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cameronspecial · 1 year ago

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Assisting In Deception (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: People saying bad stuff about Rafe.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: A wedding and rumours lead Y/N and Rafe in need of a partner.

Masterlist

The sound of the keyboard as Rafe types is the only thing that can be heard when Y/N enters the room. She places his coffee in front of him and opens the planner she designated for work as she sits on a chair facing his desk. “You have appointments at eleven, two, and five for today. I’ve booked your haircut at three tomorrow and your dad called saying he wants you to call him when you get off of work. Is there anything else you need me to do, right now?” she questions, leaving a checkmark beside each reminder she informed him about. Rafe takes a second to look up from his computer, “No, assuming you put all of that in my digital calendar with more information. That’s all, thank you.” He returns to work and Y/N retreats back to her desk outside of his office.

Rafe Cameron is a cold and distant boss. He is polite, but he never smiles. Everyone in the office is scared of him, except for Y/N. Her kind and warm personality makes him not as stern with her, but it doesn’t mean she has the privilege of getting past his hard exterior. No one knows anything about him. However, this doesn’t stop her from developing a tiny crush on her boss. She knows it is a cliche, but she recognizes it is probably only because he is handsome and polite. Even if it was based on real emotions, she would never try to develop a romantic relationship with him. She doesn’t believe in love anyway.

Y/N is taking calls for him when he leaves his office. “I’m going for lunch,” he informs her and she gives him a nod to signal she heard him. He is watching her as he waits for the elevator. “I’m not sure if Mr. Cameron can fit you in today. He already has meetings up until six today. No, he normally doesn’t go to meetings after that time, Mr. Rosa,” Y/N begins, but upon hearing the name, Rafe flashes seven fingers to her. “Actually, I just checked with Mr. Cameron and he is fine with the meeting beginning at seven. Is that okay for you? Great. Have a good day, Mr. Rosa. Thank you.” Y/N goes to get her lunch but is immediately stopped by another call coming through. Rafe observes from the elevator that she takes the call and doesn’t go to lunch.

——

When Rafe returns from lunch, Y/N is still on a phone call with the same client as when Rafe left. He takes note of that and reminds himself to have a chat with the client about holding up the phone line around lunchtime. She watches as Rafe approaches the desk and gives her attention to him, waiting for him to tell her what he needs. Instead, he places a paper bag on her desk and takes the phone from her. “Hello, Mrs. Matthews. Ms. Y/L/N has been very polite by letting you take up her lunch hour, but right now, I’m letting her go on lunch, so you can call back tomorrow. Thank you, goodbye,” he hangs up the phone and sets it to voicemail, then turns his attention towards Y/N. “I’ve bought you lunch, please, eat it. Take an hour and don’t call back Mrs. Matthews until tomorrow. I know you feel bad, but she never has anything important for me. And next time, just tell the client that you have lunch. If they have problems, then direct them to me.”

He enters the office and she opens the bag to see what he got her. Inside, she finds the creamy mushroom gnocchi from her favourite Italian place. She has it at least once a month when she treats herself to lunch that is not leftovers from the night before. Y/N didn’t know that he noticed. She moves a strand of hair behind her ear and heads to the break room to enjoy her lunch.

——

Y/N returns from lunch and is just settling down at her desk when Jenna approaches her. “Hey, how was your lunch?” Jenna asks. Y/N knows Jenna wants something so cuts to the chase, “What do you need?” Jenna gives Y/N relieved eyes at not having to keep up the charade. “Could you please tell him some contractors have been saying some pretty bad stuff about him on the news this morning? The media is going crazy about it,” Jenna begs, widening her eyes and pouting like a puppy dog.

“Why me? Aren’t you the head of PR? Last time I checked, that’s in your job description.”

“It is, but he’s scary. He doesn’t get as mad at you as he does with anyone else. Maybe he has a crush on you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s because I don’t dance around telling him the truth. He likes my honesty.”

“Yeah, yeah, but can you pleaseeee do it? I’ll buy your coffee for the whole week if you do.”

“Fine, but I want that coffee. What have they been saying about him?”

“That he has a heart of stone, he’s rude and has secret children that he makes the mothers keep a secret.”

“Damn, that’s a lot. Only the first thing is kinda true, but the others are like so far out there. He barely leaves his office. How is he supposed to father children? I guess that’s why his dad wanted him to call him.”

“Probably, thank you so much. I owe you.”

Jenna runs back to the elevator to head down to the PR offices and Y/N makes her way into Rafe’s office. She doesn’t stick to pleasantries as she knows he has a meeting soon. “Contractors have been on the news all day saying crude things about you. PR wants a meeting to do damage control. You know before random women start popping up saying that you are their baby daddy,” she tells him, hoping the joke will soften the news. Rafe looks up from his computer with a confused look on his face, “They are saying I fathered children? Obviously, they don’t know me well enough to know that I barely leave my office.”

“That’s what I said, but it’s what I’ve been told to tell you. Do you want me to cancel your other meetings this afternoon so you can head to PR?”

“Yes, please. Why are you telling me this and not Ms. Walsh?”

“Uh, she had to get everything ready for the meeting. She had her assistant relay the message to me.”

“I see. So it wasn’t Ms. Walsh that I heard a few minutes ago.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, then I guess you’ll need someone to get you coffee for the next week.”

Her eyes widen at being caught in the lie and quickly leaves the office after his teasing. He only ever teases her.

——

Y/N leaves work at five o’clock on the dot after being told by Rafe that it is okay to leave. Before she left, he was still in the meeting with the PR team. She wonders what they could possibly be talking about to be in a meeting for so long. She enters her apartment to find Juni at the small kitchen island. Their small New York apartment doesn’t have much, but the view is incredible. It almost makes the absurd rent worth it. “So your hot boss was on the news today, Sweetie. How is he? Does he really have a million baby mamas?” Juni jests, pointing her pen at her roommate. Y/N just shakes her head at her friend, “He’s still in a meeting with the PR team. You know none of that is true, Juni. He literally never leaves his office, so unless he can get his work pregnant, then he is the father of nothing.”

Juniper Cresswell has been Y/N’s best friend since they were ten years old. Juni had just been adopted by the Cresswells and started attending the same school as Y/N. The pair instantly bonded over not having a traditional family. Y/N’s mother, Phoebe, had her at a young age and her biological father was non-existent in her life. Her mom did get remarried though to Nate and they had Nancy two years later. Nate treated her like his own daughter and even changed his last name to Phoebe’s so that they could all have the same last name. Y/N grew up in Queens and when she moved out, she was able to rent an apartment close to home with Juni.

The knock on the door and the quick opening of it pull the attention of the girls. Standing at the entryway is Alexander. “Sup neighbours. How was our day?” he questions, leaving the doorway to sit at the kitchen island with the girls. “Mine was good. I got to help a mom get custody of her children from her wealthy asshole ex-husband, who only wanted the kids to get back at his ex-wife,” Juni retells, going back to her paperwork. Y/N walks over to him, “It was okay. Mr. Cameron got me lunch and he is being accused of having more children than Nick Canon.” This causes Juni to look up from her work, which goes unnoticed by Y/N because she is going through the mail that Alexander brought up. “How come you didn’t tell me your hot boss got you lunch, Sweetie?” Juni interrogates. Y/N stops at one particular letter, “Because it’s not that big of a deal. He knew I couldn’t eat mine. A client wouldn’t let me get off of the phone.”

Alexander and Juni give each other a look and then stare at her as she ignores them. She opens the pink envelope to find a wedding invitation from her cousin. Francine has been dating Gwen for eight years now, so it isn’t a surprise that she is getting married. Y/N loves her cousin, but she can’t help groaning. She hates the idea of having to go to another family event alone. She doesn’t mind being single, the issue is that family events come with constant badgering from relatives. Why are you still single? Don’t you want to start your family soon? Aren’t you lonely? You only have a few more years to have a baby. Juni looks over Y/N’s shoulder to see the invitation. “Ooh, another event you have to go to by yourself,” Juni wisecracks, taking the invitation out of Y/N’s hand to show Alexander. She gives him a pleading look that asks if he could go with her. He shakes his head with pity, “Damn, I wish I could go with you, but that’s when I have to get my wisdom teeth removed.”

Y/N turns to Juni in the hope of finding someone to be a buffer at the wedding. Juni sadly makes her lose that hope. “Sorry, Sweetie. That’s my dad’s birthday. My mom is planning a big party and everything.” The other girl sighs, resting her chin on her hand, “I guess I’ll just fly solo. Again.” Juni shrugs, “You never know. Maybe you’ll meet a handsome stranger, who you fall so head over heels for that you’ll be married before Francine.”

——

The PR meeting finishes at eight and Rafe is home a half hour later. It was an unproductive meeting of just going around in circles with the same weak idea of him making donations to various organizations and suing the contractors for defamation. Donating probably isn’t going to do much in the eyes of the public; they would say he is doing it just for how it would look during a so-called scandal. Suing won’t do much because the damage is already done. Dax greets Rafe at the door with an excited wag of the tail. “Hey bud, I miss you,” Rafe pets the German shepherd, moving over to the kitchen to get something to eat.

He gets Dax’s food ready first and watches as the dog devours the food soon after it is placed in his bowl. Rafe then moves over to the stove to make himself grilled salmon, fondant potatoes and steamed broccoli. He makes his way to the living room and turns on the TV. He quickly changes the channel from the news, which has his face plastered on it. He knows his issues aren’t the worst problem in the world. He’s a wealthy, white, male; this society is designed for him, but he can’t help feeling disappointed that people would blindly believe things about him they hear on TV, especially if they aren’t true. Rafe had to deal with enough prejudices when he was growing up and he went through a little bit of a wild phase. He might have been a little rebellious, but not so much that he should have been judged harshly by the media.

He settles on the couch, remembering he has to call his dad. He takes his phone out, dialling the number he needs. The phone stops ringing after a few seconds, “I know most of what they are saying is not true, but we need to workshop how we are going to fix this.” Rafe shakes his head at his dad’s direct approach.

“Hello to you too, Dad. And Jenna thinks it would be good if I make some donations and sue the contractors.”

“Okay, that’s all fine, but you need to do something more. It’s too bad that you don’t have a girlfriend. You could show just how dedicated you are to her and that might distract the media.”

Rafe frowns at his dad’s slight disappointment and quickly wants to rectify the issue, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m dating someone.”

“Really? Since when? How come you haven’t told me about her?”

“Um, we’ve been dating for about a month. And I haven’t told you because I wanted to see where it is going. But it’s going good so I guess this is as good of a time as ever.”

“This is great, Rafe. How about I come over later this week and we can talk to the PR team about making appearances with your new mystery girl? Talk to your girl about this too. Tell her how important this is going to be for your media image. ”

Rafe nods at his father's suggestion, “Yeah, Dad. That sounds great. I’ll see you later, bye.” Ward utters his own goodbyes and hangs up his phone. Rafe moans, sitting back on the couch. He looks at his now cold dinner in dissatisfaction. “What am I going to do now?” he whispers to himself.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @aprilrudgate @loving-and-dreaming @victory-in-the-llama

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lauras-collection · 4 years ago

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lonely heart ✮ t.h. smut

tom holland x fem!reader

|| Masterlist ||

Summary: Your boyfriend’s been gone for months and your fears start to catch up with you.

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ [soft and emotional, fingering, unprotected sex, talk about penetration without being wet enough?(initiated by the reader, doesn’t happen though), aftercare] angst, abandonment issues, lots of pet names, crying, feeling alone, secret relationship, talking about moving in together

A/N: this one feels pretty personal. so yeah. i hope you like it. enjoy!!

Feedback is always appreciated ❤️

The urge to declutter always hits you at the most random and inconvenient times. And for some reason, you can’t just leave it be. You always have to give in to the urge.

So now you’re sitting on your bedroom floor, a couple boxes placed in a half-circle around you while you go through the contents. Old concert tickets and boarding passes are scattered on the floor already as you reach into the box again to pull out an old photo album. It’s filled to the brim with photos you took with all your friends in high school.

You were far from being the popular girl in school, but you did have a rather large group of friends. You were lucky to have such a connection with the people in your class, and you thought all of you would stay friends forever.

But that’s not how life works.

You take in your younger self, surrounded by these people you don’t even talk to anymore. Most of them anyway. There’s the obligatory birthday message with a couple of them, and you meet up with one of them every once in a while, but other than that, those people are now complete strangers. The only part of their lives you get to witness is what they choose to share on social media.

It makes you realise how alone you are. You don’t have the biggest group of friends nowadays, and to be quite honest, most of them were your boyfriend’s friends first, fuck, two of them are his brothers.

And while you pursue a more traditional career that requires you to go to work in an office five days a week, there are times when you don’t see any of them for months. And it gets incredibly lonely. Especially because you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. As far as the public knows, Tom is a single man living his best life. You’ve been together for quite a while now. After a chance meeting at the pub you got together rather quickly, and he’s successfully managed to keep you out of the public eye ever since. But it can feel isolating at times.

And now is one of those times. Tom’s been away filming, and the past two months have mainly consisted of you waking up, going to work, getting home late at night, watching an episode or two of your current show, FaceTiming Tom when he’s available and then going to bed to start the cycle again the next day.

To say it doesn’t affect your mental health would be a lie.

And the more you think about it, the deeper you fall into that way of thinking. Tears start to pool in your eyes. It’s Saturday night, and instead of being out with your friends like any other twenty-something year old, you’re sitting on the floor of your flat reminiscing the good old times, feeling utterly alone.

You pick up your phone to give Tom a call. You just want to hear his voice. And maybe you’re lucky and he’s got a few minutes of spare time in between scenes.

You tap on his contact, but the phone rings and rings and rings until you’re send to voicemail. With a sigh, you lock your phone again. Maybe he’ll call you back.

Annoyed with yourself and how you let your emotions control you sometimes, you shove all the memories back into the boxes. You get yourself ready for bed, push your headphones in your ears and turn on some music to drown out the doubts in your mind.

You don’t want to think that way, you don’t wanna go there, but you can’t stop yourself.

What if one day Tom will only be a memory, too?

So far, everyone in your life has left you, all of your childhood friends, your high school friends. So it’s only natural that one day he’ll leave you, too, right? And then you’re all alone again.

You pull your blanket over your head and allow yourself to cry. You don’t want to be without Tom. He’s the love of your life, but you also thought you’d have your friends forever, so how much can you trust that feeling?

Your mind starts spinning round and round, and you can’t put a stop to it. Coming up with scenarios and reasons why and how Tom will eventually end up leaving you, dissecting all your interactions over the past couple of weeks. Had he been a little standoffish? Maybe he was just tired. But what if he wasn’t? What if he’s just annoyed with you? Has finally grown sick of you.

All you want to do is call him now, but the doubts in your mind keep you from picking up the phone again. If he wants to talk to you, he would call. You don’t want to be the clingy girlfriend.

You’re so deep in your treacherous thoughts that you don’t notice that someone’s entered the flat. You’re too preoccupied with trying to get your breath under control. But then the mattress dips, and for a second, it feels like your heart stops beating.

But then the blanket slowly gets pulled away from your head, and Tom’s voice is audible through your music and the fog that clouds your senses, “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” And then you feel his arms around you, and all you can do is push yourself closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

You’re full-on sobbing now, unsure if this is even real or just a figment of your imagination. You feel him run his hand over your head, tightening his grip around you as if he’s afraid that you’re gonna fall apart any second. And honestly? You wouldn’t be surprised.

When you’ve finally calmed down a bit, Tom places a kiss on your forehead and pulls you away a bit so he can look at you while gently taking off your headphones and putting them away.

“Talk to me, darling.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear and wipes your tears away.

“I missed you so much.” You say, your lips still quivering slightly. The look in Tom’s eyes turns even softer, and the familiar shade of brown is a comfort for you.

“I missed you, too, baby.” You notice that he’s also got tears in his eyes, and you can’t stand seeing him like that. You lean up slightly, pressing your lips against his. They’re warm and soft, the feeling so familiar another tear slips down the side of your face. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him as close to you as you can, breathing him in.

Tom cradles your face, and then his tongue meets yours, and all negative thoughts are washed away and replaced with him. His scent, his touch, the way he’s holding you.

Ever so gently, Tom lowers you back on the bed, hovering above you. You open your eyes for a moment to take him in. He’s only illuminated by the light that’s coming from the hallway, the soft yellow light accentuating his beautiful features. He looks like an angel.

“I wanna feel you.” You whisper, pulling him into another kiss.

“I’m right here, darling.” As if to underline his words, one of his hands moves under your shirt. He’s touching you gently but with so much purpose as if he’s trying to tell you something with every touch.

The weight of his body on top of yours grounds you. You want to feel his skin, so you tug his shirt over his head.

No inch of your body is left untouched as Tom’s wandering hands caress your skin while undressing you.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.” He murmurs, his lips moving over your neck and collar bones. The urge to be as close to him as possible gets almost overwhelming, so you quickly rid him of the rest of his clothes. Your hands still shaking slightly.

Tom runs his hands over your thighs as he positions himself between your legs before he reaches for your hands, tangling his fingers with yours.

Hovering above you, he starts trailing kisses down your body. Paying extra attention to your nipples, lapping and sucking at them, causing you to moan softly before he starts to move lower.

You know what he’s up to, but you’re too impatient for an elaborate foreplay today. You tighten your grip on his hands to make him look up at you.

“Not today. Need you inside me.”

Tom’s eyes furrow slightly. “Are you sure? Baby, I need to make sure you’re wet enough.”

“I don’t care.” The desperation is evident in your voice, and within a second, Tom’s face is level with yours again.

“I’m not gonna take the risk of hurting you.” He plants a soft kiss on your lips.

“Please, Tom, I need it. Need you.” Tom looks conflicted, his eyes flittering between yours while he thinks for a moment. Then he sighs.

“Let me at least use my fingers for a bit first, hm?” You know Tom won’t give up, so you nod your head. At least this way, you can still look at him.

Tom gives you another kiss, then lets go of one of your hands to move his between your legs.

He runs his fingers through your folds while kissing you, the stimulation enough to raise your pulse. When he finally touches your clit, it feels like an electric shock going through your body. It’s been a while since you touched yourself, even longer since Tom did, and it’s like your body is singing at finally being touched by him again.

You moan into his mouth. Tom continues to circle your clit while pushing one finger into you, quickly finding your spot, bringing you closer to the edge. The grip you still have on his hand tightens, and you have to stop kissing him in order to breathe.

“Fuck, Tom.”

“I’ve got you, baby. I’m here.” He whispers while pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin of your neck. “I love you so much, darling.”

