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wonlouvre · 3 years ago

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pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc

genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff

word count: 2.2k

WARNINGS: none (pls tell me if there’s anything i missed!)

a/n: THEIR LOVE STORY CONTINUES AND YOU WILL FIND OUT ON MY NEXT POST! i will say this over and over again, THANK YOU WITH ALL MY HEART!

epilogue | masterlist

The trial of your father was not something you have ever imagined you would experience nor witness in this lifetime. Despite having the option to not go, you still attended. You weren’t present at the court itself though. Instead you waited at the parking lot with Jeongyeon everyday from the first day up to the last day. The judge’s verdict was obvious and irrevocable. Your father’s ancestry, title and reputation didn’t matter in the eyes of justice. At some point, you couldn’t accept it still but eventually you knew that every wrong must be corrected.

You can say that the wounds from this inevitable downfall burned the most than the wounds inflicted by the enemy.

Wonwoo was at your apartment when you arrived after the long hours of waiting. He just finished showering, drying his hair with a clean towel when he greeted you. After getting discharged from the hospital, he didn’t fail to visit your place and most times, he would stay the night. That’s why it’s natural and comforting to see him lounge around as if he has been living with you from the get go.

He already knows how the trial went because it was everywhere. He catches you with his arms once your bag is dropped on the couch and the tears you have been holding back start to fall. It’s not easy to cry every second, every minute and every hour. It’s not easy to accept that your tears are not enough. Not enough to help your father without damaging everything else further.

Your face was buried on the crook of your lover’s neck as you finally let it all out. He holds you there for a while before he moves the two of you to the couch and keeps you close by letting you take a seat on his lap.

You love your father so much but it is only right and only just to let this Kingdom punish him for the crimes he committed against the people he swore honesty and protection to.

The exhaustion made you fall asleep and Wonwoo left you be until he had to wake you because he doesn’t want you to skip your meal. After munching on a few bites, he led you to the bathroom for a warm bath, sitting on the cold tiled floor as he took care of you. And in the late evening, he held you close as you retired from the pain of the day.

Wonwoo is a gift and he makes every single day a little better.

You and Wonwoo decided to tie the knot three years later than what was initially arranged. It just felt right at the time to postpone the wedding and do what should be done. The Prince can tell that your heart and mind was not set on marriage yet because of what was currently happening. He was the one who brought it up, suggesting a postponement if you needed the time to think and of course, to wait. He didn’t mind because he’s one hundred percent sure that he is yours and it wasn’t necessary to immediately hold a wedding to seal the deal.

Three years of waiting wasn’t the timeline you intentionally planned on but if one were to count, that’s how long the two of you endured. The plan to have a grand wedding was scrapped and essentially, you two were back to zero. The venue, decorations, menu and even the custom made wedding dress and tuxedo were either auctioned or donated. It was a unanimous decision among you, him, your mother and his parents. It was for the better and taking things slow in your relationship was much needed anyway.

On the subject of parents, Wonwoo’s, for a period of time, were uneasy with your relationship. It was not because of you and what your father did. Their Majesties were wise enough to not hold anything against you and who you are. What made them uneasy was the people and their talking. If some were still loyal and supported and rooted for you, some were the exact opposite. The tabloids were cruel as well and you didn’t miss them displayed in every newsstand. They still gossiped about your father and even talked about the most irrelevant nonsense. Like come on, who cares about you wearing an orange jacket on a normal Sunday?

But the major stumbling block for them was your recommendation to abolish the Royal Family of your Kingdom.

You have pondered about it for quite a while and when you have made your decision, you discussed it with the rest of your relatives. As the times have changed, reigning as the sole power of the kingdom didn’t appeal to your family anymore. Some of your father’s siblings and cousins have discussed this already even before your father himself inherited the throne. It just so happened that the then cabinet members strongly opposed the idea. However this time, things will be different for and with you.

By right, you are the Queen of the Kingdom and it won’t be for much longer.

It was a long and exhausting process. You had to meet with the Cabinet and the policy making body of the Kingdom. For a whole year, you were lobbying and arguing with a lot of individuals who have their own greedy political agendas. However, for the same whole year, the people were supportive of your decision and goal. That pushed you forward and motivated you to not give up. It paid off because in the end, you stepped down as the last Queen to ever reign in your family and ultimately, the Kingdom.

