaric—-she'll relay the anger towards him later.

It was the same way Klaus looked at her.

Pulling a tissue from her bag Lizzie wiped her nose, biting down on her bottom lip. Growing more enraged by the second as the realization settled in and raised her eyes.

"He didn't know either, did he?"

Caroline licked her dry lips anxiously.

"Answer me." Lizzie demanded through her clenched pearly white teeth, huffing out a puff of air when her mother responded.

"No, he didn't."

Pacing, back and forth, in her corner—pinching her bottom lip between her shaky index finger and thumb Lizzie felt she was at her wits end. Despite her shattered exterior, it was comforting to know Klaus was just as in the dark about the situation.

She was certain she wouldn't be able to handle Klaus of all people lying to her too.

The young witch eventually stopped pacing, hanging her head low with her hands firmly on her denim clad hips. Trying to gather all her thoughts best she could but every conclusion had the same tragic outcome. Lizzie loved her mother, with everything she had, but this was a life decision she and Alaric made about she and Josie's life. This was a huge secret they voluntarily kept from them since birth—no matter the intentions it was wrong and harmful and drove away the only person in her life who's ever been honest with her.

Quite frankly she was too hurt and confused to care about anyone's feelings but her own.

Caroline stood patiently by her desk, waiting for her daughter to break the tension any second now.

Lizzie sniffled. "Klaus, um—Klaus wasn't an easy adjustment when he officially became apart of our lives. I didn't know what he was supposed to be to me and Josie, what Hope was supposed to be. There was a moment, brief, but a moment where I didn't want either of them around. I never told anyone that."

The baby vampire felt all her emotions bottling up in the base of her throat at her daughter's shocking admission.

"Klaus quickly became one of the most important people in my life—probably the only person I could depend on fir anything, but especially when life became overwhelming." She explained, blinking away her thick tears. "He was always the one who told me to dream big, to never limit myself no matter how far fetched it seemed. He encouraged all three of us—me, Josie and Hope—to get away from this small town the first chance we got if that's what we wanted. He wanted us to live. He was the most constant thing I had and you took that from me, you took everything from me..." She shook her head side to side, still not entirely processing the devastating news.

Caroline's chest caved and heart fell to the pit of her stomach. Hearing all of this—-what Klaus meant to Lizzie and vice versa—broke her heart more than anything she's ever encountered in her 25 years of living. All the death and tragedy that's surrounded her since knowing the existence of the supernatural held no water to the familial bond she broke between father and daughter.

Seeing Lizzie so distraught was gut wrenching, and knowing nothing she could say would make her pain go away. Caroline had to admit she underestimated the reactions from a kept secret fueled by good intentions.

Swallowing back her tears, she tried reaching her hand out again. "Lizzie please—"

"Klaus left because of you. He abandoned us and it's your fault!" Lizzie screamed, aggressively pushing her away and unintentionally blowing out the lights in Caroline's office and the outdoor hallway.

The ground shook—like a mini earthquake—but enough to rattle around everything in the large office space. No doubt the rest of the school felt it just as intensely. Caroline covered her ears and slightly lost her balance, tripping over her feet as the shaking wound down. Her initial mortified gaze now stunned and proud at her girl's amazing abilities but Lizzie wasn't letting up—leaving now room for praise.

"He left because he couldn't bare to stare at your lying face anymore than I can." She said exhaustedly. Voice hoarse, face blank and wet with tears.

Her body was present but it seemed she consciously wasn't. She had no more energy to give. After all the cries and yells she was mentally drained, not even enough to show a reaction to Caroline who was practically sobbing in front of her. Maybe there was a rational side to this, maybe, somewhere deep inside her core surely there was a justification. But Lizzie didn't have it in her to search for it, not now and she wasn't sure if she ever would.

Caroline pressed her quivering lips into a tight line, staring up at the ceiling to clear the glassy film over her eyes before fixating on her daughter again—no such luck. The rage, understood, the grief—valid. But the blatant disrespect was exceeding a level of inappropriate she didn't think was possible.

"Lizzie." She said sternly, approaching her with an equally reddened face. "This is a lot, I get that and your anger is beyond justified. I love you, and Klaus, and I really wish he was here right now but he's not. I don't know where he is yet. I don't know when or if he's coming back anytime soon and I'm sorry I can't provide you all the answers you want, but what I do know is that I'm still your mother. No matter how upset you are that is never going to change and you will not speak to me anyway you want. Is that understood?"

Lizzie swallowed audibly. Her body still facing forward as she grabbed the doorknob and twisting it with her shaky wrist. Staring Caroline down with a glare so sharp, it defined the phrase 'looks can kill'.

"You're not even my real mom. You're just the surrogate, remember?"

- Wow.

Caroline's stomach dropped, knees buckled and face drained of color and emotions. Her undead heart grew colder and weaker and body shriveled like a flower during Winter time, as Lizzie's haunting last words repeatedly stabbed her in the chest, over and over again. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out—-there were no words to explain how Caroline was feeling. Even if it was a heat of the moment outburst, the blow couldn't have been any lower.

She didn't think anything could hurt more than watching Klaus walk away, until her distraught daughter stormed out the door without another look.

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

Night time came quicker than anticipated. The school day came and went, and an exhausted Caroline couldn't be more relieved to be in the comfort of her home. Thankfully the house was empty, giving her all the alone tone she craved. Throwing her keys on the marble countertop after closing the door behind her—immediately making her ear upstairs to her room to drop off her bags and laptop.

After the horrific confrontation with Lizzie, the remainder of the afternoon Caroline was stuck with paperwork, phone calls, meetings and delinquent students. Never her favorite moments of the day but it was the perfect distraction from her personal life. The last thing Lizzie said still ringing in her ear and making her bleed by the lobes.

You're not even my real mom.

- Yup, still stings.

Still in disbelief Lizzie had it in her to say such a thing—to want to hurt her that badly. Bringing back the negative memories of when the twins were first born and everyone referred to them as Alaric's instead of theirs. Having to fight and prove she was worthy of the title as a mother, as if she wasn't the one who carried them for nine months and nearly died from it.

Her past frustrations beginning to mingle with the new.

She hadn't seen Lizzie around campus since and didn't make any attempts at calling or texting. Caroline figured she needed some space, it was a heavy case load of information that she was nowhere near prepared to drop yet. She wondered if Josie knew yet, or even Hope.

Caroline heavily sighed—-wanting nothing more than a warm bath, jazz on vinyl and a Cosmopolitan to was it all down.

Now in her bedroom, she prepared for just that. Her leather jacket, black pumps and laptop bag suffered the same fate as her house keys—carelessly thrown on the nearest surface. Running her fingers through her golden blonde curls with another sigh leaving her lips, taking as many breaths possible.

Looking down at the freshly made queen sized bed, she briefly paused, realizing this would make night four of sleeping in its comfort alone. No more safe and warm arms wrapped around her waist, holding her body snugged against his front. Light kisses and seductive licks up her exposed neck. Humming to sleep with a lazy smile as he whispered dirty confessions and sweet nothings on her ear. No more whispered 'I love yous' shared in the dark when basking in their mutual glow after making love.

She missed him...god did she miss him. Everything about Klaus made her feel so whole—never feeling more loved in her entire life. It amazed her how quickly he became a focal point in her life and how, just as quickly, he wasn't there.

This was the longest they've gone without speaking to each other and it was pure torture.

With that thought Caroline sat up on her bed, legs tucked under each other's and pulled her iPhone out her purse.

Her throat tightened—biting down on her bottom lip apprehensively as her thumb waved over his name in her contacts list. If she had a heartbeat she would've heard it pounding crazily in her ears by now. Giving their recent track record, the likelihood of him answering her at all was slim to none...

- What the hell.

Realizing she had nothing to lose, Caroline sucked in some bravery and pressed the 'call' button with a shaking thumb. Holding the device against her ear impatiently but, per usual, she was directed to his automatic voice message system. She wasn't too surprised he turned his phone off but more by his other skills.

Even for being centuries old and, usually, technologically challenged Klaus had enough knowledge on modern technology to disable the tracking feature.

Caroline smiled to herself at the sound of his distinct and seductive voice for his voicemail, remembering when she begged him to record one and how it took 15 minutes to persuade; nearly bursting into tears before the beep.

- This is so pathetic. You look pathetic and needy but if you just hang up now you can redeem some of your dignity.

Going against her own subconscious, she remained on the phone and quickly composed herself while clearing her throat at the sound of the beep.

- Shit.

"Hey, it's me but you already knew that because my number is in your phone." Caroline began with a sad smile and picking at the fabric of her pants with her fingertips. "Um, so I know your phone has been off the past couple of days and you're not exactly in the mood to talk to me now which I understand but um...I hope you're okay. You're on my mind everyday and...well I've had quite the day, a pretty shitty one actually and all I wanted to do afterwards was come home to you. Whenever I feel horrible I go to you, not because it takes one shitty thing to know another or anything like that. I just—" She smacked herself on the forehead.

Now she was a rambling mess, per usual when put in nerve racking situations but she caught herself. Closing her eyes for a second to release a long exhale before continuing.

Her blue eyes already welling up like the sea.

"You always make me feel better because, well you're the love of my life. That's still surreal to say, um, but it's true. You make me feel safe and valid, even when I probably don't deserve it. You're my greatest supporter, shoulder to cry on. You give me comfort, and I could really use some of that right now." She sniffled into a smile, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, for everything. I regret keeping that from you when all you've ever done was be honest with me, but even more I regret letting you walk out that door. I didn't realize how much you were the glue keeping his family together until you were gone. We need you home, I need you. I miss you, and I really wish you were here."

The minute she hung up the phone, with a final tear streaming down her face, Alaric appeared in the doorway with bugged eyes and frustrated expression on his face.

Caroline's eyebrows pulled together in concern as she stood from her bed.

"What's wrong?"

He sighed, leaning one hand against the threshold. "It's Lizzie, she's gone."

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

Klaus stared intently at the wall of his dark studio—sketchbook resting on his lap and a glass of bourbon in his hand. Everyone else in the house were in their respective rooms, likely asleep, but he was wide awake and alone.

He didn't intend on staying in New Orleans longer than a couple of days—-fleeing wasn't in his plans either—-but every night he'd close his and an image of the twins lying lifeless in the dirt flashed before him and jerking him awake. The news of the merge wasn't something he wanted to accept, nor something he could avoid—Caroline avoided it long enough.

Caroline.