Tom’s constant praises are a warm murmur in your ear. You’re wound up impossibly tight, but you can’t seem to reach your peak.

“Relax, baby. I’m here.”

“Need you. Wanna be close to you. Please, I’m ready.” You run your hands over his body, feeling his muscles contract below his skin with every movement.

“You sure?” There’s still doubt in Tom’s voice, but you can tell he’s almost as desperate as you are, his chest heaving with every breath.

“Yes, Tommy, please. Need you inside me now.”

Tom gives your clit one more flick before placing his hand on your hip while taking a deep breath. “I missed you so much, darling. Missed being with you. Your gorgeous body.” His eyes roam over your body, then he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock, positioning himself at your entrance.

Your hands find his biceps, holding on tightly while Tom pushes into you slowly. A low moan leaves your lips, and you let your head fall back, spreading your legs further to take him in as deep as you can.

And then he’s buried inside you to the hilt, and you’re so overwhelmed another tear escapes the corner of your eye.

Tom kisses your tear away before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

It feels incredible to finally be filled by him again, to feel him. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer until your whole body is touching his, and you don’t know where you end, and he begins.

Tom starts moving slowly, both of you relishing the feeling of the other and finally being together again.

Finally, you’re able to let go of the uneasy tension in your body, to let down your guard completely. Because Tom’s here, with you, and you trust him.

It doesn’t take long for you to be on the edge again and encouraged by Tom’s praises, you let yourself fall. The coil in your belly snaps, a tingle washing over your whole body. Your hands are shaking as you bury them in his soft curls, your head thrown back with a moan. You feel his hot breath against your skin, and then he’s moaning your name while he reaches his orgasm, coming inside you.

You stay like this for a while, both of you catching your breath. Then Tom rests his forehead against yours, his curls tickling your skin.

“I love you so much, darling.” He kisses the tip of your nose and moves to lift himself off you, but you tighten your legs around his hips and hold him in place.

“Please don’t leave me.” You almost whimper, you’re still not over your freakout from earlier, and while Tom’s been more than reassuring, you don’t want to let him go just yet.

“What are you talking about, baby?” he cups your face in his hands and looks at you, concern evident in his eyes. “I’m not leaving. I’m just gonna get something to clean you up. Then I’ll be right back, okay? I’m here.” When you nod, he kisses your lips softly, then gets up and enters the bathroom that’s right down the hall.

It only takes him a few moments to find what he’s looking for. He knows his way around your flat as if it was his own. Before he joins you on the bed again, he pulls his boxers back on. With a gentle grip on the back of your knees, he spreads your legs, then cleans you up with a warm washcloth while, almost absentmindedly, placing kisses on your skin.

When he’s done, he throws the cloth towards where his clothes are strewn on the floor before laying down next to you and finally wrapping his arms around you again. You rest your head against his chest while he runs his hands through your hair, his even breathing making you feel at peace.

“What are you even doing here?” You finally ask, looking up at him. He wasn’t supposed to be home yet.

“I managed to move some stuff around so I could take a week off. I wanted to surprise you.” He smiles softly, then his expression turns serious. “I wasn’t prepared to find you like this, though. What’s going on?”

At the memory, tears start pooling in your eyes again. “I was just feeling so lonely.” You press your lips together. “And I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d do if I ever lose you and—“

“Hey.” Tom interrupts you. He’s got his hand on your cheek, tilting up your head so he can look you in the eyes. “You’re not gonna lose me, Y/N. I’ll be around as long as you’ll have me, okay?” His arm around your waist tightens, and you nod.

“Okay.”

“And I was thinking…” Tom starts, his fingers playing with your hair in a bit of a nervous manner. “We’ve been together for a while now, and I’m sure you’re it for me.” He smiles softly as your heart starts hammering in your chest, a pleasurable warmth flooding your body. “What do you think about moving in together?”

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But won’t that be risky? What if your fans find out about us?”

“I don’t mind if you don’t. I don’t want to keep you a secret for the rest of my life, baby. You make me happy, and anyone who has a problem with that can fuck off.”

You sputter out a laugh before pulling him into a kiss. “In that case, I’m all in.”

Tom’s lips spread into a wide smile at that. “I already picked out some flats we can look at together.”

“Oh, did you now?” You raise your eyebrows. “Someone was very confident I’d say yes, huh?”

Tom tilts his head from side to side, “I’d say I was very optimistic you’d say yes.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You’re filled to the brim with love for this man, and you don’t know how you got so lucky that he loves you just as much.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

You know that you’ve got issues to work through, that just from him saying he won’t leave you, you won’t just be fine. But you’re optimistic that you’re going to overcome this and be able to live a life without the fear of being left alone.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you think!! <333

besties tag: @spidermanlondon ☆ @duskholland ☆ @heyhihellowhatsup0 ☆ @annathesillyfriend ☆ @hazofmyheart ☆ @emilykjh ☆ @alinastarkrovs ☆ @sinisterspidey ☆ @lovebittenbyevans ☆ @miraclesoflove ☆ @seasidetom ☆ @selfcarecap ☆ @missevrythingg ☆ @spideyspeaches ☆ @softholand ☆

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland angst #tom holland scenario #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland reader insert #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland story

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reidyoulikeabook · 4 years ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Ship: BAU! Gender Neutral! reader x Spencer Reid

#Request - Could you do some angst with “you dont deserve my forgiveness?” Any ship!

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Mention of death, violence, injury (not serious), angst, mourning, a lot of tears. Also, swearing, anger, fighting (verbal, not physical.)

Summary: You and Spencer Reid had been together for a year before he ‘died.’ You grieved him. You mourned him.

A/N: Title stolen from my (current) favourite Taylor Swift song. Not sure how I feel about this one but! Here it is anyway! My requests are open & pls feel free to let me know what you think!!

14 days and 30 minutes exactly

You don’t think about the day Spencer Reid died. You can’t, because even remembering he’s dead feels as if an ice bucket has been tipped over your head. Not even now, two weeks later, have you really gotten over the initial shock that you felt. Every waking moment felt like you were trying to solve some kind of never-ending puzzle. Each emotion was overwhelming, too much to process. It felt like things would only start to get better, like everybody promised they would, when you started to be able to name the emotions rather than describe them as the physical sensations they brought on.

And you didn’t think that’d happen anytime soon.

The shared apartment was too much. You hadn’t slept in your bed since he’d been gone, and forbid anyone else from going into the bedroom. It was a sanctuary.

You understood now more than ever why victims families never changed a thing about the room of their loved ones. Every single thing felt deliberate. Theirs. It was a reflection of the time they were most alive, living. A unique snapshot of them in motion. The mess they left that they expected to come home to.

Rationally, you knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a sock hanging off Spencer’s bedside table, or a clean cardigan balled up on the floor, for any reason other than he’d been in a rush that morning, and had left an uncharacteristically large mess in his wake. In more ways than one.

***

2 months, 5 days, 8 hours

Being back at work helps somewhat, but the office feels empty without him there to ramble off factoids about anything and everything, to hear Morgan calling him ‘kid’ every five minutes. He only called you that now.

Simmons is nice, really he is. It isn’t his fault he’s there in place of Spencer and you try hard not to feel personally aggrieved by his presence. He doesn’t do anything to antagonise you, he stays out of your way more than anything. You don’t do anything to purposely make him uncomfortable: you do try to be agreeable and make small talk. But it’s hard not to look at him without thinking how, if everything was how it should be, Spencer would be stood in his place.

***

3 months, 26 days, 3 hours.

There is no ‘new normal.’ You’ve heard the term tossed around a few times in relation to grief, but if there is a new normal you’re still struggling to find it. When you’re not on cases, there’s no ‘normal’. You still don't sleep in your own bed. Sometimes you stay on Rossi’s, or Morgan’s, or Garcia’s couch. Sometimes, read: maybe once, it’s in the spare room at the place you and Spencer used to share. Sometimes, when you get worried about being a burden, it’s a hotel. It’s easier to feel as if you’re choosing to stay away from home, rather than acknowledging that home, as you understand it, no longer exists.

You still wake up and instinctually search for Spencer most mornings. Sure, work is keeping you occupied and you smile a little more these days. You even allowed yourself to be dragged out for drinks last weekend. But nothing feels like it should. You don’t know if that’s normal for grief or if you just aren’t moving forward at all, doomed to tread yourself deeper into the melancholic quicksand that’s got a hold on you.

You talk at length about it with Garcia over wine one night.

“Nothing feels right,” you admit, “Everything just feels...”

Garcia waits, just tipping her chin slightly to encourage you to continue. She’s got the counsellor act down and you’d have the decency to feel embarassed if you weren’t just so damn exhausted all the time.

“I feel trapped, I guess. Like I’m frozen. I keep thinking maybe it’ll get better once the trials over. Once the whole legal aspect of it is over and put to bed, then maybe I’ll have some closure on the whole situation,” you mumble, “I just don’t know how to move forward. I don’t feel like I’ve moved forward. And I know it’s only been three months but I’ve only stayed at our apartment twice and I can’t bring myself to move any of his things and...”

She just waits. In that moment, you’re so grateful for her.

“I’m stuck here. I can’t change anything. I can’t bring myself to move any of his things. I’m paying rent on a place I don’t live in but I can’t move because how can I live somewhere he’s never been? I feel like I’m stuck. I can’t move out of the world he lived in but the world is moving on even without him. And I’m just...I’m just here, Garcia.”

She nods sympathetically, placing her hand on your arm, “Maybe it’ll help when the case is wrapped up. When you have that closure.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Yeah. I hope so.”

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she says, gently, “And you don’t have to say it. But if you’re holding back because you feel guilty then you don’t have to feel guilty about anything you say to me, my darling.”

You start to well up then. The pressure in your chest is heavy, something akin to guilt. It slices into your chest, cut glass sitting between your ribs and slicing you open every time you breathe in. You’ve been thinking it a lot lately. Too much. It’s making you feel awful and you can’t decide if putting it out into the world verbally is going to be a release or make it feel too real.

Garcia waits patiently.

You decide to believe it’ll be the former, then whisper, “I wish I loved him less. I wish I’d loved him less so this wouldn’t hurt as much.”

And then the sobs come. The sobs that wrack your chest and sting your eyes and leave you looking like you’ve been on the receiving end of an upper cut. Because how could you? How could you possibly want to take back any of the love you had so willingly, freely, given to the person you loved most? What kind of person did it make you to want to take back the good memories: to wish that instead of having waffles on the couch that last Sunday, you’d had a fight about the library fine he’d gotten because of you? How could you want to switch the puzzle pieces to create a less idyllic picture of your life together, just so you wouldn’t feel so much loss when you looked at it?

She just rubs your back through it, knowing that no words can help but still saying the thing she thinks you need to hear most, “That doesn’t make you a bad person, sugar plum. That makes you human.”

***

4 months, 6 days, 14 hours.

Hotch calls you all into the briefing room.

“A few months ago a decision had to be made. Somebody had the potential to make an incredible breakthrough on a case that had been airtight for years. But it wasn’t possible for that individual to complete that work without cover. They needed to be officially gone,” Hotch’s voice booms but you swear you can hear a hesitation, “It wasn’t necessary at the time for you to have that information. Providing you with it would have compromised the safety of one of our agents, and the integrity of their investigation.”

You glance around the room, confused, noticing everyone is sharing the same bewildered look. Except Emily.

“I apologise completely for having to keep this from you, it was a decision that was not taken lately, and I did not have the final say. That being said, any discontent about this decision should be directed towards me,” he glances towards Emily, and she’s looking nervous now.

Hotch lets out a huff, somehow more tense than usual, “SSA Reid was not killed after the attack in Seattle. That was his cover, but he was investigating a case.”

He’s still talking but you can’t hear anything. SSA Reid was not killed. SSA Reid was not killed. You flip the sentence over a hundred times. And for the millionth time since SSA Reid was killed, you have no idea what you feel.

There’s uproar from everybody. Shouting. And then Hotch says something and everybody is looking at you, scanning you for a reaction and you have nothing. Nothing at all.

“Hi,” a voice from the doorway, nervous and shy, a voice you’ve only heard in dreams and voicemails and recordings from nights out that you must have watched hundreds of times by now, if they were tapes you would have worn them out long ago.

And you know you can’t face him. You can’t face any of them.

You look around the room, first at Hotch whose eyes flicker with what looks like remorse. Then, at Emily who just looks guilty as all hell. You don’t look at him. You can’t look at him.

The tension in the room is palpable but in your peripheral you see Garcia and J.J flock to the doorway, embracing him.

Rossi, is the one who comes to you, “____?”

You stare at him, completely blankly, “Yeah?”

“You need to speak to him. Need to hear him out.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, allowing him to help you to your feet. His reassuring hands on your shoulders turn you around and you meet his face. The face of the boyfriend you spent the last four months mourning while everybody watched you fall apart. And half of them knew.

So that’s what you feel. Anger.

“Glad you’re back,” you snipe, pushing past him, “Glad you’re alive.”

Everybody watches you go. A tense silence fills the room. Spencer clears his throat, after what feels like an eternity, muttering, “I-I’ll go after ... I’ll go and see if I can...”

It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, if he’s honest. Although he wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting.

“____ please, just let me talk to you, I’m sorry, please just let me have a chance to explain,” He manages to catch you at the elevator just in time, slipping through the gap with his lithe body, “Please. I need to explain. I need to apologise.”

“You can apologise as much as you want. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You’ll never deserve my forgiveness.”

The venom in your tone leaves him floundering.

“___ please,” he’s begging, and you won’t look at him because you can hear the tears in his voice and he’s begging again, “Please, please look at me, please listen to me. You have to understand, you have to give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’ve never been this angry at him before. But you are now. It consumes you, you’ve never understood a crime of passion before and you’re not going to put your hands on him, of course, but fuck do you understand it now. How a person could just snap. The rage swells in you, screaming. Every muscle in your body is tense. It takes all you have to ball your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure they break the skin. You’re furious. Furious at every single one of them.

“You lied to me,” you spit, “You lied to me and let me think you were dead. You and Hotch and Emily. I didn’t sleep in our bed for four months, Spencer. I’ve spent the past four months frozen, like, I couldn’t move forward without you. I didn’t start to move on. I've spent the last four months falling apart and trying to find a way to put myself back together without you, and then what, you just come back? You think we can just go back to normal? Spencer, I didn’t feel alive this past few months. I’ve been floating through, barely keeping it together. And for what? A case? That was important enough for you to do this to me?"

It’s true, you’ve spent the last four months feeling like you were the one who died. That you were united in being ghosts, except you were haunting all the places you used to go together, and he was just haunting your dreams. And he’d been alive. This. Whole. Time.

You storm out of the lift, lifting your head to look at him for only the second time in four months, “Please. Just leave me alone. You’ve done enough.”

He knows you aren’t wrong. Knows he doesn’t know if he could forgive you if the roles were reversed. Knows, more than anything, that he’s really fucked things up. You’ll never forgive him. That’s what you said, and right now, seeing anger like never before in your eyes, he has no reason whatsoever to doubt that isn’t completely true.

You don’t even make it to the parking lot before you feel your resolve melt into absolutely nothing. Anger descending into relief, hot tears cascading down your cheeks as the mantra starts again on a new loop in your head: SSA Reid was not killed.

#spencer reid fanfic #imagine spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #bau!reader

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txemrn · 4 years ago

Note

For the simping softness prompt...

Sam & Brynn - " hey, everything's gonna be fine. stay where you are, i'm on my way. "

Hey, Nestle! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you enjoy a fluffier Sam Dalton (for a change)! 🥰❤

***

Unveiled

Book: TNA

Warning: language; fluffy

A/N: Huge thank you to sweet @kat-tia801 for pre-reading this and helping me in my headspace with that darn moodboard! 🤣

***

Sipping hypnotically on her early morning espresso, a well-dressed Brynn stoically sits at the marble breakfast bar. Her normally careless, wavy almond tresses are neatly styled and pinned into a low, tasteful bun, exposing the pure white brilliance of her vintage Tiffany pearl earrings, courtesy of her future in-laws for accepting their son’s proposal to join the family. Her make-up is fixed modestly, her lips adorning her perfect shade of mauve, complimenting the ripples of blue and gray in her sparkling eyes. Her pressed midi eyelet dress is designed for women of status, easily paired with her nude, red-bottom heels.

And Brynn has never felt more uncomfortable.

Even though Sam asked for Brynn’s hand in marriage shortly after the new year, the couple agreed to announce their engagement intimately last month to their families. They knew the news would not come as a huge shock, but Sam had cautioned his young fiancée that wedding and party planning is a long-standing tradition amongst the Dalton family women, and it would begin the moment they knew a date had been set. Though she heard his warning, Brynn was not prepared for the onslaught of opinions, decisions being made without her approval, and more importantly, the disregard to her budget.

“Babe, we just spent $12,000. On a fucking cake--” nervously cried Brynn on Monday evening. Sam took the early morning off for wedding cake tasting, but left his bride-to-be with Vivian, his mother, and two of his cousins, Brigitte and Katarina, to talk design as he returned to the office

“Sweetie,” Sam kissed her gingerly, “don’t worry about the price.” He lovingly pressed his lips again to her mouth, this time embracing her comfortingly. “I got it--” Brynn forced a smile, nodding her head dutifully, but the price tag burdened her.

This is not me.

Today, Sam’s cousin Daphne, an apprentice for the designers at Alexander McQueen, has scheduled a fitting with a private collection from a recent trunk show of wedding dresses. Brynn already has her heart set on a dress she saw with Jenny and her mom back in Philly, but as to not rock the boat, Brynn agreed to look at dresses with the Daltons this morning.

A smooth, deep voice startles her from her thoughts as Sam wraps his arms around Brynn’s waist. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

That makes two of us.

Brynn bats her eyelashes. “Do I look like a Dalton?”

“Even better,” he peppers her neck with kisses, “you look similar to the gorgeous woman that agreed to marry me.” A natural smile takes over Brynn as she spins around in her stool to face Sam. She delicately slides her hands around his neck, pulling him into a more intentional, hungrier kiss. Sam pulls away first, tracing the back of his fingers across her soft cheeks. “Ready for another day with the fam?”

“Ready or not,” Brynn sardonically chuckles.

Sam kisses the tip of her nose. “Now, aren’t you missing something?” Brynn furrows her eyebrows, giving Sam a curious look until he pulls his other hand into view. On his pinky finger resting on his first knuckle is the 2.4 carat Graff emerald-cut engagement ring he had given her. “Do I need to superglue this on or what?”

