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quillandink333 · 4 years ago

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Scarlet Carnations ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The investigation was still underway a week or so later, still without even a semblance of a lead to go on, or at least not a favourable one. Auntie Purah still had yet to take the Slate into the lab as she’d promised, which was understandable. She was still in deep mourning, after all. I, however, still got up at six o’clock each and every day to make my way to the site, as if the murderer would one day just walk out into the open if I waited long enough.

Truth be told, despite my conscious efforts to suppress it, a part of me deep down was growing weary of one fruitless search after another. Most of the cases I’d led up to this one had been closed within a maximum three days. Admittedly I’d even begun to consider ways to dispose of the fatal evidence I’d been carrying with me since the start of all this. No one but Paya and I knew of its existence, and no one but us would ever have to. Besides, if these egregious felonies truly were the designs of the organization—which they had to be—there was no way I’d ever find any clues leading toward the perpetrator’s true identity, let alone that of their ever elusive boss.

And yet, every morning when I returned to the scene of the crime, with officers bustling about and those who remained of my family sitting quietly in another room, I was reminded of my ultimate purpose. It wasn’t a matter of being able or unable to catch my godmother’s killer. It was one of necessity. Letting them roam the streets as they pleased was not even a part of the equation. I hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade toiling away to reach my current level of authority as a detective investigator simply to throw it all away as soon as my will was tested. That wasn’t what Auntie Impa, nor what Mother, would’ve wanted. I had to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

What happened next, however, would make my distress up until then seem almost laughable.

I was made aware of it via wire on one muggy afternoon at my office, when I’d decided to work on typewriting up some reports. I picked up the phone only to hear the wails of one distraught Auntie Purah on the other end.

“Zelda, it’s terrible!” she cried. “The Slate—Impa’s Slate—I’ve looked everywhere, and so have Paya and Symin and all the men here on duty, but I—it’s...we can’t—we haven’t...” The poor, old woman was hyperventilating, creating awful static noises through the speaker’s papery membrane.

“Auntie, it’s okay. Calm down,” I urged gently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“Alright...” A few moments of silence went by before I heard her voice again. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not at all. Now, what were you saying about the Slate?”

“It’s been stolen.”

I froze, breath stagnant and eyes glued to the edge of my desk. “It’s—what?”

“Stolen,” she repeated, only deepening the pit forming in my stomach, from where my heart was now pounding. “Right out from under our noses. We’ve searched high and low for it, but there’s been no sign of it, or the thief.”

I had to reign in my voice before I’d start shouting at her. “H-How can you be sure it was stolen?” The vigilant Link’s eyes now bore into me with intensity from his place by the file cabinets.

“The lock on the safe,” blubbered my auntie, “the one in the study that it’s always kept in. You know the one?”

“Yes?”

“It was broken, and the safe was empty.”

“But...that’s impossible.”

“Precisely!” she cried, giving me a start. “I still haven’t the foggiest how they did it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

With that, I hung up and prepared for immediate departure, my assistant just a few paces behind me. I had to see this for myself.

Surely enough, when we arrived, the safe’s lock was destroyed beyond repair, and there was nothing but dust to be found inside. Unsurprisingly, the thief had been careful to leave no fingerprints behind, just as the killer had been. For now, though, it was too soon to say for certain that the same individual was behind both crimes.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the lock mechanism had been melted. My eyes widened. “That’s not something you see every day.” Constable Fyori crouched down beside me, then gave a similar reaction when he noticed the cause of my astonishment.

The thief had to have been someone with access to a welding torch or something along those lines. There certainly weren’t many who fit that description, save for the police. In fact, the whole reason they were issued out to a select few officers was for this very purpose, but situations requiring said officers to break locks such as this one using such extreme methods were few and far between. Nevertheless, the possibility stood.

It was for this reason that I finally gave in and decided to take up the case with the chief detective once we’d finished here. As always, Constable Fyori accompanied me thereto.

Chief Bosphoramus’ office was neither too grand nor too modest, not unlike my own, though it still clearly belonged to someone of high rank. It resided on the third floor of the three-storey building where my dear colleague and I made our livelihoods, boasting a broad view of the deceivingly peaceful streets below.

“It seems UC3680G662LL was the only officer on the scene who was equipped with a cutting torch,” relayed the old man, hunched over the records lain across his desk. “Unfortunately, however, he resigned just yesterday.”

I waited a number of seconds for him to follow up with something useful, but to no avail. “So...what? You’re saying we can’t go question him now? Because he ran away?”

He clasped his fingers together in front of him, looking at me like an elementary school principal. “That is what I am saying, yes.”

I wanted to growl like a bear as imitated by a child, but I held it in. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?” I scoffed. “No doubt he was a member of the organization sent to steal the Slate after killing its owner.”

“Now you listen here, Inspector.” The chief’s tone turned serious. I closed my mouth. “You of all people should know that not a single square inch of this town is safe. Not even this precinct.”

“Yes, but Sir, surely you agree that this entire case has ‘Yiga’ written all over—”

“Are you mad?!”

His thundering voice made Link and I jump. The room fell silent, the chief’s eyes flickering between the door and the open window behind him.

Then he rose from his seat to close the shutters. “Have you some sort of death wish?” he continued at an infinitesimal volume in comparison.

I bit my tongue, restraining the urge to retort with, “Whose fault is that?” for I knew I would only be spinning my wheels. There’d once been a saying in this city: “When one sheep leads the way, all the rest follow.” And Chief Detective Bosphoramus was a perfect reflection of this. Every last member of the force was the same. Weak-willed curs. Shirking from their sworn duties and hiding away behind their shields of specious ignorance.

But despite the virus of cowardice festering throughout the bureau, my partner’s lasting air of calm resignation reminded me that no one could truly blame those affected by it.

The power that the Yiga organization possessed over the town was beyond compare. Those on City Council were nothing more than their puppets, and likewise were the police. Fear and massacre were the whips they raised to drive us all into submission and to punish any and all who had the will remaining to fight. But the one group who’d dared to challenge their might, who’d stood tall ever in the face of their tyranny, had been my godmother’s company. Thanks to her intelligent mind and righteous heart, the people had been given access to technology that would keep them safe, to a degree, from crime, and little by little, the company had developed into a beacon of hope for the town and its inhabitants. Until now.

Now, that hope had been snuffed out, like it had never been anything more than a week and vulnerable candle flame, flickering faint against the darkness of obscurity, in the first place.

Later that evening, when my gaze happened upon the knife block sitting on my kitchen counter at home, my steps halted. The scars on my arms left over from my last couple of years in secondary school—the period in my life following the yet unexplained events that had taken away the one I’d cherished most—had only just begun to fade. Even so...

I shook my head, turning my back to the kitchen. But then, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder once more. I recalled the rush of adrenaline that took hold each time my skin was breached by icy steel. It was true that letting my emotions control me would get me nowhere, but maybe...maybe just this once, I could at least do something to assuage them.

Then the image of the gaping, dark red hole running straight through Auntie Impa’s neck flashed before my eyes. I covered my mouth, quickly swallowing the bile rising up from the bottom of my throat. The idea slipped my mind that very instant.

It wasn’t until the following day’s investigation that a substantial piece of the puzzle finally revealed itself to me.

For it to have taken a whole two days to find wasn’t all that unbelievable. Even I had to admit, although my stepsister was a spineless, tattling suck-up who’d always received far more credit and affection than she was worth, no one could have imagined her ever turning criminal.

Even so, I was certain that what I discovered there in her bedroom went against the expectations of all. Upon my entering, a faint glow of teal and tangerine peaking through the floorboards caught my eye. I went to lift the plank doing such poor work of hiding the thing from sight. There it was, unscratched and in perfect working condition, its screen lighting up and displaying that dastardly riddle I’d been confronted with several days prior and still didn’t know the answer to.

Although the mystery of where it had disappeared to had been solved, its reason for being here of all places was still unclear. Why would Paya have gone to such lengths just to get her hands on the Slate? It was difficult to imagine there being any information contained therein that she would want so direly to be kept secret from the world. She and her grandmother had been close since before I’d become a part of their family as a six-year-old.

Then something hard and marble-sized went flying across the floor when struck by the pointed toe of my shoe. I gave chase, soon realizing what it was when it slowed to a halt just before the south-facing wall of the room:

A bullet.

I didn’t even need to perform a striation comparison; anyone could clearly see that it matched the one I’d pried out of my mother’s memorial shrine. Whatever blood might’ve been here at one point must have simply been wiped up, and she must have stolen Link’s revolver with whatever methods she’d used to steal the Slate. Without a doubt, this room was the true crime scene I’d sought after since day one of the investigation.

But even in the face of this victory, I could hear the voices of those who would oppose me ringing in my ears. “Paya’s the mastermind?” they jeered. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” But at this point, this case had already pushed me far beyond the boundaries of my patience. I didn’t have a single damn left to give about how flawed my logic might or might not have been. All that mattered now was that I had a suspect, and so help me, if I was correct in my line of thinking as suggested by the evidence, this criminal would receive no mercy.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

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huearmy · 4 years ago

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The Smell Of Truth - VI

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 6751

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Grafic description of food. If you are hungry, eat before you read this. Seriously. AND. Jungkook have a anxiety attack, the description is light and focuses mainly on techniques to control the attack, but be aware if you are sensitive to the topic. Even because I wrote this part to help those who, like me, suffer from chronic anxiety and not to trigger anything :) Be safe.

A/N: Sorry it took too long, my head is messy, and I working on something new, and didn’t ajust myself to it yet.

THIS IS A TRANSITION CHAPTHER! I HAD A HARD TIME TO DEVELOP IT AND I STARTED EVERYTHING AGAIN AT SOME POINT AFTER AN MENTAL BREAKDOWN.

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V - Chapter VII

One month has passed by since Jungkook first moved in. The apartment looks pretty much like his now, little details showing up his presence here and there, like his personal hygiene items in the bathroom, and his pairs of shoe in the shoe cabinet by the front door, the air filled with his favorite music which he discovered himself on spotify and youtube, the kitchen cabinets and the fridge are full of things you wouldn't normally buy but he would, and all of your streaming accounts now have two user profiles. At first Jungkook didn't think about it too much, you're just so welcoming to him, but he started paying attention to how he should or could or couldn't act to not bother you, since his presence itself is a big change in your routine. You made it very clear, even without saying it out loud with all the words, that this attitude was something mutual so that the two of you could live well together. Still, it wasn't a good first month... not that it was a bad one either, because it wasn't. It's just that... ________________________________________________________________________________________ First of all. In the first ten days everything was taken and shaped by the boyfriend phenomenon. Said name for this unfortunate situation involving Jackson was given by Jungkook's therapist in the first appointment, but we'll talk about this later. Basically all your attention and time were totally directed to your boyfriend during the whole period that he was in the city, and even though he preferred to stay in his own apartment instead of with you - as is usual the two of you - it looked like he had moved in, because when Jungkook wake up in the morning he is already there, in the living room monopolizing the tv, and when he was going to sleep at night, Jungkook could still hear the guy making you laugh in the kitchen. This was justified with a "Soon I have to go back to the capital to work and we will be apart from each other for a long time. We need to make up for it!" And after saying that, Jackson would pull you around the waist to kiss you on the temple, and you would just smile, avoiding eye contact with your face red. At the end of that time, Jungkook got closer to your friends - now his friends too - than to you, who live with him. Of course you tried not to leave him feeling isolated, after all Jungkook is the exception of your heart, and although you are not used to it, you have a huge affection for him... hard to explain. You did everything you could to try to make him feel comfortable around Jackson - since early on you noticed Jungkook's reservation about him - including him in the conversations and also taking time just for the two of you. But it was difficult, because besides your boyfriend, the weather closed for days canceling all picnic and park plans, an you still had two jobs to deal with, and one of them - that of the law firm - was almost abusive as much work you had to do. Jungkook noticed your exhaustion and wanted not to charge you too much, but at the same time he didn't want to give up lying on the couch with you to watch a movie late at night to receive a pet on his hair.

One night, after Jackson was gone to his apartment, the two of you were doing just that. A blanket covered the two of you on the couch, keeping you warm while a cartoon played on the TV. Jungkook's head was lying on your chest, and you lazily messed with his hair. He could hear your heartbeat, and your voice vibrate as you laugh and comment on the episode. After a while your hand stopped and there was only the sound of your heart, and he saw that you had fallen asleep.

"Y/N?" He whispered to you, getting no response. He thought that you weren't in the most comfortable of positions, with a slightly bent neck on the pillow, so he considered taking you to your room to let you sleep better... He was sleepy too. He thought about it so much, looking at you sleeping, trying to decide, that he slept above you.

Can't tell how much time has passed, probably not much, but Jungkook was even dreaming when the front door click opening broke his slumber slightly, he wasn't awake yet, but he was listening to the steps of someone walking around the apartment. It was Jackson looking for his phone he forgot. If it weren't for the TV on, he wouldn't have seen you two sleeping on the couch in the dark room, when he went to turn it off he came across the lovely scene of you two unconscious and piled up with pillows and Jungkook's stuffed bunny. After he took a picture with your phone, he went on picking you up to get you to bed, carefully taking Jungkook's arm out of your waist and pushing him aside. Needless to say, Jackson was unaware that the hybrid's protective instincts are strongest when he sleeps. You had your reasons for not telling your boyfriend about Jungkook 's past, like respecting Jungkook's privacy and feelings, and well, maybe Jackson wouldn't like knowing how you got hurt days ago, and that problem you didn't want to have to deal with. Still, maybe some little thing you should have said.

You woke up in a jump, by a scream, and a loud growl followed by a "no" that sounded more like a bark. For Jungkook, in the first few seconds, all he knew was that someone was trying to get you out of him, and never that he was going to let it happen. Jackson threw himself back against the coffee table, withdrawing his hand so as not to be bitten, feeling his heart in his throat in the greatest fright he has ever had in his life.

"JK?" You seated up.

Jungkook looked from you to Jackson, understanding what he did, his ears flatting down on his head. His fists were clenched, holding the fabric of your shirt as if his life depended on it. The other night he hurt you, Jungook felt guilty, and afraid that you would stop loving him, now in the presence of a man, he was also afraid of the punishment that he was sure would come.

"Sorry..." He muttered. "I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry..." You let a relaxed laugh get out your mouth. The situation wasn't funny to you. Actually, you could see how apprehensive Jungkook was, and deduce why. On the other hand, Jackson was frightened, and not only by the jump scare, you could see he was overthinking... What you needed to do was to relax the tension of the situation, and for that you would make them see that you are relaxed. Again, you are a good actress when you need to.

"No need to apologize, JK. He scared you, didn't he?" You laugh, and then you give Jackson a mocking glare. "And you almost shit yourself..." Jackson looked outraged at you, but when he spoke there was laughter in his voice.

"Listen, young lady. I wasn't...!"

"I heard you screaming." You cut him off. "Why are you here again by the way?" You stretched and tried to fix your shirt, but Jungkook was still strongly attached to it. Jackson looked around, as if he was remembering something.

"I forgot my phone here, just don't remember where."

"I think it must be in the office. I remember you using it there" You simply said and Jackson went up the stairs with a nod.

When there was no sign of him, you finally turned your attention to Jungkook, who was still in his curled position beside you, face hidden in you. He was shaking slightly and it broke your heart. You put a hand on his head, fixing his messy hair.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I did it again." His voice was small.

You sighed, placing a kiss on the high of his head.

"You were suddenly brought up. We all got frightened. Nobody is hurt. We laughed it off. It seems to me that everything is pretty fine." You made him look at you. "If I tell you it is all okay, do you believe in me?"

He nodded. "But Jackson... I showed him my teeth. He may be mad at me, and..." He gulped. "Shhhhh." You took his hands on yours, making him let go of your shirt.

"Jackson is a soft hearted guy, he won't be mad at you for something like this. And if it makes you feel better I can talk to him..."

"No!" He exclaimed, interrupting you. "Don't tell him nothing. You'll have to explain about me and I don't want to..."

"It's ok. If you don't want me to say nothing. I won't." You promised. Jungkook hugged his bunny with one of his arms, lowering his eyes.

"It's just that I don't want anyone to know where I came from, or what I did. I didn't tell you everything, even though I trust you... I trust you only."

You can relate with that, you can understand why he doesn't want to expose himself. It's fear of rejection, and you can do nothing but respect, and also, give all the love you have to give, and hope that at least half of it reaches his heart.

"Come here." You opened your arms to him. "Need me to put you to bed?" He laughed.

"No. Thanks."

You pulled from each other, and you got up from the couch, picking up the pillows and the blanket. Jungkook was weeping tears on his cheeks and looking cute.

"Damn, I'm crying again..." He chuckled, turning the TV off.

"Good night, JK." You fondly said.

"Good night, Y/N. Sleep well."

He followed you with his eyes until you disappeared up the stairs and the light went out. His mind was totally against it, but his gut was telling him to follow you, he didn't know why. But he did. As soon as he heard your footsteps close to your bedroom's door, he ran on tiptoe, making no noise, and stopped at the top of the stairs. He listened. Jackson was in the room with you.

"What do you want to ask?" Your voice reached his ears. "It can wait till tomorrow, babe, don't worry." Jackon responded.

In the dark, Jungkook got close to the door and crouched against the wall - so if any of you decided to leave the room out of nowhere, you wouldn't see him there, only if you turned on the corridor light, which you normally don't do. "Spill it, Jackson." You opened a jar of fancy eye cream, to try to combat the huge dark circles that were installed on your face.

Jackson leaned against the dresser beside you, with his hands in his sweatpants pockets, and said without looking at you.

"I've been thinking about it for some days, I figured you would tell me at some point but you didn't. And after what just happened I'm even more curious about it. How did you meet Jungkook? Where is he from? And why did you decide to adopt him?" You sighed, knowing that this matter would eventually come up. Outside, Jungkook gulped.

"He's a rescue case. I didn't work directly with the legal process, it was a prosecutor friend of mine who indicted his former owners. When he was left without an owner and nowhere to go I decided to help, and that's it. There is no explanation for why I wanted him, or vice versa. Jungkook is just special to me."

You calmly spoke.

"His former owner was arrested?"

"Yeah. For money laundering and conspiracy." Jungkook felt a shiver down his spine. He knew you were going to lie now, or at least not answer, because it's not just his secret, it's yours too. And for some reason he felt like you had to lie to your boyfriend because of him. But technically this last part isn't a lie, his former owner really got arrested for money laundering and conspiracy, it's just that there were many more accusations against him besides these, like exploitation of hybrids, homicide, human trafficking and prostitution, among others, but that part Jackson doesn't need to know.

Jackson hesitated.

"Does Jungkook have a history of abuse?" Jackson said, and Jungkook couldn't define by his tone what he was thinking, it was too flat.

You, on the other hand, were feeling in court, being questioned by lawyer Jackson Wang. He already had a point of view, he just wanted to make you confirm. But you are smart too.

"Why are you asking this?" You crossed your arms.

"He was aggressive down stairs, in the living room, not even ten minutes ago. I know that hybrids with difficult pasts can be violent." He responded.

"That's not what I asked. Why are you, Jackson, asking that? What does it matter to you?" You were incisive. A moment of silence passed.

"I'm worried, I guess. You are living with him now. Hybrids can be dangerous." Part of you understand, a little bigger part got pissed.