Countless aspiring public servants stole the spotlight the following year as the campaign season started. Some still encouraged you to hold a position to which you declined immediately. It was a tight competition because every candidate had the potential. The people were smarter and at the same time stronger. They knew who they wanted and needed to lead the Kingdom. No flowery words could ever sway them.

Power to the people indeed.

You were present to the formulation and enactment of the new laws that will hopefully make the Kingdom and its citizens flourish without the presence of abuse of power and dishonesty. Once you finally signed the last piece of document as the Queen, the Kingdom is not yours anymore and you have never felt so free.

During the (unintentional) three year wait, you and Wonwoo made the most out of your time as boyfriend and girlfriend, fiancé and fiancée. Well, the engagement ring wasn’t returned to you so you’re quite unsure about the status of the latter. You didn’t lose it though. Wonwoo admitted on one of your dates that it’s with him and that he’ll eventually give it back.

Wonwoo stayed and continued working at the Royal Hospital meanwhile you decided to leave your current law firm and establish a new one to serve the public. It was a busy year of transition and you felt bad that you dragged Wonwoo into it. Even though he promised that he didn’t mind, you still can’t help but feel terrible that he’s carrying a whole lot of baggage that isn’t his.

He will just shush you with a kiss on the lips whenever you bring it up and you hate how he makes it work.

For most of the time, you were awfully busy, you had to bring work back to your apartment. Wonwoo would always complain with his forehead on your shoulder as you worked away on your desk. He would complain that it’s already late and you should be snuggled to him by then and you would just scratch the back of his neck to placate him. To which, he didn’t like. He didn’t stop until you shut down your laptop and let him pull you to bed.

Wonwoo diligently went back and forth to his hometown and here. He could go back and work at his Kingdom, but not without you. He made it clear that he has every intention of marrying you, so until then, he’d stay by your side. You love every single bit of time you spent with him and you’re beyond grateful. Although there was one instance you had to take care of him because he got sick, that didn’t make him stop.

The two of you went to a lot of dates despite the busy and overlapping schedules. Most of your dates consisted of long drives far from the city. You frequent farms, beachsides and small hidden cafes with little to none customers. It was great and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

It’s Wonwoo, after all.

Eventually, you had to visit his parents and introduce yourself in a whole new and different perspective. It was nerve wracking, but their Majesties never changed. In fact, almost everyone at their Kingdom still treated and served you like royalty to which you vehemently refused. Nonetheless, their Majesties still gave their utmost blessing and support to your relationship and if anything, they hope to see you get married soon.

Wonwoo requested to meet your father at some point. At first, you were confused as to why but when he told you that he wanted to do things right, you couldn’t say no.

You had to admit, you were embarrassed. However, you swallowed your pride because it’s pointless to keep concealing yourself from Wonwoo. He has accepted and loved you in every way and every form already, all you have to do is bare yourself to him.

The meeting and conversation you shared with your father was short-lived because of the time limit. In spite of that, it was good to see him and you’re happy Wonwoo took the initiative to visit him. It has already been two years since he got imprisoned and even though you couldn’t visit him every day, your father never held it against you. He was ecstatic to see Wonwoo and the news of your wedding still on, made him burst into a joyful laughter.

It still pained you to see him on the other side of the glass. It still pained you to not hug or touch his hand at least. But you keep yourself together and remember the purpose as to why your father had to go through this.

Your father never failed to tell you his regrets and apologies, but most importantly, he never failed to tell you how proud he is and that he loves you very much so.

You will never become a queen anymore, but Wonwoo vowed that you will be of his heart. He found it cringey himself, but he told you he had to say it in front of everyone present at your wedding. You just laughed it off because you know he’s not saying it out of spite.

The wedding happened at his mother’s garden with only close family and friends invited. Your father couldn’t make it even if he wanted to, but it was alright because you promised you’ll send lots of pictures afterwards. Some of your relatives made it, Jeongyeon and Seungkwan were also there. Meanwhile, all of Wonwoo’s relatives made it and of course his best friends Soonyoung, Jihoon and Jun (whom you met along the way) were also present.