Brynn nervously giggles. “I’m sorry, babe, I just--”she titters, “--you know, I’m just not used to this--”

And the five-digit price tag…

Sam raises an eyebrow, offering his hand with his palm facing up. Brynn’s eyes meet his dreamy, chocolate gaze as her hand easily melts into his. With his eyes not leaving her stormy blues, he glides the diamond on her finger. The perfect fit. He kisses her knuckles before kissing her lips again.

“You better get going, babe.” Resting his hands on Brynn’s hips, Sam helps her off the high-top chair. “Hey,” he leans over, suckling briefly on the crook of her neck and shoulder before brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. “This is all about us. Just you and me.” He offers a crooked smile, squeezing tightly to her hand. “Remember to have fun.”

Brynn nods, her anxiety beginning to melt away.

That’s right. You and me.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

***

Flipping through notecards for his marketing presentation for the Cromwell account, Sam shakes his watch down his arm. 9:52 AM. He smirks, knowing that Brynn, his mom, and cousins are well into their wedding dress appointment. He hasn’t heard from his fiancée since this morning, so he remains encouraged that no news is good news.

Sam hurries into the glass-enclosed boardroom, casually nodding to several familiar faces as he unbuttons his sport coat. As his meeting comes to order, his phone begins to ring in his pocket. He chuckles in embarrassment as everyone begins to whisper with the interruption. “My apologies, folks,” he charms with a smile. Looking at his phone, Brynn’s picture pops up, but he sends the call to voicemail. As he begins to send her a text message, she calls back immediately. He silences the chiming of his phone, staring at Brynn’s ID photo. “Uh--” his voice carries over the room as he decides whether or not to take the call.

Brynn has never been one to interrupt Sam at work. If she wants to be cute, she usually sends a message in his lunch or she emails him, ensuring not to interrupt his busy schedule. The fact that she was calling, even after her call being rejected concerns Sam. “Excuse me. I need to take this,” he informs his audience, “please go ahead and help yourself to some coffee.”

Sam exits to the hallway, answering the phone. “Hey, babe--”

“Hey.” Brynn’s voice is soft like a gentle breeze, settling into a stale silence.

“Brynn?” Sam’s voice has a hint of concern as he crosses an arm over his chest to cradle his elbow. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just--” her voice begins to crack, audibly swallowing sobs.

“Brynn baby,” Sam furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just really--” she sighs heavily, “just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to bother you--”

“You know full well that you are never a bother,” Sam hushes into a commanding whisper. “Is my mom being nice?”

“Oh God, yes. Everyone is lovely. It’s just--” Brynn stumbles into her own tears, crying over the phone as Sam patiently listens.

“It’s just what, baby--?”

“I can’t do this,” she abruptly answers. “I can’t keep pretending I’m something I’m not--”

“What do you mean--?”

“I have only tried on two dresses--couture dresses--Sam, that start at fifteen grand--” Sam purses his lips together, pinching the area between his eyes, listening to Brynn start to panic. “--and now I’m standing in a Sarah Burton gown rejected by Kate Middleton. Kate Middleton, Sam! And-and-and I’m wearing a diamond that costs more than my first car, and Sam, I just--I just--”

“Whoa, whoa, listen to me, baby,” Sam reassures her lovingly, “slow down. Breathe--just breathe. If you don’t want this, just say the word--”

“But your family--” Brynn tries to stifle her sobs, “God, I just--Sam, I can’t do this. I want you, and-and I love you. So fucking much,” she shakily exhales, “but this life? Are you sure? I mean--look at me--”

Sam lets out an exasperated exhale as Brynn continues to cry. He looks back into the glass conference room, seeing his presentation on the screen. He looks at his watch again before turning his attention back to the attendees to his meeting, already rolling their eyes in boredom.

Suddenly, a smile grows across his face. “Brynn baby?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “I’m here.’

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m hiding in the dressing room. I told the attendant I needed a minute.”

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. Stay where you are. I’m on my way--”

“But, Sam--”

“No ‘buts’, my beautiful bride,” he smiles cheekily, “I’ll be right there.”

***

Forty minutes later, Brynn changes back into her white, summery dress, slowly donning her heels. As she touches up her make-up for lunch with her future mother-in-law, she suddenly hears a man’s voice interrupt the hushed whispers of the Dalton women. Brynn carefully peaks out the lavish chenille curtain.

Sam.

Brynn quickly pulls open the changing room, a radiant smile illuminating her face. Sam jogs to her side, receiving her in his arms with a searing kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here--” Sam silences her, pressing his lips harder into hers, causing them both to giggle into breathless moans. Brynn opens her eyes and notices Sam has a garment bag in his hands. “What’s that?”

“Change into this.”

Brynn raises an eyebrow. “What? Why--?”

“It’s not new,” Sam informs, “but God,” he sighs, allowing a mischievous grin grow across his face. “--you look amazing in it.” Sam’s eyes lock onto Brynn’s, time and place fading around them. Brynn’s cheeks begin to flush, feeling the desire in his gaze. Sam cups Brynn’s cheek, licking his lip. “Go on,” he whispers, directing her to the dressing room and lightly spanking her on her ass, “we’ve got places to be.”

Brynn suspiciously steps backwards into the changing room, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. She hangs up the garment bag, unzipping it hastily. Allowing the fabric to slink through her fingers, Brynn’s breath hitches, tears collecting in her eyes. Inside the protector is a short, solid black, one-shoulder dress, the same dress she wore on their official first date, the same dress she wore the night he proposed to her.

She pulls the curtain back open, causing Sam to whistle with his teeth, a golden gleam in his eyes. Giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he steals Brynn from his family, escorting her to the car. Giving a nod to Carter, the car starts moving.

Brynn relaxes into Sam’s comforting arms. He begins to nuzzle his supple lips into her ear and neck. “Thank you, baby,” she moans. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting--”

“I’m not--” he growls as his lips descend to her exposed shoulder, nibbling on it.

“Sam--” Brynn gasps, leaning into the passionate smolder of his pout.

Suddenly, the car stops. Sam looks up at Brynn, offering his hand for hers. “Are you ready?”

Brynn giggles, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t even know where we are.”

Sam helps her out of the car. As she steps away from the car door to adjust her dress, she notices the grand cement gray building in front of her, adorned with large ornate columns and intricately chiseled statues. Stairs that lead to the front doors are busy with people coming and going.

Brynn furrows her eyebrows. Confused and wanting answers, she whirls around--only to find Sam on one knee. A curious smile grows across Brynn’s face as she self-consciously looks around at the crowd of people. “Sam, what are you doing?”

“You asked me earlier on the phone to look at you,” he smiles brightly as his eyes begin to glisten with tears. “I am.” He takes a big breath, gathering courage. “Brynn, I don’t care if we eat gold-infused cake with diamond encrusted icing or that fake shit from the can--” they both begin laughing, welcoming the comic relief as they wipe away their tears. Sam continues, “I don’t care whether you are wearing one of my ratty-old tees or an expensive couture dress--I don’t care,” he kisses her hand. “When I look at you, Brynn Noelle Schuyler, all I see… is that you’re the only one for me.” Brynn genuinely glows, streams of tears pouring down her cheeks as she subtly shakes her head in disbelief. “Marry me--”

“Sam,” she giggles, sniffing away her tears, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but haven’t you already asked me--?” Sam stands up, shaking his head. He takes Brynn’s face tenderly into his hands, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Marry me,” he bites his lip, nervously sucking in air. “Right now.” Brynn’s eyes grow wide as she stares deeply into Sam’s gaze. She anxiously looks around her, her eyes darting to the people staring at them, to the car and then to the courthouse before them.

“Right now?”

“Right now,” Sam smiles, humored by the shocked look on his bride’s face.

Brynn looks down at her hand, staring at the radiant sparkle of her diamond. Chewing on her lip, she subtly nods her head before turning her attention back to her groom.

“Okay.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268@neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

#the nanny affair #sam dalton x mc #m!sam dalton #choices tna #tna fanfic #choices fanfiction

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 4 years ago

Text

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Chapter 1

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out–only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her–and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

Other Chapters: Prologue 2 3 4 Epilogue

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Six months later

Emma Swan pulled open the foil packaging of her Pop Tarts and smiled as she breathed in the sugary, fake blueberry scent. There was no question. Junk food was the only thing that got her through these long, seemingly endless stakeouts.

Emma had made quite a name for herself as one of the best private investigators and bail bonds persons out there. She had the unique ability to either blend into her surroundings--or stand out in the most distracting way, as happened when she pulled her honey traps--and she knew exactly how to use those abilities to her greatest advantage. When Mayor Regina Mills of Emma’s hometown of Storybrooke needed to determine who had been breaking into town hall and stealing town secrets, Emma was naturally who she called.

The job promised to pay well, but it was also turning out to be one of the most boring jobs she’d taken in ages. Tonight was the third stakeout in a row in front of town hall, and just like last night and the night before, she was coming up empty.

If she didn’t come up with anything new tonight, she might have to revise her strategy. Patience was paramount in this business, but there was only so much time she could spend hunched down in her yellow bug staring at the entrance of town hall before she went crazy.

Emma took a bite of her Pop Tart humming in appreciation as the taste hit her tongue. She was just about to take a second bite when it happened.

Her cell phone rang.

She frowned. Who would be calling her at this time of night? Fishing her phone out of the cup-holder where she’d stashed it, she glanced down at the number. Not only was it an unfamiliar number, it didn’t even appear to come from the US.

Clearly someone had the wrong number. Shrugging, Emma dropped the phone back into the cup holder and took her bite. As a rule, she avoided calls from numbers she didn’t recognize. Best way to avoid telemarketers.

A moment later, her phone buzzed again, and Emma looked down to see that the unknown number had left her a message.

That was weird.

Emma took a moment to look carefully at her target and the surrounding area to make sure there was nothing she was missing, and then curiosity got the better of her. Swiping through her phone, she saw she had one single forty-five second voicemail from “UNKNOWN NAME”.

She pressed play, bringing the phone up to her ear as she looked back at town hall. For a moment she couldn’t hear anything, but gradually she began to notice something.

It sounded like breathing, harsh quick breathing, like the person on the other end of the phone was in some kind of emotional distress or had just completed a difficult workout.

That wasn’t creepy at all.

Aside from the breathing there was some other sound that she couldn’t quite place--some sort of beeping.

Emma continued listening until the end, but there was nothing else to hear, only the breathing and the beeping.

Weird. Must be either some kind of a lame prank call or a butt dial.

A movement caught the corner of her eye, and Emma peered into the darkness. There, at the edge of the building stood a single figure. Finally! Got ‘em!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma Swan always got her man--or in this case, her woman--and the town hall job was no exception. She’d waited until the intruder had actually broken into town hall, and then she’d nabbed her, pulling off her mask to reveal Zelena Mills, Regina’s slightly unhinged half-sister.

She had no idea what kind of family drama had brought all of this on, but luckily that wasn’t her problem. She’d done her job and done it well. It was up to the mayor to sort out the rest.

After another successful case, Emma had let herself sleep in the next morning. She had a few cases she still needed to do research on, but there was nothing pressing, and Emma decided after three long nights of stake-outs, she’d earned the extra rest.

It wasn’t until she was back at her desk in the office and she’d turned on her computer that she remembered the weird phone call and voicemail from yesterday.

There was just something about that call, some weird feeling she couldn’t shake. Who was it that had called her and why? As the morning continued, Emma tried to push the curiosity to the side. After all, wrong numbers happened; why was this any different?

But by the time she broke for lunch, the questions swirling in her head would no longer be denied. One of the perks of being a private investigator was that she had all kinds of resources at her disposal. What would it hurt to use one of them to trace back the number and find out who’d called her?

Emma plugged the phone number into a program on her computer and found out that the number belonged to someone named Killian Jones, who was from England.

After a few minutes of Googling, Emma discovered something that sent a chill down her spine.

Six months ago, Killian Jones had been found beaten to death after an apparent robbery gone bad.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Getting a creepy voicemail from a dead guy was weird, there was no denying that, but Emma lived in the real world. In the real world dead people did not make phone calls. Dead people did not leave eerie voicemails consisting of harsh breathing--dead people didn’t breathe at all. Ghost stories were fun and all around campfires or at Halloween, but that’s all they were. Stories.

And so there was one thing Emma knew for certain. There was a perfectly logical, rational explanation for the phone call she’d received. Maybe one of Killian Jones’s relatives inherited his phone and had neglected to change it to their name. Maybe the thief in the robbery gone wrong had stolen the phone and was using it. Maybe there was some other explanation.

What Emma knew for sure was that it was NOT Killian Jones calling her, whoever he’d been.

Despite reminding herself of this fact, Emma couldn’t stop thinking about her phone call from the dead man’s cell phone. Why did the phone call her? Why did it leave a message? Why did she feel this strong, inescapable connection to a man she was fairly certain she’d never met in her life?

But Emma hadn’t gotten where she was in life by indulging flights of fancy, and so she’d done what any rational person would do--she resolutely put the phone call and the resulting pull to the phone’s owner out of her mind and went back to her ordinary life, an ordinary life that did not involve messages from the dead.

It worked well for a week, but then it happened again--a second phone call from the same dead man’s number.

Emma’s heart pounded and her breathing picked up as she looked down at the phone. This was NOT happening! A part of her was curious what would happen if she answered the call, but the larger part was just so weirded out that she stood staring at the phone until it stopped ringing.

After a moment of silence, there came the voicemail beep.

With shaking fingers, Emma opened her voicemail box and clicked on the new message--only twenty seconds this time. It was the same as before: harsh breathing and some sort of distant beeping.

This time, though, there was a chilling addition. Just before the message ended, Emma heard a faint, other worldly voice speak two solitary words: Help me!

Notes:

--And so the cell phone has made contact. Things look pretty impossible right now, but don’t worry; there’s always a happy ending in my stories. Just how that can happen in this story, you’ll have to stick around to find out--but there’s actually a subtle clue in this chapter.

--Up next: When Emma starts getting texts as well as phone calls from Killian’s phone, she mentions it to her best friend and sister-in-law Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret convinces her to visit a medium, a man named Merlin Emrys.

Next Chapter-->

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ghost story au #my fanfiction #dead man's cell phone

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wannabe-fic-writer · 4 years ago

Text

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Mistake Part 2

40 - “You can’t take her, please! I’ll do anything, I swear!” 41 - “She was nothing to you, was she? Then prove it.”

People wanted a part 2 and I live to please so here ya go.

Warnings: Kidnap, Implied Torture, Blood, Death, Language

Word Count: 1,594

******

Sweat clings to your skin, body heaving as you jog to a stop by a tree.

The incessant buzzing in your pocket makes you sigh and you pull your phone out.

‘I’ll be there in five. Stop worrying.’

You send the message and continue your run.

Weird gazes are sent in the direction of Wanda. She smiles back politely, her foot nervously tapping as she stands in the buildings lobby.

You said five minutes. It’s been thirty. And you haven’t text or called.

She pulls her phone out and dials your number, waiting as it rings then goes to voicemail.

Becoming more and more worried, she leaves, heading to the park down the street from your apartment building.

After your break up with Natasha you’d moved out of the compound. It was one thing to know she didn’t want you, to then have to live with her as she is with Carol instead was too much.

Surprisingly Wanda Maximoff was the first person to reach out to you after you left. The younger woman made sure you knew that she’d always be around if you needed anything, despite the fact that you two hadn’t had the strongest relationship.

That had changed after you left. She indeed made herself available for you and you even found yourself going on more missions together, and less with Natasha.

It was no secret that the two of you broke up. Everyone picked up on it the first few days after it happened, what with Natasha not being sickeningly sweet with you or vice versa. And then you left.

Steve wasn’t pleased with Natasha afterwards. The man had grown fond of you, you becoming one of his closest friends. Natasha had received the silent treatment from him, outside of missions.

Even though the team knows about the break up, the world didn’t. To her enemies, you still proved to be her weakness. Resulting in your sudden abduction.

Wanda had immediately panicked when she arrived at the park to find police officers questioning a number of clearly shaken up people.

Listening closely revealed to Wanda that you had been snatched up while leaving the park. Masked men pulled you into an unmarked van and sped away. Doing so in broad daylight meant being seen and a number of people had called the police.

While Wanda is just now finding out about your abduction, Natasha is at the compound. Her hand clutches the phone as she listens to the threats on the other end.

“You can’t take her,” she starts off aggressive, but the thought of them getting you scares her,“ please! I’ll do anything, I swear!”

A deep, heavily accented voice replies,“ it’s too late for that Miss Romanova.” It’s quiet until she hears your screams in the back.“ you know where to find me Little Spider, come alone and no harm will be done to your little play thing.”

Natasha had recognized the voice the second she heard it. It’s how she knows exactly where to go. And she goes alone, not wanting anything to happen to you.

Having done things like this a million times before, she makes her way through the building with ease. She only engages the scattered groups of armed men when necessary. And it doesn’t take long for her to find the room you’re being held in.

She enters, gun in hand, and widow’s bites at the ready. Only to freeze the second she sees you.

Cuts litter your exposed arms and legs, more obviously hidden underneath your tank top and shorts. Bruises are forming on your face and blood leaks from your head.

From the shadows behind you comes the woman that caused all of this.

The other Russian woman watches Natasha, gaging her expression for any signs of weakness. Signs of love. For you.

Natasha keeps her eyes on the woman. She knows how she thinks. If she didn’t believe you were Natasha’s weakness you never would’ve been snatched. If she shows it now, the woman won’t hesitate to kill you.

“Let her go. She has nothing to do with us.” Natasha speaks calmly, even though her heart is pounding.

“Oh, Natalia. If that were true you wouldn’t have come rushing here.” The woman’s head tilts.“ Tell me Natasha, what does she mean to you?”

Her jaw clenches. She sees your head rolling as you struggle with consciousness.“ Nothing.”

The woman’s voice drips with pride, as if she’s won something,“ she was nothing to you was she?” Natasha’s eyes flicker to your body and back to the Russian in front of her, now holding a gun out.“ Then prove it.”

Natasha stares at the weapon, reaching up to grip it in her hand. The metal presses into her hand and she squeezes it.

“Ta- Tash,” you sigh the words, slipping in and out of consciousness,“ please.”

Hearing your voice for the first time since being here shakes her to her core. She feels her heart break just a little bit more at the sound of your pleading.

“Prove it.” The woman demands.

Bang!

The woman’s body slumps to the ground and Natasha rushes to your side. Producing a knife, she slices through the ropes tying you to the chair, and wastes no time pulling you into her arms.

Under incredibly different circumstances you would’ve pulled away, but you’d just had the worst experience of your life and admittedly you’d missed the warmth of her body around yours.

Natasha’s sultry voice cried out apologies the second after she’d called for evac. You weren’t aware that she meant sorry for this and everything before.