"I've been surrounded by hybrids since I was born. I literally work with them every day, both in my stores, both in my legal area. Because my expertise is in the rights and protection of hybrids in case you forgot, Jackson. I know what I am doing." Each word came firmly out of your mouth. "Besides, Jungkook is my friend, you can't just assume he is dangerous."

"He almost bit me! Growled at me!" He snapped, and it longer felt like a conversation, but an argument.

"Jackson what would happen if you wake me up one hour sooner than I planned to wake up?" You put your hand on your hips. "You would complain." He replied as if your question had nothing to do with the matter.

You made a sign with your hands as if the answer was obvious.

"Exactly. And that's what he did. The only difference is that he can growl, besides talk, to express his discontentment, and we can't. End of story."

Jackson pinched his nose, clear sign that he knows you got a point. But it wasn't done yet.

"I understood that part, and I'm sorry. Even so, I'm worried. Because you know him and trust him, but I don't. How can I know that when you are alone it will not hurt you?"

In the dark, Jungkook bit his lip, feeling terrible, because he already did hurt you.

You were feeling worked up, more than you should. You walked past him, stomping.

"I don't want to talk about it. We know... You know very well, that no one needs a traumatic past to be violent. You see bad people with perfect lives everyday on your job." You fumed, and when he tried to respond you spoked above him. "The past of a free hybrid belongs to the one who abused them and not to them. All the bad things were done by other people, and judging them for these things is prejudiced. And I will not tolerate you being prejudiced, Jackson."

At that point you were crying. At the beginning of the conversation, you were trying to be rational and calculate what to say so as not to miss out on anything you shouldn't, to avoid contradicting yourself, to avoid the conversation. But something from then on was a trigger for you. Jackson was without reaction for a moment. Jungkook had to restrain himself from entering the room to comfort you, all his instincts telling him to do so.

"Y/N..." Jackson tried.

"No. Listen." You took a deep breath. "I understand your worry. My mom probably will say the same thing when she meets him, and she is one of the people who taught me these things I just said... But that's the thing, Jackson: you don't need to know about the traumas and hurts, and terrible things that happened with Jungkook - or anyone else - to know him. You can know him for who he is today. I'm living with him for about a week and I already know he is a incredible smart boy, absolutely good in almost everything he does, and that he is afraid of the microwave, and he loves sweet things, especially if he can mix everything up in a misshapen sugar mass that no one else would eat, and the key of his heart is a little bit of attention because... Because he is content with so little. No matter the crumb of love you give him, he will be happy... And that's why I wanted to give him everything... The whole world..."

You were pouting, and tears were running down your cheeks, and your voice was so small. You were so small right now. Jackson reached you and pulled you to a tight hug. You hold him too, sobbing lightly.

In the corridor Jungkook got on his feet and wiped his own tears. He needed to process everything he heard. All the things you said about hybrids and about him, and the fact that you cried because of him. He didn't know what it was, but a feeling so warm on his chest promised that it would be hard to get to sleep again that night, thinking about these things and you. It was really horrible not to be able to enter the room so that he could hug you, and answer everything you said with his feelings - even if he couldn't explain everything, just because he can't name everything. He silently walked down the corridor to the stairs, heading for his room.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to cry. I don't even know why I'm crying... " You whined, weeping your nose with a chuckle. "I'll be all puffy tomorrow morning and the fault is all yours." Jackson laughed, pushing your hair away from your wet face.

"I'm sorry. Really, I didn't intend to be a jerk or anything. But I think I needed this conversation, I always learn a lot from you... And I think you needed this conversation too, you needed to put some things out, otherwise you wouldn't have cried." He charmly smiled. "You must be right. But seriously...!" You slapped his forearm. "I would be less pissed if you had a silly jealous tantrum or something like that. It would be easier to solve, just ignore it."

"Yah! Why would I be jealous of you? I know the day you find I guy more amazing than me you will let me know right away. Broke up with me by massege or something like this." "Shut up." You slapped him again. "You didn't turn off the flower shop's alarm when you arrived, right?"

"No." He shook his head.

You smiled wildly.

"So take off your pants and spoon-sleep with me." _________________________________________________________________________________ Then all of Jungkook's documents arrived in the mail, including an adoption request certificate - which was false, made by some of his contacts in the organization - a definitive guardianship certificate that specifies you as his legal guardian and not as owner - a small advance in the law - and that gives him some freedom that most hybrids don't have, like walking around by himself, and at last but not least, his hybrid id.

With all this in hand you finally got to make Jungkook's first appointment with a psychologist. Together you both researched some names of professionals in the field, including the three that the doctor gave you the other day, and some others indicated by friends of yours. One way or another you would have to leave the city to go to the appointments, since your city is small and you didn't find anyone in the region, so one of the criteria for choosing was distance. Another, of course, was the professional background and branch of psychology, and that part was more with you. On the other hand, Jungkook literally chose the cover of the book. When he didn't like the person's face they were automatically excluded from the list.

"And if I get there and right away I don't like their smell... I'm leaving." He declared. "Of course. You must be comfortable." You agreed. "What do you think about this one? He is young but the curriculum is impressive... And he has a support therapy group with hybrids, which is really cool."

Jungkook took your notebook to put on his own lap to get a closer look. You started your research hours earlier, in your office, but after a long time sitting in chairs that left you both with a sore ass, a break to eat pizza and put on pajamas, you were still trying to choose someone, but now under the covers in your bed with the TV on. The website that was open was a clinic specializing in hybrids, and on the page that Jungkook was looking at had a picture of a young man with a bright smile.

"Dr. Jung Hoseok..." He mumbled to himself.

"He looks nice right? There's some patient testimonials..." You were about to ask him if he wanted to read it but he was faster.

"I want him."Jungkook looked at you with determined eyes. "I like him. Is the first one we see that is truly smiling."

He was planning to choose a woman, because he thought he would be more comfortable than with a man, but this one looked perfect in a way that no one else has looked until now.

"Ok, then. I'm calling them tomorrow morning." You smiled at him. ___________________________________________________________________________ Much to the disappointment of Jungkook and yours too, Dr. Jung's schedule was packed with lecturers and courses, so he wouldn't be able to start therapy immediately as you both imagined, leaving the first meeting with him for the following month only.

So this is it ... A whole month of a lot of rain, in which you were very busy with your boyfriend and your job, without being able to do therapy, without leaving home most days. Without realizing it, Jungkook was building up a terrible bad mood. At first you didn't even notice, because Jungkook is quiet most of the time, and you were too focused on difficult texts full of legal terms that fry your brain. But one morning, the first in weeks when the sky was blue and you had no work to do... The first morning that you slept till late and woke up with a smile on your puffy face, opened the bedroom curtain as a Disney princess would, and hopped down the stairs in a good perfect mood ... That morning you noticed.

"Gooood morning!" You literally sang, passing by Jungkook, who was eating his cereal, standing by the counter. He didn't respond, and you interpreted as his sleep non talking state. "I'm in the mood for eggs and bacon today... maybe a sandwich too. Do you want it? My god I can eat the whole world today..." "No. I could have made myself a sandwich if I wanted to."

You raised your eyebrows, a little surprised, taking milk, eggs, cheese, onion, tomatoes and mayo from the fridge. A second passed before Jungkook added in a grumpy voice:

"Thank you."

On a frying pan you put some butter to melt and brown the bread, and in another one you broke three eggs leaving room for some slices of bacon. At the delicious sound of those ingredients popping on the fire, you started cutting a tomato, and decided to add lettuce and left over chicken from the night before on your sandwich. The kitchen's air was filled with the pleasant smell.

"Are you sure you don't wan't not even the eggs and bacon?" You asked again, turning said bacon so that the two sides would be equally delicious. As a precaution you browned two more slices of bread.

"You don't have to bother." Jungkook murmured, without taking his eyes off the dull cereal bowl in front of him, but still his nose worked to identify the smells in the air. You put a slice of mozzarella cheese and a cheddar cheese on top of the hot bread slices, and immediately the cheese started to melt beautifully. In the pan that no longer were the bread, you put some onion to caramelize.

"No bother. Today is a perfect day, and it’s been a while since I’ve prepared breakfast for you, or that we ate just the two of us..." You gladly spread the shredded chicken over the cheese, and then the mayonnaise over the chicken...

Behind you, Jungkook sighed, and you could hear his lazy steps towards you. Over your shoulder he placed the empty bowl in the sink. He looked at what you were doing and his mouth watered.

"I want mine with ketchup, too." He declared with a frown.

"Get it from the fridge for me, then." You simply said. He obeyed. With one hand you put the ketchup on his sandwich - which you were already making because you knew he would want it, and if he didn't want it you would eat it yourself - and with the other you put the fire out of the pan with eggs and bacon. "Do you want the eggs and bacon in or out of the sandwich?"

In."

You were inspired, so even the olive on a stick on top of the huge sandwich you put. A beautiful sandwich.

"Sit." You happily pulled a chair for yourself. The first bite was heaven for you, making you moan as you chew slowly with eyes closed. You sighed deeply. "Working from home but not getting a decent breakfast like that every day sucks."

No response. Jungkook was eating with pleasure - as always - but still didn't seem ready to talk. You looked him up and down. You were proud to see that after a month of living with you, he now had the most rosy cheeks and healthiest skin, and clearly gained considerable weight, thanks to the complete and balanced diet that you guaranteed he had. But he wasn't supposed to be in a bad mood. He was supposed to be happy. When was the last time he brushed his hair?

"What are your plans for today?" As if you want nothing, you asked.

"Have any." He didn't even look at you to speak, instead he got up and opened the fridge. "Want juice?"

Okay, you think he's not upset with you.

"Sure." You waited for him to sit back in front of you. "I have to visit some of my stores today, since I've been so busy and haven't had time to check them out in the past two weeks. But I don't even call it work, because it's going to be fast, and I personally love to see how business is going... Do you want to go with me?"

For the first time this morning, he looked at you with interest. Still, it was not the enthusiasm you were expecting, nor an answer, so you continued.

"We can buy useless things, eat ice cream and go to the park... And this time really enjoy it. The weather forecast guarantees that it will be sunny all day." You expectantly rested your chin on the palm of the hand.

Looking at you shining eyes, Jungkook nodded with a small smile. You almost jumped from your chair.

"Remember we tried to play frisbee, and I kind of found out that my little cute arms weren't made for that?"

He shook his head with a mocking smirk.

"If it doesn't go far enough to run after it, it's no fun."

"YEAH... Then it started raining and we came home, and we never talked about it again ... "You put your hands together." It turns out that I saw something on the internet that I thought was incredible and I bought it, and we can try it today."

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

"This." You showed him your phone.

A wild smile spread on his face and he reclined in the chair. He looked at you one more time and tossed his chin slightly, a quirk that you know by now that means he is accepting a challenge.

"I'm washing the dishes, and then I'll get ready." He stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and swallowed the juice in one gulp, rising from the table with determination. ________________________________________________________________ You own a very wide variety of store types, your family practically founded the city generations ago, so what they didn’t open, they invested for someone to open it, it was how you all got rich, and that’s why so many places have your last name on the signboard, and half of them really are yours. The two of you went through your bookstore and music store, the bakery and the karaoke bar... Most of these places Jungkook didn't know yet, and it was interesting to see how you behave with the people that work to you.

It is different from how you act with him, gentle and bright all the time, smooth and carefree, just taking care of him with little things here and there. It is also different from how you act with Taehyung and Jimin, you are relaxed and fun with them, even in the office, when you the lynx are working, you are clearly best friends, and act together as an unbeatable team. It is not as if you stop having all these adjectives or change your personality, but that you put on a layer of boss to act in the presence of your employees. Your usual sweet tone of speech was accompanied by firmness, and even though you were friendly, calling everyone by name, you did not reach out to talk too much to anyone - focusing only on checking if everything was in compliance and solving what needed to be resolved.

Jungkook found it interesting, because it reminded you a lot of how you acted the day you met. You were kind enough for him to trust you, and you were also strong for him to trust you.

And what Taehyung said earlier was true, all of your stores had hybrid employees, at least one. Jungkook was already used to one of the florists in your flower shop being a fox girl - which turns all red and hides each time he appears -, but it was nice to see others like him in other places. Every one of them seemed so happy to see you. Maybe they also smell the truth on you.

"My first part-time job was in the flower shop, I was sixteen. I bought it from my aunt and then it was my first store too. That's why I like living there... It's an important place for me." You told him, turning off the engine of the SUV. You were in the park parking lot, ready to have burgers and fries for lunch - a little treat for yourself after a month without a day off. The plan was a picnic but you forgot the towel or bringing good food, so eating in the car was plan B.

"This is really cool. If you only worked at the store, how did you buy it? With what money?" Jungkook was a lot more talkative now. Leaving the house for a while was what he needed, he must be feeling trapped.

"I found an investor. In other words, I convinced my grandmother to give me the money." You laughed. "It was a little difficult because I was underage yet..."

"Did you buy your first store at sixteen?"

You simply nod. Jungkook was shocked. At sixteen his life was very different from yours, this is nothing new, but it is still strange to think of the chasm between you two...

"At sixteen I was already in clandestine fights for two years." He said, and it was as if one of the million pieces of weight he feels on his chest was gone. It didn't seem much compared to what it was fully, but it was relieving.

On the other hand, you felt your heart break. You didn't know what to say. So many times you told him not to press himself to tell you anything, to talk when he feels ready... so you didn't expect it to be now... that way. Perhaps you were not prepared. But fuck it, you're not the one to be ready. It's him.

Maybe because of the face you made, or how you just stopped eating to look at him in an almost comic way, or because of your eyes filling with tears he added.

"I still don't want to talk about it... I didn't even want to... I don't know why it slipped out. It's just that listening to you talking about your past is so..." He seemed lost in words, not knowing how to organize what to say. "I see you so bright! I wanted to be bright too... I've been thinking about it a lot... About having a job. And... And..."

He looked frustrated. You still didn't know what to say, or if you should say something, so you just held Jungkook's greasy hand from eating fries with your greasy hand from eating fries.

"I want to be the owner of my future." He concluded, remembering what you said the other night.

"A jog is a good first step, JK. I'm proud of you. You have all my support, I can give you a job or help you get one... wherever you want." You intertwined your fingers with his.

He let out a long breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He was shaking, and he knew you were feeling it in the hand you were holding, if you couldn't see it too.

"I also have another favor to ask." His voice was shaky, but his eyes didn't leave yours, just like when he asked to be with you.

"Anything." You whispered, mouth dry.

Something inside you told you that this was the purest truth about your relationship with Jungkook. That you would definitely do anything for him. You also felt that it should terrify you, just it didn't.

Jungkook took his old wallet out of his pocket and opened it for you to look inside. The photo of two hybrid boys smiling, hugging each other, made you smile too.

"You are the small one." You pointed.

Jungkook nodded.

"The other one is my hyung. We live together on a breeding farm. I think there was a lab too, but I never went there, I don't remember... When I was robbed and sold for the fights he went too, and a few years later we were separated... Do you think you can find him?"

Jungkook didn't want false hopes. He knows better than anyone what life is like for a fighting hybrid, how it ends. But if he survived that long, then his hyung can too, and if anyone can save him, it is you. He just wanted to hear that you're going to try... Even if you only discover the worst of the possibilities... Even if you don't discover anything. Among all the terrible things in Jungkook's head, this is the one that most takes away his sleep, the one that most makes him feel guilty.

"What is his name, breed, age...? Any information you have about him." You were serious, every gear in your brain working.

"Namjoon. He was some type of wolf... Older than me, I don't remember how much." Jungkook's eyebrows came together and he bit his lip, trying to remember anything else that might help. "He loves to read... He is a good hyung... I don't know...!" "Shhh. It's ok." You took his face in your free hand. "You don't need to freak out now, if you remember something later just tell me. With his name, age and breed I can ask my organization friends for help."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For some reason the smell of the food was making him nauseous... Or it was just his anxiety messing with him. He just didn't want to eat anymore. Suddenly the car was too small and getting smaller for the second, and he couldn't breath. His body started to shake violently, and his lungs were hurting. He let go of your hand and opened the door to get out. You followed him close. Instead of going down your door and having to go around the car, you jumped into the passenger seat and got off right behind Jungkook, who was already bent over with his head between his knees. He was having an anxiety attack. You crouched in front of him and rubbed his back softly.

"Breathe with me, JK, love. Inhale for four seconds... Hold for two seconds... Release for six..." You've been there before, and breathing has always helped you more than most things, not only to stabilize your body, but also to help you focus. "Right... Again."

You breathed with him, still keeping your hand comforting on his back, but not too close to suffocate him. "You don't need to answer out loud, ok? I need you to find five things around us that you can see. Can you do this for me?"

He barely nodded, but you saw he understood. He was breathing like you told him to, opened his watering eyes and looked around. The trees. The car wheel beside him. The lake shining far away. His shoes. Your shoes.

"Now find four things you can hear." You told him after a while. The birds. Kids laughing somewhere. The radio inside the car. Your calm breathing. "You are doing great, babe. Find three things you can smell." Dirt. Freshly cut grass. You.

"At last... Two things you can touch." You took the opportunity to pet his head. The car. You.

He was calmer, his body collapsed and he ended up sitting on the ground with his face in his hands. You got up, and he didn't see where you went, but you weren't gone for long.

"Here, something to taste." You handed him a bottle of sparkling water. "I don't know if you like it, but it's good for the stomach."

He drank the bottle all at once, and made a face at the end. He doesn't like it.

"Thank you, Y/N. You are always taking care of me. Sorry." He took your hand and intertwined your fingers together.

"Silly, puppy." You smiled at him, and he could swear it is the prettiest thing ever. "You can alway take care of me too."

He wanted to look at you for a while, to be silent for a while. Think only of how sweet and beautiful you are, instead of the bad things. But you got up again, not thinking what he was thinking.

"Can you get up?" You offered help.

He accepted.

"I can do a lot of things besides getting up. I'm ready to run." He smiled wildly.

"Are you sure?" You took his face in both your hands, the color was coming back to his cute cheeks, but you were still worried. He nodded, covering one of your hands with his. You sighed. "Ok then." _______________________________________________________________ You weren't trying so hard, but you got tired just to see how fast Jungkook runs, and after an hour, you can't believe the boy's fitness. Too much stamina, Christ. As he came back to you with the frisbee in hand, at high speed, the wind in his hair made the sweaty bangs fly back. He was stunning. Wild smile and excitement making him look like a child at the same time he looked like every girl's dream boyfriend.

"Throw, another one, Y/N." He sang, already running away. You lifted the cannon frisbee launcher and opened fire. Looking up, Jungkook calculated the route of the flying thing and speeded up to catch it. Since you started playing he hasn't lost one. He only almost ran over a few unsuspecting pedestrians, but nobody got hurt. From meters away, you could hear him jumping up and down before he started running towards you once more. You definitely need to find some physical activity for this child to stay entertained and happy.

"Again!"

______________________________________________________

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lake-arrius-caverns · 4 years ago

Text

Nerevarine Rising

Chapter 9: Outlander Avenger

this took too long to post heehoo ive noticed that sometimes italics don’t save when im posting on tumblr? might have been a glitch idk but in that case it’s better to read on AO3 where the formatting is actually proper lol

summary On their arrival to Vivec City, the twins part ways and Fahjoth finds himself drawn into the investigation of a very serious crime.

content warnings violence, blood, minor character death

read under the cut or on AO3, cheers 👍

:: First :: || << Previous << || >> Next >> || :: Masterpost ::

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“Ey, Ribyna, have you ever heard of Ashlanders?”