It was a short ceremony that didn’t last more than three hours. It started late in the morning and ended early in the afternoon. The two of you, hand in hand and all smiles, did your best to mingle with every guest and thank them for their time and attendance after finally sealing everything with a long kiss and of course, legal documents.

There was no afterparty held after lunch was served, you and Wonwoo wanting the rest of the day to yourselves. A traditional program sounded lovely, but the two of you wanted to be simple.

The wedding was three years long in the making and in between, it almost didn’t happen. The beginning was vague because it started off as an arranged union. You didn’t know him, he didn’t know you. The middle was everything you wanted, full of love and security. You were so sure and so ready, just waiting for the dress and everything was set. However before the happy ending, shortcomings and bad deeds needed to be resolved and by doing so, one of you almost had to sacrifice the middle that you were ready to have forever.

But when Wonwoo buried his face in the space between your jaw and neck and his arms found its way around your waist, you realized that everything that had to happen was worth it. In the middle of the garden where the two of you stood alone, swaying from side to side, you realized and accepted that it was all worth it.

Your fingers ran through the hairs of your husband’s hair and he hummed at the sensation. You smiled at the vibration and continued holding him. If you were to tell one of the sentiments that you and Wonwoo share when you’re together, it’s that you wish for everything to never end. And now that you’re married, it is not far-fetched.

“I love you, Wonwoo,” you whispered and you’re not crying anymore.

Wonwoo pulls away slightly to look at your face and when he sees your smile, he knows that he loves you too.

a/n 2: all my love, the drabble/oneshot series masterlist is up! 🧡

#seventeen #wonwoo #svt #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagine #wonwoo imagine #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #fic: ifliys

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joviewinchester · 4 years ago

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Hey! So this is a Supernatural My Babysitter’s a Vampire crossover requested by @the-fifth-marauder101 The request wasn’t super specific so I kind of just ran with it. Jack’s a bit younger in this for the sake of the story. And I know that the timeline is off and stuff but like don’t @ me about it please. I know it’s off. Also this is a reader insert because, ya know, that’s literally all I write. Lol, but anyways, I hope you like it, and keep those requests coming!

Another school. Another town. Another day. That’s how it always went. Avoid making friends at all costs. Well, she had Jack at least.

“What are we here for again?” Y/N asked sighing.

“Your dad said something about vampires or werewolves. They don’t know what it is yet. Said something’s off with this one.” Jack replied glancing over at a group of whispering teens.

“What do you think their deal is?” Erica asked eyeing both Y/N and Jack.

“They don’t look like siblings, at the very least not biological ones.” Sarah responded.

“I don’t know, but can I just say, the girl is hot. Like hotter than anyone I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like if I had to choose between her and a young Carrie Fisher, I’d choose her.” Benny said.

“No way. You’re joking right?” Ethan asked.

“No. I never joke about a babe.” Benny said seriously.

“I don’t know. Personally I’d love to sink my teeth into either of them.” Erica smirked.

Y/N looked from the group to Jack in confusion. “Is it just me or do we have a literal fanclub?”

“I wouldn’t call them a fanclub. They’re just…unusually interested.” Jack responded.

“Should we introduce ourselves? Don’t get me wrong. I know we probably won’t stay for very long but…I just…it would be nice to make friends for once, you know?” She asked Jack as she looked at them, or more specifically looked at Benny.

“I mean, how could it hurt right?” They approached the group.

“Dude they’re coming over here.” Benny said while slapping Ethan’s arm.

“Yeah. I know. I can see dude.”

“Hi.” Y/N said shyly.

Jack stepped in at that point. “Hello. My name is Jack and this is my friend Y/N.” He introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Sarah and this is Ethan, Benny, and Erica.” Sarah smiled.

Benny had a dumbstruck look on his face. “Excuse him. He gets nervous around girls he thinks are pretty.” Ethan said.

Benny looked at him with a glare. “Dude.” He whisper shouted at him. They then had a small slap fight.

“Alright you two are embarrassing yourselves. Hi, as Sarah said, I’m Erica, and I would love to take you under my wing, Y/N was it? Please let me give you a makeover tonight. You have so much potential if we removed the flannel and the old leggings.”