After evac arrived Natasha watched helplessly as they wheeled you into the jet, but not once had she left your side.

Her thoughts raced, heart pounding in regret.

The whole situation had been a mistake. She was scared. Your relationship had progressed so smoothly. She would see the look in your eyes when you went to visit Clint and spent time with the kids, she saw how happy and natural you looked helping Laura in the kitchen.

No, you hadn’t ever said or even hinted at wanting a domesticated life with Natasha. In fact you always made it very clear that all you wanted was her. The few talks you’d had about the future revolved around traveling possibly and just being with the woman.

But she thought too much. She knew she couldn’t give you half of what Clint had with Laura and she let her insecurities run wild. She suddenly found herself thinking that’s what you wanted.

The three months she spent away from you she had talked herself into sabotaging her own damn relationship. Despite Carol telling her not to do so.

She’d seen how happy you made Natasha and how happy Natasha made you. She couldn’t have found a better couple if she tried.

Her attempts at convincing Natasha didn’t work obviously. And apparently the Russian woman had gone as far as to lie about cheating on you with her. Carol was less than pleased with Natasha, the two had argued and have yet to speak since.

But none of that mattered to Natasha right now.

As she sits beside your unconscious form she regrets it all. Her heartbreaks all over again and she hates herself for it. And she knows there’s a chance you won’t forgive her.

“Wipe those tears Romanoff, I’m not worth them.”

Your voice had barely come out as whisper but she heard it and it made even more tears fall from her eyes.

Her hand squeezes yours,“ you are. You’re worth it and so much more. You are worth the moon and the stars and I’m sorry for ever making you think otherwise.”

“I’m not dying Natasha, so please don’t.”

She shakes her head,“ it was a mistake Y/n. Ruining what we had it was a mistake. I don’t want Carol. After I met you there was no one else in the world I ever could’ve wanted.”

You frown, hand twitching in hers as you look over at her.

Green eyes meet yours for the first time in months. Unlike when you’d last seen them, emotions swim through them like the tears she’s shed.

In that emerald you see every ounce of love you use to see. Mixed in them you also see regret.

“That’s not what you said before.”

“I lied. I was scared and I lied.” Through her tears she explains it all to you. She tells you everything she’d been feeling and all her thoughts.

By the time she’s done you feel better. No it wasn’t okay that she’d lied. Not by a long shot. But she still loves you.

Taking a deep breath in, you release it and say,“ we have a lot to talk about. Like you lying to me and your lack of communication. But maybe we should do that when I’m not in a hospital bed.”

Natasha nods frantically, leaning down to kiss your hand,“ I’m sorry,” she apologizes again,“ I love you and I never should’ve told you other wise.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” You let a pause of silence go by.“ I love you too.”

The red head’s heart soars.

She knows that things between you two aren’t perfect, far far from it. She knows there are a million and one issues that needs to be addressed. But right now she just focuses on you.

Whatever future awaits you both, she’s ready for it, as long as it’s with you. And she’s never going to make the mistake of hurting you again.

******

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #reader insert #mistake #asks #request

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qvid-pro-qvo · 4 years ago

Note

hi :-) maybe the prompts “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” and "Wow." with Sonny please?

we’re back, baby! consider this a woohoo for season 22. sonny carisi x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2164

rating: e for everyone, for long-distance coming together once more (hurt/comfort. no trigger warnings. just love.)

It’s been one year, three months, and nine days since you’ve seen Dominick Carisi, Jr. in person. You would add the hours and the minutes, but you think that everyone you talk to gets the picture. When you mention your boyfriend, it’s the one who’s across a country, the one who you call every night, the one who works a tireless job as an NYPD detective. They know, because you can’t stop talking about him.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart.

He’s incredible, after all. Decorated, dedicated, a sweetheart. You’re gonna marry him, you can’t help but gush, because there’s no one else for you in the whole wide world.

Your friends think you’re insane. After all, there’s something about long-distance that makes everyone nervous. But you don’t let them make you antsy, because you’re the one who gets a call from him every night, especially the nights he works.

Those calls get you through a lot. Those calls get you through good days and bad, those calls are a majority of the relationship now. Calls, FaceTimes, voicemails, texts, emails even… that’s all you both have.

And they go a little something like this.

The first call you make after you land in California is to his cell.

Leaving him had felt like leaving your heart and soul back in New York, it’d felt like getting torn apart, it’d felt like a lot of horrible things. But you’d had to, and Sonny’d known that.

You’d known it, too. But knowing doesn’t make packing up any easier. Knowing doesn’t make the plane ride any less lonely. Knowing doesn’t make unpacking a box and finding one of his shirts that accidentally traveled with you any less world-shattering.

It’s to his cell. He picks up almost immediately. You can hear the hustle and bustle of a New York street behind him, a few honks. It’s early, after all, and you’ve traveled back in time. Your body thinks it’s noon, when it’s really nine, and when you step off of the plane the sun hits yours eyes, bright and unexpected. You’re dressed too warm for California, since it’s perfect for the place you left.

You hate it here.

It’s not home.

“Hey,” he breathes into the receiver. You just let out a little gasp. The tears immediately spring to your eyes, but you do your best to keep your head held high, looking around for your luggage.

“Hey, Sonny. I made it. Just. Wanted to let you know.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.”

The words aren’t enough. They don’t feel like they ever will be.

“So, how’s California look?” he finally asks, when the silence stretches on a little too long. You’ve missed your luggage on the carousel and finally snag it, balancing your phone on your shoulder as you pull off the stuff that’s waiting for you.

So many bags. Your whole life packed away. The rest of it getting shipped.

Your whole life except Sonny. Doesn’t feel like much, but you know it’ll get better. Eventually. With time.

“Sunny,” you finally say, and he snorts.

“Not too sunny without me, I hope.”

You manage a laugh. It’s watery, but it’s a laugh. “Never.”

With time.

The morning calls are for you.

He’s already up and at ‘em by the time you’re stirring, and his phone is usually what rouses you. It’s a brilliant alarm clock, one that has you sitting as upright as you can and pulling him close to your ear. His voice makes you want to pull yourself under the covers, settle in and listen for a few hours or days.

“Mornin’, sweetheart.”

You know by this point he’s on his second or third cup of coffee. It depends on how bad the cases are that day, how deep he is in paperwork. But even with the caffeine, the 7:00 AM for you is 10:00 AM for him, and he still sounds like he just rolled out of bed.

“Good morning,” you return, and he chuckles a little, because the sound of your voice is the same level of exhausted. And yet, with his call, you’re rising, throwing back the blankets, moving to the bathroom to start your routine. He’s got fifteen minutes, and you’ve got thirty-five before you have to leave, and you’ll spend the twenty without his voice in your ear thinking about his voice in your ear, and maybe texting him, too.

The nighttime calls are for him.

Those, you get to see his face. After all, your 7:00 PM is his 10:00 PM, and some days he’s actually going to bed at that hour. Some days he’s at your shared apartment, sitting in bed with your pillows holding himself up.

Some days he’s in the office. Those calls are short, but sweet.

But what ends up happening is that you start your day with him, and some days, some blissful nights, he gets to go to sleep with you. Seeing you.

“Hey, baby,” you say. You’re usually just getting home at that point, tossing keys into a dish, shutting your door and locking it tight so that Sonny can hear it, see it. It gives him reassurance, the length of a country away. “How was your day?”

“Same old, same old,” he starts out, always, even when the day’s been thrilling, brilliant, a great time. “A day without you.”

And you coo and hum, and he laughs at the scrunch of your nose, and the two of you begin and end your nighttime routines, the days drifting away, another night closer to being reunited.

The last call you make from California is for the both of you.

“Wow.” It’s all he can manage. After all, the nights come with face time, and you’ve posed the camera perfectly. You’re dressed to the nines, and you can tell his eyes are scanning you from head to toe. “Jealous of whoever gets to see you at dinner.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “My bosses, Dom. They’re having a going away dinner. A week early, but.”

“I get it, I get it. You’re wanting to tease.” His voice is light, and you wink at him, reaching for your phone and pulling it close so you can see the details. There are bags under his eyes, and he looks a little ragged – it’s been a tough week, he’s told you, one case dogging them day and night. You’re hoping that you can cheer him up, when you get to see him, sooner rather than later.

“Tease you, Dominick Carisi, Jr.? I wouldn’t dare!” you say, and the two of you laugh, through the exhaustion.

“I miss you,” he states. It’s not an admittance, because the two of you have never hidden it. You miss each other, and as your scheduled return date edges closer you can feel the nervous energy. He’s never looked more drained, and you’d do anything to take it from him, the exhaustion.

“I’ll be back soon,” you assure him, and he nods. The conversation lasts a few moments more, and then he has to go, and then you have to go. And you leave with a promise, that you’ll be there before he knows it.

Sooner than he thinks, that’s for sure.

One year. Three months. Nine days. But today, that number falls back to zero.

It’s the first call you make once you land, stomp out your boots of the snow you weren’t expecting. You’re used to California winter, mild and warm, and so the New York chill takes you by surprise. Makes you blink, when you peer out from under the awning of the rental car pick-up and feel snow land in your hair. But it’s home, the snow on your boots, the way the wind whips up around your face. You hold your phone up to your ear and let out a shiver.

It rings. Once, twice, three times.

“Hey, doll.”

He answers, and his voice is weary. It’s late, after all, and you’ve lost a few hours, so the direct flight, while five-and-a-half hours, deposits you eight-and-a-half hours in the future with a stomach rumbling for real food and no sun in sight.

He answers. It’s with a yawn, and you realize that you’re hearing the sound of slamming filing cabinets, and you think that in the background you can hear his lieutenant’s voice. He’s living his life, in his world, and you’re so proud of him you can hardly speak. Because you know that he’s working hard when he works late. Working himself to death, it feels like sometimes.

“Hey, Dom. Is this a bad time?” you ask, immediately. Because your surprise is one that works just as well if you’re at the apartment, if you’re cooking him a warm meal or cozied up on the couch for him. But his noise is a negative.

“Nah, just finishing up a case. Took a perp into custody. Wanted to stay behind and see it through before I ditched.”

You’re not fighting exhaustion. You’re trembling from the cold, and shivering from the exposure, and vibrating with happiness as you hand over your credit card to the man behind the counter. The plane ride isn’t beating your delight as you grin at the sound of him. The way his words are lined with the effort of the whole team.

“Great, great. That’s great,” you say, and he must pick up on something. Because his answering hum is teasing, light.

“You sound like the cat that caught the canary,” he laughs. After all, you both have gotten intimately familiar with voices these long months apart, and you know he’s right. So you don’t argue it, just laugh, bite your lower lip as you take your card back.

“Well. Maybe I am,” you say lightly, and push your way through the lines of cars. You keep beeping, hoping to hear something, with no luck just yet. “Are you the canary?”

He chuckles, and you know he’s shrugging with it. “I sure hope so.”

Maybe he’s tilting his head back, leaning in his chair, looking up at the ceiling of the precinct as he talks. Maybe he’s bending forward, hand in his hair, elbows on his knees. Maybe he’s crossing a leg over the other, tapping his fingers on the armrests of his chair. You’ll know soon enough, won’t have to imagine for much longer.

“I think you are. After all, I’ve laid the perfect trap for you,” you say, and you make your voice light, airy. Your carry on and three suitcases are being dragged slowly and carefully behind you, and you finally hear the beep of the car you’re meant to drive for the next three days. It’ll only do a job for one, after all, but it doesn’t need to know that.

“The perfect trap. What’s that?”

“A stop on my way home.” The trunk of the rental beeps, pops open. “I’ve been thinking about it for five hours.”

A beat passes, and you almost think the call’s been dropped. But then Sonny clears his throat, and your grin stretches wide. “What?” There’s a shift in his throat, that you can hear. One that comes with him sitting up. You can see it, if you close your eyes, ignore the windiness of the parking garage.

“Well, you see, if I book it, I can make it that shop before they close. What it’s called… the one by our place?”

And you hear his breath catch. It’s a beautiful sound. It works perfectly with the sound of your luggage tossed in the trunk.

“Yeah, that one. And if I really hurry, then I might be able to pick you up from the precinct.” Your eyes close for a moment, dip your head as you pull back and close the back of the car. When you make it to the car, turn it on, you can hear something like a hiccup leave him, the shuffle of papers, his jaw pop as it unclenches.

“You’re – you’re back in New York?” And his accent is so thick the words run together. “You’re home?”

And when you laugh it’s thick, too. For a different reason, one that has you wiping at your face, as the engine runs. You sniffle, and he sniffles a little, too, and you can hear his lieutenant’s voice again in the background, muffled.

“Just – just a second, lieu,” he mumbles. He sounds dazed. Confused.

“Stay there,” you insist. “Okay? I’m coming to get you, and then I’ll take you home, and…”

“And?” His voice is hoarse. Cracks, and you chuckle despite yourself. The thought of home. The thought of Sonny Carisi, after all this time. The thought of pulling him close and hugging him tight and leaning into his touches. His touches. The car’s engine is running, and one of your hands reaches for the wheel, runs your fingers along the curve.

“And be yours again, Dom. For as long as you’ll have me.”

#prompt fill #sonny carisi x reader #gender neutral reader #sonny carisi #law and order: svu #my fic #law and order svu

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detectivesebcas · 3 years ago

Text

Sneak Peek of New Story

When Sebastian escaped from Union with Lily, he swore he would never return to STEM, but a call from Kidman eight months later tests his resolve, and starts a whole new adventure full of old friends, new enemies, and old enemies who might just become friends...or more.

[Although the main plot is Sebastian’s quest to rescue Joseph, I promise it’s going to be a SteSeb story. It just might take a little time to get going.]

Sebastian ignores the call the first time it comes in. It’s a number he doesn’t recognize from an area code he doesn’t know, so he simply hits the button to send it to voicemail, sets his phone aside, and goes right back to work.

It rings again five minutes later, and then again ten minutes after that, but it takes until the fourth call for Sebastian to realize it’s been the same phone number each time. Clearly whoever this is doesn’t give up easily.

Sebastian lets out his breath in an irritated sigh and picks up the phone.

“Hello?” he says, fully expecting a sales pitch about his car’s extended warranty.

“Sebastian?”

“Kidman?” He sits up straight, almost dropping the phone in surprise, because the voice on the other end is one he knows, and one he definitely didn’t expect to hear. It’s been almost eight months since Juli Kidman, former rookie detective at KCPD and known Mobius agent, helped Sebastian and Lily escape from STEM and Mobius, and her voice brings back a rush of emotions, not all of them pleasant.

“Yes, it’s me.” Kidman sounds a little annoyed, but of course he might deserve that for not picking up the phone the first three times.

“What’s this about?” It’s not the most polite way to start a conversation, but he’s certain Kidman didn’t call him just to talk. There are only a couple of things he can think of serious enough to merit this call.

There is a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

“It’s about a promise I made,” Kidman says finally. “The last time we talked. I told you I’d call you as soon as I found…” Her voice trails off, but Sebastian’s brain is turning over so quickly he wouldn’t have heard the end of the sentence anyway. He’s on his feet, pacing his office before he even realizes he’s moving.

“Shit, Kidman,” he mutters into the phone, as though his co-workers might overhear him. “Really? Where?”

“Vermont.” She pauses, then adds, “There’s a lot to explain, and I’d rather not do it over the phone?”

“Why?” Sebastian asks sharply. “Do you think someone’s listening in?”

Before they parted ways after the collapse of Union, Kidman assured him there was no chance anyone from Mobius survived the lethal signal Myra broadcast to all of their cerebral chips, but Sebastian still has his doubts. He spent years trying to track down Mobius, only to learn they had been preying on his family for even more years before that.

“No,” Kidman replies immediately. “No, Sebastian- nothing like that. It’s just...it’s a long, complicated story, and I’d rather tell it in person. If you’re still willing to come, that is.”

Guilt twists Sebastian’s stomach, because he actually does have to think about his answer. His duty, his highest duty- above all others, is to protect Lily. He’s only just gotten her back again, and the thought of leaving her is making his heart pound and his breath catch in his throat, but he also has a duty to Joseph. He made a promise not to give up on Joseph, and he knows Joseph’s wife and daughter haven’t given up on him either. If there’s even a chance that he can have his old partner back, that he can bring Joseph home to his family, he can’t pass that up.

He chooses his next words carefully.

“Do you have any reason to believe Lily will be in danger if I leave her behind?”

“No,” Kidman says. “Absolutely not. You and I will be in much more danger than anyone else.”

Her answer makes Sebastian’s decision a little easier, but it doesn’t make him feel much better about it.

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll come. I made a promise too.”

#the evil within 2 #fanfiction #steseb #I promise it's Steseb #it just doesn't look like it from the summary #and no it doesn't have a title yet #I'm bad at titles okay?

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happer08 · 4 years ago

Text

"Let Me Explain"

I was unbelievably excited for this date. Ian and I had been talking for months, and finally, we had decided it was time to go on an actual date. He finally had a day off in Chicago and was free to meet for dinner. I had spent the whole day making sure I would look perfect and that the date would be good.

It had started to rain on the walk to the restaurant we were meeting at, but there was nothing in the world that could stop how happy I was. I was practically skipping as I rounded the corner through the doorway of the restaurant. Scanning with a smile, I looked around at the bar to the left of the door since that's where Ian told me he'd be.

My smile and my stomach dropped as I saw him talking to a woman. They stood close, much closer than two people that had just met. He was laughing and smiling at her as she was doing the same. He leaned on the bar with his arms crossed as she reached out, putting her hand on his arm. He smiled and blushed, dropping his head looking at her hand.

Tears welled in my eyes as my heart sank. I knew there was no way he wanted to date me. I took a shallow breath, trying to push the tears away as Ian looked up to see me. He froze and pushed her hand away, I turned back toward the door moving toward the exit.

He called my name as I pushed the door back open. It was pouring, and between the rain and the traffic noise, I couldn't hear if he was still calling. I trudged back toward my apartment. My night and mood were ruined; the rain-soaked my clothes as I turned each corner till I got there.

I was freezing; my hands shook as I pushed my key into my door, unlocking my place. Pulling my phone out of my water-logged jeans, my screen was full of calls and messages from Ian. I didn't bother even looking as I undressed, standing in my kitchen. I tossed all of my soaked clothes into the washer before getting into the shower.

The shower was more to heat myself back up than anything else. I sat on the tile floor, pulling my legs to my chest as the hot water cascaded down on my skin. My tears mixed with the water, and by the time I got out, my skin was red and burning, and I was numb. I dried off, combed my hair before pulling on some sweats, a sports bra, and falling into bed, exhausted.