“Yeah, why?”

Fahjoth paused, pulling a disgruntled pout. The sun had well and truly set now; the last vestiges of warmth had evaporated entirely, replaced by a nipping chill and creeping shadows that submerged their surroundings in deep blue blankets. Vivec City loomed in the distance, unlike anything Fahjoth had ever seen before. Instead of individual houses like he had seen in every other town he’d been to so far, the city was populated by rows of colossal cantons, square and blocky yet towering over them with a kind of intimidating grandeur. Walkways bridged the gaps between the cantons, stretching over the rolling waters of the Ascadian Isles’ open bay, and several flags and tapestries fluttered from the sides of the cantons, embroidered with differing patterns and art that Fahjoth couldn’t make out from a distance.

Turning his gaze back to Ribyna as they crossed the bridge towards the first canton, Fahjoth gave an exasperated huff, though there was no real annoyance in his tone. “Oh, so it’s just me, then?” he questioned. “Being an idiot as per usual. D’you know, I made a right tit of myself to Cosades earlier. Told him I didn’t know what Ashlanders were, then he gave me a bollocking for being a dipshit. I mean, how was I supposed to know? Nobody’s told me!”

Ribyna’s response was surprisingly terse. “Well, maybe if you kept your mouth shut more often instead of chatting a load of shit, you’d listen and actually learn something for once.”

Fahjoth blinked, taken aback by this harsh rebuttal. He was used to Ribyna’s blunt manner of speaking of course, but this was something else entirely. He had noticed her demeanour getting more subdued and her posture stiffening the closer they got to Vivec City, and chalked it up to weariness after their long walk. Now, however, he was not so sure. Was that a hint of nervousness he detected in her voice?

“Are you alright?” he asked, then frowned sympathetically. “Bit nervous about being in the big city?”

“What?” Ribyna turned back to Fahjoth and flashed him a scathing look. “No, of course not. Don’t be stupid.”

“Then what is it?” He received no response, as Ribyna stopped walking and examined their surroundings, occasionally dropping her gaze down and squinting at the map she held.

“Right, I’ve got some shit to do,” she announced, as if she hadn’t even heard Fahjoth’s concerns. Fahjoth was certain that this wasn’t the case. “I’ll see you later.”

“Whoah, hang on a second!” Fahjoth protested, disconcerted by Ribyna’s unexpected change of plans. “I didn’t realise we’d be splitting up. What are you doing, anyway?”

“Just... stuff,” Ribyna replied vaguely. Fahjoth grimaced; perhaps it was best that he didn’t know the details after all, if she was here on business with the Thieves Guild.

“Alright, fine,” Fahjoth said, relenting. “But where should I meet you?”

“Uh...” Ribyna gestured aimlessly at the immediate canton, the details on its banners now impossible to make out in the dark. “The map says this is the Foreign Quarter. Just find a cornerclub or something in here and get a room sorted for us. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done.”

“Right,” Fahjoth replied mutedly. Admittedly, he was disappointed; he had been assuming that he and Ribyna would explore Vivec City together, but now, he was resigning himself to being Billy-No-Mates for the next few hours, or however long Ribyna would take to do her mysterious errand. “See you later then.”

Fahjoth thought Ribyna may have flashed him an apologetic glance before she turned away, but then she stalked away along the path flanking the canton and rounded the corner, disappearing out of sight. Heaving a sigh that materialised in the air as a faint puff of steam, Fahjoth turned and headed up the sloping path towards the canton’s upper door, slipping inside and into the warmth.

The inside of the canton was well-lit with torches and rather cheerfully decorated, an array of potted plants sitting in the corners while colourful tapestries and banners hung from the walls. Fahjoth could see a variety of people going about their business, not just Dunmer but Imperials, Bretons, and Redguards, among others, and in that moment he felt a strange sense of almost belonging. Initially he was surprised, until he realised that he was in the Foreign Quarter, and he was left with a deep feeling of despondency instead.

This grim reminder that he truly was an outlander was accentuated by the unrelenting glares he received from the Ordinators who patrolled the corridors, striking an intimidating presence with their gleaming gold armour and helmets, fashioned into the shape of a sharp elven face with a crest of hair atop their heads.

“We’ll have no trouble here,” one of the Ordinators said in a low, rasping voice as he walked by. “Move along.”

Suppressing a shudder, Fahjoth began to wander around the upper floor of the canton, trying to look as if he knew where he was going as opposed to being totally lost. Fortunately, it didn’t take too long before he found himself at a door with a sign overhead reading The Black Shalk Cornerclub. Figuring that he was not going to find anywhere more ideal than this, he pushed the door open and stepped in with caution.

The cornerclub was quiet, with only a few punters sitting around tables or standing in the corners of the room, deep in conversation. A Dunmer stood organising a collection of bottles behind the counter, while an Argonian sat at the bar nursing a drink of his own. Fahjoth approached, plonked himself onto a stool near to the Argonian, and offered him a smile of greeting. The Argonian, who had seemed quite tense as Fahjoth sat down, suddenly relaxed and gave Fahjoth a polite smile in return.

“Can I have a mazte, please?” he asked the barman, reaching into his pocket for his coin purse. “Oh, and how much would a room be for the night for two people?”

“That’ll be twenty drakes for the room, sera,” the barman replied, pushing a bottle of mazte towards Fahjoth. “And ten for the mazte.”

“Oh, alright, cheers! I’ll take it then,” Fahjoth replied, handing over the coins with relief. He caught the Argonian’s eye and chuckled, a wry grin curling the corner of his mouth. “Ribyna reckoned it’d be more expensive than that.”

“Ribyna?” the Argonian questioned.

“Ah, that’s my twin! She’s off doing... something,” Fahjoth answered, his voice trailing off thoughtfully as a mild frown settled on his face. “I’m not sure what. She wouldn’t say.”

“I see. That sounds rather sinister.” The Argonian smirked. “Forgive me, but I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Fahjoth couldn’t hold back an awkward giggle. “You’re right, sorry. My name’s Fahjoth,” he said, holding his hand out, which the Argonian shook after a brief pause.

“Huleeya,” he introduced himself, withdrawing his hand and taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I can’t blame your twin for being secretive. Not with this recent spate of attacks on outlanders.”

Fahjoth’s smile slipped from his face. “Attacks?”

“Oh, yes.” Huleeya nodded gravely. “Not just attacks, but murders. Five outlanders have been found dead this week. Not only that, but two Ordinators have been found dead too. Killed in the same way — that is, with their throats slit.”

“Gods alive... Do they know who’s doing it?”

“If they knew, they would have been caught already,” Huleeya replied. “The Justice Offices are looking for help in catching the killer, from what I’ve heard.”

Fahjoth paused. Though this had given him a lot to think about, there was something else he wanted to ask. “Is that why you looked a bit...” — he gestured vaguely with a wave of his hand — “on edge when I came over?”

“Hm? Ah, no. It’s not that,” Huleeya said. “It just wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had trouble from the local Dunmer, that’s all.”

“What do you—?”

“Excuse me, outlander. I should get going.” Huleeya finished the remainder of his drink and stood up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Fahjoth. You and your twin should be careful if you’re out wandering alone at night.”

“Ah... we will. Thanks, mate,” Fahjoth answered, watching as Huleeya said his farewells to the barkeep and took his leave. Once again, Fahjoth was left alone with his thoughts, and he began to get some very dangerous thoughts indeed.

The Justice Offices are looking for help in catching the killer...

He bit his lip as he nursed his mazte, quietly wrestling with his own brain. To think that he would be able to go up against a serial killer who had slain two highly trained Ordinators was madness, and yet...

By the time he had drained the last of his mazte from the bottle, he had made his decision. Fahjoth stood up, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of foreboding, dropped off his supplies in his rented room and headed outside into the fresh night air once more.

——————————————

The Office of the Watch was much further away than Fahjoth had anticipated, and by the time he arrived, his legs — which had been trembling with nerves — were heavy and aching from weariness, which didn’t bode well for what he had to do. It had been a very long day already, and more than anything Fahjoth was craving a nice warm bed to fall into, but he’d come all this way. There was no going back now.

After navigating the Hall of Justice — with some difficulty, assuaged only slightly by the directions given to him from irate Ordinators on patrol — Fahjoth eventually found himself at the doors of the Office of the Watch, which he knocked gently and waited to be given permission to enter.

Peering around the door, Fahjoth was faced with a rather small and cluttered office inhabited by three Dunmer in the usual golden cuirass and boots, who were sitting at messy desks and perusing sheaves of parchment. One of them, a dark-haired Mer with a moustache and goatee, eyed Fahjoth as he crossed the threshold, the heavy bags under his eyes indicative of his tiredness.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “We’re very busy, as you can see.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Fahjoth apologised, “but I’m looking for an Elam Andas?”

“Yes, that’s me. I am Elam Andas, chief of Vivec's Order of the Watch. Are you here looking for work?”

Fahjoth bit his lip, knowing full well that this was his last chance to back out of his foolish and potentially suicidal mission, but he ploughed on anyway. “I heard you were looking for help solving these recent murders.”

The effect his words had on the office was startling. The officers stopped what they were doing, each of them fixing their red eyes on Fahjoth with dubious expressions. Fahjoth remained silent until Andas spoke again.

“We cannot officially hire you as only Ordinators can serve the watch,” he explained. “But if you can find this killer and bring them to justice, we’ll see to it that you’re rewarded for your efforts.”

Bring them to justice? Now that was something Fahjoth was sure was well above his pay grade. He had been hoping to do a bit of investigation, to help the Watch with their search, but to be tasked with bringing down a serial killer himself? That wasn’t something he was at all confident he could handle.

“Oh, I—” he started in alarm, but Andas cut him off.

“I require no commitment from you,” Andas informed him. “In fact, I can’t even officially accept one. But if you’re serious about helping, I can tell you what we know so far about the killer and the victims.”

After a moment of hesitation, Fahjoth nodded, and Andas gestured to the seat across his desk. Fahjoth obeyed, sitting and listening in silence.

“There have been seven victims so far, five outlanders and two Ordinators, and all with their throats slit. Three of the victims were found in the Foreign Quarter, one near the Arena and one in the Hlaalu Compound. None of the outlanders had been on Vvardenfell for more than a week.

“Our Ordinators were found near the body in the Hlaalu Compound, and we think they interrupted the killer at work. Despite the fact that they were armed and on duty, their weapons were still in their sheaths when their bodies were found, which is unsettling. We’re likely looking at someone incredibly stealthy, or adept at illusion magic.”

It was times like this that Fahjoth dearly wished he could read and write. At least then he would have been able to make notes.

“Finally... there is the matter of witnesses. We’ve had no official witnesses come forward, but one outlander reported being threatened by a Dunmer woman with a dagger in the Hlaalu Compound, around the time of the other murders. He couldn’t give us a very clear description as he teleported himself away to safety, but he told us she was wearing a skirt and netch leather armour.”

Fahjoth nodded, frowning as he tried to absorb all of this information, all the while his heartbeat had quickened uncomfortably with apprehension. Without further ado, he stood and excused himself from the office, heading back outside and into the late night’s chilly grip.

Hearing about the victims, as well as Huleeya’s dire warning, had strengthened Fahjoth’s resolve. Someone was lurking in the shadows of Vivec City, slaughtering innocent people seemingly purely because of their foreign origins. People just like him.

His years spent away from Morrowind had left him as good as an outlander in the eyes of the native Dunmer, and if someone considered that fact alone a trait punishable by death, then they couldn’t be allowed to continue to walk free. Someone needed to deal with them, and if the city’s Ordinators couldn’t — or wouldn’t — then perhaps it would be up to him.

Although... it would probably be a good idea to find Ribyna first, Fahjoth figured as he set off towards the city’s northernmost cantons, before he went blundering headfirst to his potential death. Again.

The path ahead was dark and unsettling, and Fahjoth found himself throwing anxious glances over his shoulder every few minutes, flinching at the slightest unexpected sound and eyeing every shadow with mistrust lest he be ambushed by a dagger-wielding, skirt-donning Dunmer intent on ending his life. It was with relief that he made it to the first of his destinations and, incidentally, the last place he had seen Ribyna heading towards — the Arena.

——————————————

Unfortunately for Fahjoth, Ribyna was nowhere to be seen, so he lingered around the Arena for long enough to do some investigating, inquiring with a few inhabitants and Ordinators but turning up no new leads. Eventually he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he would be a lone worker in this case — a thought that inspired a well of dread in his gut — and moved on.

The same was to be said with the Hlaalu Compound, where Fahjoth had checked in the hope that someone would have seen something about the attempted attack, but he had no luck there either. He then moved on to the Foreign Quarter where, to his surprise, an Orc was happy to assist.

“I recall someone — maybe one of the sewer cleaners — saying something about seeing a Dunmer woman down in the Underworks. Wouldn’t be that odd, but... in the Underworks? That’s odd. Nothing down there but rats and sewers.”

Which led Fahjoth to his next point of investigation — the Underworks.

——————————————

The moment he stepped foot in the Underworks, the smell hit him like a brick to the face. Almost choking on the pungent stench of sewage water, Fahjoth lingered for just long enough to feel just a little more regret before he set off, trying to forget the misgivings he felt. He yanked his scarf up to cover his nose and mouth and navigated the Underworks as carefully as he could, every footstep deliberately placed to be as quiet as possible. He was well aware that the killer could be lurking around any corner, and the deeper he tread into the sewers the more he felt his legs begin to tremble.

It was almost silent down here, the only sounds being that of the murky water sloshing against the smooth stone sewer walls and the occasional drip of moisture from the damp-ridden ceiling. Every so often he would hear a rat scuttling around in the darkness and his heart would jolt, requiring him to take a moment to stop and let his adrenaline levels fall after an unpleasant spike that set his pulse racing.

As he progressed, however, more unpleasant thoughts began to surface in his mind. One possibility kept presenting itself to him, and as hard as he tried to reject it, he found that he couldn’t wholeheartedly dismiss it.

“What are you doing, anyway?”

“Just... stuff.”

He remembered that strange look on Ribyna’s face when he mentioned going to Vivec City. He could tell easily when his twin was apprehensive, and as brief as it was, it had been only too clear to see on her face back in Balmora. Was she nervous about returning to the scene of the crime?

But that was ridiculous! His twin wasn’t a murderer!

What reason would she have to kill outlanders, anyway? The more Fahjoth thought about it, the more illogical it seemed. Least of all because he had never even seen Ribyna wear a skirt for as long as he could remember. So why couldn’t he simply disregard it? The fact that he even had doubts in the first place said enough, and he was even more nervous as he crept through the tunnels, dreading the possibility of seeing his twin around the next bend.

So wrapped up was he in his own thoughts that as Fahjoth rounded a corner and exited a smaller tunnel into a larger section of the sewers, he didn’t even notice the figure standing at the end of the tunnel until he was looking straight at them. With a choked gasp, he flung himself back around the corner from which he had just emerged and pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach tied up in knots. After pausing to listen for any sign of the stranger’s approach, he deemed it safe enough to peer around the wall again and get a better look at the figure ahead.

Even in the low light, he could tell that it was a Dunmer, and they were indeed wearing a skirt with what seemed to be a leather cuirass. This particular corner of the sewer almost looked like a base, with a scruffy bedroll laying on the ground near evidence of where a makeshift fireplace had been lit in the form of a charred mound of wood scraps. A pile of dilapidated crates and debris were strewn haphazardly around the alcove, in some cases holding — or failing to hold — contents like food and bottles of alcohol. Evidently, this was someone who had stocked up for some time.

Fortunately, she hadn’t noticed Fahjoth yet. She sat atop one of the crates, perusing some sort of book or journal and occasionally making notes. A dagger — stained an ominous rusty hue — sat by her side, and Fahjoth’s suspicions were all but confirmed.

How was he going to do this?

He could call it a day, back out quietly the way he came and return to the Office of the Watch with what he knew of the killer’s whereabouts. But even then, would anything get done? Would the Ordinators get here in time before the killer made another move, and claimed another victim?

Perhaps if he could sneak up behind her, he could get the advantage. He knew better than anyone that he was no master of stealth, but she looked fairly preoccupied. Perhaps if he was quiet and quick, then—

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind did he become aware of a weight suddenly pulling vigorously on his foot. As he looked down, he silently squirmed and grimaced at the sight of a large rat digging its teeth into the chitin, shaking its head as if determined to pull his boot clean off. It made no noise other than a soft, squeaky growl, but the splashing of the water beneath its paws was unsettlingly loud and echoed due to the circular tunnel’s acoustics. If this kept up, it was only a matter of time before the killer would notice him.

“Get off!” Fahjoth hissed, frantically shaking his foot. “Get off! Get off, you little c—!”

Unfortunately, the rat refused to budge. It was dragged along in the wake of Fahjoth’s mild kicks, which gradually grew more and more vigorous as he fought to free his foot of the rat’s vice-like grip. Leaning on the wall for balance, he raised his foot up off the ground, now aggressively kicking at the air when all prior attempts at gently shaking the rat off failed. The situation would have been comical had Fahjoth not been so painfully conscious of the murderer sitting barely 20 yards away from where he stood.

At last, after what felt like hours, the rat let go. However, the momentum given to it by Fahjoth’s kicking motion caused it to gracefully soar away as it was flung off his foot and land with a tremendous splash in the deep sewer water in front of him.

Instantly, Fahjoth froze. He pressed himself back against the wall, his breathing fast and laboured as he strained his ears for any sign of movement. Apart from the splashing of the rat as it swam away, apparently done with terrorising Fahjoth for the time being, all was silent. Then, as he dared to peek around the corner to evaluate the situation, a pair of red eyes stared into his own as he made direct eye contact with the Dunmer.

Her reaction was instant. She leapt up from her seat, dagger in hand, and stormed the length of the tunnel towards him, already screaming abuse and profanities in his direction. Kicking hard off the ground, Fahjoth threw himself into motion, and with the Dunmer hurtling closer his options for where to go were limited. A brown and grey blur in his peripheral as he passed indicated that the Dunmer was giving chase, but with the advantage of having longer legs, Fahjoth half-sprinted and half-leapt over a nearby bridge spanning the sewer water before pelting down to the tunnel’s end. Whirling around once he came to a stop, the Dunmer was mere seconds behind him, so Fahjoth drew his sword and stood fast.

Wielding a dagger which seemed to emanate a sickly red glow, his opponent lunged, landing a glancing blow against Fahjoth’s armour as he leapt back. But she was much faster than he had anticipated. He stumbled back and threw himself from side to side to avoid the Dunmer’s aggressive strategy of repeated jabs and slashes, breaking into a sweat and feeling his flanks ache with every shallow pant. One thrust of the dagger slid between the gap in the chitin protecting his arm, slicing through the sleeve and nicking the skin beneath.

With a gasp, Fahjoth flung himself backwards. There was a dull thud as his heel collided with something on the ground and his balance was completely thrown off.

His stomach lurched as he began a sharp descent, hitting the ground with a painful bump. The scraping and groans of the crates he fell against rang in his ears as the Dunmer was suddenly filling his vision, dagger poised ready to plunge into his throat.