His Caroline. His light, his love, his everything and more—who he now couldn't look at without feeling immense anger. With all the progression they've made through the years, from a friendship to blending their families he couldn't fathom why she didn't think she could confide in him. Why she didn't trust him with the truth about the girls—their girls! Now it felt too late, not enough time to be there for them the way he promised. Five years were nothing. They'll fly by in a blink of an eye, which one of them would be dead and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Despite his animosity towards her, Klaus missed Caroline the longer he stayed away. Over a decade she played a crucial role in his heart and finally having her in his life intensified the already burning love. He missed kissing her before going to sleep and distracting her from work responsibilities. Everything about her made him happy to be alive. They never went more than a day without speaking, let alone him abruptly leaving and not at least informing her of his whereabouts.

He transformed into a wolf that first night, running wild and free in the dark woods of Mystic Falls for the whole night. Desperately trying to but out his frustration that never left. The urge to rip apart anyone who stood in his way was strong. All he saw was vibrant blood shot red as the moon washed through his dark brown coat, howling to himself in despair. Klaus was usually incapable of controlling his beast but demonstrated remarkable self control as he regained form any kills and turned back to a two-legged man when the sun began to set. Getting dressed and driving off to New Orleans like his life depended on it. Compelling his way through speeding tickets and hitchhiker's blood for the road, before finally arriving to his home.

Living under the same roof with Elijah, Freya and Hayley again wasn't an arrangement he missed in the slightest. Just as nosy as ever with their millions of inquires when he arrived on the front door. Thankfully all his irritants of siblings didn't live together anymore, but it didn't take long for word to spread to Rebekah and Kol who bombarded his phone with invasive questions. Hayley was probably the most respectable. After receiving the reassurance that Hope was safe, they spoke briefly while he unpacked. She knew his surprise arrival was Caroline related but didn't press him for information like the rest of the Mikaelson clan—Klaus appreciated the discretion.

Eventually he turned his phone off, not just to ignore his siblings but to also fight the temptation of reaching out to a certain blonde. He was in no shape to speak to her right now, and their last confrontation wasn't pretty either. Instead he buried himself into his art and community to distract from the shenanigans known as Mystic Falls.

Klaus' ears perked and eyes shot up when he sensed a presence outside the mansion—his suspicions confirmed at the sound of the doorbell repeatedly ringing. He threw his head back with a groan, certainly not in the mood for any surprise company—not to mention it was the middle of the night.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Fuckin' hell." He mumbled, rolling his eyes.

After finishing off his drink, Klaus slammed it on the table and stood from the chair with murder on his mind.

Storming towards the front door he yanked it open with as much force as he could muster, fangs out and vampiric eyes already golden and threatening.

Klaus' body stiffened.

His jaw clenched and stomach dropped as he held the door open. A mix of emotions ran through him as he stared in awe at the blonde girl before him who was looking back at him with the doest of eyes.

"Lizzie?" His voice almost a whisper.

"Surprise!" She hesitantly waved. Her half lip-glossed smile made his chest jump and hands soften.

After the initial shock faded, his eyes observed her appearance to make sure she was at least in good condition before he lashed out.

She had an overnight bag hanging on her arm and backpack thrown across her back. It was a fairly warm night, so her washed jeans with a cropped black sweater and tennis shoes was perfect attire; however, not typical Lizzie-like attire. Her wavy blonde hair was still perfectly in place.

Klaus nearly cried at the sight of her angelic face, for more than one reason.

- What the hell is she doing here? How did she know I was here? Is she here alone?

She was safe, good, now he can be mad.

"What—what are you doing here in New Orleans, at bloody 2 A.M. no less?"

"Klaus I—"

"How did you even get here?" He asked.

Lizzie gulped. "I—I flew."

"You flew, alone?" Klaus' eyes widened with his assumption.

She nodded.

He shook his head in disbelief while running his fingers through his curls irritably as if he felt a migraine coming along.

"Are you mad!" Klaus stepped closer towards her. "You drove through the French Quarter, on your own for the first time in the middle of the night. What were you thinking? Anything could've happened to you Lizzie do you realize that!" He growled.

"But nothing did. As you can see I'm fine!"

Words couldn't describe the amount of fear running through his body and blood rushing to his brain, at just the thought of anything going awry during her journey. Whether it be through the airport or on her way to the mansion. Lizzie's safety being compromised in his own city. He didn't even care that he was yelling.

This was New Orleans, boundaries were obsolete. He's seen what can happen to girls wandering around the city alone—he's had his fair share of sins. Knowing he'd paint the entire state of Louisiana red if anyone even thought of touching her.

Klaus rubbed his hand over his face, taking a deep breath while trying to calm himself.

Licking her lips nervously, Lizzie sighed.

She knew he'd be shocked to see her but maybe she overestimated how much.

"Look, I know you're like really pissed off with me and I get that. There's an actual explanation which we can talk about all of it inside but...you wouldn't by any chance have $60 to cover my cab? I kinda already told the driver you were good for it."

Just when he thought his night was uneventful.

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

part 3 coming soon!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline fanfiction #lizzie saltzman #caroline forbes #klaus mikaelson #KLAUS IS THE FATHER LIZZIE DESERVED!!#and they'd be inseparable #my writing #klaroline shippers club #caroline's voicemail was my fav part to write #and the klaus/lizzie scene obviously #lizzie saltzman-forbes mikaelson

29 notes · View notes

im-up-to-no-good · 4 years

Text

I solemnly swear ( Part 6 )

Summary: Y/N Potter is the twin-sister of James Potter and the current teacher for Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts during Harry's third year.

As the news of Sirius Black breaking out ouf Azkaban start to spread, her life is turned upside down as it gets harder and harder to keep their feelings for each other hidden in the dark.

What will happen when Harry finds out about his aunt's long kept secret?

A/N: I finally did it. I promise you won’t have to wait this long again for the next part, I’ll try my best to work on it soon! If you want to be part of the taglist, please feel free to tell me. I’ll be happy to add you!

I’d be glad if you leave some constructive criticism, thoughts, whatever you want to do, so I can improve my writing. Enjoy the new part!

Word count: 2376

________________

You tried your very best to ignore these last few minutes and your argument with Harry, but his last words just didn't seem to leave your mind.

Liar.

Traitor.

It was hard for you to repeat these things inside of your head but you knew pretty well that he had a point with that. You lied to him all those years. And you lied to yourself too even if you thought that your intentions were good. He had every right to be confused or mad because of you. In the end you kind of were the problem.

It didn't take long for you to leave Hogsmeade behind of yourself but with every minute passing it seemed as if it would get harder and harder for you to walk on the snowy pathway.

You tried your best to keep walking but within a short amount of time the whole weather changed completely as if someone suddenly pulled a lever. The sun disappeared behind a thick layer of clouds while everything around you went out of control. There were no longer snowflakes falling silently from the sky, but a storm that cut into your skin like cold little knives. The wind blew faster every second now and your feet could barely keep you on the ground. You kneeled down instinctively and tried to shield your eyes with one of your arms. You tried to concentrate to find a way out of this mess, unfortunately you could barely even see your own hand in front of you. Your gaze wandered around until you could finally make out a silhouette a bit away from you, but you couldn't quite identify what it was.

Not until a loud growl pervaded the storm.

Your eyes widened and you took out your wand immediately. You knew that sound and you knew what was going on, or at least you thought you did. You raised up your wand, looked at the sky and shouted.

"Finite Incantatem!"

As soon as these words left your mouth the storm seemed to fade away almost instantly. Everything went back to normal as if nothing happened in the first place. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and stood up again, your whole body slightly shaking from the cold consuming you. You looked around yourself until your eyes got stuck on the silhouette you saw just a few moments before. Now you could see it as clear as day and your grip on your wand tightened.

There he was.

Dirty and disheveled, hiding behind an animalistic mask. You stared into his eyes in pure shock and anger, but all you could see was pain and sadness looking back at you.

"Sirius.."

Your voice was barely above a whisper right now, but you were sure that he heard you loud and clear. He laid down on the ground carefully to show you that you didn't need to be scared of him, like he did the first time when you found out about his little secret, but you couldn't help the mistrust inside of yourself. And you were sure he could sense it as he lowered his head, followed by a silent whine.

You lowered your wand resistantly and slowly made one step into his direction, but as soon as you did so he jumped back onto his feet and ran away. You couldn't process what was happening until you heard a voice shouting your name behind of you.

You turned around to see McGonagall running into your direction, concern covering her whole face.

"Y/N! Y/N, dear, are you alright?"

You stared at Minerva as if she was a ghost and she understood immediately what was going on inside of your head. She swallowed hard before she patted you on the back and pulled you towards the carriage you were driving with earlier.

You sat down almost mindlessly, a blank look on your face. She covered your body with a blanket and took a seat across from you after that. You shook your head slowly and looked into her eyes. You didn't know how to talk about this situation. Maybe because you really didn't know what exactly was going on.

You knew for sure that someone used magic to manipulate the weather but for you it didn't appear as if Sirius was the one who put you in danger. Why would he stay there if he was the one responsible for this storm? It all just didn't make sense to you. And maybe this was the reason why you felt so helpless right know. You always knew an answer. You weren't the one to be speechless. But here you were, fighting to find the right words to say.

"Y/N, did you hear what I said?"

You shook your head apologetically before you looked into Minerva's worried eyes again.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't. Would you mind repeating it?"

She forced a small smile and nodded shortly after.

"It seems as if someone tried to harm you on purpose today, Y/N. This storm appeared out of nowhere."

"And it was all confined to my whereabouts, right?"

She nodded simultaneously and continued talking.

"I'm certain we both know who tried to end what he began a long time ago."

"We don't know for sure Minerva. I can think of one or two other people out there who would love to see me injured or even worse."

"You have to take this matter seriously, there's nothing funny about what happened."

She put her hand on your shoulder and forced a smile again.

"I believe it's better now if you take a rest until we get back. You don't look too good, dear."

You wanted to disagree with her but you could feel how exhausted you were. You pulled the blanket closer to your body and closed your eyes for a short amount of time. Well, at least you thought so.

You woke up in your own bed again. Confusion spread on your face as you saw the time on the clock beside of you. It was almost midnight by now. You slowly sat up and shook your head in disbelief, how could you possibly fade out for so long?

Right as you wanted to stand up you felt a hand on your shoulder which gently pushed you down into a sitting position again.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Just now you finally noticed that Remus was standing right next to your bed. He was probably waiting the whole time for you to wake up.

"How long have you been here?"

He smiled at you before he gave an answer.

"Exactly for how long you've been asleep. I wanted to get an explanation from your own perspective, not from Minnie's."

You could see the concern in his eyes even if he tried to hide it behind a joke. You laid down on your bed again and gestured for him to join you. You both stared at the ceiling for another minute before you finally felt ready to summarize these happenings.