Thankfully I had the next day off of work as I woke up a few hours after I got home, wide awake at 2 am. Pulling on socks, I padded through my apartment toward my phone that was on the kitchen counter.

It was dead, I sighed, moving to plug it in, letting it charge a little as I opened the fridge illuminating the kitchen with the bluish glow. I grabbed a bottle of water and a few cheese sticks looking over as my phone lit up. It charged a little, leaving me to lean on the counter next to it to use it.

There were 15 texts from Ian and a few missed calls. I shook my head, starting to read through the messages.

"That wasn't what it looked like"

"She is someone I used to work with, and we ran into each other while I was waiting for you."

"Where did you go?"

"Come on; it's pouring. Let me come get you so I can explain."

"I'm sorry, please let me explain."

The rest of them consisted of him apologizing or asking where I was or if I was okay. I read all of them; then I listened to his voicemails; they were all the same content as his texts. His voice brought tears back into my eyes. I didn't respond or call back. I had nothing to say. Making my way back to my room, I took my water and laid in bed in the silent, dark room.

I drifted off the sleep at some point and woke up to the sun coming in from my windows. I sat up, rubbing my hands over my face before pulling my hair up and sighing.

Ian POV

I went home after driving around for a few hours, looking for her. She never answered any of my calls or texts, and as I walked into my apartment, I realized how bad I had messed up. I kept checking my phone as I showered and went to bed. I laid awake for hours, practically praying to fall asleep as I repeatedly checked for her to either respond or post something on social media. She never did. Eventually, I fell asleep and was woken up by my alarm. A few of the guys and I had scheduled batting practice at the field, so I got dressed and left doing everything I could not to think about the night before.

When I got to the field, I left my phone in my locker, heading out onto the field, hoping to take all my emotions out on the ball. I set my bats down and found Anthony, Nico, Patrick, and Zack, who was in town for a few days.

"Fellas," I walked up.

"Hey, how did last night go?" Nico asked.

I had told the whole team about the date with the girl of my dreams.

"I um don't want to talk about it."

"What did she stand you up?" Anthony joked.

"No, I screwed up" I put my hands on my hips, looking at him.

"What happened?" Zack asked.

"I was waiting for her, and I ran into Taylor, and she was kinda flirting, and I was trying to be polite, and she walked in at the wrong time; I haven't heard from her since."

All of the guys were silent, looking between the ground and me.

"I fucked up potentially the best thing that could happen to me," I sighed.

The guys were about to start giving advice when our hitting coach showed up, and we got started. While Anthony was batting, Nico came over and stood next to me. Since there were five of us, we had a lot of time just to stand around and talk.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I have no idea. I fucked up, and I have no idea what to do."

He was quiet as we watched Anthony launch a homer toward the center. I took a few deep breaths as Nico looked over at me.

"Have you even talked to her?"

I shook my head.

"I called, and I texted, trying to get her to hear me out, but she hasn't called or texted back. I don't blame her either; I want her to hear me out."

Nico nodded as Patrick walked over.

"Buy her a ticket to tonight's game," he said, stopping in front of us. "Make it somewhere you'll be able to see her, and then have security get her and explain yourself. If she shows up, it means she's willing to hear you out at least; if not, let her go" Patrick looked between us as Nico nodded a few times.

"The man has a point"

After batting practice, I went to the front office and bought a ticket for a few rows up from the on-deck circle.

pov change

"Hey, it's Ian. I know I'm the last guy you want to hear from but, I got you a ticket for tonight's game if you want to come. It's at the main entrance, and all you have to tell them is your name. I want to see you, and I want to have a chance to explain. I understand if you don't come, but I'd like it if you did"

I listened to his message twice from where I laid on my living room floor. I set my phone on my chest, sighing before looking at the clock. It was a night game, and it was already 4 o'clock. I forced myself to get up.

"You have to at least give him a chance," I whispered, heading for my bedroom. "If the explanation isn't good enough, at least you got a free baseball game." I chuckled sadly as I flicked the light on in my bathroom.

I washed my face, did some light makeup, and curled my unruly hair before pulling on a pair of black jeans, a real bra with a tank top. With the base of the outfit started, I walked to my closet. I knew it wasn't warm out, so instead of a jersey, I opted for a Cubs sweatshirt. I added my grey Vans before collecting my things.

I had an hour to get to the field as I got into a cab. I sighed, debating my choice as the cabbie pulled away from the curb. Resting my head back, I looked out the window, watching the city pass on the way to the stadium.

"You okay back there, honey?" The cabbie asked, breaking me out of the nothing box I had gone to in my head.

"Um yeah, I'm fine," I answered politely.

"Come on, you're going to the Cubs game; try and cheer up a little," He tried.

I offered a fake smile and was quiet the rest of the ride. I thanked him and paid as I got out, joining the crowds on the street filing toward the historic stadium. When I got to the main entrance, I found a lady that worked there and approached her with the same fake smile I used in the cab.

"Hi, I'm so sorry, one of the players left me a ticket, and I have no idea where to go to get it," I stated.

"Oh honey, come with me."

She put her hand on my shoulder, leading me back through a few entrances to the inside of the stadium.

"You must be the one," she said with a smile.

"Yes, ma'am," I said with a smile.

"Well, you are good to go," she handed me a ticket with my seat number on it. "If you wanna just head out that door right there, you'll be on the concourse, and you can find your seat from there," She said with a sweet smile.

"Thank you," I said politely, walking out the door she had pointed at.

I got a beer before using the numbers on my ticket to find my seat and settle in. The first pitch was only a few minutes away as I did what I could to prepare myself for seeing Ian again.

Ian POV

"Have you checked to see if she's here?" Nico asked as we stood next to each other in the dugout.

I shook my head, biting the inside of my cheeks.

"I don't want to. I think it's going to be bad either way."

Nico pat my back a few times before walking away. I took a few deep breaths before grabbing my glove and running out onto the field with the rest of the guys. I made sure I didn't look at the seat I'd gotten as I made my way out to centerfield, knowing I would be too far away to see her.

I was the third in the lineup that night, so no matter what happened, I would see her in the first. Pushing the thought of her out of my head, I focused on the inning at hand. All of the outs were on the infield, leaving the outfield just standing there.

We all ran back in, switching out gear as Joc headed to the box. I hid in the dugout while Joc singled to deep left. Kris was on deck, and I stayed in the dugout as long as I could before making my way to the on-deck circle. Pouring over my bat, I looked for any imperfections that could take me back into the dugout. It took some searching, but I found a crack in the barrel and headed back to grab a different bat. Nico came to stand next to me as I reached for one.

"She's here," He said.

I took a deep breath holding it in my chest for a second. Choosing not to respond, I headed back for the on-deck circle standing there as Kris got a single to left-center. My music hit, and I walked over to the batter's box, taking a deep breath before glancing at her seat.

We made eye contact; she held a beer and offered a half-smile at me as I set up with runners at the corners and no outs. I focused on the at-bat and took two pitches down the middle before stepping out and adjusting my gloves.

I took the next pitch deep, basketball out in right field. Rounding the bases, I kept my head down; as I crossed the plate, I tipped my helmet, then high-fived the guys as we ran back toward the dugout. I glanced up, seeing her clapping and smiling. She seemed happy, which was a massive weight off my chest. I walked through the dugout celebrating and putting my gear away before taking a seat on the bench; Nico and Patrick joined me.

"You talked to security yet?" Nico asked.

I shook my head, watching Willson get a base hit. Patrick stood up, looking over at where she was sitting.

"She's still here, Ian; you gotta talk to security before she clears out" He sat back down. I got up, walking down the hall toward the head of the security desk, stopping in front of the desk.

"Hi, Ian," One of the guys said.

"Hey, I was wondering if you could do me a favor" I leaned on the desk.

"Name it"

"There's a girl I need you to get before the game ends and bring her to the clubhouse."

He nodded.

"Of course"

I gave him the information he needed then headed back to the dugout. I sat back down between Nico and Patrick.

"Got it taken care of," I sighed. "Do you think I should get her something to eat or anything?"

Patrick shrugged.

"She already has a beer, so it depends on what she likes for ballpark food."

"I know she likes pretzels and stuff."

Patrick nodded.

POV change

Settling in after the inning, I watched the other team bat as I took in the ballpark atmosphere. After two outs, a few people were walking up and down the aisle next to me; I moved to stand before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

He was wearing a locker room attendant shirt showing he worked for the organization.

I was confused.

"Ian sent these" he smiled, handing me a giant soft pretzel and a second beer.

"Oh, thank you," I smiled, taking them settling back in, getting looks from a few of the people sitting around me.

The next few innings were filled with baserunners for each; by the top of eight, the Cubs were up 8-2. I had finished my pretzel and both beers and had gotten a bottle of water, watching Patrick Wisdom walk up to the box. I moved as a few people filed in and out of the row before security appeared next to me.

"Ms.?" He asked.

"How can I help you?"

"Would you mind coming with me?" He asked.

I shook my head, knowing what this was about. Standing up, I moved out of the row, following the security guard up the stairs and through the stadium. He led me through the common areas before we took a few turns heading deeper into the stadium. The tunnels under were a maze; I had no idea how everyone didn't get lost. I made sure to follow close to security before we stopped near the clubhouse. There was a small couch with a tv in the hallway near the entrance.

"You can wait here; I'm sure you know who asked us to get you," he chuckled as I moved to sit down.

I nodded, smiling, setting my water at my feet.

"They should be down soon, and Ian knows you're here, and he'll come find you."

"Thank you"

"Do you need anything else, or do you need someone to stay?" He asked.

I shook my head with a smile.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Have a good night," He said with a smile before walking away.

"You too"

I sat back on the couch watching the last few outs of the game and then watched the guys celebrate on their way off the field. It was a few minutes between when they got off the field and heard them come down the stairs and file into the club house. I listened to a few voices I recognized as I stared at the corner waiting for Ian to come around. I stood up, hearing his voice grabbing my water bottle. He came around the corner, looking at me.

"Hi," He said.

"Hey," I walked around toward him.

"Thanks for coming"

I nodded a few times.

"Look, I wanted to explain," He started.

I shook my head.

"I don't need you to explain anything, Ian. I took some time to think, and I don't know if we would have ever worked. With who you are and who I am, we have different lives, Ian."

He nodded.

"The first few weeks we talked, I started bragging about you," He explained. "To the guys in the clubhouse to Dakota and Zack to everyone, even my mom," he chuckled, leaning on the wall. "The guys started calling you the dream girl."

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I don't know about that."

"I do" Ian looked up at me. "They were right."

I swallowed hard, looking at him.

"I understand why you think what you do and why you feel how you do. But I just want a second chance. I don't want to force your decision right now, so take a few days, a few weeks if you need, and I'll wait to hear from you. I want to have this conversation in person, so I'll text you my address and then wait for you to reach out; leave it all up to you since you know what I want."

I nodded a few times, taking a deep breath.

"Okay"

Ian nodded with me.

"Just take your time, okay."

"I'll see you soon, Ian" I smiled as I started to leave the tunnel.

"Do you need someone to walk you out, or do I need to get you a cab?" He called after me.

"No, I'm okay; I remember how to get out of here."

I kept walking till I got outside the stadium heading down Addison heading for my apartment. I walked for a few blocks thinking through everything Ian said and everything I had felt since I saw him with someone else. I called a cab and caught a ride home while my mind spun.

The next few days, Ian and I didn't tal. He sent me his address the night of the game, but we had no contact since then. My days were dull; I had gotten so used to his texts and his little check-ins, not having them felt weird.

It was four days without talking to Ian and at four in the morning when I made my decision. Getting up, I pulled on a pair of jeans with a sweatshirt, pulling on a pair of vans. I grabbed my phone and a bomber jacket on my way out the door. I found Ian's address and put it in the maps on my phone. His place wasn't far, but it was still a good walking distance, and as I climbed the stairs toward his place, I wasn't sure if I should have waited till a more appropriate time.

Licking my teeth, I knocked on his door then stepped back. It was a few minutes of me standing there when I started to debate coming back in a few hours. Just as I was about to walk away, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Ian stood on the other side in a pair of underwear and a t-shirt he just put on. His hair was a curly mess. I smiled as he blinked hard.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked.

"I made my choice," I breathed.

Ian nodded and stepped out of the doorway, silently inviting me in. I walked in, looking around at his place; it was just like I had imagined. Turning, I watched Ian close the door and take a few steps toward me, crossing his arms.

"The last few days have been weird. You are not checking in on me, making sure I'm taking care of myself."

Ian nodded.

"I've missed it, and I missed you a lot. I think I want to try and make this work."

"Do you want me to explain?" he asked.

I nodded slowly.

"She's a co-worker, she works on the field doing sideline stuff, she had a few too many and was flirting with me. I was trying to be polite, and you walked in at the wrong time."

I took a few steps forward, getting on my tippy toes. I put my hand on the side of Ian's face pushing my lips to his.

Ian grabbed my hips, pulling me against him, kissing back softly. His lips were soft and full; I kissed a few more times before settling back on my feet.

"Let's make it work," he said.

#Ian Happ #the cubs #i cant tell if i hate this #let me know plz #chicago cubs #Nico Hoerner #Patrick Wisdom #anthony rizzo #kris bryant #bryzzo #IH8

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fan4196 · 4 years ago

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Explosion

Hey everyone, here's a new Jolex fix-it fic. Hope you like it. Enjoy!

Thanks again @angry-slytherin for beta reading!

It's been two months now since Alex left. Since he sent this stupid letter with signed divorce papers and said goodbye. Two months that felt like years- but also just like days. Jo tried everything to not think about him too much and to miss him too much that she eventually breaks down; so she buried herself in work. God she misses him every day. And knowing that she can't just call him or talk to him anytime she wants to, was the worse. Especially now that she really had something to call him for- something big- well still very little but soon really big- and she hates everything about this situation right now.

So like every other day she distracts herself with work. They just got a call that there have been several explosions at Pac-North and that the injured will come to Grey Sloan. So everyone is ready in the ER. Jo too, even though her head is full of thoughts and worries, she's in the ambulance bay waiting for the incoming ambulance.

"Wilson, are you ok?" Doctor Bailey asks as she walks out in the ambulance bay, putting gloves on.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Jo answers shortly, throwing a fake smile at the chief while she tries to silence her thoughts and the awful feeling in her guts that something is really wrong.

- at Pac-North -

"ANYONE STILL IN HERE? SEATTLE FIRE DEPARTMENT. HELLO?"

After several explosions almost every Station got called to Pac-North Hospital. Station 19 too and right now they're looking for still missing or stuck people. Chief Bishop devided them up in teams, so right now Warren, Gibson and Miller are searching the surgical floor for missing people. There's dust everywhere, collapsed ceilings and a lot of destruction. Those bombs did a lot of damage.

"HERE! I'M IN HERE! HELLO? HELP!" The voice is coming from the end of the hall.

"WE'RE HERE. SIR CAN YOU HEAR US?" Warren shouts once again, running towards an office at the end of the floor.

"YES! IN HERE. THE OFFICE ON THE RIGHT."

They finally get to the office. Starting to push ceiling elements and concrete aside, working their way through to the buried man.

"Thank God. Warren!" The man answeres as the firemen push a bookshelf aside and clear the view in the office.

"Alex?"

"Hi." Alex answers trying to move his head as much as he can, looking up to his former college.

"W- what?"

"Can I explain everything when I'm out here? I'm stuck here for probably two hours now, I lost a lot of blood and I can't feel my legs." Alex answers, trying to move, but the massive concrete piece on top of him makes it impossible.

"Yeah. Ok guys let's get this man out."

"Alright Karev, now that we got you out and we are on the way to Grey-Sloan you really have some explanation to do." Ben starts, as he sits beside Alex, who's strabbed on the gurney in the ambulance, on their way to the hospital.

"I know. But first I really need to call Jo. I'm going to lose consciousness and I really have to hear her voice." Alex says, looking at Ben as he's already getting his phone out, dialing Jo's number. It rings a few times then goes straight to voice mail.

"Try again, please. She's probably in surgery. I need to at least leave her a message if I don't make it." Alex begs Ben to dial her number again, which again goes to voice mail.

"Princess? It's me. Jo I'm fine. I was stuck under some ceiling pieces but Warren and his guys got me out. I lost a lot of blood and I can't feel my legs but we are on our way to Grey Sloan. Jo listen, if I'm not going to make it. Please promise me to keep living. It's ok to love again. It's ok to find someone new that makes you happy. Please promise me to get happy again. I love you so much, Jo. I love you and I love our little one. I will always have you in my heart. I will watch you two from above- If I don't make it, I need you to be strong, ok? Please be the strong woman, that I love so much, but also let your feelings free. I don't want you to fall into this dark hole again. You have a little tiny human that will save you. And please don't name him after me if it's a boy, Alexander is mouthful. But if it's a girl I really like Helen as the second name maybe? After my mom, I don't know just an idea. I'm going to lose consciousness any time soon so I needed you to know that I love you and our peanut so much. I love you Jo, forever. I promise, I will fight but until then- goodbye." And with this Alex loses consciousness.

- at Grey Sloan -

"What do we have?" Bailey shouts as the doors of the ambulance open and she sees her husband jumping out of it.

"It's Alex! It's Karev, Miranda! It's bad. You have to save him. Promise to try everything to save him, ok? He and Jo are expecting a baby." Ben tells his wife as he takes her aside, letting the others roll Alex inside of the hospital.

"Hunt! You take over!" She barks orders, than looks at her husband.

"What are you talking about? I thought he's in Kansas with Izzie Stevens and his kids? What is he doing here? And how- Wilson is pregnant?" She has a hard time connecting everything her husband just told her.

"I have no idea." He shrunks. "We found him in his office at Pac-North. He also called Jo and left her a voice massage before he lost consciousness. It really sounded like they are still together- I have no idea." He shrunks his shoulders again.

"Ok- ahm. Let's find Wilson. If she's really pregnant and about to hear that he's here, someone should be with her." Bailey says walking back in the hospital.

"Jo! I'm taking over. I need you to go with Ben." Bailey walks into OR 2, already scrubbed, putting gloves on.

"Ahm- I'm about to close if you wait five minutes-"

"No Wilson now! Out!" Bailey barks, pointing towards the scrub room where Ben is waiting.

Jo does as the chief wants. Ripping her gloves and gown off, she walks into the scrub room and unscrubbs.

After that Ben takes her to the attendings lounge, which is empty right now, so they sit down on the couch.

"Alex is here." Ben starts trying to get to the point immediately. "We found him buried under a ceiling piece in his office at Pac-North. He lost a lot of blood and couldn't feel his legs. Before he lost consciousness he asked me to call you and he left you a voicemail-"

Ben's not finished yet, as Jo jumps up and runs to the bathroom, emptying her stomach. He immediately gets after her and helps her sit down against the wall as she's finished.