With his sword arm raised in a vague attempt to defend himself, Fahjoth reached to the side, grasping at nothingness in a frantic search for something, anything, that could—

The cold sliminess of damp wood brushed against his fingertips. He fastened his grip, braced himself and flung the broken chunk at his assailant with as much force as he could muster.

The jagged lump of wood, a deadly weapon in its own right in the right circumstances, struck the Dunmer square in the face. She staggered back with a howl of pain, clutching her eye while blood seeped from a fresh injury above her brow. With adrenaline coursing through him, Fahjoth sprung to his feet, clutching the hilt of his sword with fingers now damp from his own blood.

The Dunmer lifted her gaze to Fahjoth again, her uninjured eye blazing with a chilling hatred, but before she could make another move Fahjoth had sprung. He rushed forward and thrust his sword into the Dunmer’s midriff, the tip of the blade piercing the thin, aged leather of her armour with surprising ease. Then he continued pushing forward, until his sword had been buried up to its hilt into her stomach and protruded out from her navel.

The Dunmer froze, paralysed by the deadly blow, and Fahjoth relinquished his weapon and backed off, unable to do anything else but stare as she staggered to the side and fell. A sharp clang announced her collision to the ground as the sword’s blade hit the ground first, but once her momentum stopped and she lay still, total silence fell upon them.

Silence, apart from the sound of Fahjoth’s ragged breathing.

As he stared down at the lifeless Dunmer on the ground before him, Fahjoth only became conscious of how badly his legs were shaking when he tried to take a step forward and his knees almost buckled beneath his weight. Only one thought circled in his mind, over and over, as he silently watched the blood starting to ooze out from beneath her body.

He had done this.

Someone was dead because of him.

The more logical part of his brain insisted that if he hadn’t, it would have been him lying there in a pool of his own blood instead. But that didn’t make him feel much better about the fact that he had just taken someone’s life.

There was a part of him that didn’t even want to approach the body to retrieve his shortsword, but at the end of the day, he had paid good money for that. And it wasn’t as if he had a backup. So with a trembling hand he grasped the hilt, slowly prising the sword out of the Dunmer’s body and wincing at the sickening sound of the blade gliding against flesh, squelching and wet. He cleaned the metal as best he could using linen from the makeshift bed, then sheathed his weapon and reluctantly searched the camp for evidence to present to Elam Andas.

He didn’t find much of any substance. The journal the Dunmer had been reading was, of course, impossible for him to read. Quite apart from not finding any sense in the words, it was damp and smudged terribly to the point where it was barely legible. Still, perhaps the Office of the Watch would have better luck; he took it, along with an old rusty key and the Dunmer’s dagger, which left him feeling oddly nauseous and drained after his fingertips came into direct contact with it.

The damp stickiness of blood on his arm and staining his sleeve was impossible to ignore, as was the injury beneath it, so Fahjoth took a moment to attempt to heal it on his own. With the spell he had acquired from the Mages Guild in mind, Fahjoth closed his eyes and furrowed his brows in concentration; he racked every corner of his brain, searching for any spark that could ignite the spell that he could feel hesitating at his fingertips. But in his already worn-out state, the attempts only ended up draining yet more of his energy and left him with a considerable headache. In the end he conceded and admitted defeat, recognising a lost cause when he saw one.

Then Fahjoth embarked on the long walk back to the Hall of Justice, craving fresh air and a warm bed above all else. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that he had successfully taken on a serial killer and lived to tell the tale, but there was an odd light-heartedness in his chest as he traipsed back along the paths through Vivec City’s shadowy cantons, feeling somehow more confident than before.

—————��————————

Fahjoth’s triumphant — albeit exhausted and bloodied — return to the Office of the Watch was met with disbelief at first, followed by amazement once he broke the news that the killer had been dealt with. Elam Andas was thrilled and accepted the dagger and journal as evidence without question, perhaps a sign of how desperate he was to believe that this Dunmer was no longer a threat. After expressing his gratitude he sent Fahjoth on his way, with a promise that Ordinators would be sent to clean up the mess and the reward of an enchanted belt to protect him on his travels, which Fahjoth accepted eagerly. Although he was pleased with the response to his daring deed, he was now more than ever looking forward to collapsing into bed after a very, very long day.

With thoughts of only soft pillows and warm sheets on his mind as he entered the familiarity of the Foreign Quarter, it wasn’t until he came face-to-face with someone approaching the hallway to the cornerclub from the opposite way that he realised he had forgotten something — or rather, someone.

“Ribyna!” Fahjoth exclaimed, recognising his sibling even from a distance. But something was wrong. There was no wave or call of greeting from Ribyna, who walked silently over to him with a pronounced limp in her step.

“Ribyna?”

In the light of the torch that hung from the nearby wall, Fahjoth could see that Ribyna was in a dreadful state. Her armour was scuffed and damaged in places and her hair was a mess, but most worryingly was the copious amount of bloodstains that spattered and smeared her almost from head to foot.

“Ribyna!” Fahjoth gasped, rushing over to meet her and instantly beginning to fuss. “What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Ribyna grunted, making a half-hearted attempt to push Fahjoth away.

“You’re covered in blood!”

“It’s fine. It’s not my blood.” Ribyna paused to wince, doubling over slightly and gritting her teeth. “Most of it...”

Before Fahjoth could question her further, they were interrupted by the rapid approach of an Ordinator, his sword drawn and raised at Ribyna threateningly.

“Halt!” he barked. “Murderous scum! You violated the law, outlander. Surrender and come with me immediately.”

Fahjoth's mouth fell open with horror. Murderous? Surely there had to be some kind of mistake...

However, Ribyna's silence was not encouraging. Instead of protesting her innocence, she reached into a pocket and tugged out a somewhat bloodstained roll of parchment, which she passed over to the guard without a word. To Fahjoth's astonishment, once he had finished reading it, he nodded and tucked the note away in his own armour.

“All of your papers seem to be in order,” he said, dipping his head to Ribyna. “You are free to go.”

And then he walked away, leaving Fahjoth utterly bemused as he stared at his still very quiet twin.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell just happened?” he questioned, and Ribyna huffed.

"In a sec. Let's get inside first," she muttered, slipping away into the cornerclub without waiting for a response. Fahjoth, left with little choice, followed her in and then led the way to their room. The moment he opened the door, Ribyna pushed past him and dropped down onto the bed with a groan — much to Fahjoth's displeasure, as he had been hoping to do this exact thing first.

“Well?” he prompted, lowering himself into a nearby chair and slouching back, relishing the chance to take the weight off his sore feet for a while. “What was that guard on about, calling you ‘murderous scum’?”

It was a moment or two before Ribyna dragged herself upright again and turned her gaze to Fahjoth.

“I joined the Morag Tong.”

Fahjoth, who had been in the process of removing his boots, froze motionless as he felt his blood run cold. “You what?!” he hissed, once he found his voice again. “You’ve— what?!”

“Yeah.” Ribyna’s tone was level as she stared back at Fahjoth, looking more tired than defensive. “Don’t start, alright? I’m knackered.”

“Don’t st—?!” Fahjoth bolted upright, keeping his voice hushed as best he could but fighting to quash the outrage that burned in his chest. “You’ve gone and joined a murder cult and you’re telling me to not start?!”

“It’s not a murder cult!” Ribyna protested. “It’s perfectly legal!”

“Just because it’s legal, doesn’t mean it’s not a—” Fahjoth stopped mid-rant, rubbing his eyes with exasperation. “Just... Ugh, what have you gone and done that for? Can’t you just do something... normal?! Like... I dunno, go join the Fighters Guild if you really wanna stab things!”

“No.” She slouched down, looking suddenly more tired than ever. “Look, maybe I’m fed up of being treated like the shit on everyone’s shoes, alright? Maybe I just... wanted a bit of respect for once.”

Fahjoth faltered, experiencing a flicker of sympathy for his twin. He knew that feeling all too well. “Beebs, you don’t need to become a murderer to be respected.”

“I was already a murderer,” Ribyna pointed out bluntly. Fahjoth felt a twist in his gut, memories from that horrendous day threatening to resurface in his mind. “At least this way I can get paid for it.”

Fahjoth paused, struggling to find an argument and fighting to put into words exactly how he felt about Ribyna’s new career choice. Eventually, he heaved a sigh. “But... it can’t be safe. Look, you’re injured! I’m... I’m worried about you, Ribyna.”

“Well, don’t be. Turns out I’m half-decent at killing people.” Naturally, Ribyna’s answer didn’t reassure Fahjoth in the slightest, but she ploughed on anyway with a change of subject. “Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?” Now that she was evaluating Fahjoth properly, her eyes soon fell on the bloodstains that still blemished his clothes and armour. “Is that blood?!”

“Yeah... and this time, it is mine. Honestly, you won’t believe the day I’ve had, Beebs,” Fahjoth said, before he began to regale the whole story; meeting Huleeya, learning about the outlander killings, going to the Office of the Watch, venturing into the Underworks...

By the time he had finished, Ribyna was staring at him with an incredulous look on her face.

“Hang on,” she started, “you killed someone and you’re having a go at me for joining the Morag Tong? Hypocrite, much!”

“I— but— what?!” Fahjoth spluttered, affronted. “Th-that’s different! I’m not an assassin, I was stopping a serial killer—”

But he promptly shut his mouth once he noticed the wry grin curling at the corners of Ribyna’s lips.

“I’m only messing,” she chortled, her smirk quickly becoming a proud smile. “Holy shit, that’s amazing, Fahji. Shame they didn’t pay you for it, mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Fahjoth replied honestly, calming down again. “I’m just glad she can’t hurt anyone else.” He paused, feeling heat rising in his face as he prepared himself to confess to something. “Honestly for a little while, I was worried that the killer was gonna be you.”

Ribyna promptly cocked a brow. “You fucking donkey, why would I go around killing outlanders? I am an outlander!”

“I was just freaking out!” Fahjoth protested. “I was tired, and nervous, and you’d been acting proper shifty, and— well, I obviously wasn’t that far off, was I? Might not’ve been outlanders, but you were planning on killing people after all!”

Ribyna rolled her eyes, busying herself with removing her own armour. “Yeah yeah, alright, you’ve already said your piece. Come on, let’s get cleaned up and get some sleep. I’m absolutely wrecked.”

Though he still had plenty more to say on the matter, Fahjoth agreed, for both their sakes. He was looking forward to crashing just as much as Ribyna was, and once they had finished helping each other tend to their injuries and settled down for the night, Fahjoth was asleep almost as soon as his head had hit the pillows.

—————————————————————————————

tag list @boulderfall-cave , @padomaicocean (lmk if you’d like to be added!)

#oc: fahjoth #oc: ribyna #tes #tes fic #morrowind #dunmer #dunmer oc #nerevarine #elder scrolls #elder scrolls fanfic #TES III: Morrowind

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pebblysand · 4 years ago

Text

of tyres that blow (extended author’s note of chapter v. of castles)

- - TO READ THE CHAPTER ITSELF, CLICK HERE. - -

Oh, what a month it has been. Well, a month and two days - I’m a bit late updating. I’ve had two good things happen, writing wise. 1) I got my first original short story published (!!!!) (you can read it here) and 2) I put out a little one-shot about Fleur Delacour that I’m super happy about and gave me an idea about a new series (more on that later this week, I hope. I might need help with prompts!). Regardless, this latest Irish lockdown is fucking endless and I sometimes wonder if this fic isn’t just an outlet for my feelings of lockdown-induced loneliness, apathy, but also a constant argument that I have with myself thinking: for the love of god, just pull yourself up, will you? You’re a Gryffindor, goddamn it. I certainly wish my fucked up sleeping patterns on no one, although I may or may have Mary-Sued that onto Harry, lol. (Spoiler alert: he’s scheduled to get some real sleep in next chapter. All bets are off regarding whether I will.)

This chapter was surprisingly easy to write (I basically vomited out chapters iv, v, and vi over the span of a week in December) but incredibly difficult to edit. For days, I just couldn’t concentrate, wrote and re-wrote and felt like everything was shite. Then, I realised it’d become this 19,000-words long monster so I had to cut a lot of shit out. We ended up with 15,898 words which I suppose is better?

I do wonder: do people mind long chapters? Like, I know as fanfic reader, I personally prefer longer formats and rarely gravitate towards works that are less than 3,000 words. I love just getting buried into a story, into plots rather than single scenes. This being said, every time I write something that I deem too long (i.e. above 10k) I have these excruciating struggles where I wonder: should I cut it in half? should I leave it as is? I decided to split the last one. Then, I decided not to split this one because (you may notice this or not, I’m not sure) it’s kind of built a certain way, geared towards basically getting to the last two paragraphs. Like, when you get there, it’s a bit of an ah-ha moment, but I couldn’t get to that ah-ha moment without all the build up before it. It’s the accumulation of all of these little details that feel like they don’t matter. And as Harry says in the end, they don’t, in the grand scheme of things, but also they do. Like, everyday life doesn’t matter until you lose it. Then, it does, if that makes sense.

In terms of next update... I’ve decided to get my law licence transferred to France and the EU (it’s a long story), which means that I need to bloody, fucking study. The exams are at the end of March so my current plan is: hardcore study until the end of february. Mix study/writing in early march and hopefully get chapter vi out mid-March, then hardcore study until the end of March. Please, if you see me posting then, tell me off in the comments cause god, I really need to pass. Now, I will go have my traditional i-ve-put-a-chapter-out shot of limoncello and let you read the below :).

...spoilers for castles, chap v. under the cut -

I’ve done a lot of thinking about what this chapter is meant to be about. Obviously (I hope), every chapter has a point, in this story. Chapter 1 is about time (the way it passes and blurs when your mind’s a complete mess), chapter 2 is about hope, chapter 3 is about inevitability and the consequences of trauma, chapter 4 is about becoming an adult and growing into your own skin, etc. I think this one is about fear. How you feel it, and how you overcome it. Like, Harry takes a decision to stand up, fight, do the interview, regardless of the fact that he is scared (for his life, for that of the people he loves), and finds buried inside him a lot of the courage that he (felt) he lost, after the war. He learns to control his fear of the world by figuring out how apprehend it, through the training Giulia gives him, through learning how to kill, too.

But, it’s also about fear in society. How the attack on Robards sets everyone on edge and how they keep going regardless. I initially wrote this chapter with the idea that it was going to be about speaking out and being brave, but obviously, fear and fighting against it is a huge part of that, too.

Then, there’s Mia. Obviously, this fic is Harry/Ginny endgame but I do like the idea of Harry (and possibly Ginny as well) dating at least one other person, before officially tying the knot. Like, yes, Ginny is obviously coming back next chapter. She’ll probably own the second half of next chapter, if I’m honest, considering they’re obviously going to the burrow for christmas. I love Ginny, I’ve missed her and honestly, I can’t wait to bring her back. This being said, to be fair, I’ve kind of realised that this fic may actually be the first I ever write that isn’t strictly “shippy.” Like, yes, their relationship is a huge part of it (it’s a huge part of his life) and it will and was always going to be a huge part of this story but I think this fic is larger than that. It’s a result of my years-long obsession over: but what happens next? Over what “all was well” really means, in a general sense. How do they get to “nineteen years later” and beyond. But yeah, I’ve missed Ginny and I’m glad she’s on her way back to us now.

Now, obviously. Giulia. I’m sorry. This was always going to happen. Well, almost always. I remember when I first wrote her in, she was a bit of a filler character. At the time, the thing with Mia was supposed to happen in last chapter and I actually had (have) much more backstory around her, than around Giulia. She and Harry were going to have proper conversations (will they ever, who knows?), really get to know each other. But then, Giulia came first narratively and shone through the page. I started writing her and she had this personality and life of her own and I couldn’t bring myself to curtail her.

Now, we all know how it is: fanfics can only tolerate so many OCs. So, I had to choose between putting Mia at the forefront, or Giulia. I chose Jules.

Then, in chapter 4, I wrote this:

Her first lesson is to teach him how to drive the patrol car. ‘I don’t know why we use them,’ she explains, honest, and Harry vaguely wonders if he should be taking notes. ‘Reckon the Ministry saw them being used by Muggles, had to prove they could do better. They like making noise, the Ministry, don’t they? Lots of sirens and shite.’

Politely, Harry hides a chuckle behind a cough. He clearly doesn’t know yet that he doesn’t need to, that Giulia’s sarcastic sense of humour is one of the things that he’ll come to appreciate the most in this world, over the next few months. That the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget. That in the speech that he’ll give when he makes Head Auror, over a decade later, he’ll think of her and say: ‘Okay, let’s try to not just be sirens and shite, all right?’

This kind of tumbled out without me really thinking about it until I really looked at it and thought: fuck, why is he talking about her past tense, like that. Like “the sound of her voice is one he’ll try to never, ever forget.” Why would he forget it, though? And so, just like that, came her death sentence. For that, I apologise. It killed me too, and I cried when I wrote it in (especially when I wrote next chapter, actually, first time I ever made myself cry writing, if I’m honest) but it just needed to happen. It’s how Ginny and he get back together (I mean, obviously - is that even a spoil) because he’s grieving but she’s grown stronger and steady and she’s able to be there in a way that she wasn’t last summer. It did occur to me that god, all his mentors/father figures come to die, don’t they? But honestly, I kind of thing that his real mentor will be Robards, at the end of the day. She was just the one who allowed him to get back on his feet.

One last note: I’ve been meaning to put this into the fic for ages but have never found the right moment to write it in. In the meantime, I’ll just say it here, because I don’t know if this has frustrated some of yous - I know it might have driven me mad. There is a logic to the Muggle/Wizard swearing/exclamations in the fic. Obviously, this is an adult fic so they swear normally, like eighteen-year-olds would in this (I decided that very early on), but also there’s “God”-s and “Merlin”-s and things like that.

Now, I think that throughout this fic, although Harry hasn’t mentioned it yet (cause it never fucking fits anywhere) Hermione’s been having a sort of Muggle reckoning. She - in conscience - decides to start swearing/exclaiming “like a Muggle” after the war. If you notice, she only ever says “god”, never “Merlin.” Harry uses both interchangeably although he tends to use Merlin more when he thinks about wizard stuff, but God when he thinks about Muggle stuff (like when he’s with Mia). Ron only swears in “wizard” but I think he might start using Muggle expletives as well in the later chapters because of Hermione rubbing off on him.

The fact that I even think about all that stuff is pathetic and I need to get a life. But that’s for another post, altogether.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you liked it :).

#hp fanfic #hinny #Harry Potter fic #i have not proofread this rambling mess so read at your own risk #writing #blah #new chapter is up

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ad1thi · 5 years ago

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the one where steve discovers new york

(insp)

set sometime after tws, established relationship, harley keener and tony stark feels, fluff and crack, au where tony knows everything because he and steve are mature adults who discuss shit and don’t keep secrets. ive also aged up harley just go with it please

Tony’s excited when he finally confirms that Harley’s coming to town. So excited that he plans out the entire weekend, clearing his schedule so that he can be free to take his newly legal not-son around to the best haunts and give him the true tourist experience - and completely forgets that Steve is going to be in town for the first time in almost three months.

Which is why when he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist while he’s in the middle of a project in his workshop, he does the reasonable thing and puts the wrench in his hand to good use.

“Ouch!” Steve stumbles back, clutching his head morosely, and Tony is caught between comforting him and looking for the closest ice pack.