“Sorry. She’s straightforward like that. She doesn’t mean in a rude way or anything she just thinks your pretty and wants to do your makeup.” Sarah said.

“I guess I could come over.” Y/N said nervously. Jack have her a look and lowered his voice.

“Y/N, Dean said to come straight home after school, and that we can’t go out. You can’t. If you leave on my watch, Dean and Cas will, what is it that you say? ‘rip me a new one’” He quoted.

“Who’s Dean?” Ethan asked.

“My dad. He’s just a little bit overprotective, and if you don’t want me to go out without you, then just come with me.” Y/N said.

“So, you two like live together?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah. Our dads work together. It’s a whole thing.” Y/N said.

“Anyways, I’ll talk to him if he’s home and if not I’ll text him and let him know it shouldn’t be a big deal.” She said.

“Great. Sarah you’re coming too right?” Erica asked.

“Actually, I have to babysit Ethan and Jane tonight.”

“No problem we’ll just go over there.”

“Sarah’s your babysitter?” Jack asked.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but it’s only because my mom doesn’t trust me to babysit my little sister. Benny you’re still coming over to play that new zombie game right?”

“Like I would miss that.”

“Think we have room for another player?” Ethan asked.

“Not if you’re talking about Rory.” Benny complained.

“I’m clearly talking about Jack, Benny.”

Sarah and Erica both rolled their eyes at their antics. “Come on, Y/N. We’ll walk you to class. Honestly, I swear you geeks almost scared her off.” Erica said.

Y/N waved goodbye at Benny, Ethan, and Jack, linking her arms with Erica and Sarah.

The bell then rang. “Do you guys know where Mr. G’s class is?” Jack asked.

“Yeah we have him for first period too. Follow us.” Ethan said.

School seemed to go by like a breeze with their new friends by their sides. Before they knew it, they were all heading out the doors.

“Alright. Jack and I need to head out, but we’ll meet you guys at Ethan’s house later. See ya.” Y/N said. There was a series of byes and Jack and Y/N hopped into the Jeep they had jacked from the bunker.

Erica left shortly after that saying something about how she needed to pack some clothes and makeup for later.

“I should give her a love potion.” Benny said.

“Do you remember how that turned out last time? I still have nightmares.” Ethan shuddered.

“Benny, don’t let this get to your head, but I think you might actually have a chance with her. She stared at you throughout the entirety of biology class. You should just ask her to see a movie with you or something.” Sarah advised.

“Yes. I need to be more like Han Solo. God, she’d be such a pretty Princess Leia.” Benny sighed dreamily.

“Okay lover boy. You wanna stand out here all day? We’re practically the only ones still here. Your grandma is gonna get mad if you make her wait any longer.” Sarah said glancing at the SUV Benny’s grandma sat in.

“Right. See you guys later!” Benny called.

“Bye!” They said in sync.

“I’ll see you later?” Ethan asked.

“Duh. If I want to get paid I don’t really have a choice.” Sarah joked. Ethan waved awkwardly and jogged to his mom’s car.

“Dorks.” She muttered to herself a slight smile on her face.

Y/N and Jack entered the place one of their hunter friends had loaned them and saw Sam researching by himself.

“Hey, Sam! Do you know when dad is gonna be back?” Y/N asked.

“Um…not really, but it probably won’t be for a few hours. He and Cas are interviewing at the moment. Why? Do you need something? Maybe I can help.”

“Well, Jack and I were wondering if we could go over to a friend’s house around seven ish? We’re just hanging out, nothing big.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “You guys made friends?” He asked.

“Yeah. I know. I know. We probably won’t stay here, but it’s hard avoiding people everywhere we go and they’re really nice.” Y/N explained.

“Y/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I think it’s good that you guys are making friends, and I think it’s fine if you go out as long as you’re back by 10:30 or Dean will flip.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’re the best uncle in the world.”

“Do you need any help with research?” Jack asked.

“No. It’s fine. You probably have homework to do.” Sam replied. Jack then headed to his room with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Sam?” Y/N asked sitting across from him.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“You know that you can tell me anything Y/N.”

“I don’t…I don’t think that I can keep doing this.” She sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole moving towns constantly and the saving people hunting things…I just don’t want to keep moving around. I know that it’s stupid. You’re saving the world. All of you, but I feel like I haven’t even lived. I’ve never really gotten to stop and smell the roses you know?”