"So it's true? Are you pregnant, Jo?" She nods slightly, as she buries her head in her hands, starting to cry. Ben puts an arm around her to comforts her.

"Come on let's go to the sofa again. It's more comfortable that the bathroom floor." Ben helps her up and leads her to the couch.

Still crying, she buries her head in Ben's chest, while he just holds her and stroking her back. A few minutes later she's asleep.

"Jo! Jo wake up!" Ben carefully tries to wake the sleeping woman on his lap. It's been almost five hours since she fell asleep. And he just got the call from his wife that Alex is out of surgery and he could take Jo to his room.

"Jo!" He carefully shakes her, which makes her stir as she slowly wakes up.

"Alex is out of surgery. Miranda just called and said that he's asking for you."

Without another word Jo's up and out of the room. Instead of taking the elevator she takes the steps to the ICU, followed by Ben.

Running as fast as she can, she slows down in front of Alex's room, looking through the glas door.

It's really him and he's awake. He's alive. Thank God.

She opens the door and walks to his bed, immediately crushing her lips on his. Holding his head between her hands, not letting go. Not even when they break the kiss, gasping for air. Jo's hands stroke his bruised face and soft hair as she puts her forhead against his. Taking in his scent for the first time in months.

"Never do this again to me. You hear me, jerk? Never! I'm done! I'm so done with his secret relationship shit and only calling you on burner phones. I need you here. With us, ok?" New tears stream down Jo's cheeks as she kisses Alex again, sitting down on his bed as they separate again.

"Hell yes, I'm done too." He answers, wrapping one arm around her as she lays down beside him, placing her head on his chest carefully not to hurt him. "It's my fault, Jo. Those explosions. They are my fault. I should have done like they told me and ended those research projects. But I didn't and now people are dead and I almost died too- and I can't do this to you." He says with a cracking voice, as he places his other hand on her still flat stomach.

"It's not, Alex. It's not your fault. Those research projects will help millions of people one day. And then you are a hero for not letting you be suppressed by those opponents. It was the right thing and I'm proud of you." Jo answeres, getting interrupt as Bailey, Ben and Meredith walk into the room and close the door behind them.

"As sorry as I am for interrupting this, I think we really deserve answers." Ben interrupts.

Jo sits up again, helping Alex to do so too, grapping his hand as he starts to talk.

"It started when I became chief at Pac-North. They have this research where they use embryonic stem cells, which has a lot of opponents that want it to stop. This group 'Anti-Choice' send threads; to the hospital, the doctors of the research, me. One night when we got home from work a few men waited in front of the loft. They had guns and threatened us. Thank God the cops drove by and the men left. They send death threats, as they started to threaten Jo too, I had to do something because around that time we found out that we are pregnant, so we faked our break up. I send those letters to all of you guys and Jo and I got divorced. I dissappeared and let them think that I left the city. It had to look real for them, to leave Jo and you guys in peace, because they threatened to kill everyone that is connected to me. They stopped going after me but they didn't stop going after the hospital. And well you know what they did today."

It's dead silent in the room. The three listeners just stare at the two in the hospital bed.

"What?" Meredith asks as she comes out of her stare. What the hell did her friend just tell them? "You faked everything? Leaving Jo and going to Kansas to Izzie and your kids?"

"Yeah. There are no corn kids in Kansas and I have no idea what Izzie is doing. I had to write something that was crazy enough for you guys to believe and not call me. So we came up with those letters and this whole Izzie story, which was actually my brilliant wife's idea." He sais proudly as he kisses her cheek.

"B- but you cried yourself to sleep on my couch and you slept on Link's couch for two weeks and you- what?" Mer's so confused right now.

"Well receiving death threats and being afraid that your husband and you get killed is enough for you to not want to sleep in a big empty loft alone. And a little fake cry and those crazy hormones made it pretty easy. Those few years of acting class I took in high school came in hand too." Jo shrunks, looking amused in three faces.

"So all of this was fake?" Ben asks again, still not getting what the hell just happened.

"Yes. Except from our divorce. Unfortunately that crap was real. But trust me as soon as those people are behind bars I will put a ring on this beautiful hand again." Alex promises, talking more to Jo than the rest of people in the room. "Looks like we are still pretty good in faking break ups." Alex jokes, as he mentions towards the three, that still look at them like they are crazy.

"Shut up and kiss me, jerk." Jo answers, crashing her lips onto his, ignoring the three other people in the room. She is way to happy that all of this crap is finally coming to an end and that they can go back to their normal life. And can finally get excited about the new life that will join them in a few months. Or more like two, but that's something she'll tell him when he's getting a little better.

#jolex #alex #alex karev #fanfic #fanfiction #grey's #grey's anatomy #grey's fic #Jo x alex #jo #jo wilson #jo karev #fan.4196

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Never Alone

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder) ft. The Keating 5

Warnings: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Swearing, Trauma, Description of Injury

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: While working on a particularly tough case in the ungodly hours of the night, whether it’s due to the lack of sleep or the sudden need to confide in another human being, Michaela admits some truths to the person no one would think she’d ever do so to - her rival Connor Walsh.

Requested by Anon and requested as a birthday present by another Anon. Happy birthday darling Anon! Thank you so much for giving me the honor of writing you a birthday present though I hope the short notice doesn’t affect the fic’s quality. I accept the most brutal of feedback, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it! Enjoy your special day! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“You know, just because you’re still awake and staring at a document doesn’t mean you have an upper hand here. Whether you’re actually reading that file is what will determine who gets the trophy, Miss Shooting Star.“ Connor Walsh waltzes into the living room turned office of the Keating home, looking and sounding a little too refreshed for someone who has had the same amount of sleep as everyone else of the K5 - minimal. Yet, unlike his teammates, he’s still perfectly functioning, talkative and looking forward to being productive without accidentally falling off a chair after being consumed by the slumber his body is probably dying for. It probably has something to do with that cup of coffee in his hand - his tenth one today, if Michaela’s counted correctly.

“Call me that again and I’ll shoot the damn trophy at your forehead.“ Michaela hisses back at him, tired, stinging and bloodshot eyes never leaving the piece of paper she’s been holding, reading and re-reading for the past twenty minutes, never really managing to grasp the words written on it.

“Good luck taking it from Asher. The Douche has fallen asleep with it in his arms.“ Connor sinks down in one of the armchairs, leisurely picking up one of the files laid out on the coffee table, looking at it with little interest.

This time Michaela’s gaze does indeed leave the paper so it can land on her rival, as she raises an eyebrow that somewhere between shocked and offended, “That asshole’s asleep?”

“He’s not the only one.“ It’s Connor’s turn to not spare her a look while answering, “Him and Wes are as good as dead on the kitchen island. Laurel and Frank are most likely awake, but also most likely not working on the case. Well, not this case, that’s for sure.“ He chuckles at his own joke, seeing as how his correspondent found no humor in it, “So, it’s down to you and me and Bonnie if she throws us a bone, which I doubt she will.“

Annalise was very clear with what she had said. Speaking the whole truth here, the five college students weren’t really paying attention until they heard that very strictly spoken phrase: “No one leaves here until someone finds something. Anything” aka the last phrase their professor had graced them with before walking out to go meet someone important for the night. She had every right to be strict and maybe even a bit cruel to them after they all had been exhibiting typical brat behavior throughout the day. To make matters worse and the job even tougher, Annalise had instructed Frank and Bonnie to go home so the kids would really be left to their own devices. Bonnie had had enough so no amount of begging her was gonna get her to stay - it’s also been proven that no amount of voicemails are gonna get her to come back either - but Frank, solely because of Laurel, stuck around and has so far not proved to be any kind of extra help - the polar opposite, in fact, he’s been distracting them all with jokes and snide comments at how incompetent they all are. Now if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thing.

“If the pressure wasn’t on already, I’d like to remind you we have...“ Connor turns his hand over, checking his wristwatch, “less than four hours until we have to show our not-showered, sleep deprived asses in court.“

Michaela groans, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was actually glad to have an overnight task, something that wouldn’t allow her to go home, but this is beginning to be too much. What others would call ‘home’ Michaela refers to as or ‘hell’. It was place she called ‘home’ at one point too, but it wasn’t long before things started going south. And by ‘south’ I mean horribly wrong and toxic. The man she thought she’d one day call fiancée and then husband has now become a monster from her worst nightmares. Having grown up in an abusive household, Michaela had always dreamed of finding a place for herself, a place she’d feel safe in. With a person who’d love her unconditionally and provide her the security she lacked growing up. And that’s what she thought she saw in Miles. She wasn’t wrong for the first few months, the fucker was good at putting up a front, putting on a show for everyone to build a positive opinion of such a disgusting human being.

The mask started falling apart shortly after Michaela moved in with him. She didn’t accept his offer without any thought, quite the contrary actually - she pondered it for a week and a half, her heart taking the win in the end. Well, her heart may have won that time but it is now in pieces. Her eyes have never cried so many tears and her skin has never bled nor been bruised so badly before. She feels broken, alone, betrayed, hurt. She feels all she felt every time she got hit as a kid. She feels like the whole world has equipped knives and guns, each with her name on them, ready to put her through torture.

And she’s got no one to tell, because no one will know what to say back. For some reason, when people are speechless they tend to say the dumbest, most hurtful crap without realizing. Hearing that on numerous occasions before, she knows what effect it’ll have on her, so she strays away from speaking up about it. She’d rather be alone and battle her demons than present those demons to someone else who will introduce new ones into her head and life.

She prefers solitude and isolation over additional torment. It’s always been an easy pick for her.

“If you don’t wanna fight this battle on your own, go fetch me a cup of coffee.“ She instructs, half-expecting the turn-down she receives immediately afterwards.

“You really think I’m gonna help you when you are the closest thing to competition I have in this group of dimwits? Go get it yourself.“

Michaela rolls her eyes, wondering why she even asked such an abomination of a question in the first place. Finding her legs too dead to take her anywhere, she remains in her spot with a heavy sigh, returning to her attempt at reading the file she and the rest of the Keating 5 five have read through a dozen times today just to find nothing off about it.

“Hey, this one’s marked twenty-three, that one on the table’s twenty-five, where’s the twenty-fourth one?“ Connor suddenly perks up suddenly, cutting the short silence that had fallen upon them. With the least amount of energy she’s managed to save up, Michaela waves the file she’s holding, blinking away the blurriness of that clouds her eyes. “Give it to me, I need to make some comparisons.”

“Come get it yourself.“ She barks back with the same amount of spite he used barely a minute ago.

Unlike her though, Connor complies, finding that file necessary for some reason despite knowing it’s useless. It’s all pointless and they’re all gonna hear it from Annalise tomorrow morning regardless. But the most they can do is keep trying - trying to prove themselves worthy of that trophy.

Getting up with the most exaggerated distaste in his movements, Connor crosses the distance between the armchair he’s been sitting in and the couch Michaela has not moved from for hours, surrounded by piles of paperwork, folders and files. Much to his surprise, she doesn’t even put up a fight, clearly having been fed up with staring at the same words and not grasping anything for half an hour at this point.

“Thank y-“ Connor is a syllable away from finishing his sarcastic statement of gratitude when his eyes land on something peculiar, he’d even call is quite worrisome - a large scar going from Michaela’s elbow to about midway down her forearm. It looks to be recent, given that there are still some dried specs of blood around it, “Holy shit....“ He mutters, carefully taking hold Michaela’s wrist as to gently turn her arm a bit more to the side in order to examine the cut, “What the hell happened to you?“

Not having realized what he was examining before, Michaela’s eyes widen when they follow his gaze and land on the very cut she spent an hour taking care of last night. That cut is the aftermath of a drunk boyfriend who wanted nothing more than a reason to start an argument with her when she got home. A reason to hurt her. Coming into work this morning, despite the high temperatures, she was stubbornly keeping a long sleeved jacket atop her shirt to keep the ugly remainder of yet another failure hidden. The relationship in and of itself is a toxic failure, but it’s built of other failures Mihaela blames herself for - she believes she fails every time he hurts her. She thinks she’s the one to blame for the failure because she couldn’t protect herself. So she feels ashamed, disgusted and is attacked by that sense of betrayal all over again.

Feeling these three emotions flooding in at the sound of Connor’s concern, she snatches her arm out of his grip, keeping the scar out of his viewpoint while her eyes scan the room, looking for the jacket she doesn’t remember discarding. “Piss off, Connor. It’s non of your business.”

If she had said something along the lines of it being an accidental injury, Connor might’ve even believed her and let the whole thing go. However, seeing hw distressed his question has made her become, he feels there’s a lot more to it than she’s letting on. So, fully aware it’s non of his business, he keeps prodding on for a reason even he himself doesn’t understand, “Maybe not, but that’s a concerning scar, you might wanna get it checked. In fact, it already looks like it’s infected with something.”

Michaela’s brows furrow, her distress growing into genuine fear as she removes the hand that’s partially covering the scar to check on it and try and see what Connor saw to lead him to make such an observation. Connor takes this opportunity to also get a better look at the cut and it doesn’t take him a while to realize what tool was used in causing it - a shard of glass.

“Michaela, it may not be my business...“

She cuts him off with hostility, “It’s not”, but her words are choked up and wavering. Her voice is shaking like she’s seconds away from bursting into tears. And Lord knows crying in front of Connor Walsh is the last thing she wants to do.

“Right, but you can’t tell me that’s an accidental cut. That looks very intentional, very straight, and very much like someone inflicted it on you.“ Seeing her barriers slowly starting to sink despite her best attempts at keeping them up, he keeps his pursuit of his secret, for the first time genuinely curious to get to the bottom of what’s troubling Michaela and not a single ulterior motive in his mind. “You can’t tell me that I’m wrong. I’ve had my fair share of glass shard injuries in my life too.“ The girl’s gaze remains glued to the floor but Connor doesn’t miss the tear that escapes her left eye, sliding down her cheek. This only strengthens his will to getting the truth out of Michaela. “I know I’m not among your favorite people, but I’m not a piece of scum, damn it. You can tell me, Michaela. Believe it or not, you can tell me.“

Silence takes over, loud silence, the one on her end filled with the inaudible sound of her walls coming down quickly. She’s left bare and exposed. surrounded by their rubble and unable to look her rival in the eye. Though, is he much of a rival at this moment? He appears dangerously close to a friend. Hell, Michaela would even make a snide remark about it if her insides weren’t so broken - her heart, her soul, her mind, they’ve all been shattered, bruised and bloodied way worse than her skin.

“Turn around.“ She says out of the blue, the order sounding more like a plea especially when accompanied by another tear freeing itself from the confinement of her pride. When Connor doesn’t move, she finally looks up at him to meet his baffled gaze, “Turn around so I don’t have to see the pity in your eyes when I tell you I’m a pathetic victim of an abusive relationship. The punching bag of an asshole with a short fuse and a drinking problem. A failure to myself and my family. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you think you have the upper hand now?“ Behind the tears that are spilling freely now is the mix of rage, devastation, dread and sorrow. It’s a dangerous combination that could cause her to pounce at him any second, push him away, take her anger out on him.

But that’s what he wants her to do.

He wants her to let it all out, free herself from all that’s been sitting on her chest. He wants to free her from whoever’s responsible for that scar on her arm and those thousands of little cuts on her soul, all still openly bleeding and unable to heal. He wants to save her. And it’s scaring him. He wants to write it off as basic human decency but deep down he know there’s something more. As much as the both of them would like to deny it, if one of them left the Keating 5 tomorrow, the other would miss them greatly. Threats, accusations, arguments and bickering aside, they are aware how great of a team they are. What a good pair of friends they could be if they just let their pride slip aside. But they don’t, and maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe that’s why they work so well.

However, even with that theory in mind, they’ve both let their pride go in this very moment. Walls and barriers have come down, lines have been crossed and they see each other differently now - More as fellow hurting humans rather than rivaling lawyers-to-be. Closer than ever, that’s for sure.

“Listen, Michaela...“

She once again cuts him off, “I don’t want your pity, sympathy or your advice. I don’t need you telling me to leave him! You think I haven’t thought of that?! You know nothing about it, you don’t get to judge me on my actions and choices!” She’s sobbing at this point with no hopes or ways of stopping the strangled noises from leaving her throat or the tears from escaping her red eyes.

Connor quickly crouches down in front of the couch so he’s at eye-level with her, his hands taking gentle but firm hold of her shoulders, “Michaela, no! That’s not what I wanna say! Listen to me, damn it.“ To his surprise, this actually gets her to calm down and stop thrashing to get his hands off. Slightly relieved, he pursues what he started, “I know, I know exactly how it is. Every time he does something nice it outweighs the bad. It’s those good moments that make you stay, I know. But those moments are the rare rainbow after a ton of rain. They are not worth this pain and suffering you’re enduring. He’s not worth it. You deserve so much more, so much better and you are aware of that!“

“But no one else is!“ She snaps, her hands coming up to hide her face, “No one else sees my worth beyond the job I do or the person that’s willing to put a ring on my finger. No one sees me for me, Connor! My value is determined by what kind of men find me decent enough for their beds or family contracts! What kind of response do you think I’ll have if I leave yet another relationship?“

Her words break his heart but he doesn’t let it show in his eyes, he’d rather close them than let her see that pity she fears and despises. He doesn’t pity her, far from it, but a simple misunderstanding on her end could break this already fragile bond they’ve built so he keeps his feelings at bay.

“Fuck them! Michaela, you are an adult woman, they can’t control your life anymore! No one can! That’s why you need to cut ties with those whose opinions you fear most. I don’t know what kind of stick they have up their asses, but without them you won’t be alone. You’ll be free!“

“And you’ll still have us.“ The sudden and new female voice comes from behind them, right by the doorway.

Both of them turn to look in that direction to find the four missing members of this late case-digging session: the sleepy Asher and Wes with Frank and Laurel beside them.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but Michaela, you will not be alone, no matter what the context is. We might not be the best friends one can ever have, but we sure as hell aren’t monsters.“ Laurel continues, being the only one to actually take a step in the room while the three men stay put, uncertain of how to approach the situation. “I think we all care about each other to some degree. So, I want you to know, we care about you and we’re here for you. No matter how many times you leave us in the dust with your eyes on the prize.“

That remark manages to get a smile out Michaela even with the tears that are still not done rolling down her cheeks. Asher is also quick to pipe in, “I second that! Anything you need, we’ll be here. Need us to bust someone’s skulls - we’re your people.”

Scoffing, Connor shoots Michaela a look, “Now that’s an idea. Give us the address of that shithead and consider it done.”