"Well, were do I start? Harry used the invisibility cloak to go to Hogsmeade today, even if I told him to stay here at Hogwarts. One thing led to another and he found out about Sirius."

You paused for a second before you found the words to continue.

"He ran into the woods afterwards and I followed straight after him. As soon as I finally caught up, he confronted me with all the things he heard during my conversation with Minerva and told me that he hates me for that."

Remus turned to look at you sadly but your gaze was still lingering on the ceiling.

"I ignored it as best as I could. I told him to go back to Hogwarts and started to make my way back on my own. I just needed to get my head clear. That's when the weather freaked out."

Now it was your turn to look at Remus who had a puzzled look on his face.

"The weather changed all of a sudden?"

"That's the part where all their precious theories begin."

You forced a laugh and Remus couldn't help but join in.

"Let me guess. Minerva is sure that Sirius is responsible for the things that happened to you but you still can't get yourself to believe the same?"

You nodded your head.

"At least he's not the only one out there who would know a charm like that."

"I know you still have hope that he is innocent, so I won't start an argument again. But please promise me one thing. Please don't underestimate him. You have to be more careful, Y/N."

You stared at him as his words slowly settled in, but a reassuring smile spread on your lips soon after that. You both sat up again and you hugged him.

"I know what I'm doing. I promise."

He let go of you and stood up again.

"You should go back to sleep, you still seem to be a little bit weak. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"Good night, Remus."

He walked out of the room and closed the door quietly behind himself. You laid down again and closed your eyes, slowly falling back to sleep.

________________

"Come on Y/N/N, just one prank."

"Sirius, please, I'm trying to learn over here."

Sirius walked back and forth in front of your bed since about twenty minutes now, madly trying to get you out of your dorm room to prank the Slytherin's.

"Then you shouldn't have asked me to spend some time with you today."

You put your book down and stood up, leaning against the frame of your bed.

"I didn't. I said I'll try to learn for the test we'll write in less than a week and you just said no and followed me upstairs."

He opened his mouth to protest but the right words didn't seem to get out of it. And he knew it pretty well as a small superior smile slowly appeared on your face.

"I've won padfoot."

"I won't give up so easily, princess."

He walked past you and made himself comfortable on your bed while you were just standing there watching him.

"And you believe that this is helpful to convince me?"

You crossed your arms in front of your chest and sat down opposite him. He watched you carefully before he continued.

"I just need to distract you as long as I can until you don't want to look into this stupid book anymore."

He grinned victoriously but so did you too as you put out your wand.

"Accio."

He lost his grip on the book and you easily took it.

"Oh please, love. You had better ideas than that."

He looked at you dumbfounded as these words left your mouth but he found his cool manner back again real quick. He leaned forward and took your hand without any kind of hesitation.

"Y/N Euphemia Potter."

You squinted your eyes, not knowing what he was about to do now.

"I would be honored to have you as my loyal companion in this next prank. I'm sure I'll need your shining brilliance and lack of following the rules to get out of this succesfully."

He made a dramatic pause and stood up, you following suit as he still hold onto your hand.

"Will you join me, your majesty?"

You shook your head while holding back your laughter as he bowed in front of you.

"You're unbelievable."

He bit his bottom lip and waited for you to answer his question. You rolled your eyes and smiled.

"How could I possibly say no to that."

Now it was his turn to smile at you mischievously and he put one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side.

"Listen carefully my love, you will never ever hear another idea as good as this one."

You turned your head to look at him and waited for him to explain his plan but at the same time you heard the door open behind of you both.

"Y/N/N have you seen Padfoot by any chance?"

You both turned around as James walked into the room, followed by Remus and Peter. He stopped in his tracks as he saw Sirius’ arm around your shoulder.

"You're a little too close to my sister, mate."

Sirius let go of you almost instantly as if he got bitten by snake, but nevertheless succeeded to let it look casual. You looked down at the ground and smiled to yourself.

"We have a lot of work to do, let's go."

You made your way to the door and dragged Peter and James with you. Remus and Sirius still didn't leave their spot.

"What were you doing here, Padfoot? We've searched the whole school for you."

Remus crossed his arms in front of his chest and stared at Sirius, a slightly annoyed look on his face.

"Sorry Moony, I just needed to involve Y/N/N in our next prank, you're all going to love it!"

"Sure, that's all you wanted to do here, lovebird."

Sirius glared at Remus who couldn't help but smirk at his reaction.

"Are you out of your mind, she could hear you!"

But you were already walking down the stairs, oblivious to what was happening behind of yourself.

As you reached the common room you turned around to look at James.

"I still have one question before we can start this prank."

Remus and Sirius joined you three and waited for you to continue.

"Padfoot said I will never ever hear another idea as good as this one. So what exactly are we going to do?"

They all started to smile mischievously and you started to wonder if you really wanted to hear the plan. Sirius put his arm around your shoulder again, not minding James this time, and dragged you to the entrance of the common room.

"We'll start in the Slytherin common room."

"You don't say."

"Sh, don't Interrupt me."

You hold back a laugh and waited for him to end his little dramatic speech.

"And then we do nothing more than intervene a little in the weather."

taglist: @frederikkeborup @puppetofyourdreams @avengersassemblee

#harry potter #marauders era #sirius black x reader #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #lily evans #peter pettigrew #i solemnly swear i am up to no good #harry potter fanfiction #minerva mcgonagall

31 notes · View notes

be-the-creature-fan · 4 years

Text

The River by be-the-creatue-fan (Read my first story AIN'T NO TIME LIKE 1969 before reading this story)

Chapter 1

"Martin? What are you doing here again? Dr. Corvado was looking everywhere for you!"

Martin turned around to see who was talking to him.

"Mom?! What are you doing here?"

"It's a good thing that we've found you in time." Linda Kratt said as she grabbed Martin arm and took Martin away from the tomb stone.

"Mom, what are you doing? where are you taking me?"

She didn't say a single word and they both continued walking until they got to the parking lot. There stood an ambulance type vehicle with several doctors and police officers that ran towards him.

"Mom? MOM! What are you doing? what's going on!?"

Linda remained silent but her eyes were starting to water up as the doctors restrained him and shoved him into the back. One of the doctors looked very familiar, Martin looked at the name tag that was on the doctors shirt. Dr Corvado.

"Aviva! Oh man it's so good to see a familiar face!"

But Aviva didn't say a word, and ignored him. Martin being very confused still tried to talk to her, but with no luck.

"Aviva it's me Martin, Me, You, Chris, Koki and Jimmy would go around the world to rescue animals. you're a genius inventor and-"

"Smith! he's speaking crazy talk again, we should probably give him the shot now."

"Alright Corvado he's your patient."

"Wait what shot? Aviva you have to listen to me we were friends you have to beli-"

And just like that Martin was out cold.

Chapter 2

(Flashback to July 20th 1973)

It was what you would call a perfect summer day, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and excitement was still in the air. Chris had just celebrated his 4th birthday and he was still hyped about being another year older, but he was even more excited to go with Martin and his older sisters to the near by river at the place where the whole family camped.

"Bill are you sure Chris is old enough to go with them to that river?"

"Linda, of course he's old enough, they're going to the shallow part of the river, and plus I'll be close by incase the kids need anything."

"Oh alright, have fun you guys!"

As Bill, Martin, his sisters and Chris got closer to the river the more excited Chris became.

"Martin are we there yet?"

"It's going to be awhile until we get there, but don't worry we'll be in there in no time"

But Chris wasn't the most patient kid and decided to run ahead.

"Now Chris don't run to far ahead yah hear!" Bill called out.

"I won't!"

After a while of walking and running they finally made it to the river, only to find it flooded from the storm the night before.

"Welp, looks like we can't go swimming gang"

"WHAT!? But why Daddy?" Chris winned

"Well you see squirt, the river is over flooded, it's too dangerous to go swimming, but, it's not to dangerous to go berry picking" Bill said as he pointed towards some blackberry bushes. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Uh I guess" Chris said a little disappointed.

So Martin, his sisters and Chris started picking blackberries close to the river as Bill went fishing just up river not to far from them.

"Man it's hot outside, I'm gonna cool off in the river"

"But Martin, Daddy said to not go in the river because it's to dangerous" Chris said

"Yea, he said it was dangerous for you because your to little"

"I'm not too little, I just turned 4!"

"Yea, and I'm 7 almost 8, I'm technically a man, and I'm old enough to go into the river if I want to."

Chris didn't take that to kindly and wanted to prove that he wasn't the little kid that everybody thought he was. When no one was watching he decided that's when he would make his move to go into the river.

"Chris what are you doing?" Susan said (one of the twin sisters)

Chris didn't respond as he jumped into the river. Chris underestimated the depth and power of the river as he was swept away by the strong current.

"MARTIN! Chris jumped in the river!" "He's getting carried down river!"Both Christine and Susan screamed.

Martin turned around to see Chris's head pop out for a split second, before the current pulled it back down.

"Susan! Go and get Dad! Me and Christine will try to get Chris out!"

Susan ran to get Bill as Martin got out of the river because even he knew that the current was to strong for him.

"MARTIN! HELP ME! *GASP* MOMMA ,PAPA *GASP* SAVE ME!...... save me....." Chris's head went under again.

"CHRIS! NOOOOO!"

(A few hours later)

Mr and Mrs. Kratt, we've found your son's body down river and I regret to inform you that your son didn't make . We are so sorry for your lost. we need-....................................

Martin and his sisters were sitting inside the trailer, he could hear his mom screaming in agony, he looked out the window to see them both crying. That's when Martin knew, but that's not how it was happen, Chris didn't die, he couldn't have died, he didn't die, he didn't die, he didn't die!

(Back in Present day)

Martin woke up to find himself in what seemed to be some sort of jail cell.

"Martin, you awake?"

"Jimmy? Is that you?"

Chapter 3

"Jimmy! Oh my gosh I'm so glad you're here! Where is here anyways"

"We're in some sort of insane esylem, but that's all I know because HOW ON EARTH DID WE GET HERE!!!"

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Well, I was asleep in the Tortuga and the next thing I heard was sombody screaming and when I woke up I ended up here. I saw Aviva but for some reason she didn't respond, it was like she didn't recognize me"

"Wait do you remember Chris being alive?"

"Yea why wouldn't he be alive...unless. What happened while I was asleep?"

Martin explained what had happened to him, Chris's gravestone. the strange dream and how Aviva treated him on his way to the esylem.

"Oh my gosh...OH MY GOSH!"

"Jimmy what is it?"

"Its all wrong, this wasn't supposed to happen, when Chris went to the past, something happened that messed up the space time continuum."

"Well, how are we going to fix it?!"