Fortunately, DUM-E takes the decision out of his hands, wheeling towards Steve and dropping an icepack into his hands, which he presses to his forehead instantly.

Tony helps him over to the couch, pressing kisses to the side of his head and muttering a string of apologies everytime he winces. Once they’re both settled on the couch, he takes over ice-pack duty from it, sitting half across his lap and cupping his face with his free palm so he can angle his face just right.

“I really am sorry,” he says, lifting the ice pack intermittently to check the swelling, “I just, completely forgot that I was supposed to see you this weekend”

“It’s fine honey,” Steve says, attempting a smile but it comes out more like a grimace, “give it a few hours and it would’ve healed up. Perks of the serum. Plus, you’ve got all weekend to make it up to me”

“About that,” Tony says, stretching out his words, “So you remember how I forgot you were coming this weekend?”

“Yeah,” Steve says hesitantly, and Tony might truly be the worst boyfriend around.

“So, under this misguided belief that you weren’t coming this weekend and I was therefore, free, I might’ve accidentally made plans for this weekend. Of the non-refundable variety”

“Do you have another boyfriend I should know about?” Steve says with a smirk, and Tony pinches him in response.

“No you oaf,” he pulls off the ice pack to check the bruising again, relaxing when he sees its turned into a slightly yellow-ish hue instead of its earlier purple, “You remember Harley Keener? The kid from Tennessee?”

“The one with the potato gun right?” Tony nods, “What about him?”

“Well it was his 18th birthday a couple months back, and I promised him I’d fly him out to New York for a couple of days the first chance that I got free -”

“- and that happened to be this weekend,” Steve finishes up. Tony nods contritely, eyes cast downward as if not looking at Steve would somehow better the situation.

“Hey,” Steve tips his chin up, forcing Tony to look at him, “hey I’m not mad babe. It’s a mistake, these things happen. This is the kid that Jim swears is like your child, right?”

Tony nods, unsure of where Steve’s going with this. It would quite frankly be better for the both of them if he just got his yelling over with so he can move onto the ‘making it up to you’ portion of the evening.

“Well then I’d be happy to meet him. Who knows, it could be fun. Never really got a chance to see New York after I got out of the ice, and now I finally have a reason to”

Tony tries to keep his surprise to himself, he does, but it must show on his face because something in Steve’s gaze softens.

“I’m not mad at you sweetheart,” he says in an earnest tone and Tony would really appreciate it if his boyfriend would stop reading his like an open book, “mistakes happen. It isn’t like you purposely went out of your way to make yourself busy, and I don’t care how we spend our time together, just that we spend our time together”

“I don’t deserve you,” Tony says in a hushed tone, but Steve shakes his head in response, “you deserve a lot better than me. But I’m never going to stop trying to show you how much I love you”

Steve isn’t one to judge people based on their looks, but he definitely had an, image in mind whenever Tony described the child that he’d pseudo adopted from Tennessee. Tony had made him out to be fiercely brave and resourceful, and Steve had imagined - well the essence of it was that he certainly hadn’t pictured the stick thin brooding teenager that was currently standing in the Common Room, bag slung across his shoulder.

“You must be Harley,” he says, sticking out his hand in hello and trying his very best to not take it personally when Harley just glares at it mutinously.

“You must be the centurion that’s taking advantage of the mechanic,” he replies with a glare and Steve is saved from replying by Tony’s appearance.

“Harls!” he shouts, and Steve watches as his face changes, splitting open into a smile.

Somehow, Steve gets the feeling that the teenager doesn’t smile all that much.

Harley squirms under Tony’s embrace but doesn’t try and pull out of his hug; instead letting his hands fall to the side like he doesn’t know what do with them as he pulls him in and ruffles his hair, pressing absent kisses to his face and fussing over him like he’s truly his child.

“How was your flight?” Tony’s voice brings him out of his musings, “Did you get in okay?”

“It’s remarkably hard to complain about the flight when you’ve been upgraded to first class,” Harley drawls with a raised eyebrow and Tony looks back at him defiantly, “but the food was questionable. I think I prefer economy”

Tony pinches his sides, “you just don’t know what luxury feels like,” he says with a huff - before noticing Steve standing in front of them.

“Oh!” Tony gestures Steve over, “Harley - this is Steve. Steve, this is Harley”

“We’ve met,” Steve says with a tight smile before Harley can get a word in, “I’m glad you could make the trip this weekend, and I’m sorry for crashing in on your hands”

“I was hoping to get the mechanic to myself,” Harley says with an expression that Steve can swear he’s seen on Tony’s face before, “but I suppose having Captain America around isn’t the worst thing ever”

“Don’t be a grouch kid,” Tony says, before leading him down towards the workshop, “now let me show you all my new toys”

He’s almost towards the lift before he turns back to Steve with a frown, “Babe? Aren’t you coming?”

Steve waves him off, “you two have fun, I’m going to be cramping on your style tomorrow when we explore New York anyway”

Tony looks like he wants to argue, but the lift dings open, and Harley pulls his aside. If Steve was a betting man, he would say that he just earned a morsel of respect with his boyfriend’s not-son.

If nothing else, this weekend was definitely going to be interesting.

“Well,” Tony says as the elevator dings open, “I’m glad you like New York Harls but I swear, I wasn’t expecting Steve to react like that”

Behind them, Steve ambles in with his bags of merchandise, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“How is it,” he says with a huff, “that I’ve liked in New York for this long and never been able to appreciate how amazing it is?”

He points a finger at Tony with a glare, “I blame you for not introducing me to the wonders of this city”

“That hardly seems fair,” Tony sniffs delicately, “you don’t technically live in New York, you just visit. And when you do visit you’re too busy with, other activities to be gallivanting around New York like a tourist that just hopped off the boat”

“Too many details,” Harley says with a wrinkled nose, “I don’t need to know what you and your geriatric boyfriend get up to”

“I wouldn’t say he’s geriatric,” Tony says, smirking, “not when -”

He gets cut off by Steve cupping his mouth, and it's a testament to his strength that he manages to do that despite all the bags adorning his forearms.

“I apologise for him,” Steve says to Harley, “we’re still working on getting him house-trained. Why don’t you freshen up, and we’ll meet you back down here for dinner?”

He removes his hand with a yelp when Tony licks his palm, and Harley looks for the quickest route away from them because he no longer wants to be anywhere near them. One whole day of barely disguised flirting on the streets of New York was more than enough.

“If I may Young Sir,” JARVIS pipes up, and Harley looks up to the ceiling despite himself, “there’s a staircase on the left corner that you might find of use since Sir and Captain Rogers are currently blocking the lift”

Harley looks back at Tony and Steve, at the bags abandoned at their feet now that Steve’s hands have found other things to grab onto, and then turns back towards the stairs - sending a salute to the ceiling.

“Appreciate it JARVIS,” he says as he pushes open the door, smiling when he hears the AI demurely reply, “Anytime”

Fin

#my writing #stevetony #superhusbands #steve x tony #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers #tony stark #harley keener #irondad and ironson #established relationship #fluff #fluff and crack #the one where steve discovers new york #i rly tag my tumblr posts like its ao3 love that for me #inspired by that one friends episode where chandler goes batshit crazy for NYC #disclaimer: i dont know much about NYC because the last time i was there i was in a pram #so all of my knowledge comes from tv shows #i would like everyone to appreciate that i made a conscious effort to not make this angsty and keep it completely fluffy #that was very hard for me #i had like 500 words worth of post tws angst written up #where harley accuses steve for sleeping with tony just so that tony will help him find bucky - which is immoral cuz bucky killed his parents #but i cut it OUT and i want that to be appreciated #i wrote the intro of my essay and then rewarded myself by writing 1.5k of stevetony

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captainscanadian · 5 years ago

Text

Better | Bucky Barnes x Reader (Part 8)

My Masterlist

Summary: Finally, things really are starting to get better.

Word Count: 9287

Pairing: Doctor!Bucky x Doctor!Reader, Doctor!Natasha x Platonic!Reader, Lawyer!Peggy x Platonic!Bucky, The Mom

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Abuse, Alcoholism, Surgery, Organ Donation, IV & Needles, Emotional Distress, Physical Pain, Drugs, Hospital Stay, Homelessness, Anxiety, Trauma

A/N: What can I say except you’re welcome... ;)

Bucky Barnes tapped his nimble fingers anxiously against the rustic oak desk as he sat in Peggy’s office, waiting for the hospital’s in-house attorney to return so that the two of them could head over to meet Steve and your mother to complete their task at hand. The room was bright despite the lights being turned off, the mid-summer sunshine blazing through the large corner window with its blinds parted. The dark haired doctor looked down at the cheque book in front of him, an exasperated sigh escaping his dry lips as he continued to ponder what he was about to do. Of course, he was not having second thoughts about this. He had no regrets about the choice that he had made.

Money had never been an issue for him, not when he was younger and certainly not now. It was not the money that he was worried about. He knew that he was doing the right thing by offering a very large sum of money to your parents, almost three times more than what they had owed in medical bills, both in Brooklyn and in Philadelphia. Not only that, he was also offering them a monthly allowance in addition to this payment. With your father’s inability to work and your mother’s recent loss of employment, they would certainly be well off with what he had to offer them. Moreover, this allowance also allowed them to not have a reason to contact you in the future.

Although the reason for this awful feeling in his chest was not the fact that he was paying them off, it was the fact that he was only willing to pay them in return for them cutting all ties with their only child. It made him feel as though he was betraying you. They may not have been good parents to you but he knew that no matter what, you still saw them as your family. To put an end to that behind your back, it hurt him. He was hurting because he knew how much it would hurt you.

Your James knew that he was doing the right thing by paying them off so that you did not have to. But he could not deny the obvious fact though. They did not deserve any of it, not even a single penny. While you had to work twice as hard to become a successful cardio-thoracic surgeon, put your blood, sweat and tears into the way you studied, obtained your skills, practiced medicine and earned the money you were now making in your own right, your parents were going to live the rest of their lives in luxury because of what he was about to do. They did not deserve any of this at all, as it seemed to be more of a reward to their wrong-doings than a punishment. They deserved punishment. But who was he to wish that they would be punished?

Perhaps what Bucky had been feeling towards them was not necessarily vengeance; he was in no place to feel vengeful towards them. He had not been the one who had been hurt by their actions his whole life. If there was anyone in this world who had a justified reason to feel that way towards your parents, it was you. But he knew that your heart could never be so full of vengeance. Hell, your heart could never even hold a single ounce of vengeance. Even at a time like this, he knew that you were probably worried about your parents’ financial dilemma than the emotional trauma that had been caused by your surgery and its aftermath. As someone who had always sympathized with people who had lived in the streets, you would not wish that upon your own abusive parents. Your heart was a lot more pure than his and that was why you would always be a better human being than he could ever be.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he signed the cheque that he had written as payable to your mother, the sound of Peggy’s red bottom heels clicking against the tiled floor of the hallway making him turn to the door with a rather nervous smile. “Hey Peggy.” He said, almost too plainly, as though he was fighting too hard to suppress his own emotions. He wanted to stay calm for the sake of this transaction running smoothly, but the pain and the anger that the circumstances had caused him were undeniably weighing him down.

“Are you alright, Bucky?” She asked her child’s godfather as she entered her office, though she knew from the look on his face that he was far from okay. As an attorney, as a friend and as a mother of her own little girl, she understood how difficult this must be for him. It was just as difficult for her. Of course, she was angry for the way you had been treated your whole life. But she also knew that this was the only way you could be protected. She was glad that she had a small part to play in that.

But when she saw that look on Bucky’s face, she knew how much it hurt him too. Bucky had a short-temper, there was no denying that. And she could imagine just how angry he must be feeling towards your parents at that moment. Steve would have felt the same way had it been her and her parents. Peggy knew that despite the anger and the guilt that he must be feeling for what he was about to do, Bucky loved you. He loved you with all of his heart that he was fighting with his own emotions. Though she also knew that the man had a strict moral code, he would not let his emotions get the worst of him. After all, that was why they all called him the cold hearted surgical robot.

“I’m of sound mind, body and soul.” He replied as he let out another sigh, tearing the cheque leaf and looking down at the amount that he had written. “I want to do this, Peggy. I want to do this for her. But we both know that they don’t deserve any of this.”

As she walked around her desk, she pulled out a key from her pocket and the safe in the corner of the office. “What you’re about to offer them... not only is it much more than what they had asked Y/N for, it’s more than what any judge could have written off on.” She informed him with a sigh. “They don’t deserve it, I know. We all agree that they don’t deserve a single pence of what you’re about to give them, Bucky. But Y/N deserves it. She deserves everything that this world could possibly give her. Her safety, her protection, her happiness... they’re all priceless compared to what you’ve written in that cheque.” A part of Peggy wondered if now was a good time to tell Bucky about your confession regarding him. Probably not, she was not going to meddle that much. Besides, it would be much better if you and Bucky had confessed your feelings for each other to each other. Pulling out a sealed envelope, she set it down in front of the man before taking a seat across from him. “Are you sure you’re okay to present this cheque to them yourself? Or would you like me to... handle the transaction myself?”

Bucky bit down on his lip once more as he ran his hand through is hair. “I... I can do it.” He told her with a nod. “I would like to do it myself. I would like to hand her the cheque and give her a piece of my mind.”

Peggy let out another sigh before she shook her head at him. “Bucky, if you’re going to let your emotions out of control, I think its better that I do this on my own.”

“No, Peggy...” He shook his head back at her. “I want her to know that... even though they never have and probably never will... love their daughter as she should have been loved her while life, that there’s someone else in this world who loves her more than they ever could. I want them to know that even though they never realized how blessed they were to have a daughter like Y/N, it was their loss that they drove her away... because now she has people who actually care about her. I want them to know she’s loved widely and deeply, that we’re all better for Y/N than they could ever be.”

Peggy could not deny that Bucky’s wish was a valid one. In a way, she wanted your parents to know that too. But her concern was on the man’s temper. She feared that he would lash out at them, for she knew just how much he loved you. She wanted this to go smoothly, for your sake. “Fine... but you have to promise me that you won’t lash out at them. I know that your temper gets the worst of you at times. Steve even told me what happened between you and Wanda. Bucky, I know how you really feel about them but you can’t show that when you see them. Do you understand?” If anything, she was only worried about a potential lawsuit that might come their way. The last thing she wanted to deal with was one of the doctors lashing out at a loved one of a patient at this hospital, even though the circumstances did justify Bucky’s potential outburst, if there was any outburst at all. She sure hoped not.

“... I promise.” He agreed, looking down at his hands as he twirled around the hair tie on his wrist. “Peggy, what if Y/N finds out about what I did? If not about the money, I’m sure she’d at least be mad about the fact that I am asking her biological parents to cut ties all with her. I don’t even think I can keep the part about the money from her at this point. I mean, as much I want to keep it from her, I know that it’s not going to be easy to hide it. I thought about lying to her and saying that we wrote off her father’s surgery as part of my pro-bono procedures. But she knows that I ran out of funding with the last procedure I did a few months ago. She’ll ask where the money came from and... I don’t want her to be mad at me or get offended. I don’t want to lie to her.”

She let out a sigh of relief at his query, her lips curling into a smile as she realized that now what the time to continue her meddling. “Yeah, about that... I may or may not have mentioned to her that you were taking care of her parents’ medical bills.”

Bucky’s eyes grew wide when she had said that. “What? Why would you... Peggy, I told you not to-”

“She was freaking out, Bucky!” The woman cut him off. “She felt helpless, not knowing what to do. She was crying. She didn’t know what to do or how to handle her mother’s demands. I had to tell her, just to calm her down. She needed to know, Bucky, and you know that. She needs to know everything... and I mean everything.” All Peggy could do was hope that Bucky understood what she meant by that. “Please... don’t be mad at me. I know you told Steve and I that she doesn’t find out. I told Romanoff, Wilson and Parker because they’re the doctors involved in her case. But... Y/N needed to know, Bucky. She needed to know that you were the solution to her problem... because that’s exactly what you are.”

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Peggy greeted your mother with a certain sense of fake politeness that she seemed to have mastered from her years of being a lawyer, a tight-lipped smile on her face as she motioning your mother to step inside the conference room. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with us.”

Just by the way she carried herself; it was easy to note that your mother was a rather cold woman. The look on her face was reason enough for the two doctors and the attorney to hope for the best yet expect the worst from this meeting. After all, this was the woman who had been intending to cause you such emotional pain and probably felt no remorse for the way she had been treating you your whole life. They knew exactly what she was capable of but they were certainly not fazed by her presence. If anything, they knew that the power to wield this woman’s will rested upon the cheque that Bucky had been holding onto. They were confident that she would certainly let them have their way; from the numbers that Becca Barnes and the hospital had provided them, they knew that she really needed the money. While obtaining their medical bills from Philadelphia had been illegal, which Peggy had to drill into Bucky’s brain upon finding out what Becca had done for him, they hoped not to bring that up to her during this conversation for whatever reason.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I believe we’ve met briefly...” Steve shook your mother’s hand, the expression on his face a rather neutral one. He loathed this woman for being such a terrible mother, but the look on his face did not show it. After all, he needed this meeting to go well for your sake, so he was willing to be in her presence until she signed that contract. As your mentor and brotherly figure, he had come to terms with the fact that he was your only immediate family and not her. Perhaps, even Steve needed her to know that he and his wife were more of a family to you than your own mother could ever be. “I’m Dr. Rogers, Y/N’s friend and emergency contact.”

“I remember you.” Your mother gave him a nod, though she was visibly confused as to why she was even meeting with him and the woman who had claimed to be your attorney. Her sole reason for approaching you the way she had done was due to her anger towards you. After all, she felt humiliated by the way you had run away from home, the way you had gotten the police involved in order to be taken out of your home and placed in foster care. New Hope, Pennsylvania, was quite a small town. With its population of a little over twenty-five hundred townspeople, everyone did know everyone. Everyone had come to know how the Y/L/N’s had abused their only daughter, only for her to run away. News travels fast around such small towns. You had brought them shame, yet you now lived a life of a successful surgeon who earned quite a lot of money, while her and your father still remained in their small town home with no proper source of an income. She did not think you deserved any of it.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Bucky forced a smile on his face as he held his hand out for your mother to shake. “My name is Dr. Barnes, Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Peggy’s eyes grew wide at the fact that Bucky had introduced himself as your boyfriend. In a way, he was telling her the truth. If all things went well, she hoped that eventually he would become your boyfriend. But who would have known that this man could say such a bold faced lie and still retain his composure. If anything, she knew that this meeting would be quite the entertaining one and she was here for it.

“Boyfriend? I didn’t know that little rat had a boyfriend...” The woman was not even decent enough to take his hand once he mentioned that he was your boyfriend. After all, she firmly believed that you were not worth being loved by anyone in this world. You were a burden to her and your father, the cause of all of her problems and undeserving of even having been born into this world. But whose fault was that? “I must say, I feel sorry for you, son. She’s not fucking worth it. I know her and I know that it’s only a matter of time before she gets up and runs off. Ran off from us like the ungrateful shit she will always be. That’s all she’s ever good for. I’d warn you to get the hell away from her before she breaks your heart and runs off.”