She rolls her eyes, “Let me get my stuff out of there first. I don’t want you getting blood on any of it.”

Connor stands up from his crouched position and turns to the rest of the team with a determined look and a hint of a smile on his face, “You heard her folks! The lady wants to collect her stuff, and I’ll be damned if I let her do it alone.” He turns back to his temporarily-not-rival, “Come on, you can crash at my place until this friendly phase of ours fades. Then I’m dumping you at Laurel’s.”

She narrows his eyes at him, “Hilarious.” Suddenly her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, “Wait, what about the case?”

“Laurel and I found something, already turned it in. We were coming here to send you guys home.“ Frank replies in his usual reassuring manner.

“Ooooh, so you were working on the case after all!“ Asher comments, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“Yeah, we were. Unlike some who were asleep in the kitchen cuddling a trophy.“ Laurel retorts, sending him the most sarcastic of smiles.

This whole interaction between her...well, her friends has lifted Michela’s spirits enough to get her up on her feet, “In that case, better get prepared to help me pack three large suitcases.”

And with that the Keating 5 (plus Frank) disembark, heading to their new mission. Walking out of the Keating household with four people, all unconditionally supporting her without even knowing what’s going on and one person with his arm tightly wrapped around her in a protective manner, Michaela has never felt more safe and secure. She might not love these people and they might not love her either, but they are all fond of each other. And if their fondness has reached the degree where they’re willing to accompany her and aid her escape from the hell she’s been trapped in this past month and a half, she’s willing to call them friends.

Some closer than others, but she cannot admit that knowing that in a week’s time her and Connor will probably be at each other’s throats again. And she’s fine with that. Rivalry’s a type of friendship too, ain’t it?

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 5 years ago

Text

Safe

When the house gets broken into while you’re home alone, your boyfriend, Chris, blames himself for not being around until it’s too late.

“Going home?” Your boyfriend, Chris, asked as you gave him a hug from the side, careful not to mess up his newly pressed shirt. You’d met him on the set of the show he was working on to bring him the lunch he’d forgotten at home, only to surprise him with food from his favorite restaurant, and finally his lunch break was about over. They were setting up the courtroom for a scene that had to match one they’d already filmed so it was taking a little longer than usual. You were glad, though, because it gave him some extra time for lunch.

The filming was only half an hour away from the house, which you loved, because it meant he wasn’t all the way across the country, and for awhile it was like you were just a normal couple with two normal nine to five jobs. And even though you missed Dodger on the days Chris brought him to set, it was as normal as the two of you would probably ever be.

“Yep,” you responded. “I have another meeting at two.” He walked you back to your car that was sitting in the parking lot, opening your door for you as you got in.

“Okay. Text me when you get home, alright? Even if I don’t answer.” You nodded.

“I know the drill. Love you.” You stood on your toes and kissed his scruffy jaw before sitting down in the driver’s seat.

“Love you too, babe.” Chris shut your door and let you drive away, watching you leave the studio gates before heading back to the set. You texted him when you got home, like you’d promised you would, and got out of the car. You didn’t get a response, but you didn’t expect one. Chris usually just left his phone in his trailer, even though he tried not to because he wanted to be there if you needed him. Usually you would just text him funny links throughout the day, so it didn’t matter. You had never really needed him so urgently that it couldn’t wait until he got back to his trailer in a few hours.

You had two hours before your meeting and weren’t too pressed about getting your personal laptop from the car, so you didn’t. You got out of the car and went up the stairs, throwing your coat on the bed, and took off your boots. Normally you would be letting Dodger out, but Chris had taken him with him that day. There were kids on the set that morning, so Chris decided to bring him because of how good he always was. You changed into a t-shirt, knowing that you would turn your camera off after a minute, and went to sit down to go over your presentation. You were switching the room that Chris used as an office with yours, and when you realized that your USB drive with your presentation on it was upstairs, you sighed and got out of the chair. You walked up the stairs and into Chris’s office, looking at your phone as you went.

You noticed a noise outside, but didn’t think anything of it. The neighbor’s kids were homeschooled and usually played outside in the afternoon, so you assumed it was them. You had lived with Chris for a few months and he had lived in the house since he was in his twenties, so you trusted that it was safe. You’d spent months at a time dogsitting before you were even dating Chris that seriously. You felt safe. Maybe too safe. Considering one of your biggest fears was someone breaking into the house and murdering you, you should have been a little bit more cautious of noise outside. But you trusted Chris and you trusted his house.

You sat down at the desk in Chris’s unusually low chair, swinging around a little as you tried to find the right USB drive since you and Chris just bought them in bulk. You heard another noise. The downstairs door, the one that went out to the backyard, rattling. Your heart jumped and you stood up, walking over to the backyard. There was someone standing there, someone you didn’t know, and you knew for a fact that it wasn’t one of the neighbors. You’d locked all of the doors, thankfully, but you realized the person was starting to walk around the house. And you noticed a lump in the pocket of their jeans. Your first thought was Chris.

I think someone’s trying to get into the house, you texted. Of course you didn’t get an answer. You called him, hoping that maybe he had his phone. But he didn’t because he didn’t answer. The fear was starting to creep in, but you were confident in the house enough to remember that the closet in the office locked from the inside, and so did the room. So you locked yourself in the room, and then backed yourself into the closet that was full of old scripts and extra clothes, and you called 911.

“What’s your address?”

“21 Maple Street. I think someone’s trying to break into my house and I’m pretty sure they have a gun, they tried all of the doors and now they’re looking through the windows I think.”

“We’ll have officers dispatched to your location, it looks like we have someone patrolling a few minutes away. Can I get your name?”

“Y/n.” You heard glass shattering and felt the house shifting below you; the back patio door had been smashed in. “Shit, they smashed in the back door.” Your entire body was shaking now and you could literally hear the person downstairs. You were trying to be calm, taking the phone away from your ear and texting Chris.

On the phone with 911. Has a gun. Locked in the closet. I love you. To say you were terrified didn’t even cover it. You heard the distinct sound of footsteps downstairs against the hardwood floors and tried to control your breathing. You counted backwards from ten, what you always did when you were nervous. But you were sure your heart was beating so loudly that anyone could hear it. The person had to know that someone was there – your car was in the driveway and so was the extra car. You had kind of hoped they would leave after seeing dog toys all over the floor by the door, but no. Whoever it was definitely was not scared. Of anything. And that was what terrified you. You shoved your phone against your chest, knowing the light could be seen from under the closet door if they got in, and you just wanted to cry out loud. All you wanted was to be able to cry out loud.

“BOSTON PD!” You heard a knock at the front door. Why the fuck were they coming to the front door? The back was where they’d broken in, you’d said that. Whoever was inside paused on the stairs for a second before dashing up. You were all the way down the hall, behind two locked doors, and you tried to believe that you were going to be safe. You heard the police again, this time opening the door, and you were so surprised that you dropped your phone. The silicone case let your phone shatter, and you were convinced that you were done for. You slid down on the ground, tears in your eyes, and waited.

You heard voices yelling back and forth for someone to drop a gun and you put your hand on the closet doorknob. A gunshot sounded and you heard glass shattering and you just sat there and started crying, really crying. You could hear that the police were in the house and you knew everything would be fine, but what if it wasn’t? You picked up your phone and hung up on 911, calling Chris again. And again. He just didn’t answer. His voicemail just picked up and said his box was full, probably because you’d been calling him so much. You knew it was because his phone was in his trailer, you knew that, but part of you felt like something had to be wrong with him too. Everything was so fucked up that you barely even knew what was happening anymore.

You finally stood up and opened the closet door, shakily making your way over to the office door and opening it. It was a blur as you emerged from the room, finally, and an officer escorted you down the stairs. You called Chris once more, but he didn’t answer. You texted your boss and said you wouldn’t be able to give your presentation. You texted Chris, again, and sat down on the couch as an officer stayed behind.

“Is this your house?”

“No, it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s working, he probably won’t answer his phone.” You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders, realizing how cold the first floor of the house was when the door was shattered. Your leg was shaking up and down, making one of the panels on the old hardwood floor creak. You relayed everything to the officer, playing with the lining on your t-shirt, and sniffled. They agreed to stay with you for a couple of hours, walking you through what they recommended you do. You would have to call the insurance company, find someone to come replace the back door, and about a million other things you wouldn’t have even thought about.

You called Chris in between every call, your heart absolutely aching. What if something had happened to him too? Or what if his phone was broken? Or what if he just never came back, or… You were being ridiculous. You knew you were being ridiculous. You tried drinking some water to calm down, playing games on your phone. But finally you heard the familiar sound of his car door shutting and you stood up as the front door opened. Chris was standing there, confused as hell, and his eyes just widened. He let Dodger’s leash go and walked through to where you were sitting in the living room.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” He asked. You stood up and he embraced you tighter than he ever had before, pulling your head to his chest. He let go of you just for a second, looking you up and down, trying to see if you were hurt.

“No,” you responded, “not really.”

“Not really okay or not hurt?’ He asked you. He ran a hand through your hair, pulling it behind your ear.

“Someone broke into the house. I kept trying to call you and texting you, but…”

“My phone died and I forgot to bring a charger this morning,” he explained. “Shit, baby, I’m so sorry.” You just nodded, wrapping your arms around his waist, and Chris quickly talked to the officer before he left the two of you alone. You tried to go on about your night, listening as Chris called someone to get the door fixed. You fed Dodger and sat down at the kitchen table, eventually going upstairs to shower. You came back down to see that Chris was sitting at the table, head in his hands, and two empty bottles of beer sitting on the table beside him.

“I should’ve been there,” he muttered. He looked up at you with those big blue eyes and you just sighed.

“You were half an hour away, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything anyway.” You were mostly just trying to keep him calm because you knew he was getting into that over-protective boyfriend space. You walked over to him and threw away the beers. He just sighed. You could see the regret in his eyes as he crossed his arms.

“But you could’ve gotten hurt and I wouldn’t have even known.”

“Chris, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” he said loudly. The wind outside was picking up, but he definitely didn’t have to yell like he did. “You’re not fine. If I’d have just answered my phone…” You sat down across from him and took his hand from where it was on the table, squeezing it tightly. You could hear that his breathing was getting faster and faster. He was just upset.

“But I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”

“What if you weren’t, though?” He looked up at you and you could see tears in his eyes. Your favorite eyes. “I’m supposed to protect you.”

“And if you were here you could’ve gotten hurt, too.”

“But you were alone. And you must’ve felt like you were alone because I wasn’t answering.”

“You were doing your job, Chris. And there was no way to know that something was going to happen.”

“Yeah, but…” You saw a single tear fall from his right eye. That absolutely broke your heart. Seeing him and hearing him so upset just killed you. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You stood up and let go of his hand, moving over to where he was sitting. You sat down on his lap, trying to interrupt whatever bad thing he was thinking about, and leaned your head in his neck. That seemed to help him a little and he wrapped his arms around you, his breathing calming down a little bit.

“You’re here now,” you pointed out as you put your arms around his neck. You kissed his jaw like you had earlier, shutting your eyes and relaxing in his arms. “I know I’m safe now. And I know you won’t let anything happen to me.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” he repeated. “I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

“You didn’t even get the chance to.” You sat up, running your fingers through his slightly gelled hair, and kissed him. You put your head back in his shoulder, hugging him tightly as you held onto him.

“I love you, baby. I’m sorry this happened. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’ll start carrying my phone with me, at the least.”

“Maybe you should get an extra charger too,” you suggested. That made him laugh a little bit. The first time since he’d gotten home.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I promise that if anything else happens, I will be. I promise. I want you to feel safe.”

“I feel safe with you. That’s all I care about, okay?” You felt his hand snake up your back, underneath your shirt, and eventually fell asleep as his massive hand rubbed your back, up and down. At least you felt safe enough to fall asleep on him, he thought, and he sighed as he took you upstairs.

A/N: I loved writing this so much 🥺 Thank you for requesting! Protective Chris is the best Chris.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added, send me a message!): @an-adventureland, @firstangeldragonranch, @ssebstann, @winterreader-nowwriter

#chris evans fluff #chris evans angst #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine

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dinoyoongi · 5 years ago

Text

Confirm or Deny (5)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Strong language

WORD COUNT: 3503

AUTHORS NOTE: A bit shorter than the others but I felt this was a good spot to end the chapter on. There will only be one more part to this before it’s over! I want to thank everybody for your patience - I’m definitely not as quick a writer as some others on here and when I do sit down to work on this, writer’s block hits me like a garbage truck every time. This chapter is kind of rushed and Namjoon-less but it I hope you’ll all like it just the same! Thanks for all the love. ❤️

___________________________________

BREAKING: Y/N officially departs FRNZEE & terminates contract with Hot Star Entertainment!

After two months of speculation of whether Y/N would return to FRNZEE after being attacked outside the KBS building, it's been confirmed by Hot Star Entertainment that Y/N has officially terminated her contract with the company. Y/N was recently involved in controversy after her company confirmed dating rumors between Y/N and BTS' leader RM that the latter denied. She had been removed from the group's comeback and was on hiatus from all activities when she was attacked by BTS fans outside the KBS building during a taping of Music Bank that she had attended with her manager out of support for her members. Despite official statements being released by both Big Hit Entertainment and RM – who uploaded a handwritten plea on Weverse begging for his fans to stop the bullying – Hot Star Entertainment felt that Y/N's mental health was being compromised and released her from contract.

“Like they give a shit about my mental health,” you snicker sarcastically, dropping your phone a little too forcefully onto the kitchen counter. From your peripheral, you can see your mother's lips turn downwards in disapproval at your foul language but she fortunately chooses not to scold you, recognizing the delicate situation. It's not as if this is a blindside. Nobody was pulling the wool over your eyes right now. You had been aware that they were permanently removing you from the group and from the company only one day after you returned home to Daejeon.

You're only surprised that they waited this long to announce it. You imagine it wouldn't look too good for them if they kicked you out of the group right after you were assaulted – no surprise there. Their image is all they care about.

“Has anyone tried reaching out to you?” your mother asks from the stove, stirring a steaming pot languidly.

Your eyes fall down to your still-lit phone, catching the small red balloon icon that signifies missed notifications. Calls, texts, voicemail, emails; you don't need to open them to see who they're from – you've spent the past week dodging any incoming forms of communication from everyone including your members, your former manager, the CEO of Hot Star, numbers that you don't recognize that you assume to be reporters and even all seven members of BTS.

Out of all the names that showed up on the screen on your phone, Namjoon's appeared the most.

His unread messages and unopened voicemails feel like an anchor on your chest. Is he reaching out to pity you for what happened with his fans? Is he reaching out to get back together with you? Is he reaching out to cuss at you because you dragged his name into your articles again? Is he reaching out to hammer that final nail in the coffin and be done with you for good?

All of these scenarios are equally terrifying so you pretend that the messages don't exist. However, there are times when you miss him so much that your chest physically aches and the thought of loading up your phone's inbox to listen to his voice is so devastatingly tempting. Playing his albums or watching him on YouTube isn't the same. You don't miss RM – you miss Namjoon. Your Namjoon.

You're not completely depriving yourself of him, though. Two months ago, the day of your attack, he posted a message messily scrawled onto a napkin to his Weverse account. Despite his username displaying as RM, your heart can tell just by his words that it's Namjoon. You've stared at the message so many times over the past few weeks that you have the words ingrained into your head.

ARMY,

Today, somebody I care about was seriously injured. I want to deny that our lovely ARMY would do anything to cause harm to other people. That's not Bangtan. That's not what we teach, what we stand for. But that was our logo on their phone cases. That was our lightstick in the pocket of their bags. That was our faces on keychains that hung from their straps. At the risk of upsetting some, I speak on behalf of the rest of the group to say to those who harm other people in the name of Bangtan – both physically and verbally – you are not ARMY. ARMY is better than this. ARMY is too good for this.

Please ARMY, let's always be better.

It's a simple message but one that you know was difficult for him to write. Having known the boys for the majority of their career growth, you know that the admiration they have for their fans is one-hundred percent not an act. Knowing that some of them assaulted you in such a humiliating manner had to have felt like a knife in the gut.

“Nobody,” you lie to your mom who quirks her brows, waiting for your response. “Nobody has tried contacting me at all.”

“When are you going back to Seoul?”

You sigh, dropping your eyes onto the kitchen counter. “Mom, why would I go back to Seoul? There's nothing there for me anymore.”

“What are you going to do then?” your mother asks softly. You hear the spoon she was stirring with drop the table, followed by a heavy sigh. “Is that it? You're done with your music career?”

“It isn't as if my contract just expired and I can shop around for new agencies. I was the center of a very huge scandal. I was the butt of jokes and online bullying for so long. I don't think there's an agency out there that would poke me with a ten foot pole at this point.”

“But you trained for so long. You didn't go to university. Y/N, what -”

Your body slides from the stool, your feet slapping against the linoleum so hard that your mother flinches from the sound. “I'm suddenly feeling kind of sleepy. I'll just go take a nap before dinner.”

She calls your name as you lug yourself upstairs towards your bedroom but you pretend not to hear. You're not angry with her – absolutely not. If you're angry at anything, it's your life. It's this situation. It's the world. It's a fact that most idols audition and join agencies for two things and two things only – money and fame. And while those two things can be really great at times, that's not why you decided to be an idol. You decided to become an idol because, well … there was really nothing else you could do.

Throughout your life, whenever anybody asked you “what do you want to be when you grow up?” you never gave the usual answers that your classmates did – police officers, veterinarians, doctors, lawyers, judges, the president. Your answer from the first time you were asked until the last remained unchanged: an idol. Music was everything to you. There was nothing that you could study for, nothing you could major in that would give you a sense of happiness and fulfillment like music did. Like music still does. It was the upbeat songs, the quirky choreography, the super cute but super outrageous outfits, the camaraderie and bonds formed between group members and the thrill of satisfaction when all of that came together for a comeback. That is what you've always wanted. There was nothing that came even close.

And now that you've had it, now that it's slipped right through your fingers … what do you do? What are you supposed to do with your life?

Heaving yourself onto your bed, you groan in frustration. Your phone chirps from the pocket of your hooded sweatshirt, alerting you to a text message. Waving the device in front of your face, you sigh when you see Ji-na's name.

Ji-na: please be strong. keep your head up. don't skip meals. i love you and i'm sorry.