"I-I don't know, its going to be hard to find the cause of how or what caused this to be our new reality. Time is very complicated stuff."

"Wait, how do you know about this stuff?"

"Martin, I don't just sleep, eat pizza and play video games all day. I usually subcaunsely listen to what Aviva and Koki talk about when it comes to complicated things like time trampolines and such."

"Oh"

"Hey Cell 37! SHUT UP!"

Martin and Jimmy turned to see one of the guards banging his fist on thier cell door. Then they saw the shadows of two other faceless figures before the door opened.

"I don't know how you escaped this time, but we'll make sure that it doesn't happen again yah hear?" The first person said

Martin and Jimmy were very confused as the 2nd figure walked in. Aviva walked in with a huge syringe. That was the last thing both Martin and Jimmy remembered.

Chapter 4

Martin and Jimmy were laying on their bunks. Numb, Cold, Afraid, their heads were pounding and they both were uncontrollable twitching. Martin's eyes began to water from the pain that he felt. Jimmy on the other hand felt anger and rage, his blood began to boil. Jimmy jumped from his bunk and ran to their cell door.

"YOU HEARTLESS SWINE!!! WE'RE NOT THE CRAZY ONES, YOU'RE THE CRAZY BIT-"

"Jimmy?" Martin said with a weak voice. "Was Chris ever alive? Or was I just crazy this whole time?"

"No, Martin, your not crazy, we're not crazy, Chris was alive. He was alive..."

The Next few days were rough for Jimmy and Martin as their hope began to dwindle. Martin kept having the same nightmares of his brother's death as well as having the same horrible dream of him just disappearing from existence like what he had originally witnessed, as the days passed it was getting harder to believe what was true. Jimmy was also going through a rough time. He still felt utterly betrayed by Aviva and missed Koki dearly.

"I wonder where Koki is?"

"Who knows." Martin said kind of miffed

"You know I loved her, right? I-I wanted to tell her how I felt...b-but I was always too chicken, a-and now I might never get the chance."

"Well sucks to be you. At least Koki might be alive somewhere, but guess what, Chris is dead and everyone thinks I'm a looney!"

Jimmy fell silent as he was to angry to say a word.

Weeks turned into months and not a word was spoken.

Until one day Martin overheard a conversation.

"I think I did it!"

"Did what Ms Corvado?"

"Well, for the past couple of years I've been working on a time machine and now I've think I've done it!"

"So she has been working on a time machine" Jimmy said kind of miffed.

"But what good would that do" Martin said feeling rather hopeless "it not like we can fix any of this, or can we..."

(Meanwhile with Chris)

Martin, that was the last thing Chris saw before he felt as if he was drowning. Fear was the last feeling that Chris had before he dissapeared into the abyss.

"Wh-Where am I?"

But the only response he got was an echo. His surroundings were white at first before becoming more clear. The first thing that came into focus was the green grass and the surrounding tombstones, soon more things came into focus he spotted Martin standing infront of one of the tombstones.

"Martin!" Chris yelled as he ran towards his brother to embrace him, but he went right through him.

Martin didn't hear him, he couldn't hear him, he couldn't feel him, Chris was nothing more than a soul.

(I'm putting this story on hold I am so sorry for leaving this on a cliff hanger I just need to think how I'm going to continue the story because honestly I ran out of ideas. Oop)

#wild kratts #kratt brothers #chris kratt #martin kratt #why am i doing this #please help me #major oof

15 notes · View notes

motherofwoofers · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7 I'd Rather be Hibernating

As Marinette closed the hatch above her, and settled into the dark of her room, still chilled from the lack of power to her heater, she pulled the hoodie to her face. Luka's smell enveloped her: cool, spicy, and a hint of salt water. As if the very ocean had claimed him over the years. She sat there, legs bent over to her side, bundled in his jacket, beyond calm and satisfied.

She opened her eyes when her bed shifted, glowing green eyes holding her stare. They slowly blinked at her, but maintained their intense gaze. He made no move to come closer, even less so to speak.

"It seems everyone knows who I am," Marinette grumbled, letting the hoodie fall from her face. She felt oddly bereft once it was no longer caressing her face. There was no response in the dark. Annoyed Marinette climbed down from her bed, maneuvering around her dark room through memory alone until she found the space heater and cranked it up. The warm glow lit the room, and the deep shadowed figure on her bed became illuminated.

Chat Noir's suit had changed over the years. No longer the bell-ed and adorable bachelor of Paris. He was still quick, refined, and full of attitude. But he was sharper now. Less forgiving. A house cat turned panther. His appearance had altered to reflect that. Deep metallic green reflected in well placed stitching, finger tips no longer prickly, but full clawed. He was svelte. Suit clinging and moving in a way that showed he was lethal: deadly. Restrained. He had once shown deeply hidden matte spots in places along his suit.

Before the reveal.

Before the betrayal was known.

But now he no longer reflected anything but himself. His mask had shaped aggressively soon after that, ears in a constant state of irritation. The last 2 years had helped ease those harsh lines. It would take far longer for Chat to find himself again though. Find true peace. Until then, the cat miraculous gave him a way to control that anger. Siphoning off the overflow into power.

Marinette climbed back into her bed, unceremoniously making him move out of her way. She pulled the covers out from under her pillows and unfolded a pink and white spotted blanket to wrap her shoulders in. She refused to speak to him until he broke the silence himself. It took long moments of avoiding his intense stare. She took the opportunity to reflect on the scent of calming still wrapped around her *Menthol? Mint?* she felt it was the latter that made up the cool undercurrent of the scent.

"I was under the impression I was the only one who had figured it out." His voice was low. It had been a voice that had at one point made her breath catch and her cheeks warm. It no longer did. It was a voice that reflected everlasting partnership; trust. But butterflies didn't flutter in her chest. She had the feeling they hadn't fluttered in his for some time as well. Marinette waited for him to continue- he didn't.

"I was unaware anyone had. I thought I was better at hiding my identity than I thought I was. Apparently I underestimated my team. Foolish, I know. I needed to though, Chat. It endangers those who know. I can't add anymore danger to your lives." She couldn't match his gaze as she rambled, picking at a stray thread she would need to clip.

"It was," he sighed, before turning his attention away, settling into a tension-less pose. Weight heavy in his shoulders. A weight he would only reveal to her.

"Dangerous?" She questioned, as he settled his back against her wall.

"Foolish."

"Oh." She was quiet.

"Things have changed. But your protection is still paramount. You should know that by now." Chat didn't mince his words, but was hushed all the same. Silence fell between them again for awhile. The only sound the humm of her heater.

"I just-"

"I know why you did it," he cut her off. "Doesn't mean it was the right choice though. I was hurt for awhile once I'd figured it out. Felt like just another betrayal… but I know it wasn't. It was the kindest thing you could have done. A choice and responsibility that you harbored. So I never said anything. I watched though. I was there for you at every turn. As you were for me," he was quiet again. He looked down at his hand that held the miraculous ring, flexed the fingers. "These powers. A dream come true. An out. But for some of us- it's the weight of the world." He let his hand drop to her duvet.

"I'm sorry I never told you," Marinette pulled her knees to her chest. Curling her arms around them, staring down at the heater.

"I know you are."

The warmth and quiet wrapped them up once more. The silence empty but comforting. A natural balance in the room, like the feeling of true neutral. A room temperature you couldn't feel. They would always be the embodiment of yin and yang- in their part of the world at least. But while it was the ultimate balance, it had also left them balanced with eachother.

At first they hadn't figured it out. *She* hadn't figured out why she was so drawn to Adrien, and Chat to Ladybug. It was a desperate grasp to feel your other half. It had eventually led to their civilian selves having a short fling at some point. But it had ended quickly. She had more on her plate than she thought she could handle at the time- she had handled it though. And Adrien's life had begun to spiral. Things coming to light and coalescing in a way that couldn't be ignored any more. Needed to be faced.

Then it had exploded.

She had realized soon after that, that they had ached for eachother because of who they were and the miraculous they held. The feelings of love, merely a confused feeling of infatuation and need.

But as she had realized it, he had also turned away from everyone else as well. He was wounded deeply. Truly orphaned. The miraculous team had rallied around him, keeping him as grounded as they could to keep him falling into something he couldn't return from. Even more difficult when they had discovered that Nooroo's gem had been snatched right out from under their noses. The police had stormed into the Agreste mansion as the battle was ending. The raging carnage shaking the very city.

It had been a moment. Perhaps even a heart beat that the butterfly had been released from between Miraculous hands. Then it had been gone. As if it had never been in the room at all.

Chat had taken the loss as a failure of his own actions. It had been gasoline to his raging inferno.

The team had searched and scoured. Finding nothing. Not even whispers. Then some sort of strangeness had happened in Spain. Turkey. Ukraine.

Akumas.

A pair of miraculous had been awoken in Moscow, a Guardian chosen. Then the akumas had dissapeared again.

Until six months ago.

When Monarch had found Paris.

The butterfly wielder wasn't set on stealing other miraculouses. They had waited to see if she had true plans. Battled the akumatized victims at every turn. Watching them become more and more dangerous.

Monarch just wanted to sew chaos. She used all emotions. Anything strong enough to catch her attention- she snatched.

A father brimming with joy at the birth of his first child. She had seized that. Twisted it.

The akuma had built a tower. A tower in which he had held his wife and child, far from everyone. Brambles and vines with thorns thick as arms had climbed the bricks. Preventing any from coming closer. Then he had begun to collect all the infants from Paris, gathering them in his tower. He had been *protecting* them. Even from their own parents.

But Monarch struck at random. She would akumatize multiple victims in a week, and then disappear for awhile. Becoming impossible to track. Without a true goal, they had nothing to go off of. They found political elections or grand scale decisions afflicted, but not all. And none of them in line with each other.

Just chaos.

Her victims intelligent. Guided. Without anger blinding many of them, they were more focused.

Encounters in summer had been one challenge. The cold weather becoming an entirely different battle ground.

But Monarch had slowed her own actions. The butterfly miraculous beginning to affect her as well as the rest of them. The cold difficult to function through.

Marinette found herself close to drifting off as the room warmed. Then Chat shifted once more.

"Did you tell him?" It was quiet. Barely audible. Something in his tone held back.

"No." A deep breathe washed out of his chest and he closed his eyes. "He's known." She mumbled into her knees, the hoodie having snuck back up against her chin.

"Mmm," was all Chat replied with. He slid his fingers along her comforter. They had history together. Nothing would change that. "I trust him." Marinette wasn't aware that she had craved his approval of the situation until he spoke it aloud. "When did he…?"

"Before the.. before," she couldn't find the right words, but he nodded all the same.