“Why would you, Mrs. Y/L/N? It’s not really appropriate for a liver donor to be mentioning the details of her love life to her recipient’s loved ones, is it? Besides, my girlfriend is certainly not one to share such personal details to anyone other than her immediate family and close friends, which I’m afraid you’re certainly not. So, why would she even mention to you that she had a boyfriend? After all, I believe it’s none of your fucking business...” He retorted with a chuckle, the pent up anger in his chest still remaining under control even though his mind wanted nothing more than to give this woman a stern talking to. “Oh and there’s no need for you to feel sorry for me. I’m sure that I know my own girlfriend better than some woman whose husband got a piece of her liver. After all, that’s all you are right now and all you could ever fucking be. Not to mention that, even though she did save your husband’s life, you do seem to me like that ungrateful shits right now.”

If Steve could laugh and cheer on his best friend right now, he would have done just that. If he had expected this meeting to be a short-lived, cut-to-the-chase kind of transaction, he would have been wrong. He knew that there was no way Bucky could come face to face with this woman and not defend the love of his life. But he struggled to keep a straight face while Bucky dragged your mother through hell like that. Bucky was doing what he could not do and Steve was enjoying every bit of it.

To say that your mother was taken aback by his words would be an understatement. But she was certainly not fazed by his attitude. If anything, this woman was a cold hearted bitch. But what she did not know was that Bucky could be just as cold hearted when he wanted to be. “You’re right. I’m not her family. She lost the right to even call us her family when she ran away, that little rat. And now if she thinks she could just crawl back to us by being this self-sacrificing, attention seeking piece of shit, you tell her that she’s fucking wrong about that. She doesn’t deserve us.”

Both Peggy and Steve were quick to grab onto Bucky’s wrists to make sure that he did not get physical with this woman; even though she probably deserved it for the way she spoke about you. They needed Bucky to remain calm and level-headed until she signed the contract and agreed to leave you alone for good. This was not about Bucky declaring his love for you in front of your mother, but to ensure that you could be safe from all attempts of emotional extortion and be happy.

But Bucky shrugged them off before letting out a laugh that sounded almost bitter. “Oh how delusional must you be, Mrs. Y/L/N, if you think that Y/N would ever dream of coming back to you, as if you were the most perfect mother that she could have ever asked for. If she ran away from you like that all those years ago, I’m sure that she must have had a damn good reason to. I don’t know what the fuck happened back then or why she ran away, but you must have been such shitty parents if she was willing to let the whole town know that you were abusive as fuck. It takes a lot of courage to do that and I’m sure as hell glad that my girl had it in her to get the fuck away from you. I wouldn’t blame her though; she always had excellent judgement when it comes to things like this.” He noted. “Though you’re right about one thing though, she doesn’t deserve you. She deserves better. She deserves so much better than you and your husband’s abusive, selfish, manipulative shit show that you call family. You think you’re her family? That’s the biggest load of bullshit that I’ve ever heard. Family doesn’t treat you any less, make you feel worthless... Family doesn’t cause you pain or make you want to run away. Family doesn’t blame... or shame. Family doesn’t love with stupid, pointless conditions. Look around you, Mrs. Y/L/N, because... we are her fucking family. Not you.” Letting go of Steve and Peggy, he took a step towards your mother. “You have no fucking right to call yourself her family when you tracked her down to this hospital and deliberately tried to extort money from her.”

Your mother was wavering at his words and he knew that. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that!”

“What?! Did you really think that no one knew about your oh so elaborate plan to tie Y/N down and emotionally manipulate her into paying you a shit ton of money?!” Bucky asked as his lips curled into a smirk. “We’re not idiots, Mrs. Y/L/N. Y/N left your asses in New Hope years ago and you two show up here in Brooklyn just as your husband’s liver ‘s about to fail? Did you really think we’d be dumb enough to think that it’s a fucking coincidence?! Y/N may not have been suspicious because you were biologically her parents, but I had my suspicions. I’m sorry to tell you this, ma’am... but there are a hell of a lot of people in this god damn hospital who actually give a shit about her and her well-being and we’re not letting you and your husband get away with trying to emotionally manipulate her. All it took was one damn phone call to the doctor who referred you over to us and he said you asked specifically to be here.” It was true. Becca had been in contact with the doctor who had referred your father over to Natasha, on your mother’s request apparently. “Now that makes me wonder why... because it doesn’t take that long to look Y/N up on Google to know that she works here. Believe me, I would know. I’ve Googled my name a few times to see what comes up.”

Peggy could have sworn that the color had drained from your mother’s face. She turned over to look at her husband with wide eyes, unable to even comprehend that Bucky was really giving her a piece of his mind. If she could, she would talk a hell of a lot more than what he was saying. But she let Bucky take the wheel on this, because the fact that these words came out of his mouth made everything a thousand times better.

“Y-You can’t... prove that.”

“You’re right, I can’t prove that. But what I can prove is that you and your husband owe a hell of a lot of money in medical bills that you can’t afford.” Bucky reminded her, his smirk not leaving his face. “I would ask you how you were planning to pay them off but I think we all know the answer to that, don’t we? We all know what you did and we’re certainly not that happy about it. You have no fucking right to ask Y/N to pay you off. She doesn’t owe you shit for the way you’ve abused her for years. Running away from you was the best thing that could have happened to her... do you really think that she’d want to crawl back to you?!”

“She’s my daughter. She clearly wanted to help us. That was exactly why I asked her for the money.” Your mother said, rather confidently. Even she knew that it was that easy to take advantage of your kind heart. It would have been that easy for her though, had Bucky not got in the way of that. Had you been left alone to your own thoughts, you certainly would have caved in to your mother’s demands. But your friends made sure that it did not get to that point.

“Oh... so now you call her your daughter?” He asked her as he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “So, when you need something from her, she’s your daughter. But when you don’t need her, she’s anything but... do you even realize how fucked up you are?!”

“Bucky!”

James Barnes held his hand up to silence his friend, his gaze not leaving the woman who gave birth to you. “You don’t own Y/N, Mrs. Y/L/N. You may have abused her and manipulated her while she was your child but she’s not a child anymore. She ran off and grew the fuck up. She became a much better person than you could have ever raised her to be and you deserve no fucking credit for what she’s done with her life! She’s not giving you any money.”

“You can’t decide that-”

“Actually, I can!” Bucky cut her off. “And I’m telling you. She’s not giving you a single penny from her hard earned money and I’ll fucking make sure of it, if it’s the last thing I do. She’s already given your husband a piece of her fucking liver and that’s all you’re ever going to get from her!”

Your mother was disappointed that her plan hadn’t worked. She had been rather confident that you would cave in and pay them off. She thought she had the leverage to get you to provide them a luxurious life, the life that she believed you owed them, your own parents. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do with my husband? We’ll end up on the streets...”

“Then so be it. You drove Y/N to the streets too, didn’t you? Why wouldn’t she just do the same to you when she has the chance?” Bucky asked her. Even though he knew that your heart would never dare to wish something so harsh upon your parents, just mentioning it to your mother brought him a sense of satisfaction.

Your mother’s heart sank at Bucky’s words. Had she been wrong about you? Had your heart been so full of vengeance that you had decided not to pay off their medical bills? Did you really want them to end up on the streets? She found that hard to believe, but you were her daughter after all. Surely, you would have inherited some of her qualities.

“God, I wish Y/N would have done that to you heartless monsters. You fucking deserve it. But she’s a hell of a lot better than that.” He noted, biting down on his bottom lip as he held up his cheque. “You want your daughter to pay off those medical bills? That’s fine... but you’re not getting all that money that easily, Mrs. Y/L/N. There’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen. I love Y/N and I love her more than you could ever love her. So if it means that I have to pay your asses off myself, then so be it.” Looking over at Peggy, Bucky gave her a nod. “I’m offering you triple the amount you owe here and a monthly allowance for as long as you and your husband are alive. Let’s just say that Y/N wants her parents to be well taken care of. So if you agree to my terms, the money is all yours.”

The attorney walked around the table to grab to where she had left the envelope that held the contract that she had drafted rather carefully. “Why don’t you have a seat, Mrs. Y/L/N?” She stated with a smirk, taking a seat as her husband walked over to sit next to her. Let’s have a chat like grown-ups for a change.”

As per Peggy’s instructions, Natasha Romanoff found herself never leaving your bedside while she waited for the moment of truth. She was well aware that the attorney had left you in your hospital room to take care of business and she was not planning on leaving you cooped up in your own thoughts until she knew that she could. She could only leave if Bucky showed up. Peggy had told her not to leave you unless she was leaving you alone with Bucky, so all she could do was hope that Bucky would eventually find himself walking into your room once your mother had signed his contract and accepted his payment.

Nat’s hand never left yours as she sat down on the chair next to your bed, her eyes darting to the door every now and then as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. To say that she was beyond anxious about what’s to come would be an understatement. What if Bucky had chickened out of this perfect opportunity to confess his true feelings? After her last conversation with him, she knew that there was potential that Bucky would back down from realizing his feelings for you. But she knew how much you needed him right now. You had said so yourself. Hopefully, he knew that too.

The Russian surgeon’s sweaty palm against yours had made you wake up from your short nap. You found yourself rubbing your eyes with your free hand as you looked over at the redhead. “Nat...” You licked your chapped lips as you reached over to grab your plastic cup of water in front of you and took a sip. The dry mouth was the worst part of being in post-op, something that you were hoping that you would be able to get rid of once you were allowed to eat some solid foods. Technically, at this point in recovery, you should have been cleared for solids as your intestines may have started working again. But with your unfortunate accident, that step was delayed by a few days.

“Hey...” The woman perked up as she heard your voice, her soft pink lips curling into a smile as she looked up at you. You could see just how heavy her eyes were. She had worked a full shift, which had ended a few hours ago. Just like Bucky and Steve had spent their time off by your bedside, Natasha was also here for you. It was not like she had anyone to go home to anyways. You knew that she had a younger sister, Yelena, who had recently gone off to college. The empty nest syndrome had hit her quite extensively, so she found herself spending more time at the hospital than she used to. “Are you okay, sweetheart? How’s the pain?”

You gave her a weak smile as she let go of your hand. “Better...” You told her but it may have been the first time you had meant it. “I’m feeling much better, Nat.”

She gave you a nod as she stood up from her seat, reaching over to pull you into another gentle embrace. She was still careful not to mess with the wires that were attached to your body and you wondered how long you had to wait until they could come off. After all, you needed some sort of normalcy. “That’s good. The sutures are still holding. If you’re not in that much pain, we can take those drainage tubes out and switch you to a solid diet.”

“That may be the best news that I’ve heard in a while, Nat. I’ve got to admit that being on the receiving end of surgeries is not that fun. Post-op life is awful.” You let out a sigh of relief at her words, your arms wrapped slightly around her as she continued to hold you. You knew that Natasha was not a hugger like Wanda, but she had certainly taken to giving you the best hugs you could have asked for. You needed them, after all. You had always been touch deprived for as long as you could remember. “You know, I never got to say... thank you, for everything you’ve done in the last couple of weeks.”

“We can only hope that you get more good news soon, Y/N.” She said rather hopefully as she pulled back from the hug. “You don’t have to thank me for anything. I was only doing my job. If anyone should be thankful, it should be me. Thank you for trusting me with your life. It meant a lot to me that you were able to see me as a good surgeon, even if you couldn’t see me as your friend back then.”

You let out a content sigh as you reached for her hand once more. “You’re a good friend, Nat.” Grabbing a hold of her hand, you could not help but let out a chuckle. “Hey, your palm’s really sweaty. Are you okay?”

“Oh... yeah, I’m fine.” She replied with a nervous chuckle. “It’s just... it’s nothing.” Rubbing her hands together, she grinned widely at you. “If you continue recovering at this rate, I might even discharge you by the end of next week. Wanda’s taken it upon herself to make a schedule of who gets to watch you when you’re home for the next two months. She’s taken down everyone’s work schedules and she’s working out a plan to make sure at least one of us can be there with you when we’re not working.”

You let out a soft laugh as you shook your head. “Leave it to Wanda for being such a planner.” You noted. The old you would have argued with her, saying how you did not need anyone to watch over you while you were in bed rest. You would have claimed that you could get by on your own and you would have been so wrong about that. But now, you had learned to accept whatever your friends had to offer you. These were your friends, your real friends, the ones who were in it for life. They were going to be a part of your life forever.

The sound of Dr. James Barnes’ tennis shoes squeaking against the tiled floors of the hospital made Natasha turn over to the door and sigh in relief. “Barnes.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned towards the door to see the man whom you had been longing to see. You took in the sight of him, for he looked like a breath of fresh air. His familiar navy blue scrubs and black tennis shoes reminded you of the night when you had first met, his advice to you and the reassurance that keep with it. This hospital was where you belonged. His silky long hair parted in the middle, the same way it had been the night he had walked into your clinic to apologize to you after a minor misunderstanding. He had given you that much respect and courtesy, which you could never forget. His icy blue eyes, they were so easy to get lost in, but for the first time in years you had finally noticed just how full of love they were. This was the man who taught you what it meant to be better. This was the man who taught you what it meant to be loved.

Natasha smiled at him before turning over to look at you, taking her cue to leave. “I should get going, Y/N. I’ll see you during rounds tomorrow.” Leaning over to gently stroke your hair, she placed a friendly kiss on the top of your forehead. “You keep those sutures in place until I get back, you hear me? Pull anything funny on me and you won’t hear the end of it.”

You let out a laugh as you turned back to her. “You got it, doc. Drive safely and call me when you get home, please? Just so that I know that you got home safely.”

“Sure, but don’t try to miss me too much.” She gave you a thumbs up as she grabbed her belongings and made her way towards the door. When she reached Bucky, she gave him a warm smile before pulling him into a hug. “Goodnight, Bucky.” She told him before lowering her voice. “If you dare to chicken out right now, I’ll fucking murder you...” With that warning, she kissed him on the cheek and pulled back from the hug, only to make her way over to the doctors’ lounge where the rest of her friends were waiting.

Bucky let out a chuckle as Natasha walked away, his gaze turning back to the woman he loved. “According to my photographic memory, I’m pretty sure that Antonio’s contract with Shylock didn’t mention any jot of blood...” He trailed off as he walked around your bed. “He just offered a pound of his flesh.”

“Need I remind you, Dr. Barnes, that the reason why Shylock couldn’t get what he wanted at the end of that play... was because there was no way one could even cut out a piece of flesh without spilling some blood. You can’t have one without the other. That’s why Portia, in disguise as Balthazar, tricked him in court like that.” You told him as you laughed softly at his reference to The Merchant of Venice. “But you’re right. The contract didn’t mention any jot of blood. That’s why Shylock couldn’t get a pound of Antonio’s flesh and in the end; he lost all of his wealth.”

“Even after Bassanio’s offer to pay him three times the bond that Antonio owed him.” He added, biting down on his bottom lip as he sat at the edge of your bed, setting down the envelope that he had been holding onto.

“Antonio had good friends...” You noted with a smile, your hand reaching over to take his. “And Antonio was a good friend. That’s why he was willing to put down a pound of his own flesh down on that contract in exchange for that bond.”

“Speaking of contracts...” He let out a sigh as he picked up the envelope and handed it over to you. “I took care of your mother, handled your father’s medical bills here and also whatever outstanding medical bills they had back home. I can imagine how awful it must have been for you, when she had asked you to pay them off like that. When Steve told me that you pulled a suture, I... I’m sorry about what happened, Y/N. I shouldn’t have left you. Maybe if I had stayed with you, she wouldn’t have come in here and talked to you like that.”

You could see the look of guilt in his eyes and it pained you to know that he blamed himself for what had happened to you. “James, no... it wasn’t your fault. I was a fucking idiot, not being careful with my sutures and jerking to the side. Of course, it came off. It was my fault.”

Bucky could not help but crack a smile at your words. “You’re such a drama queen, Y/N. If you really wanted to live like you’re in the Merchant of Venice, all you had to do was hop on a plane.”

“Well, what can I say... I liked having ‘Dr. Long Hair Don’t Care’ at my beck and call for an entire day.” You shot him a cheeky wink as you looked down at the envelope that he had handed you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips as you dumped the contents of it onto your lap. You picked up the contract that your mother had signed, agreeing to cut all ties with you in return for Bucky’s payment. “Wow... she really signed this?” You asked him as you looked up to meet his eyes, a hint of disbelief evident in your voice.

Bucky gave you a nod. “I’m sorry, I... didn’t meant to... take away the only family that you had. I just wanted to protect you from-”

“No, I get it, James.” You cut him off as you gave him a genuine nod. “If she could even try to extort money from me when I was high on pain meds, God knows what she could do when I wasn’t. It would have been a never ending circle of me being an idiot and her taking advantage of that. You put an end to it, so... thank you for that.” Your lips curled into a smile as you continued to hold onto his hand, not wanting to let go. “My only concern is that... did she even hesitate to sign it?”

He did not want to let go either. He let out a sigh as he scooted closer towards you. “No, she... signed right away. She agreed to the terms and... took the payment.” He did not see a point in lying to you anymore, or hiding the truth for that matter. He knew that you needed to know everything and he was going to tell you everything.

You let out another sigh as you felt your eyes glaze over with salty tears. “So, my mother... had no second thoughts about letting go of the one and only daughter that she had... in exchange for money? So what? As of today, I don’t have a mom... or a dad? Not that I ever did, I didn’t have a mom when I really needed one...” And so, you opened up the part of you that you had always kept closed, the memories of that dreadful night flooding back to you as you finally let him in on your tragic past. “When I was little, my father used to say that I was the best thing that had ever happened to him... that I was his angel, his lucky charm. He used to say that his business picked up after I was born. He was... my dad. I think I was six or seven when my parents went bankrupt. I didn’t even know what it meant back then. All I knew was that dad was no longer going to work and mom got a job at the motel where all the tourists came to stay.” You reached over to wipe away your tears with your free hand. “Things changed after that. My dad started to hate me. He blamed me for everything that’s been happening to our family. I didn’t know what I had done wrong but... my dad didn’t love me anymore.”

Bucky let out a sigh as he scooted closer to you, wrapping his arm gently around you as he let you lay your head against his shoulder. “I mean... I knew about that.” He admitted. “I got my PI sister to look into your parents because I got a little suspicious about their intentions. I wanted to make sure that they weren’t after your money and I was right about it.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder, not even paying attention to what he had just told you. It was not that important. All that mattered to you was that he was here and you were safe. “He started drinking a lot. My mother took me to school when she went off to work and I got picked up by the neighbors because she worked late. I would get home to an empty house, get started on dinner and wait for my drunken father to get home. I always did what they asked me to do, kept the house clean and tidy, cooked and put food on the table every night, finished my homework while I waited for him. He got home in time for dinner, didn’t always eat the food but... he always...” You bit down on your bottom lip as the tears continued to stream down your face, not knowing how to say this. “He started hurting me.”

Bucky clenched his fist as your words, the thought of your childhood self being physically abused crushing his heart in an instant. His blood was starting to boil but he held onto you, never wanting to let go. He knew how much you needed him right now.