Your chest throbs are you reread the words again. And then for a third time. If you were being honest with yourself, you stopped being angry with Ji-na and the rest of the group the moment you arrived home. If you were to put yourself in their shoes – would you have reacted the same way? An idol's career is already typically short; seven or eight years if you're lucky. Would you be willing to risk that for another person? The knee-jerk response might come easy to some but only those who have been in your shoes, trained as long and hard as you and your members did, can answer that question. But despite not holding onto any anger, you can't erase the betrayal from your heart. Ji-na was more than just a member of your group. Ji-na was your best friend. Ji-na was the hand that you reached for when FRNZEE was getting mobbed at airports. Ji-na is your first dibs sleeping buddy when you had to pair up in hotel rooms. There was very little that you couldn't and wouldn't tell Namjoon but if there was – Ji-na was the one you confided in. Ji-na was everything.

And going through this without her and Namjoon seems incredibly impossible.

Your eyes leave the phone, slipping over to the corner of the room where your suitcase and bags are haphazardly strewn about as you were too lazy to commit to unpacking. The one thing propped neatly against the wall is a sparkly, medium-sized gift bag, intricately tied with rainbow ribbons. Ji-na's birthday is coming up in week but you've had her present ready for months. Instead of leaving it at the dorms, you brought it home with you. At the time, you were so caught up in your anger and woes and self-misery that you had every intention of sending it back to the store once you settled in but now?

It seems you have a present to hand deliver.

_______________________________________

- TWO WEEKS LATER -

You've only been gone for two months but it seems like Seoul has already changed so much. The first big difference? There's now a doorman stationed in the lobby of the dorm apartments. You can tell that he recognizes you immediately by the way his cheeks flush red but he still refuses to let you go any farther, keeping you a safe distance away from the elevator. You get it, you really do. He was probably hired to keep out nosy reporters and fansites and journalists but knowing Hot Star the way that you do now, you have no doubt that he was also explicitly warned not to let you in. Sighing, you pull your phone from your bag, typing a few quick words to Ji-na before hitting send.

It only takes three minutes for the elevator to open with a loud ding and a flash of pale skin is hurtling itself at you. Ji-na wraps her arms around your neck so tightly that you cough from the pressure until she loosens her grip. You try to ignore the moisture that you see building in her eyes when she pulls away.

Grabbing her hand, she tugs you toward the elevator. “Come on. We have some talking to do.”

“Ah -” the doorman interjects, nervously stepping in front of you. “I'm sorry, Ji-na. She's on the no clearance list. She can't go up.”

Ji-na scoffs. “Even with my permission? Even though I'm bringing her up with me?”

He grimaces. “I'm sorry. It's my job.”

“It's okay, Ji-na. I just wanted to drop this off anyway,” you say, thrusting the bag in her direction. She stares at it for a few hard seconds before hesitantly accepting it. “Happy Birthday. If you're ever near Daejeon, let me know, okay?”

You turn on your heel to leave but a painful grip on your hand stops you. Ji-na twirls you around to face her, like a scene straight out of a cheesy drama. She's toe to toe with the doorman, facial features locked in what you know is supposed to be intimidation but on Ji-na it just looks like an angry kitten.

“If you won't let her upstairs, let's compromise. Your office?” she quirks an eyebrow, head jutting toward the door behind his podium. He contemplates this offer for a moment before relenting with a sigh, dropping a pair of keys into her hand.

“Don't tell your management about this, okay? She's not even supposed to be in the building at all.”

Ji-na throws him an obnoxious salute before yanking you into the room.

_______________________________________

Your heart-to-heart is long and full of anger, accusation, revelations, tears, laughter, giggling and so much more. While you're not ready to completely forgive her for leaving you behind that day, you've accepted the reality that Ji-na is one of the only friends that you have and you're not ready to let her go. She understands your continuing edginess with the situation and promises to do everything in her power to regain your trust and make it up to you.

You expected to leave with a heavier heart than you came with. Instead, most of the weight has lifted.

You only exit the doorman's office after Ji-na receives a text from one of her managers about a project meeting the group has soon. Her arm is around your side as she walks you to the front door, squeezing you tightly. “Please come visit a lot more. We have some off time coming up – would you mind terribly if I came to stay with you in Daejeon?”

You roll your eyes but your smile stays wide. “No, I wouldn't mind terribly. Just give me a heads up so I can stock up on soju and shrimp chips.”

She throws her head back to laugh loudly, bumping her hip to yours as the two of you take a few more steps toward the front door. “Yes! You know me so well! And you also have to make sure that you have tons of-”

“Y/N.”

The voice is jarring but immediately recognizable. Lifting your head, you meet the eyes of your previous manager. The last time you had seen him, he was loading your belongings into the back of a car that would send you right home. He gapes at you, gaze wide and shocked. Behind you, the doorman audibly groans.

“Um, he has nothing to do with this,” you hurriedly declare, throwing your thumb behind you in the groaning man's direction. “He was in the process of kicking me out, I swear. He's very good at his job. You guys should give him a raise. Okay, bye.”

You squeeze Ji-na's hand one final time before moving to scurry out of the building. For the second time today, fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you backward. You sigh as you yank your hand away. “A simple 'wait! stop!' would suffice. Why is everyone so grabby today? Look, I was just dropping off a birthday present for Ji-na. I promise that the doorman didn't let me go upstairs.”

“Y/N, I don't care about the doorman. I have something for you,” he says quickly before reaching into the tote bag that hangs around his shoulder. He rummages somewhat frantically for a few seconds before producing a business card, raising it into the air with pride and beaming as if it was the cure to a zombie outbreak. “You remember me telling you about one of my old co-managers for a different group who quit Hot Star and started working for P NATION?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. This was not the greeting that you expected out of your former manager.

“Um … I think so. He's one of Hyuna's managers now, you said.”

“Yes!” he screeches, his chest heaving as if he has just finished running a marathon. You exchange a glance with Ji-na who looks equally perplexed. “Yes, he works with Hyuna. And he called me last week and said that Hyuna heard about everything that happened to you in the news. And so she started looking you up on YouTube and she thinks you're really talented and wants your contact information.”

It takes a few seconds for your brain to register everything that he has just said considering how quick, breathless and jumbled his words are. Ji-na is elbowing you excitedly in the ribs.

“I've tried asking Hot Star for your address but they wouldn't tell me anything. I was literally coming here to ask Ji-na to try to reach out to you so I could pass the information along but here you are! It's like fate!”

Ji-na throws her elbow much deeper this time, accompanying the jab with a sharp screech. You can see that there's something exciting happening but your brain isn't putting it all together yet.

“Um, why does Hyuna want my contact information? You said she heard about my situation in the news so she must know that I'm not with FRNZEE anymore, right? Or any company, for that matter. We can't collab or anything like that.”

Manager and Ji-na groan in unison, so in sync that it seems rehearsed.

“Y/N, please, are you really this dense? Do I need to dumb this down for you?”

You grimace but bat your eyelashes hopefully. “Would you?”

She sighs, slapping her hands down hard onto your shoulders. “Hyuna was kicked out of Cube for a dating scandal. Psy – who founded P NATION – signed her right after. You were kicked out of Hot Star for a dating scandal. And now Hyuna is contacting you. I mean, I'm just speculating here but there's no way this is a coincidence.”

Wait.

If she's saying what you think she's saying then …

Hyuna wants to contact you … to sign you … to P NATION?

All you were here to do was to drop off Ji-na's birthday present. After this, you were going to stop into a few cosmetic stores to stock up on some harder-to-find products and then treat yourself to a well-deserved oreo bingsu before heading home. Talking to Hyuna – arguably one of the most popular and influential females in the k-pop industry ever – about possibly signing with Psy's new agency was not in the forecast.

Realizing your stunned state, Manager smirks smugly, lifting your hand to drop the business card into before wrapping your fingers around it and letting it fall.

The card feels like fire in your palm.

“Y/N,” Ji-na's voice breaks through your haze. You glance up at her silently, her warm smile only heightening your nervousness. “Go home and call her. Listen to what she has to say or what she has to … offer. Okay? And then call me and tell me every little detail.”

“You guys, that can't be right. Hyuna and Dawn's scandal was different – they both admitted to being in the relationship. Nobody bullied or laughed at them. I … I'm a joke. Why would P NATION want to sign me? Do you think they're just going around plucking up poor little k-pop idols who are mistreated by their labels? No, they're smarter than that. They-”

A hand – belonging to either Manager or Ji-na, you're not sure which one – whacks you upside the head. The strength of the blow is painful but it has its desired affect – it shuts you right up.

“Stop it, Y/N,” Manager scolds. “What happened to you wasn't fair and we all know it. You worked so hard for FRNZEE and maybe this is your good karma. Maybe this is ...”

“Fate!” Ji-na squeals hysterically.

___________________________________

An hour later, you're sitting in the corner of the cafe by yourself, a heaping bowl of bingsu untouched in front of you. Instead, your eyes focus on the card that you've set down onto the table. You wonder if this is a prank; if someone from Hot Star is getting one last act of cruel revenge on you before parting ways completely.

But what if it's not?

What if this is what was always supposed to happen? Everything that has happened to you, everything that you've been through, everything that you've lost … was it for this? Half of you jitters in happiness at the prospect of being signed to a label that houses some of the greats – Psy, Hyuna, Jessi. But the other half of you mourns what you had to give up for this.

Namjoon.

Was this opportunity supposed to make you grateful for losing him? Are you supposed to feel like your breakup served some kind of purpose now?

It didn't. Most of the happiest moments you can remember are either with Namjoon or because of Namjoon. If the choice was your idol career or Namjoon then …

Why do you have to make a choice? Why can't you have both? Why is that wrong?

For the first time, you shift your eyes away from the P NATION logo and onto the phone number scrawled messily onto the bottom of the card.

Lifting your phone, you dial with trembling fingers.

< -- PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER -- >

#bts #bts fanfic #namjoon #kim namjoon #RM #rm fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts namjoon #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #rm x you #rm x reader #namjoon angst #rm angst #namjoon imagine #rm imagine #bts imagine #bts x you #bts x reader

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ahatintimestorybook · 5 years ago

Text

AHIT Twin AU- Missing Brother

(Had to re-upload since I posted in the wrong blog)

Hey guys just an heads up. The next few chapters are going to be angst related. This one being the start to all the angst.

@winterpower98

Since day 1, since the day she met his twin brother, since the day his twin brother announced he and her were dating, since the day his twin brother saved up some money to buy a ring to propose to her, MJ never liked or trusted Vanessa Queenzel. MJ felt something was up with the woman, like an never ending blizzard when she passed by him.

Luka never felt it, he was so mesmerized by Vanessa, and MJ wished he could get into his brother’s head and find out why Vanessa was his one true love, his princess from the fairy tales they read when they were kids.

MJ had asked his brother countless times if Vanessa was the one and he always got the same answer. “She is, and I know it.” It made the older twin furious at his younger twin that he was just looking out for him. No one in their right mind can be this perfect especially someone like Vanessa.

Its been a month since MJ and Luka’s parents had died, and both twins were dealing with struggles. Luka was going to tell Vanessa to postpone the wedding till next year, and MJ was dealing with the fact their parents are gone. As you can tell stress lingered both brothers and were ready to snap at one another, despite never snapping or fighting once in their lives.

Soon Luka’s phone rang, which caught both twin’s attention. Luka reached for the phone and saw it was Vanessa was calling him. Luka gave a small smile and picked up the phone. “Hey Van.” Luka said. MJ looked up at his younger twin. His eyes showed he barely got sleep and with the glare written all over his face it made him look angry.

“Van, I need to tell you something its about the wedding.” Luka mentioned. “See, MJ and I spent a lot for the funeral, and I’m just wondering if we can postpone it till next year?” He asked giving a sheepish smile. Soon that smile faded and soon yelling was heard. It made Luka flinch, sure he’s heard his finance yell before, but never like this.

Luka sighed. “Look I know your mad, but we just spent a lot plus I just need to be there for MJ.” He tried to reason with her. Soon Luka heard the phone hang up. “Hello? V-Vanessa?” He asked. Luka looked at his phone and saw she did hang up. He groaned and slammed his head on the table.

Since their parent’s death Vanessa’s behavior towards Luka changed as well, she only comforted him when he revealed the devastating news and the funeral between that and after Vanessa didn’t seem to care about Luka grieving or trying to be there for MJ and insisted, showering him with gifts to make him feel better.

“Just don’t call her back Lu.” MJ spoke up. Luka turned to her brother giving a small glare. MJ looked up and saw his brother’s facial expression. MJ glared back, “do we have to argue about this again? Luka, the warning flags are right there!” He shouted.

Luka sighed. “Look, I know Vanessa has been...pushy lately but its only because I’ve been pushing all this mom and dad stuff onto her.” He replied as his defense.

“Its not that! She’s been like this months before mom and dad died!” MJ yelled back. “Remember she dyed your hair blonde?”

“Only because she dated you on accident! Hence why you changed your hair!” Luka replied. “Plus I didn’t mind it.” He mumbled.

MJ growled. “She did it without your consent!” Luka flinched, jumping back from MJ’s sudden anger. Luka glared and got up from the table and marched over his room to put on a jacket. “Where are you going?”

“To Vanessa’s and hopefully going to talk to her!” Luka shouted. He was about to make it to the door until MJ grabbed his arm using his magic. Luka looked down at his arm and looked up to his twin brother holding him back with his magic. “Let me go Micahel.” Luka growled, his eyes too starting to glow bright yellow.

“No.” MJ replied. “I’ve told you countless times, Vanessa is nothing but trouble. I don’t trust her! Mom didn’t even trust her! And for the past few days its nothing but you two arguing and making up!” He shouted. “Can’t you just open your eyes and see Vanessa is not the girl you should be with!”

Luka’s eyes turned back to normal but didn’t look at his twin brother in the face. MJ sighed and loosened the strings off his brother as his eyes turned normal too. “I’ll be back.” Luka whispered and slammed the door making MJ flinch. MJ stepped back, shaking that he just yelled at his brother. They argued before, but it was never this tensed.

Though MJ did understand things have gotten difficult thanks to the death of their parents and all the anger, sadness and stress just came down on both of them. He looked back at the door before heading to the couch to watch TV. “Come home safe bro.” He whispered.

By nightfall, Luka never arrived home and MJ started to worry. He checked his phone to see if Luka left him a phone call or message, but nothing only his lock screen wallpaper of him and Luka on their birthday, the last birthday to celebrate with their parents.

MJ decided to call Luka to see what’s up with him and Vanessa, but the call went straight to voicemail. Knowing Luka, he’d call back in under five minutes. “Hey Luka, listen I’m sorry about yelling earlier. Call me back where you are. Night bro. Love you.” MJ said before shutting off the phone and TV before heading to bed room.

Once there, MJ stared at the ceiling worried for his little brother. Luka should of called or even texted him by now. MJ thought Luka was mad at him for being mean to Vanessa, but he was telling the truth he didn’t trust her. The older twin felt something was wrong, Luka never ignored him or not answer his calls. This was unlike him.

MJ sighed and tried to fall asleep hoping that Luka would call him in the morning or at least show up. He hoped so.

Days passed, then weeks, until it was over a month and not a single call or anything from Luka. MJ wasn’t just scared, but horrified that something was up with his brother and he wasn’t getting anything from him. He hated to do this, but he had called Vanessa, but she would respond with:

“He’s not home,” or “He isn’t feeling too good, right now.”

Even though MJ didn’t like her, he didn’t want to fight with her. Knowing her status in town, it would make him look like the bad guy then Vanessa. Though he didn’t want to do this, it was his last resort. He needed to head on over to Vanessa’s manor.

MJ took a drive to the Queenzel manor and knocked on the door. As he waited he did his best to keep his cool so he wouldn’t go off on Vanessa. It felt like an eternity till Vanessa opened the door. “Oh MJ hi.” Vanessa said with a smile.

“Look Vanessa, do you know where Luka is?” MJ asked.

“He’s not at home, he went out for the day.” Vanessa replied.

MJ knew this was a lie, but he tried to keep cool. “Do you know when he’ll be home?” He asked. Vanessa didn’t reply and just shrugged. MJ sighed feeling his cool level head slowly leaving him. “L-Look if you see him tell him to either call me or see me!”

Vanessa sighed. “That’s only if he does show up. One night he didn’t come home for at least two days.”

MJ wanted to strangle this girl so much. He could sense she was lying. She knew something about Luka’s fate and was just staling MJ so he can leave or do something to her so she can be the victim. “Look! I may not like you, and I know you may not like me.”

“I do like you. You are going to be my brother in law.” Vanessa replied.

“But, we both like Luka. I just need you to talk to him and tell him to see me. I’m worried about him.” MJ begged. “Please Vanessa. Just let me talk to him.”

Vanessa went quiet as she looked down at MJ. “Alright.” She sighed. “I’ll try to get a hold of him and let him know you want too see him.”

MJ gave a small smile. “Thanks.” Vanessa nodded and closed the door as MJ went back to his car. Once he was back in drove back home, revealed he was out of that place and hope he didn’t have to go back there to ask for Luka again.

When he got home he slammed the door and collapsed on the couch and cried. “Where are you Luka. I miss you. I-I can’t loose you. P-please come home.” He cried and repeated those words over and over again.

MJ woke up his eyes red and a bit puffy from crying. He sniffled and wiped away the stray tears from his face. He looked outside and saw the sun was going down and that he was asleep for at least five hours. MJ checked his phone and saw no messages from Luka. MJ sighed, but got out of his thoughts hearing a knock on the door.

MJ sat their frozen hearing the knocks. Flashbacks to the day he heard about his parent’s death repeated in his head. Now the anxious older twin sat there waiting on some sign that this isn’t the police, he didn’t want to answer the door, see the officers and tell him that they found Luka’s body.

He couldn’t, he just couldn’t deal with another death! He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a familiar scream.

“MJ! MJ!” MJ flinched, those were Luka’s screams. Quickly, he got up and unlocked the door only to be tackled by his crying little brother. MJ held his brother and slowly made back to the door to close it.

Luka was here, and alive! But where was he all this time?

MJ looked at his twin brother and was in complete shock. His hair was a mess, bloodshot and tired eyes from crying, his wrist were bruised like he was chained or something and his clothes were a mess. MJ looked at his brother from head to toe, and he just knew who did this. “D-did Vanessa do this to you?” He asked.

Luka let out a sob and nodded hugging his brother tight. “Don’t tell her where I am!” He cried. “Please.”

“I-I won’t!” MJ promised. “I won’t.” MJ hugged Luka tight holding his twin brother close to him as he cried. MJ was sad yet relieved Luka was alright, but had to suffer in Vanessa’s hands. He’d ask his brother what happened, but he just needed to comfort his little brother.

#ahit twin au #ahit au #A hat in time AU #ahit #A Hat in Time #Moonjumper #ahit snatcher #ahit the prince #Queen Vanessa #Snatcher

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