"I'm not… *happy* about it," his voice had gone back to his normal tone. No longer raw. She gripped the loose fabric of her fleece pants. "I know how he feels. I've seen it. He hides most of it. Keeps it hidden beneath layers of coy and natural caring. He's smooth, I'll give him that," Chat chuckled. "But I'm not… hmmm. I don't… We're not together. But it's hard for me to see you wearing someone else's clothes." His eyes slid to her, gleaming in the dark. They both knew she still had a few of his things. From the heated nights they'd shared. Though they had kept it a secret from others.

"I want something real Chat," she met his eyes. Held them. "I want to try at least. I want to feel again, in the open this time. We had… we had what we needed at the time. You and I. But I had something with him, too. Something warmer and deeper, than us," something *real* she added to herself. It had been real between her and Adrien, but it hadn't been the real she craved. "Luka…Luka is-"

"What you need now," he finished for her. Marinette could only nod in response. The dim light of the heater filling the space between them again. "I came here to see if you were alright. You weren't performing well in the last fight. Deep winter is settling in early this year. I don't know what went wrong. But I know something did. I could see it all over his face. See the fear he keeps buried deeper than most can see. I see it, though. I know where to look now." He began to shift his body, moving into a crouch. Chat would leave soon.

"I know he escorts you home. Or close enough lately. Filling my position," she watched the muscle in his jaw flutter, before he unclenched. "I needed to be sure. But when I found your bed empty, I stayed. I've only been waiting a few hours." He maneuvered to her roof hatch. "It seems I didn't need to worry, though. Even without his jacket his scent is wrapped around you. I can barely tell where he ends and you begin..." he looked away from her. "I'm not happy to step back. But I know you're safe. And that's what truly matters."

Then he was lifting himself through the open door, preventing most of the newly shifted snow from falling in.

"Thank you, Chat," Marinette whispered to him. Well aware he would hear her.

"Always, M'Lady," and then the door closed softly. She couldn't hear him leap from her balcony or roof. But she hadn't been able to hear him for a long time.

It took awhile after he left, for her mind to settle. To absorb everything from the last day or two. Things had changed. Perhaps they had already changed, and she had yet to notice them. But things had definitely shifted. And even though her heart ached from the words that had been said between her and Chat- they were merely things that had not been voiced yet.

The room had finally warmed to a sweltering level, and sleep tugged at her once more. Marinette settled into her bed, shifting beneath the covers until she was thoroughly bundled. Cradled as if she wasn't alone.

She felt alone though. A feeling she hadn't recognized she felt, until the space beside her had been filled, and was now empty again. His smell was strong beneath the covers with her, breathing him in and out within the cocoon. She craved the feel of him, once more.

The teenager he had once been, had always been strong, resilient. Skilled at making any situation feel natural. He had held and cuddled her even when she had pushed them all away, in her stress. But it had never felt forced to ease into his side, drift off against his shoulder. His gentle touches and brushed fingers as he exchanged things with her. It had always been natural. Normal. Second nature.

He pushed and pulled her in a dance she hadn't realized she was waltzing in. So focused on the fire around her, never realizing his steadying presence. A presence that he maintained into adulthood. There had been moments when he had pulled away from her. She had felt them distinctly. The lack of connection was noticed. But he always drifted back. Whether of his own accord or a string she subconsciously tugged him with. A rhythm that beat between them seamlessly, even when the harmony of Ladybug and Chat Noir drowned things out, by pure force alone- he was there.

A quiet spark protected in a glass deep within her. Hidden behind that fortress she had built to keep everyone out. She had tucked it in there, close to her heart, but out of sight. Never allowing it to bring him harm.

But he *knew* now.

Had always known.

And she wanted to bring that small spark back to life, just to discover it was already a flame. A flickering flame within it's own gilded lantern.

Marinette offered small bits of kindling to the flame. Wanting it to shine, to illuminate the places within her, that were *her*. That were *Marinette* and not Ladybug. Not the Guardian.

But the whole of who and what she was now. All parts of her.

She wanted to cling to that flame and watch it thaw all the places the winters of her life had frozen over.

Chapters 1-20 can be found on AO3 :)

#lukanette #miraculous ladybug #luka couffaine #chat noir #mlb fanfic

8 notes · View notes

redhairdontcare732 · 5 years

Text

Sweet PeaxReader: Riot Night From Hell, Part 2

Author's note:

This is the second part to this, so if you haven't read the first I highly suggest you do, or this won't make sense! I'm trying to figure out how to make a masterlist so that all the imagines will be in one place, but it's not up yet. Again, italicized text indicates a flashback or memory.

AnYWaYs. Here's the last part to this two-shot

TRIGGER WARNING: Violence against women, semi-graphic violence described.

Jughead POV:

“Hello?”, I answered the unknown number with a sickening feeling of dread.

“Juggie! Long time no see”, a very familiar voice practically sang.

“Penny. Called to brag about the impending war?”, I practically snarled. She giggled with her disgusting, sickly sweet facade.

“Oh Jughead, why brag about something so certain? You should know by now that isn't my style. No, I was calling because there's someone here that I thought should get to speak with you before I take care of her”, she quipped.

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Surely she didn't have Betty? I'd narrowly gotten Toni back from those assholes; there was no way that they'd had time to find Bets, right? The growing pit of fear tightened and took hold in my middle. Before I had a chance to formulate any semblance of a response, my anxious mental rambling was abruptly cut off by the angry shouting from an all too familiar voice.

“JUGHEAD DON'T LISTEN TO THIS BITCH”.

“Y/N”, I managed to choke out. My heart had officially sank into the very bottom of my being. They had Y/N. There was an electric crackling sound followed by an agonizing shriek that made my knees turn weak. This couldn't be happening, not to her. Y/N was like the sister that Jellybean never got the chance to be for me; she'd been a constant in my life ever since we were in diapers. Hee homelife sucked, and more often than not she stayed in the trailer with me. She knew me better than anyone, even Betty. She was the first to support my novel about Jason Blossom, the first to welcome me into the Serpents. Hell, on more than one occasion she’d even beaten up the morons that bullied me. All of the memories of Y/N and I flooded my mind; all the times she showed up to my trailer in the middle of the night to escape her father, every movie she and I watched and dissected together, the stupid jokes, each time she fiercely protected me, everything.

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed firmly against my chest as I surveyed the student lounge with my usual mix of disdain and disinterest in equal parts. It was just another day in hell,with the exception of the eerie sense of foreboding; the discovery of Jason’s body had cast a dark cloud over Riverdale High’s student body, that much was clear. Students walked a little faster to class, people walked in groups, and the entirety of the students seemed on-edge. Well, almost everyone.

My attention was fading in and out as Reggie ripped into Moose and Kevin before spouting his insane theories about Jason’s murder. I watched Archie struggle with the vending machine with limited interest, thoughts turning to my own theories and ideas regarding the Blossom investigation, until I heard Reggie utter my own name.

“What was it like Suicide Squad? When you shot Jason?”, the dark haired jock addressed me with a sense of near gleeful malice. I rolled my eyes back so far I almost worried they would get stuck that way like my mom used to tell me. “You didn’t do stuff to the body...like after?”.

“It’s called necrophilia Reggie, can you spell it?”, I replied, disgust and disinterest written all across my face. Reggies face went from smug to angry in seconds, and it wasn’t long before he leapt over the side of the chair he previously occupied and charged at me like a bull released at a rodeo.

“Come here you little--”, Reggie started.

“Leave him alone Reggie”, Archie stepped in front of me, placing himself between the Bulldog and myself. I didn’t quite expect him to step up for me, but I guess it was just part of Archie’s personality. He was never one to allow the Bulldogs to walk all over anyone, unless of course it was only with words.

“Yes Reginald. Do leave him alone”, I heard a voice come from just across the room. I pulled myself out of my musings about Archie to turn and find Y/N leaning against the lounge's doorway. Her arms were crossed, leather jacket pulling lightly against her broad shoulders, and one of her combat clad feet leaned casually against the frame. Her face probably appeared impassive to the rest of the students, but I had known Y/N my entire life and I knew that she was pissed. Her Y/C/E were alight with anger, and her fists were tightly clenched against her arms. Y/N wasn’t fond of any of the Northside kids, but she especially hated anyone that talked down to me or Southsiders in general. She had always been overly protective of me; she always half-teased that she was my ‘big sister’, which I always refused to accept because I was 2 months older than her. She would always say that didn’t matter, it was her ‘maturity’ that made her the ‘older twin’. Regardless, his was going to end poorly for Reggie if he didn’t back off quickly.

Reggie didn’t appear fazed by her sudden arrival for more than a second or two. He scoffed, head turning from Y/N to me and back.

“And what are you going to do about it if I don’t?”, he sneered. Y/N smiled her most terrifying smirk; it was the kind of smile that always looked so out of place on her otherwise sweet face, the kind that should be more than enough warning for it’s target. I noted the way Reggie’s face fell fractionally before his cocky facade returned, and I shook my head. Reggie always was a special kind of stupid, and now it was finally going to get him into trouble.

“Well Reginald, I just thought that you should have a fair warning before I’m forced to step in”, she stated simply, choosing to circle the Bulldog slowly like a snake circling its prey. It was almost poetic really; most Serpents didn’t have the correct mannerisms to actually be compared to a snake, but Y/N fit the gang’s name to a T. She was beautiful, but in a completely different way, cunning, smarter than most people, and always slow to strike-- but when she did, you were going to regret ever underestimating her or not heeding the warnings she was so clearly giving. Reggie snorted once more before turning his back on her and facing me once more.

“What, can’t fight your own battles Jones?”, he glowered. “Gotta get your butt buddy here and your Serpent Slut to step in for you?”.

I shoved to make my way past Archie but the redhead blocked my path. Y/N tapped Reggie on the shoulder in a way that seemed too gentle for the occasion. If I hadn’t been present for the previous events I wouldn’t have thought she was doing anything more than trying to gain his attention. But this was Y/N and Reggie and there was nothing innocent about it. As soon as the football player turned, he received a solid punch to the nose. He immediately reeled backwards, blood spurting from between his fingers and profanities spewing from his lips. Y/N chuckled and kicked his shins, making the Reggie fall to his knees clutching his nose and groaning. Her hand flicked out quick as lightning, long nails digging into the soft part of his right ear causing the bloody boy to howl out in pain.

By now we’d gathered the attention of everyone in the lounge. Moose and several of the other Bulldogs stood and rushed over to their friend, but not one dared step in between Y/N and her target. They all just stood tensely, watching the entire thing unfold with looks mixed between disgust, fear, and slight admiration. Veronica, Betty, and Kevin stood together off to the side watching the chaos with wide eyes. I relaxed back into a bored stance, more than happy to let Y/N do her thing. Most people would be worried about the girl in the midst of a fight with a jock twice her size, but I knew better. I watched with a sort of pride as Y/N leaned in close to Reggie’s ear, fingers still pinching his other so hard that it was beginning to draw blood.