“There were nights when I would... set the table, eat quickly, do all of my homework and hide in my bedroom until the next morning. I tried to stay out of his sight so that he wouldn’t hurt me, scared... absolutely paranoid. My mother never knew because she was always at work. She didn’t get home until like... really late at night. But after a few years, it got too much... I couldn’t keep doing it, James. I was scared and hurting and... all I wanted was for someone to just... not hurt me, hold me, tell me that things are going to get better.” Sniffling away your tears, you looked up at him for a moment. “I put up with it all for a few years before I decided that I was done with it all. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed my mother to know what was happening while she wasn’t home. It was the night before Valentine’s Day... when I was in my junior year of high school. My mother was home that night because she got the day off. The motel usually gets booked up on Valentine’s Day so they gave her a day off. I got home from school and... I went up to her... gathered up all of my courage and told her what was going on. I think I was expecting her to be furious with my father, to... be my mother, get me the help that I desperately needed. But she... she started... she didn’t believe me and she...” You broke into a sob against his shoulder, your tears staining through his scrub shirt. But either of you could care less about that. “She couldn’t... she couldn’t do what moms are supposed to do. She couldn’t hold me or tell me any comforting words. She couldn’t... I thought she would at least act like my mother for once but she...”

Bucky let out a sigh as he shut his eyes, letting the tears stream down his face as he continued to hold onto you. His hand gently stroked through your hair, his touch a soothing one that filled you with warmth. In his arm, you felt safe, for you were finally free from your dreadful past. Your life was now better, all thanks to him. “You... you ran away that night, didn’t you?” He asked you, and you could hear his voice breaking as he spoke. You knew that at that moment, what he felt for you was not pity. It was something much more than that. It was empathy. It was care. It was love.

You nodded your head as you recalled the events that followed your mother’s outburst. “My mother was in the kitchen, making dinner for my father for when he comes home. I hopped in the shower because... I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry so badly. I don’t know where I heard this but... someone had once told me that the best place to cry was the shower. No one would hear you over the running water and if anyone walked in on you crying, they wouldn’t know that you were crying because they can’t see tell the difference between your tears or the running water. I just wanted to cry... but I didn’t want to face whatever would have happened when my father got home and my mother told him what I told her. I was done with it all but how long could I just stay in the shower? I knew I had to get out of there, at that very moment. I hopped out of the shower but I left the water running, threw on whatever clothes I could find... a pair of sweat pants and a hoodie. It was snowing so much. I’m pretty sure it was a blizzard or something but I didn’t care. At that point, I would rather freeze to death than stay with them. I’d left jacket and my boots by the front door so... I couldn’t go and grab them. I didn’t want my mother to hear me. All I had on my feet were shower flip flops. I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t pack a bag or anything. I just grabbed a handful of cash that I had been saving up. Where was I going? What was I going to do? How was I going to manage anything? I didn’t care... I just needed to get out of there and everything would be better.” You pulled back from his embrace for a moment, wiping away your tears as you noticed that James was also in tears. Seeing his face made you pull him back into a hug and you let out a sigh. “I opened my bedroom window, jumped out... slid down the roof really and managed to land in a mound of snow. My flip flops fell off of my feet and I couldn’t see where they landed. I was running around... bare feet. It was cold, James. It was really cold. I could feel the snow crunching against my feet but I managed to grab my flip flops. My feet were numb, I couldn’t even stand. My hair was still wet; it just froze up in a few seconds. Before I could even think twice about what I was doing, I ran. I ran as fast as my feet could take me and my flip flops kept coming off. I didn’t care. I didn’t know where to go at first... but the only place I knew to go was my school. It took me a half hour to get there. It had always been my safe place. It was the day before Valentine’s Day, a Thursday. It was the night before the school dance and they were setting up for it. I managed to sneak inside when some people were trying to move some sound equipment into the gym. I went straight into the girls’ bathroom, locked myself in a stall and cried. I was freezing, I couldn’t breathe, my hair was frozen, I was pretty sure I was going to get frostbites... I was terrified, James. I didn’t know if I could even make it through the night. I didn’t know if my mother had figured out that I ran away. What if she saw that I left my window open, what if she saw my footsteps in the snow and followed me here. I was so scared. I felt so alone and lost. At that moment, I thought that I had no one in this world to call myself my family. I had nobody.”

Bucky wanted to tell you that you had him now. Everything was going to get better. But he could not get himself to speak, for he was still processing what you had just told him. He pulled back from the hug to wipe away his tears, his hands clutching onto yours as though he wanted to massage some warmth into them. Your hands were not cold at that moment. They were sweaty. You were safe. But he could not believe how much those hands had been through, what they had to survive in order to get where they were.

“One of my teachers who happened to be helping set up for the dance... she found me. When I told her what happened, she just took me back to her house. Let me warm up and she let me spend the night at her place. She took me to the sheriff’s office the next morning and... I’ve been alone since then, James. Never got back what I lost that night, no family, no friends... no sense of being loved or belonging. I lost it all that night... in that snowy... winter night.” Your lips curled into a weak smile as you leaned over to cup his cheeks. “And I found what I lost years ago... on another snowy wintry night, but this time in Brooklyn. My feet were crunching against the snow but I was wearing my boots. I wasn’t freezing, I had my coat on. I wasn’t lost, I had a destination and it was home. And I wasn’t alone... I was with you. I was with you, James. You valued me enough to come looking for me, find me and... give me that respect. You told me that I was capable of being much better than what life had to offer me and... You are so much better than everything that life’s had to offer me, James... because on another winter night, I got back everything I lost. And it was all because of you.”

“Goodnight, Dr. Barnes.” You gave him a wave as you began to walk into the diner, stopping in front of the door before turning around to look at him. “Hey… James?”

He had turned around to cross the street once he waved you goodbye when you had called out to him. At first he was a little startled that you had referred to him by his first name, as you had never done that before. Besides, no one else other than his parents had called James. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You told him as you gave him a genuine smile.

He nodded, smiling brightly as he ran his hand through his hair. And it was at that moment on that cold winter night did Y/N Y/L/N manage to thaw out the cold dead heart of James Buchanan Barnes. But what he did not realize that night was that he had managed to thaw her out too.

“I love you, Y/N Y/L/N.” Bucky finally said the words that he had been holding onto for years, his hands placed on top of yours as he tilted his head down so that your foreheads could touch. “I’ve loved you ever since that snowy night, when you called me by my name and thawed out my cold head heart with a single smile. I’ve loved you ever since I realized that you were a much better doctor and a much better human being than I could ever be. I’ve loved you because you never let life get the worst of you. You always made things better for yourself and everyone around you. You made me better, you make me better.” The never ending tears continued to stream down his face as he finally confessed his true feelings. “I love when you care for everyone around you. I love that you’re selfless. I love that no matter how bad life had treated you, you never gave up. I love that you always thrived to be better. I love how much you care about your patients. I love how you treat the hospital staff as equals. I love you for who you are, because you are worthy of being loved. Even if you’ve never been loved by anyone in your whole damn life, even if you think that you don’t deserve to be loved, I want you to know this. You are loved, Y/N. You are loved so fucking much, by your James.”

#aj writes #better #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes au #doctor!bucky #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

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grasslandgirl · 5 years ago

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im distracting myself from the impending doom of a six month hiatus and everything that... happened in MAG160 by thinking about all the Wonderful possibilities for jonmartin dynamics post-159 because I’m a sucker for pining and minor miscommunications and dumb fanfic tropes and I’m dragging all of you along on this ride with me!

1) They’re Both Just Chill: there’s no miscommunications, no misunderstandings. despite what peter said about them not knowing each other super well (and maybe he raised some valid points, despite being an asshole) they DO know each other well enough and had a deep enough connection during the look at me/ i see you, jon scene that they both just (for lack of a better word) Know. they look into each other’s eyes in the middle of the Lonely and they see the love there, and the hurt and the pain and the anger and everything, but they do see the love. and they recognize that, oh, we’ve been so dumb this entire time. and there’s no big Talk, no awkward stumbling around the question, they just move forward from jon and martin to jon-and-martin because they’ve wasted enough time already, haven’t they? they can’t afford to waste any more time at this point, and hey. they kind of have bigger problems going on, right?

2) I Really Loved You, You Know: ok so this one i’ve seen in quite a few fanfics and speculative posts about this one, and jon misconstruing how martin uses the past tense when talking to him in the Lonely, and can i just say....... it’s very good. you have jon, who’s been desperately trying to reconnect with people, especially martin, this entire season, who dives headfirst into the Lonely after him, and maybe he heard martin’s tape with elias from the end of s3, maybe he knows about martin’s feelings for him, maybe he at least suspects, and maybe he doesn’t; but the point of the matter is that he goes into the Lonely after martin because jon’s in love with him and i think we can mostly all agree that at least by MAG159 (and we can argue about WHEN he realizes it, later) jon is aware of his own feelings for martin. but he follows the man he loves, and he finds him, and he’s begging him to follow him out of the lonely, to come with him, and martin tells him that he loved him. really loved him. loved him, as in past tense. which, like, if you think about it? that’s SO heartbreaking. but jon keeps after him ANYWAY, and he breaks martin out of the Lonely’s grasp and they walk out side by side and then you’re left with jon, who is terrified on SO many different levels, and thinks that he failed, again. that he was too late with martin, too late to be his friend, too late to save him from Peter, and too late to love him, and he saved him, he did it, but it’s still heartbreaking, right? and juxtapose that with martin, who’s just been literally pulled out of his own loneliness by the man he’s been in love with for three years, and he told him he LOVED him and jon Didn’t Respond. and like? all the hurt and the pining and the trying to take care of each other despite everything and despite your own hurt that can happen there? SUPER good

3) Clueless Jon Doesn’t Know He Has A Boyfriend: this one kind of crosses over with #2 but it’s a little lighter and a little more fun. essentially you have martin, who says he loves jon and assumes jon heard his tape with elias where he outed martin entirely and sees jon come into the lonely to save him and hugs jon while crying when he comes to his senses and walks out of the lonely hand in hand with jon and thinks, quite reasonably, that ok, they’re dating now. and you have martin “caretaker” blackwood who’s worrying over jon and taking care of him and letting jon take care of him, and making him eat and they do all this vaguely date-y stuff because the world is kind of maybe ending, but hey! martin’s in love and hes going to enjoy it goddamnit. but then one day our beloved archivist, jon “emotionally obtuse” sims, has nearly a breakdown and he starts rambling on about how he’s in love with martin and he’s sorry and he wants there to be something between them and how he doesn’t want to change anything and this is terrible timing and he doesn’t even Know if martin feels the same way but he needed to get this off his chest etc etc etc and martin’s just like “i thought. i thought we were ALREADY dating.” which is.... hysterical if you ask me

4) Jonathan “Fuck The Lonely” Sims: kind of the opposite of the last two, in which jon is LESS of a moron than anyone expected! jon “the archivist” sims actually... thinks! he listens to the tape of elias and martin from MAG118 and reevaluates every interaction he ever had w martin after he wakes up from his coma and realizes that martin’s in love with him, and not only that, but HE’S in love with MARTIN, but has no way of communicating that to him until 154 and that whole conversation is just jon trying (and failing) to say “i love you. i love you and i know you love me and lets just say fuck this place and go. please lets just go the two of us, say you’ll come with me. i love you.” and martin. doesn’t understand. but then 159 happens and jon follows and they have That Moment and jon thinks that Finally they’re on the same page and meanwhile you have martin, who’s PEAK in his pining time, fresh out of a good year of self isolation and pure loneliness and needs a while to pull away from Forsaken and thinks that he’s alone in his pining after jon, because jon never said anything about the tape with elias, or martin saying he loved him in the lonely, and is completely clueless to the fact that jon thinks theyre straight up dating and are just taking it Slow. and then one day jon is like “hey ready for our date later” (they had dinner plans or smth but this is the first time he outrightly calls it a Date) or he kisses martin briefly on the forehead or cheek or smth and martin is like “WHAT IS GOING ON” and jon is just. baffled cause he’s not used to being the oblivious one in the relationship

5) Just Full On Pining Hours: theres some crossover here with both #2 and #4, but specifically this one is where BOTH jon and martin are full on in love and are idiots and think that the other person Doesn’t Love Them Back :( possibly featuring: jon focusing on the past tense of “i really lovED you, you know,” martin comparing jon going into the lonely to save him to jon going into the buried to save daisy/ cutting the bullet out of her leg to save melanie from the slaughter, jon being dumb and thinking all the statements he’s heard about martin’s “feelings” are elaborations/inaccurate/only in the past/etc, martin being so stuck in the lonely he pulls away from jon on instinct, jon caught up on what peter said about them not really knowing each other and MAD second guessing himself and questioning what his feelings for martin are really based on, both martin and jon throwing themselves MAJOR pity parties about falling to the power of the eye/the lonely respectively, jon going into “im a monster and im the worst and ive lost my humanity” mode and thinking he’s not Worthy of being with martin in the first place, martin being haunted by his time with peter and the lonely and keep falling back into the habit of pushing people (jon) away “for their own good,” etc etc etc etc! just a lot of sad pining hours bc these guys have been through a LOT and it’s hard to just drop straight into a healthy relationship (or Any relationship) when there’s so much baggage and history there in between

6) Run Away With Me, by Carly Rae Jepsen: I said what I said. i want them to be happy and so what if they run away and blind themselves and leave the archives and live in some house in another continent and never think about any of the entities again? i get to make the rules, its my fantasy au world and jonny can’t do anything to hurt them here

#look im SAD and i LOVE THEM and i need them to be HAPPY and SAFE OK #if this gets notes ill make fun daisira and georgie/melanie ones too be wlw rights #tma #tma spoilers #tma 160 #the magnus archives #the magnus institute #the magnus archives spoilers #mag160 #jonmartin #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #otp: you’d do just about anything for him

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certifiedskywalker · 6 years ago

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The Person I Love - Klaus Hargreeves

Ever since you met Klaus Hargreeves, you knew you were in it for the long haul. You didn’t care about his past or his powers; you only wanted him. But when drugs begin to consume him, you’re left with a choice. Get him the help he needs and miss him or watching him kill himself slowly. You love him too much to watch him suffer.

AN: Okay, she’s a long one!. Any feedback/suggestions you have would be greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Angst, cursing, drug abuse (it comes with the territory), and slight sexual joke/implication(?)not really though

You had never known a sober version of Klaus. As much as you hated to dwell on the thought, you were certain he was high when he met you. How could someone like him smile at you like he did without being influenced by chemicals coursing through his veins. Perhaps it was meeting you, speaking to you, that upturned the corners of his mouth, but the rational part of you denied that as fact. However, in your darkest moments, you liked to think that smile was unaltered by any sort of pill. It was what made the nights less difficult and the days not so long. That thought made it all worth it when you woke up next to him, that same smile on his lips as he reclined in the hospital bed.

“Does this gown make me look fat?” “Never,” you say, smiling right back at him. The smile fades for a moment as you rub at sleep still clouding your eyes. By now, you were used to falling asleep in uncomfortable chairs; however, despite your experience, your body retained each ache. “You didn’t have to stay,” Klaus says softly, eyes taking in your tired expression. You slumped in the chair, turning your head to stare at him with an all too loving gaze. “You know that I do,” you hum in reply, “wouldn’t have it any other way.” It was a lie. Both of you knew that. You would love to have Klaus sober, to know that he was safe with the temptation of drugs behind him and the threat of death a far off cry. “Careful,” Klaus tsked, “grow any more honorable and you’ll turn into Luther.” You smile at the mention of his brother. You hadn’t actually met the man but, from what Klaus told you, his overbearing sense of morality was stupefying.

“So, what happened this time?” Your question prompted silence from the man before you. He tore his green eyes away from your face and fiddled with his hands that rested in his lap. The IV stuck into his hand shifted with each movement and you wondered if Klaus had grown too comfortable with the feeling of needles under his skin.

“Ya know, the usual,” he brushed off your worry with practiced ease, “overdid it. You know I was never any good with fractions and conversions.” Klaus chuckled, hoping his laughter would coax a grin your lips again. When it didn’t, Klaus knew something within you had been altered by this hospital stay. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, eyes widening now with shock. “Klaus, what’s wrong is that the nurses here are on a friendly, first name basis with you. What’s wrong is that we have had more sleep overs in this room than we have had at our own homes.” You were standing now, trying to distract yourself from the tears that were beginning to gather in your eyes.

“Y/N,” Klaus started to speak, but for the first time in his life, no words came to mind. You frowned at his new found quiet and continued. You stepped up to the foot of the bed so you could look directly at him as you spoke.

“This is the fifth time you’ve told me you ‘overdid it’ and I’m starting to…” you bit your lip at the thought and Klaus sat up in his bed. You turned your gaze back to him, taking in his wild mess of chocolate curls and the guilty concern written across his face. “I’m starting to think that maybe you’re doing it on purpose.”

Klaus’ jaw snapped shut and any words he had gathered died on the tip of his tongue. His eyes took in your form, from your baggy clothes that told him that, when the doctor called you, you had been ready for bed, and to the bags under your shining eyes. All signs of your worry and lack of true rest; a privilege you lost when you put your name down as Klaus’ emergency contact. You never told him that you did that, or how it felt more like a marriage certificate as you signed your very soul over to him and his bad choices. What hurt him, hurt you in ways he could never fathom. Not even now.

You sniffled and the sound filled the air around you. Still stuck in stunned silence, Klaus could only watch as you strode over to the chair. Fishing under the cushion, you pulled out pamphlets from the check in desk and the papers you had been given. You handed them out to him, your hands shaking when his fingers brushed against yours to grab them.

“That’s the doctor’s recommended treatment plan,” you murmured as Klaus trailed his gaze over the papers. His eyes caught the title of one of the foldables you had stole from the desk, reading ‘Steady Oaks Rehabilitation Center’. It was then he turned his head to look at you again. Green eyes become glassy as he stared up at you.

“I don’t-”

“It’s just something to consider, Klaus,” you said softly, too tired to be any louder than a whisper. “Let me know what you decide.” You leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His skin felt cold when it brushed against your lips and you couldn’t tell if that was the cause of the shiver down your spine or the overwhelming love you felt for him shooting through your body.

“I’ll call you,” Klaus said swiftly, as if he were frightened that you were going to leave before he could give you any semblance of reassurance. You gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded.

“I’ll be waiting,” you replied before slipping out of his hospital room, the image of that first smile dancing in front of your eyes. He watched you go, eyelids fluttering in a vain attempt to quell the tears in gathering in his eyes. With the hopes of distracting himself Klaus opened the pamphlet for the rehabilitation center. A pen fell from it’s folds and into his lap.

Looking from where it fell, Klaus saw a blue header underlined in dark ink. ‘Coping with a Loved One’s Addiction’, bolded in it’s print. A sudden and violent sob shook Klaus’ body. His shoulder sagged and his face contorted in pain. Now he knew; he knew just how much his hurt had hurt you. Not even Ben had to tell him.

Klaus didn’t call for a while. You waited nonetheless, loyal as a dog and never not consistent. Whenever you were home you’d spare glances at the phone hung on the wall of your apartment, just waiting. When you woke and the receiver was flashing you’d be sent into a panic. You’d listen to every message, waiting for the familiar, lyrical tones of Klaus’ voice asking what you were up to and if you wanted any company.

Not once did you hear his recorded greeting and when you tried to call him, the line beeped once until it cut off. Silently, you prayed to any and all powerful beings that Klaus was only behind on phone bills not, like his landline, dead. The only shred of hope you clung to was that the hospitals had not called you either. However, that one solace did nothing to dull the ache in your heart. You missed Klaus dearly and desperately.