“Now, I can let the Serpent Slut comment slide because, honestly, I don’t put much stock in the opinion of a flea-ridden mutt, but the comments about my brother over there need to stop. So, if you value the use of your pathetic face or dick again, I suggest you leave Jughead alone. Permanently.” she hissed. “And don’t think that just because I don’t go to school in this Pep-filled nightmare that I won’t hear about things. Trust me when I say I have my ways Bulldog. This is your first and final warning”.

She released his ear and stepped back. Then she turned to me with a bright smile and a new twinkle in her eye, all signs of her terrifying persona gone as quickly as it came on.

“Ready Jug?”, she asked kindly. I smirked and headed over to the door with her, exiting the school and leaving behind the still shocked faces of the students left in the lounge.

“You know I could have handled that on my own”, I teased, only half-serious. Y/N laughed out loud and shoved my shoulder with her own as we made our way down the steps outside the school.

“Oh Juggie I'm sure you could have, but what kind of big sister would I be if I didn’t help?”, she giggled, stopping for a moment to pinch my cheeks playfully. I swatted her hands away, smile still planted firmly on my face as we stepped out into the cool fall air.

Y/N was so much more than a sister to me. I'd always teased her about calling us twins, but truth be told she was right. She was my family, even more so than my parents or Jelly, because she had chosen to be in my life and actually stay in it. Y/N was the one constant factor in my life.

“Mhm, I gotta say this girl has more fight in her than the last one”, Penny simpered. “Of course we're obviously a bit more impatient than we were previously, and besides Y/N/N and I have some unfinished business of our own”.

“What do you want Penny? What's the endgame here? You've already got all of the Serpents ready to enter the Colosseum and fight, when you and I both know there's no chance of survival. What more could you possibly want at this point?”, I rasped, still reeling in shock and fear.

“I'll tell you the same thing I told your pathetic, fake little twin: don't play stupid with me Jones, you're too smart for that. You,Y/N, and your teenage wastoids did me dirty and I haven't forgotten”, she snarled. “So you'd better show up soon because while I am loving watching Riverdale burn, my patience with you Joneses is running dangerously thin”.

“Surely you know that this won't end well?”, I stated trying futilely to sound more strong than I was feeling. Penny chuckled darkly.

“Oh I know it won't Jughead, but I'm not the one that's going to lose everything. Because if you bring anyone along with you, including your dad or this one's anger management case of a boyfriend, I'll kill her on the spot. No little Red Riding hood hiding out in the woods either. You come alone or don't come at all” she threatened.

“Whichever works for me really”, Penny continued nonchalantly. “Either way I get a Jones all to myself”.

“So if I come to you, no tricks, you'll let Y/N go?”, I asked evenly.

“Course kid. Just show up alone and I'll let the little Serpent Slut go”.

“NO JUG DON'T. SHE'S A LYING FUCKING--”, I heard Y/N start to shout before her voice abruptly cut off. The sounds of sickening groaning and thudding filled the phone line.

“I'd hurry up and make a decision here Jughead. With the mouth on this one we may have to start the party early”. Penny laughed before ending the call.

My eyes were filled with unshed tears, and I threw my fist against the side of the Wyrm in anger. There were no options left, no reprieve from the shit show that had overtaken Riverdale. Y/N didn't deserve this, none of the Serpents did. I wiped my eyes futilely as the tears continued to stream down my face, and dialed the one number I knew could maybe get Y/N out of there alive.

“This is Hiram”, Mr. Lodge answered curtly.

“Fangs getting arrested, the riot, the Ghoulies showing up the night of the riot, with Penny in tow, taking Y/N. None of this is happenstance”, I said, half to Mr. Lodge, half to myself. It was hard to believe that all this could be orchestrated by one mad-man, but then again this was Riverdale.

“Jughead I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about”, he sighed.

“You’ve been buying up everything you could, but you couldn’t buy us, so you paid the Ghoulies and Penny to go war with the Serpents, so you could finally get rid of us once and for all. How much is this costing you?”, I ground the words out of my mouth, still in slight disbelief that they were even real. But they were. This was real, and Y/N, my dad, and the entire Serpent population were in danger thanks to the coward I was currently speaking to.

“I’m hanging up now”, Hiram replied after a few seconds.

“ ‘Cause I have a counter offer”, I practically cut him off. His line went nearly dead; he was silent. “Mr. Lodge?”.

“I'm listening”, he answered finally.

Y/N’s POV:

I sat, or rather perched near a crackling fire while I watched, with more hate in my eyes than I had ever felt, Penny who sat calmly across from me. The orange and yellow flames crackled with a relaxing, sweet glow that did not fit the scenario. My hands were bound behind me with the thickest, sharpest fucking rope in existence. I swear Penny had gone and found the oldest, most uncomfortable length of rope in Riverdale just to piss me off and add insult to injury. Speaking of injuries, I was 99% certain that I had a concussion based on the pounding in my head that was unlike any other I’d ever felt before and the blood that I could feel dripping down my neck. It was as if one minute I was riding with FP, and in the next I was awoken in the worst way possible. Malachai had decided that the best way to rouse me was to shove his taser in my ribs. I awoke screaming, confused and in more pain than I could describe. Being tasered was like someone shoving an electrified fork into my core that was ripping my muscles apart. I would have much preferred the sternum rub that cops used to wake drunks, or even a punch to the face over their chosen method.

“Good morning dollie, did you have a nice nap?”, Penny giggled as I attempted to stand up. I could still feel the remnants of the electric shock coursing through me and it made me feel as if I was going to be sick. One of the two Ghoulies that were holding me up by my armpits decided that I wasn’t moving fast enough. He yanked my head up by the roots of my hair, causing my eyes to water with pain and the wound on the back of my head to throb. Penny walked up to me slowly, eyes staring into mine the entire way. Penny’s eyes were a disgusting pool of emotionless darkness; though her eyes appeared to be a light blue in color, as she got closer I realized that they were speckled with black spots. How fitting. She finally reached me, smiling at me sweetly before sucker punching me straight in the gut. All the breath left my body in a single whoosh, but I refused to cry out in pain. I would not give Penny anymore satisfaction in seeing me suffer. The same putrid Ghoulie grabbed a fistful of my Y/H/C hair and made me look up.

“Aw, what’s wrong? Nothing to say?”, Penny snarled before punching me across the jaw. Stars danced across my vision and I fought hard not to pass out once more. I used every ounce of strength I had to lift my head on my own.

“Penny”, I growled. “What the fuck do you want?”.

“Awww come on now, don't play stupid with me love, you're too smart for that”, she pouted with fake concern. “I want payback from you and all your backstabbing teenaged Serpent pals. Although it seems like the town has already taken care of one of you for me. Pity, he would've been such fun to beat; that sweet little face all twisted in pain”, she risked wistfully. Then she grinned like some kind of demonic Cheshire cat, leaning in dangerously close to my face.

“Speaking of sweet, at least I will still have the pleasure of explaining to your loser boyfriend all the ways I'm going to make you scream before these guys-- ”.

I spat at Penny's face, hitting her directly under her eye. My spit had turned bloody from her punch, and it now adorned her scowling face. Though I knew I would pay dearly for my action I couldn't bring myself to regret it once I watched the Snake Charmer's face go from smug and all knowing to disgusted and furious. I felt a twisted sense of pride in that moment. Penny could do her worst to me, but I would die before I let her speak like that about Fangs, Sweet Pea, or anyone else I cared about. The Ghoulies holding me yanked me down by my arms and kicked my knees out from under me; I fell to the ground in a heap, knees taking the brunt of the fall. Penny wiped my bloody saliva from her cheek with the inside of her jacket before chuckling lightly and kicking me directly in the face. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as I felt my lip split in several places and heard the sickening crunch of my nose breaking. Fresh, hot blood squirted and sputtered from my nose like a faucet, and I tilted my head forward in a useless attempt to keep myself from choking on it.

“Think it's time we gave your little brother a call, don't you?”, she asked while cracking her neck in a businesslike manner.

“Leabe him out of this”, I hissed, trying to sound like the bitch didn't just break my nose. Penny laughed.

“Aww that's adorable. You think you call the shots around here doll?”, she asked condescendingly. “Bring her over to sit. Wouldn't want her to pass out again before the real fun begins”.

The men holding me shoved me roughly onto a chair as I fought with every ounce of strength I had not to lose consciousness. I vaguely heard Penny speaking to someone, but largely my thoughts were filled with Sweet Pea. The only reason I was even clinging to reality right now was him; I still wondered if he was okay, and hoped he would be smart enough not to avenge what was about to go down. As I struggled against the darkness that threatened to overtake me, I heard Penny more clearly call Juggie by name, and I fought against all my pain to warn him.

“JUGHEAD DON'T LISTEN TO THIS BITCH”, I screamed with all my might. Surely he must know that there was no way that Penny was going to let me go no matter what he did. I was dead no matter what, but Jughead was an idiot if he brought himself into this too. I didn't have too long to catch my breath before Malachai shoved his crackling taser into my ribs once more. I couldn't hold back the cry of pure pain that ripped it's way up my chest and out through my bloody lips. The taser had dug into me in nearly the same spot as before, and I vaguely smelt the sickening aroma of burning flesh as I began to black out once again. Malachai was having none of that, and he slapped me across the face in order to rouse me. Through the ringing in my ears that hadn't stopped since I'd awoken I vaguely could make out the sounds of Penny luring Jughead to this pit of terror, using me as bait.

“NO JUG DON'T. SHE'S A LYING FUCKING--”,

I was cut of abruptly by one of the Ghoulies tipping my chair backwards harshly until I felt my back hit the ground with an agonizing thud. As if this wasn't enough, he also kicked me twice in the stomach for good measure. I couldn't fight the darkness this time, and I allowed the waves of numbness to overtake me.

I don't know how long they'd left me unconscious, but I did know that they'd moved me once more. I now sat across the fire from Penny, no Ghoulies holding me up. They'd positioned me awkwardly in a chair, the ground around me filled with the gruesome sight of my own blood. As I waited in silence I internally wondered how much blood I'd lost tonight. If my constant struggle against unconsciousness was any indication, probably a lot.

“Look who decided to rejoin the party”, one of the Ghoulies practically giggled. I struggled against the ties that dug into my wrists futilely, anger reigniting as I recalled the events of the night. Penny laughed from her place across the fire.

“Oh please Y/N, by all means please get out of those ties. I’d love to see what you think you can do with all of us here”, she laughed mercilessly. I huffed, ignoring the screaming protests from nearly every part of my body. I settled myself more comfortably in the chair, although there was no way any position was going to be in anyway comfortable given the state of my injuries. I glared at Penny before sending a sickly sweet smile her direction. If I was going to die all because of this raging bitch I was at least not going to afford her the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart.

A twig snapped from somewhere behind me.

Jughead entered the grounds through the brush and for the first time since I was brought here I felt my eyes fill with hot, salty tears. I couldn’t believe he was stupid enough to come here, without any backup. He was going to end up with the same fate as me, and the unnecessary sacrifice from the boy I considered closer than family was too much for my heart to bear.

“You fucking moron”, I mumbled, unable to think of anything else to say. Jughead eyed me up and down with a look of pure sorrow as he assessed my injuries. I briefly wondered if I looked worse than I felt, but quickly dismissed the thought. Nothing could possibly look worse than the way my body was feeling at the current moment.

“The sacrificial lamb arrives”, Penny exclaimed as she stood. Ghoulies flanked her on either side, and the orange glow from the fire made her gaunt face seem even more evil. Jughead reluctantly turned his attention from me and he turned to face her, his expression stoic.

“I’ll remind you of the deal I made with your boss, Hiram Lodge”, he stated lifelessly. “I turn myself into you tonight and there’s no bloodshed tomorrow. Y/N goes free”.

“Yes, apparently getting you two out of the picture is more important to him than an all out Serpent annihilation”, Penny replied. “Kudos”.

“What do you mean the two of us?”, he ground through his teeth. “Y/N is leaving. Now”.

Penny just laughed, the sound of her witches cackle echoing throughout the clearing.

“Let’s just say that Mr. Lodge and I may have, re-negotiated a bit after you called. We agreed that one less Serpent to deal with tomorrow the better off we’ll be”, she sneered. Jughead hung his head, eyes closed and lips pursed in a thin line. “Come on kid, did you really think your sacrifice was really going to save anyone? Y/N gets it, she’s known from minute one. You really should have listened to her”.

“You son of a--”,

“So do I at least get one last cigarette before this thing or what?”, I interrupted Jughead, voice hoarse from screaming. His face snapped up to meet mine, blue eyes filled with so much sadness that I couldn’t help but send a small smile his way. I was really going to miss him.

“That’s your last request?”, Penny chuckled with disdain. I held my ground, staring into her empty eyes with as much contempt as I could possibly convey. Penny shrugged, and motioned to one of her tagalongs. He stepped up to my now standing form, switchblade flicking out in what I’m sure was meant to be a threatening motion as he waved it in front of my face tauntingly. Did he really think the threat of death was really going to faze me at this stage of the game? His uneven teeth glinted against the flickering light from the fire as he leaned down and swiftly cut the ties binding my hands. I grabbed my pack from my back pocket, lighting up quickly and walking slowly over to Jughead, unsure the whole way if my legs would really be able to take me all the way there. I savored the taste of the sweet nicotine as it hit my throat, blowing the smoke out through my nose.

I reached Jug after some difficulty; the eyes of every insane asshole in the clearing were trained on each of my movements, but I mentally blocked them out as I took in the boy in front of me. He looked about twenty years older than I’d last seen him, and I felt a pang in my heart at his change in demeanor. I brought my hand up to his arm, gently squeezing it and smiling lightly.

“Y/N…”, he started, voice cracking. I held up my other hand as a way of silencing him.

“Me too Juggie”, I said simply, trying to show him how much he meant to me through my eyes. Being my twin had its perks, and Jug seemed to understand what I was getting at immediately. He brought his arms around my shoulders gently, hugging me to his chest like he used to when we were kids and I was hiding out from my father. After what felt like only seconds, I disentangled from my brother and turned back to the group with as much strength as I could muster. I took one last puff from my cigarette, flicking it absentmindedly into the fire.

“30-2 huh. You guys that scared of us?”, I sniggered. Malachai and the rest of his posse stalked towards Jughead and I slowly.

“The only scary thing is what we’re going to do to your not-so-little boyfriend when we find him”, he snarled. I blinked once, turning to Jug and giving him a blank look. Then I felt all the rage that had been building all night, hell my whole life, snap from inside me like a rubber band. I was nearly blinded by the intensity of the anger that was aching to come from every pore in my body.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HIM”, I bellowed as my fist swung out of its own accord and landed solidly in the center of Malachai’s ugly painted face. From that moment all hell broke loose; all the Ghoulies attacked Jughead and I with a kind of insane vigor that I couldn’t describe if I tried. I attempted to fight back at first, but waves and waves of blows were coming down on me like the downpour of rain during the sad montage part of a rom-com. After the first few hits my body became mercifully numb, and I just lay on the ground waiting for the comforting curtain of darkness to overcome me once again.

As I faded in and out from consciousness my mind was flooded with thoughts of my Sweetest Pea. I'd always thought it was all bullshit when people claimed they saw their life flash before their eyes during experiences like these. I also never dreamed that this kind of thing would ever happen to me. But it was, and I could confirm that my entire life with Pea was playing through my mind as I lay brokenly on the cold ground. I couldn't really feel my face at all, but in my head I was smiling as I enjoyed watching each of my memories like a comforting movie.

I recalled the way Sweet's dark curls bounced across his forehead as he laughed that truest laugh that only a select few, me included, could draw from him. I thought of the way his smooth lips would perk up into a smile whenever he saw me and the way his strong jaw felt under my fingers as his lips connected with mine. I heard the moans of pleasure that I took such pride in pulling from him in our more intimate moments. I re-lived the countless lazy days that we spent in our trailers, his strong arms holding me protectively. Nestled in the way I loved to lay on his solid chest when we cuddled in bed; how he would always tighten his hold around my middle and whine whenever I attempted to get up. I was soothed by the memory of his steady heartbeat against my cheeks as his fingers grazed over my back and arms gently. I felt the way his calloused fingers felt when they danced across my cheeks, leaving a small trail of electricity in their wake no matter how many times he repeated the action. I heard the deep, soothing bass of his voice, lips tickling the shell of my ear as he told me he loved me. But above all, I heard my own voice echoing as I promised him that I would never leave him. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that I would be breaking my promise tonight, and I prayed as the world faded from view that he could find some way to forgive me.

Sweet Pea's POV:

I skidded to a stop and barely switched my bike off before I began sprinting to the spot Toni had identified. There was an abandoned fire crackling, with no sign of Penny or her Ghoulies. FP and I shared a glance; his eyes were open as wide as they could go, and he looked almost as terrified as I was betting I probably looked. I only spared a second before sprinting off into the thicket, FP hot on my heels as we entered the brush to search. My head whipped around frantically for any signs of Y/N. I probably looked like a fucking mental patient with the way I tore through the uneven terrain, but I couldn't be bothered to care. The fires of anger in my chest had died down to make way for the anchor of fear, guilt, and panic that was weighing me down the longer I went without Y/N in my arms.

“PEA”.

FP's frantic howl rang in my ears like the sound of the shot that killed Fangs. I whipped around to find him kneeling on the ground a couple of yards away from where I stood. I sprinted faster than I ever had, ignoring the way my legs screamed in protest and the way my heart sank into my feet. I dropped to my knees as soon as I reached my destination, giant unshed tears forming in my eyes and the back of my throat burning at the sight before me.

Next to a badly beaten Jughead lay my beautiful Y/N. Her face was nearly unrecognizable with the multiple cuts and swollen bruises forming across her once gentle features. The plump lips that I loved so much were nearly indistinguishable from the rest of her face they were split so badly, and there looked to be teeth marks on her slender neck. Her Serpent jacket was missing, and I could see several areas of her exposed skin had been either burned or slashed in some way. Her long Y/H/C locks were matted and covered in blood and dirt, and there was blood under some of her nails. The knuckles on her right hand were swollen and bloody; I noted with a sick sense of pride that she likely fought back against the Ghoulies, even though she was outnumbered. That's my girl, never one to go down without a fight. Her body was still, and even as I gently scooped her into my lap she remained cold and motionless; I felt my breath hitch and a sob leave my body when I found that I could not tell if she was still breathing. My shaking fingertips lightly grazed the spot where her once smooth cheeks resided.

“Y/N, baby please. Don't do this to me, you've gotta wake up princess”, I pleaded softly while standing and gathering her up in my strong arms. I began running out towards help. The way I felt her long limbs dangle lifelessly from my hold nearly tore a hole in my heart. I couldn't be too late, it just wasn't possible. She swore she'd never leave me. She promised.

“Pea…”, I almost missed the nearly inaudible rasp that came from her lips as I ran. I came very close to stopping when her unusually tiny voice reached my ears, but I kept going towards the area where I knew Toni had brought her truck.

“I'm here babydoll, don't worry. Everything is going to be alright”, I choked out. She tried to speak again, but I shushed her gently.

“Don't speak Y/N, I'm getting you help. Just stay with me doll. Can you do that for me baby? Just open up your beautiful Y/E/C eyes and stay with me, okay?”, I pleaded, moving more quickly as I spoke. Her dark fan of lashes fluttered weakly as she struggled to do as I'd asked. My heart broke, and I wished with everything I had that my Y/N would be alright.

It’d been an agonizing 2 weeks spent in the confines of a tiny, white, too sterile looking room in Riverdale General. Y/N had been rushed into surgery as soon as Toni and I brought her to the hospital, and since that day had undergone 3 others to attempt and repair the damage that those Ghoulie scum had inflicted. Her internal bleeding was out of control when she arrived, and her lung had all but collapsed from the blunt force she was subjected to. She had nearly half her ribs broken, a broken wrist, broken orbital bone near her eye, and a severely sprained ankle. Her skin was slowly recovering, most of her bruises shifting from deep purple to light shades of yellow and green as time went on. Her skin was stitched in multiple places from either the surgery or the cuts she sustained that night. In total she had over one hundred stitches covering her once smooth skin. She’d also required a skin graft to her upper rib area from some burns that the doctor said were likely from some kind of electrical element. Despite all this, as I sat next to her in the most uncomfortable plastic chair I’d ever encountered and stroked her hair gently, I still couldn’t help but feel like she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known. Her swelling had gone down significantly, and the splits in her lip had all but healed. I spent hours stroking the back of her hand with the pad of my thumb, staring at those gorgeous lips and wishing that they would part and begin speaking to me in that musical voice that I missed so dearly.