On one particularly rain-ridden day, your longing was nearing the point of madness. Worried had plagued your heart for close to three weeks now. While it wasn’t unusual for Klaus to disappear for long stretches of time, he always called. Always. You were about to call the police, the hospital, even some of his family members when your phone rang.

Rushing towards it, you saw that the number was unknown. A strange combination of numbers that was foreign to you ran across the caller ID. A new wave of anguish washed over you. You picked up the phone, pressing it to your ear in the hopes that whoever was on the other end had something good to tell you.

“Hello?” You asked bitterly, unable to hide your disappointment. A few long moments of silence passed as you heard muffled shuffling noises on the other end. “Hello?”

“H-Hey you.” The voice was unmistakable and it made your whole being tremble with shocks of emotion. “Sorry I haven’t called. These piss-hats don’t allow phone calls until ‘the patient shows a growing sense of responsibility and stability’. What morons, right?”

“Klaus!” You said, tears flowing from your eyes and you giggled at his impression. He chuckled on the other end and you could almost hear that smile of his.

“Y/N!”

“I’ve missed you,” you gushed into the phone, leaning your shoulder up against the wall. You twirled the coiled cord between your fingers as you sank into the sound of Klaus’ voice. “So you checked yourself in?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah, I did, I just,” Klaus mumbled the rest, making it hard for you to pick up.

“What?”

“I checked myself in, yeah.” He said quickly and you noted the slight panic in his tone.

“What did you say after that?” You pressed, the phone against your ear became your life line as you waited for his reply. All you could think of was Klaus, standing against the wall of the center he was in, smiling like he did. You missed that smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you hearing things, Y/N? I sure hope not, because that’s my thing.” You giggled softly, shaking your head at his humor.

“Klaus,” you groaned teasingly, your back fully resting on the wall of your apartment. You heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end, the kind that told you that what you said shocked your friend somehow. “Klaus?”

“Say it again, please,” his voice was almost a whimper. The sound of it made your heart ache while goosebumps simultaneously rose along your arms.

“Klaus,” you repeat, in a lower whisper this time. He sighed on the other end and you could almost feel his breath tickling your neck like how it did when he whispered a joke in your ear.

“I miss you,” he keened, “so much, I didn’t know it was possible.” Your breath caught in your throat at his words and you longed to be with him in the moment. To see him, not in your mind, but in reality; be able to reach out and touch him, give him comfort.

“I miss you too,” you murmur and that’s enough for him. It has to be. His phone call time is running out, the woman in her uniform tapping her wrist with a scowl.

“Keep missing me,” he begged, “I have to go Y/N. I’ll call you again when I can.”

“Klaus, wait,” you begin but he keeps going.

“Oh and tell my landlord to suck a dick, okay?” You stifle a laugh.

“Okay, but hold on,” you start again but he stops you once more.

“I gotta go, Y/N,” he says quickly, but he pauses after a split second before adding, “I love you.” Your mouth opened but no words came out, only his name again. Like a prayer, it fell from your lips, a promise that rang in both of your ears.

“Klaus,” your voice is low, quiet, timid from his admittance.

“I know,” he replied, pressing his forehead to the wall next to him. He liked to imagine you were doing the same in your apartment. Maybe you were even wearing one of the shirts he had left there from a long ago stay on your couch. He hated that couch.

“I lov-” The line went dead before you could finish and you felt your very life force drain. Angrily, you hung the phone up on the receiver with tears welling up in your eyes. “I love you too,” you whispered with a sad smile, “I love you too.”

On the other end, Klaus was staring daggers at the woman who had plucked the phone from his grasp. He opened his mouth, a sense of rage he saved mostly towards his father threatening to spill out from his lips. The woman only huffed at his expression, raising an eyebrow in wait. Klaus bit his tongue, knowing that if he acted out now they could keep him here longer.

“Well,” he said once he had taken a few breaths, “that was quite rude.” The woman grumbled something under her breath before pushing him along. As they walked down the narrow hallway, Klaus’ mind exchanged the blue painted walls for those of your apartment. If he tried hard enough he could see you in your kitchen, swaying slightly to the beat of the music playing from the nearby record player.

It was a sight he had seen many times before. On those nights where he had stayed over, back pressed to the couch in your cramped living room, he would pretend to still be sleeping. His eyes would be barely open, just enough to catch your movements in tune with the music. The image brought a smile to Klaus’ lips as he was led back to his room. As his door shut behind him, he silently hoped you were smiling because you loved him too.

It was cold the day Klaus was to be released. Nonetheless, you stood outside the rehab center, nervously picking at your nails. It was a habit that you had adopted from Klaus. Now you knew the action spawned from his symptoms of withdrawal. Puzzles pieces of his life started to fall together before you, amplified by his time away.

In your waking hours, thoughts of Klaus consumed you. You thought back to any and every memory you had of him in between hoping he was eating and wishing he were with you. The phones calls were all too rare and much too brief for your mind to cease thinking about his occupation of your heart. What made it all the more wonderfully worse was that the calls didn’t end with the same longing ‘I love you’ as the first one had.

You had rationalized that Klaus said it by mistake, caught up in the heat of the moment, or meant in a way that was purely platonic. From the moment you had met him, you knew Klaus was full of undying compassion. His loyalty went without question and was nothing but constant; unless the hunger for his next high rendered him powerless. So it wouldn’t surprise you if he had meant his words without the punctuation of romance. For, from the moment you had met him, Klaus was never in a relationship for very long.

It was that alone that held you back from telling Klaus how you truly felt about him. You didn’t want to lose him in the same way so many others had. Instead, you made yourself comfortable as a dear friend, the friend that gave Klaus a place to stay when his newest partner told him to get lost. It was similar to the present moment. Once he emerged from the rehabilitation center, Klaus was going to call your couch home for a while.

The thought of having him around again made you smile to yourself, warming your cheeks against the Autumn chill that had taken over New York. It was clear things would be different, Klaus would need extra attention, but you were willing to give him that. Hell, you were eager to. You peered at the clock, biting at the inside of your cheek as you calculated just how much longer it would be until Klaus was by your side again.

Your brows furrowed as you did the math, wondering if perhaps the clock was a few minutes too fast. A few people washed out onto the sidewalk you stood upon, blocking your view slightly. With a groan, you craned your neck until you could see the time again. Five minutes until you could see him again. Could that be right?

“And I thought I was bad with time, ha!” Klaus’ voice made you spin so quickly on your heels that you reached out for him to stabilize yourself. “Whoa, easy!”

His long fingers wrap around your wrists, holding you still as you take him in. The sight of him fills your soul like air in your lungs, like you need him. His bright green eyes scan over your features, that signature smile playing on his pink lips. One of your hands lifts from his arm and trails up to grasp his chin. The facial hair he had been growing out was styled, making him look older than he did when you last laid eyes on him.

“I like this,” you said, rubbing your thumb over the hair on his chin. Klaus let out a breathy chuckle so light he matched the tone of his eyes.

“Hoped that you would,” he teased, his teeth curling his bottom lip a moment as he took in your face. Cheeks and nose rosy from the breeze, your neck wrapped in a scarf he had stolen for you long ago. It had been too long. “You’re the only one worth looking good for.”

Silence rests between your bodies, everything you both want to say read like poems in your eyes. You feel stinging behind your eyes as you peer into Klaus’ green ones. Carefully, as if he were broken glass, you skirt your thumb across his cheek. His breath hitches for a moment and he feels that pulling in his heart; that same feeling he left whenever you left the room.

“I’ve missed you,” you say at the same time, prompting a mess of laughing sobs from your throats. You only shake your head, wrapping your arms over his shoulder and leaning into his frame. Instinct falls over Klaus as his arms find their places on your waist. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, closing his eyes when the smell of your soap and the feeling of your body on his overwhelms his senses.

You held each other for a while. People gawked at the sight of you two as they passed by. The sidewalk seems to grow more crowded as Klaus clung to you tightly. A few more minutes go by until Klaus pulls away from you. Despite the smile playing on his plush lips, the glimmer that had shone in his eyes seemed to fade.

“I am absolutely starved,” he groans, patting his stomach to emphasize it’s emptiness. You grin at him, having missed his childish demeanor. He smiles at the sight of yours and extends his hand to you. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” you play along, taking his cold hand in yours. His finger’s intertwine with yours as if it was where they were meant to be. As you start to walk, Klaus recalls the wonderful and colorful people had he met. While he talks, you spare a glance up at him. His curls bounce with each step and the lines in his face deepen as he tries to impersonate one of the other patients he had met. He was still your Klaus only, hopefully, sober.

When you don’t laugh at his sorry attempt of a baritone voice, Klaus turns his gaze on you. His smile holds true even as he stares at you with slight confusion. Lips parted and eyes, with slightly dilated pupils, appear more like a soft, yellow-green in the sunlight. You swear you had seen a puppy in the park one day with the same expression.

“What?” He asked, nudging his shoulder against your as you both continue to walk. He lifts a hand to pull his eyelid away from one of his eyes, a twisted grin on his features. “Is there something in my eye?”

You stifle a laugh, shaking your head at the goof of a man beside you. “No, just good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back,” Klaus agrees, his tone falling into one more serious as he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You both round the corner of the street and soon, Griddy’s Donuts comes into your line of sight.

“I don’t see why we had to come home to have tea. Don’t they have tea at Griddy’s?” You ask, reaching into your cupboard for the stash of tea you had kept. Finding the right brew, you pulled two mugs down as well, setting it all out on the counter. You glance over at Klaus who, despite being in your apartment before, wandered about your small living room like a weary traveler.

He liked the way you had said ‘home’, as if it was shared. As if you had both lived there together for years and, in a sense, Klaus could argue that you had. Nights he spent sprawled out on your couch, whining about everything and anything while you listened. You always listened. Home, he thought, he could get used to that.

“They do,” Klaus says finally, turning away from your book shelf to smile at you. “But I wouldn’t wish that rat poison on my worst enemy. Tea shouldn’t smell like monkey shit.” You giggle as you pour water into the kettle. Klaus didn’t realize how much he had missed the sound of your laughter.

“Good to know,” you muse. Setting the kettle on the stove, you start a low flame beneath it. As you waited to see some steam, Klaus turned his attention back to your bookshelf. His eyes skimmed over the titles of works he was horribly unfamiliar with. It wasn’t until he reached the few bottom shelves when he felt more knowledgeable.

“Your vinyl’s are as dusty as my father’s closet,” Klaus teased, pulling at a few of the cardboard sleeves to read the artist’s name. “I should know,” he added, “I spent a lot of time in closets.”

“I haven’t used it in a while,” you explained. You strode out of your tiny kitchen and over to where Klaus had crouched down. His fur coat brushed the hardwood floor of your apartment, nearly concealing his sneakers from your view. He looked so small as you stood over him.

“Why ever not? There’s always time for music!” He exclaimed, standing with a record in his hand. You didn’t get a chance to look at the title or tell him that, ever since he had checked himself into rehab and out of your life, all the music had bled from your life. Any song you had dared to listen to reminded you of his smile and brought you to tears. You had cried enough with just the crushing feeling of missing Klaus, so you figured it was best to give music a rest until he returned.

“I was just busy, I guess,” you mumble as Klaus slid the record from it’s sleeve. With nimble fingers, he placed the disk on the player and set the needle. When he faces you again, the side of his mouth is quirked upwards in a shy smile that was only reserved for you.

“Too busy to spare a dance?” He extends his hand to you as the first few notes of Elton John’s ‘Rocketman’ crackled on the record player. “I’ll lead,” he added, “if that helps.”

“Says the man with two left feet,” you joked before taking his hand. Klaus chuckled, pulling you to the middle of your living room so you would both had more space.

“You only say that ‘cause you’re jealous.” As he spoke, Klaus intertwined your fingers with his once more and rested his other hand just above your hip. Even through your clothes, you could feel the coldness of his fingertips.

“Hm, me jealous? I don’t think so,” you jeered back, placing your own hand on his upper arm as Klaus began to waltz. Your bodies moved together as if they were never parted. Klaus smiled at you wickedly and dared to take a sneaky step closer to you. Your face went pink at the action, his proximity to you making your heart beat even faster.

“Then why do you look so flustered, my dear?” Klaus’ tone drips with smugness when the pet name slips over his lips. He only called you ‘dear’ when he wanted something. You could remember the first time it had happened a few months into your friendship. Klaus had pulled you to a parade of some sort in the city in July. The sun was beating down on everyone and you were taking a drink from your water bottle when he spoke up.

“Can I steal a sip, my dear?” The name had sent the butterflies nesting in your stomach into a frenzy. You couldn’t remember now if you had even replied to his question. All you did recall is handing him the bottle and Klaus throwing a skinny arm over your shoulders.

That was the same day you realized you were falling for your friend. Klaus looked so carefree as he danced down the street, following the brightly colored floats with music blaring from their speakers. He had asked you to dance then too. Both of you had made absolute fools of yourselves but even when he wasn’t trying, Klaus made it look graceful, easy. It was so easy to be with him.

“Where’d you go?” Klaus’ new question pulled you back from your reflection. His dark brows were knitted in slight concern and you felt the hand he had your hip rub against your side in an attempt to bring you back to the present.

“No where,” you said, giving him a smile, “I was just thinking.” Klaus huffed, his expression losing it’s rare face of worriment.

“That’s awfully dangerous.” You nodded, biting your lower lip as you debated in your mind to tell him. To tell him how much you had thought about him while he was gone, how much you really loved him and ask if he loved you.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “it is sometimes.” Klaus must have sensed the change of mood because he dropped his hand from yours. Soon it found its place on your other hip and was pulling you even closer to him. To press away any space between your bodies, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and around his slim neck. Your head now rested against his chest and you could hear the quick, steady beat of his heart.

“Then don’t think,” Klaus murmured, his breath stirring strands of your hair.

“That’s easier said than it is done,” you replied with a sigh. Hoping to hide from your own thoughts and Klaus’ field of vision, you pressed your face deeper against his chest.

“Drugs help,” he said, so nonchalantly it scared you. You pulled away and gave him a look of fear. Klaus took in your wide eyes and parted lips, realizing he had gone too far. Before he could apologize you spoke up.

“Are you still using?” You didn’t know if you wanted him to tell you quickly or slowly. If he had to think it over, he was using, but if he answered too fast he could be lying. Every idea tormented your brain in a barrage of guilt and annoyance. All you wanted was a moment, untainted, with him.

“Y/N,” Klaus started, stepping close to you once more with his hands reaching for you waist. You hadn’t realized you had pushed yourself so far away from him. “I’m not using.”

“So it’s just you?” You asked, leaning into his renewed touch.

“Well, you’re gonna have to be more specific on that.” You cocked your head to the side and Klaus smiled at your confusion. “Ben is here. Luckily this place isn’t haunted.” You sighed and pinched his shoulder before falling against his chest again.

“Hi Ben,” you said softly, eyes skirting around your living room as if by chance, you could see his spectral form. Klaus laughed suddenly and you felt him shake his head.

“He says ‘hi’ too,” he mumbled something afterwards, directed towards Ben, and you smiled.

“And something else, I presume?” Klaus exhaled through his nose and glanced down you in his arms. Swaying to the sound of Elton John’s voice, you looked so soft. Klaus nodded to your question before sinking into your warmth and the lyrics that filled the room.

“What did he say?”

“Oh you know,” Klaus scoffed, trailing off in the hopes you would drop the topic. Klaus peered over his shoulder and his eyes found Ben. He stood in your kitchen, shaking his head at the sight of you both. Klaus lifted a hand from the small of your back and gestured for his brother to go away. Ben sighed and walked down the hallway of your apartment.

“I actually don’t know,” you teased, “that’s why you’re here.”

“Here to act as the conduit in which you flirt with my dead brother? I knew it,” Klaus said, his voice sad, over-dramatically so. “And here I thought you truly loved me. Y/N, you’re cold hearted.”

“I do,” you said quietly, with a tone of voice that dripped with a sincerity that cut through Klaus’ playful show.

“What?” He sounded genuinely confused at your words and looked the part too when you pulled yourself away from his chest to look into his eyes. The vibrant green was darker now in the low light of your apartment.

The question hovered between the two of you for a while longer. Your mind was racing, wandering through every possible outcome that your next few words could bring about. Klaus, on the other hand, wasn’t thinking at all. One of his hands trailed up from your waist to your cheek. The skin was soft to the touch and it took every ounce of will power Klaus had in him not to kiss you then and there. He wanted to kiss you so desperately but, for once in his life, he was ready to wait.

“I do, love you,” you breathed out, as if the words flowed straight from your heart and through your mouth. Klaus’ green eyes seemed to sparkle at your words and the smile that graced his lips sent a wave of adoration over the entirety of your being.

“I love you too,” he said, his voice quiet. It was as if he were a child on the playground, telling his best friend a long kept secret. “Over the phone I meant it. I couldn’t stand not seeing you when I wanted to. I wanted to see the person I love,” he brushed his fingers over your cheek, “and now I can.”

“So poetic, was that Keats? No, wait. It was Dickinson, wasn’t it?” You ask teasingly, prompting Klaus to chuckle. You had never heard him lay it on so thickly before; at least not when the subject of his affections was you.

“You know I never paid attention in literature class,” he leaned a little closer to you. “I always thought, why read poetry when you can make it yourself.” His body was now flush with your own, his hand holding your jaw now. His words melted you into his touch and you found yourself leaning up towards him.

“You should share more often,” you vex, pleased with the sudden mask of confidence that now rested on your features. You weren’t entirely sure where it came from, but you were happy with the results nonetheless. “Maybe I will,” Klaus beamed, his forehead now resting against your own. A few stray brown curls tickled your skin, but you didn’t pay much mind to them. You only hum in response as the music began to fill the quiet between you. Eager, you craned your neck upwards, silently granting Klaus the permission he had been waiting for.

Full of want and unhindered passion, Klaus pressed his lips to yours roughly. You expected nothing less than the rawness that made up his existence. He was himself with you, no drugs required. Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands as Klaus held your close to him. His lips were soft, softer than you ever imagined.

Testing the waters, Klaus grazed the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip. Bending to his will, your mouth parted and the kiss deepened. His hand on your cheek traveled back down to your waist, the other squeezed at your hip. Just as Elton John’s voice faded out, the whistling of the kettle on the stove reached your ears.

“Fuck the tea,” Klaus mumbled against your lips as you started to pull away. His green eyes were dark and lips more of a red color after the bruising kiss you had shared. His gaze danced across your features and he could feel every fiber of his body screaming for you. “Better yet, fuck m-” Klaus began but you pecked his lips again to quiet him.

“You’re the one who wanted the tea,” you pointed out. Klaus watched at you pulled away from his lips, a smile resting on your features. He could only imagine he wore the same expression, if not more dopey and messy.

“I actually want you, the tea was simply a diversion,” he explained, following you into your cramped kitchenette. He studied you as you turned the stove off and prepared the tea bags to steep. The domestic sight sent a shiver down Klaus’ spine. It was a scene he could grow used to seeing. He heard a cough suddenly and he peered down the hallway.

“I actually wanted the tea,” Ben grumbled, but he gave his brother a thumbs up. Ben had done the same thing the day Klaus had met you. Klaus could remember Ben poking at his stunted courage, trying to get him to go up and speak to you. He was glad in that moment, happy for the curse that his father had called a gift. Now, Klaus smiled at his brother. Turning his gaze back to you, Klaus saw a glimmer of possibility shining in your eyes.

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