I hadn’t left the hospital for more than an hour at a time since she was admitted. I missed everything from the rumble with the Ghoulies, Jughead’s release, and even Fang’s discharge from the hospital. The others came and visited nearly everyday, most of them trying to gently pry me away from the room for any length of time. I refused each time, berating anyone that would even try to take me away from my Y/N. How could I leave her? It was my fault she was even in here, laying in this bed, broken. I should have protected her better, should have rushed to find her as soon as we got separated at the Sheriff’s station. Guilt washed over me in giant waves as I thought of all the ways I could have saved her. But she swore to me that she would never leave me, and I believed her. She was going to come out of it one of these days, and I was going to be there to hold her once she did.

Currently, it was day number 16 of Y/N’s stay, and just like all they other days she laid motionless on her bed with her chest lightly rising and falling with each breath she took. They’d taken her breathing tube out a few days ago and ever since then I’d sworn I’d never take any of her soft breaths for granted ever again. I used to lay with her on my chest as she slept, my hands lightly resting on her waist as I relished in each gentle snore and soft sigh that left her. If she ever laid on my chest it was an inevitability that she would end up sleeping at some point. Not that I really minded, she was adorable when she slept. She used to say that it was because she loved the feeling of my heartbeat against her face; she said it reminded her that I was still there with her, that I was safe. I always teased her about it, taking pride in the light blush that adorned her face as she stated proudly that my heartbeat was like her own personal lullabye. Now I as I listened to the steady beat of her heart monitor I understood more and more what she meant. I yearned to go back to that time and savor in the moment more than I had. I was situated on one side of her with her smaller hand nestled into mine as I sat and stared quietly at her beautiful face.

Jughead sat on her other side, hands folded across his lap as he stared off silently into space, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Jughead visited more than anyone else, even after he was discharged himself. He always sat stoically on the other side of her bed, and he was the only one who never pressured me to leave the room. I appreciated his silent support more than he could ever know, and I took a large amount of comfort in the fact that Y/N would be so proud to see her “two best boys” getting along for once. I only wished that it were under different circumstances. Jughead seemed like he understood how I felt better than anyone else.

The amicable quiet of the room was broken as he cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, rising slowly. I didn’t even have to glance at the clock to know that it was nearly 9pm. Though they’d made a special exception for me, most visitors were booted from the room at 9. Jughead put his coat on slowly, and bent down to press a light kiss to Y/N’s temple.

It was funny, I’d never pegged Jones for a softie, but when it came to Y/N he seemed like the most affectionate person. I wasn’t very fond of him at first, but over time I came to understand that he and Y/N really did care about each other like, well, twins. They had an odd relationship, that was for sure, but I was more okay with it than most people would probably assume. I trusted Y/N with every fiber of my being, and if she said that Jughead was nothing but a brother then I believed her. With one last nod in my direction, Jones exited her room and I was left alone once more with my girl. Grabbing her hand in both of mine I began to smooth out the rings that I’d insisted be placed back on her fingers. Y/N was so particular about her rings, even more than me, and it seemed wrong that her hands should be bare. It just didn’t fit her. I sighed brokenly as tears filled my eyes for what felt like the millionth time since she’d been here.

“Hey babydoll, it’s me, Pea. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, the doctors claim that you can, but I’m not sure if I believe that or not. But anyways, I just wanted to ask you again to please come back to me. Please”, my voice cracked as my tears fell like rain onto her soft hands, soaking down into the thin hospital sheets that covered her. I went through this speech each night, begging for her to open her eyes and look at me. Begging for her to squeeze my hand or give me some sign that my Y/N/N was still in there. Each night I lost a little more hope that she would respond, and each day the cement block that had lived in my stomach since the day I carried her here in my arms became just a little heavier.

I continued to speak to her until my voice was hoarse. I talked about whatever I could think of, rambling on for as long as I could. Sometimes Betty or Jughead would bring by some of Y/N’s favorite books, and I would spend the lonely nights reading out loud to her. Some nights, like tonight, I just spoke about nothing like we used to do together.

Eventually I faded off into a restless sleep, head laying on her lap and hand still connected with hers. My dreams, if I had any at all, were always filled with her smiling face. Tonight was no exception, and my head was filled with images of her smiling face. She was just as beautiful as ever, clad in her favorite outfit with her radiant laugh echoing over and over. She held me close to her, and she seemed as happy as I’d ever seen.

“Pea…”.

I heard her musical voice call out to me as she beckoned me closer to her.

“Y/N…”, I murmured.

“Sweet Pea... handsome…wake up”,

I frowned. What did she mean? I didn’t want to wake up, my dreams were the last place I still had with her. I shook my head sleepily.

“No…”, I muttered stubbornly, reaching out for her quickly. Her dream-face broke out into a devious smile and she quickly hopped away from my reach. I stared in utter confusion, and it wasn’t long before I heard her beautiful chuckle echo and felt the ground around me shake lightly.

“Baby, please wake up”.

I groaned and sat up slowly, neck sore from the position that I had slept in. My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to re-adjust to the bright lights of the room. And once they had, I needed a double take to ensure that I was really seeing what it looked like I was seeing.

Y/N was sitting up, albeit a bit awkwardly, in her bed with her eyes wide open and a fond smile on her face. Her hands were tangled in my dark, unwashed locks as she brushed my hair back from my face. Her eyes were filled with such love that it took all the breath I had in my body away for a moment as I gaped dumbly at her. She chuckled lightly, removing her fingers from my hair and taking my hand in hers.

“Boy, and here I thought you’d be happy to see me”, she croaked playfully, squeezing my hand. I finally snapped myself out of my trance and practically attacked her with a hug. I couldn’t believe it, she was finally awake, and I had almost fucking slept through it. I held her in my arms for an immeasurable amount of time, taking absolute pleasure from the way her arms tightened around my body and her slender fingers danced through my hair once more in a soothing motion. I could’ve held her like that for the rest of my life, but after what felt like only a moment I heard her slightly muffled voice come from the depths of my chest.

“Uhm carefully Pea, ouch”, she muttered. I immediately pulled back from her as if shocked by an electric current. Of course that hurt moron, I thought to myself. Sitting myself on the edge of her bed, I decided to gently rest my hands on the sides of her face instead, thumbs gently rubbing across the healing bruises on her smooth cheeks.

“It’s really you”, I murmured softly, still not convinced totally that this wasn’t just a dream. I felt her smile against my hands before she took one of my hands and kissed my palm lightly before returning it to its place on her cheek.

“Of course it’s me baby, who else would it be?”, she whispered. As she leaned her face further into my hold, her eyes fluttered shut slowly, and I panicked.

“Y/N?!”, I cried. Her eyes shot open and she frowned resting her hands over the tops of mine, rubbing soothing circles with her fingertips.

“What? What is it?”, she exclaimed, eyes wide. She removed her hands from mine in order to grasp my face gently, mirroring my previous position. Her soft hands stroked against the tense muscles in my jaw, patiently waiting for my response. Realizing I had overreacted I cast my gaze downward as I removed my hands from her face and attempted to slow my now shallow breaths. Y/N was having none of that, and she brought her two fingers to tilt my head back by my chin.

“Pea, handsome?”, she questioned softly. I sighed.

“I just...please don’t close your eyes like that”, I muttered, slightly embarrassed. “I thought I lost you again”.

Her eyes were immediately remorseful, and I nearly got lost in the deep pools of emotion that I had been missing for far too long. She patted the spot next to her in her bed.

“Come lay with me Pea”, she said nearly inaudibly. I shook my head.

“Not a chance babydoll. You’re still too injured for me to pull that off without hurting you”, I reasoned, grabbing her hands in mine and squeezing them softly. She frowned.

“I don’t care Sweets. I just want you to be here with me, that’s all I’ve wanted for the last however long it’s been”, she said softly, tears forming in her big Y/E/C eyes. My resolve nearly crumbled at the sight of her sadness, my heart screaming to do whatever she said. But my more rational side wouldn’t let this go on without a fight.

“Babydoll… “, I started to argue with her, but she shook her head wildly.

“Sweet Pea please….”, she pleaded. I sighed once more, any ideas of denying her what she wanted out the window. I slowly slid up the bed and gently brought Y/N to my chest, tucking her head gently under my chin and savoring the way she let out a sweet sigh of contentment. I nestled my face into her hair, and she mirrored my action but into the crook of my neck. For the first time in nearly 3 weeks I felt at peace. We laid like this for a while, Y/N’s hand circling the place over my heart lovingly like she used to do back in my trailer. I nearly fell asleep once more, but fought the urge in favor of savoring the moment for as long as it lasted. I’d waited half a month for this day, and I was damned if I was going to let sleep ruin it. I was so lost in my musings for a moment that I almost missed the soft words that came from Y/N’s mouth.

“Pea…”, she murmured sleepily.

“Yeah baby”, I answered softly. She yawned.

“I’m going to fall asleep handsome. Please don't be scared”, she said, eyes nearly closing again. “I meant what I said when I promised not to leave you. It’s gonna take a lot more than Penny fucking Peabody and some Ghoulie trash to take me away from you. I love you Sweet Pea”. My heart soared as she slowly moved to kiss my neck, just where my Serpent tattoo was placed. I unintentionally shivered and she smiled her trademarked little smirk, though her eyes remained closed.

“I love you so damn much Y/N”, I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head gently. She tightened her hold around me slightly. “Get some rest babydoll, I’ll be here when you wake up”.

“You promise?”, she muttered, already halfway asleep. I chuckled lowly.

“Yeah baby, I promise. I’m not going anywhere”, I vowed.

“I don't want you to worry”, she whispered. I chuckled lightly, placing the gentlest kiss I could muster to her forehead.

“Little late to that game babydoll”, I teased lightly. My cheeks hurt from the smile that had been etched on my face since she woke, but I couldn't bring myself to care. “It's alright beautiful, sleep. I'll be here when you wake up”.

“I know you will be”, she muttered, eyes finally creeping shut as she snuggled in closer to my side.

“Sweets…”, she breathed after a few minutes of silence. I'd thought she'd fallen asleep in all honesty, and my eyes were closed too as I sank into the easiest sleep I'd had in weeks.

“Mmm”, I answered quietly.

“I promised you I'd always be there”, she murmured against my neck. “I still will be, I love you Sweetest Pea”.

I opened my eyes to see her, seemingly asleep. Her hair was covering part of her face, and I gently brushed it to the side. She didn't stir at my action, and I took it to mean that she was now fully asleep. I smiled once more in utter peace as I whispered in her ear.

“And I love you my gorgeous, smart, badass, loveable babydoll”.

#riverdale #archie comics #fanfic #riverdaleimagine #southsideserpents #sweetpeaxoc #sweet pea oneshot #sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea reader #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweetestpea #soft!sweetpea

165 notes · View notes