“Y/N, it’s not like we can just leave you in a town by yourself. You’re only sixteen, but you’re in luck. We’re going to be here awhile. There are multiple cases in this one town and they all seem different. I don’t know what’s going on here. It’s like a Supernatural beacon.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help with research?” Y/N asked.

“No. You have homework too I’m assuming.”

“I finished all of mine in study hall. I’m available for four hours.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. You can help. I’m just looking through lore right now to try and figure out the first case.”

After about three and a half hours of researching, they both still came up with nothing. Y/N groaned.

“Are you sure there isn’t like more than one type of vampire?” She asked.

“Not according to any hunters I’ve met.” Sam said.

“Well, we didn’t think angels existed at one point and look at Cas. Look at Jack. We got an angel and a nephilim living in our house. Not to mention me. I’m a freak of nature.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. If we haven’t encountered one before, I don’t know why we would now.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go upstairs and grab a few things, then Jack and I are leaving. I’ll see you later Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname but told her goodbye nonetheless and went back to his research. Y/N grabbed her small bag that contained hand sanitizer, chapstick, lotion, a first aid kit and a pocket knife and knocked on Jack’s door.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Yeah let’s go before we’re stopped by Dean and Cas getting home.” Jack said.

They drove over to Ethan’s house and everyone else had already arrived. Y/N knocked on the door to see Benny with his mouth full of marshmallows. Y/N gasped in excitement.

“Are you guys seeing who can fit the most marshmallows in their mouth?! I bet I can win! I want in on this!” She exclaimed rushing past Jack and in the door.

“What’s the record I’m trying to beat?” Y/N asked Jane.

“It’s unclear. They argue all the time about which got the highest amount and what the highest amount is. I think it’s 176. You don’t need to waste your time here though. You should come play dress up with me and Sarah. I promise it’ll be much more fun.” Jane ranted grabbing her hand.

“Come on Y/N it’ll be way more fun.” Sarah joked. Y/N shrugged.

“You know what? Why not let’s go. You coming, Erica?”

“Playing ‘dress up’ with you is literally the only reason why I’m here. Of course I’m coming.” Erica replied grabbing her bag. They all rushed upstairs leaving the boys behind.

The marshmallows fell out of Benny’s mouth as he was watching Y/N go upstairs. Ethan fist pumped in victory.

“I win!” He yelled through a mouthful of marshmallows.

“Hey! Dude that is so not fair!”

“It’s completely fair! Just don’t get distracted next time and you might win.” Ethan said back smugly.

“Whatever. You guys wanna watch Star Wars or something?” Benny asked.

“I don’t know. Y/N might get mad if we watch it without her.” Jack half joked. Benny looked at him in exasperation.

“She likes Star Wars too?! What’s next?!”

Meanwhile, upstairs Erica had already began using Y/N as a human doll.

“Those dorks are literally not going to know what to do with themselves when they see you.” Erica praised.

“You look really pretty, Y/N. Dare I say, prettier than Debbie Dazzle.” Jane complimented.

“Is that a compliment? What’s a Debbie Dazzle?” Y/N asked Sarah.

“You mean you never had a Debbie Dazzle doll growing up?” Sarah asked. Y/N shook her head no and thought of her childhood.

“We…well, we’ve always moved around a lot, and I matured earlier than most kids. Never really got into that stuff, besides wouldn’t have anyone to play with it with anyways.”

“What about your dad or your mom?” Erica asked while brushing Y/N’s hair.

“My mom?” She asked mostly to herself. It’s not like she could straight up say that her mom was God’s sister. “My mom left us when I was young. I barely remember her.” She said. When she was born she automatically aged up to thirteen, similarly to Jack.

That was the end of that conversation. They didn’t want to pry into her personal life. Even if it felt like they’d known her for years, the truth of it was that they were practically strangers.

“Okay. All done.” Erica smiled. Y/N looked in the mirror Jane had in her room. She was shocked to say the least to see what was staring back at her. For the first time in her life, she felt normal. She felt like a regular teenage girl, not a demi-god who hunted monsters.

“Wow. I look-“

“Beautiful.” Sarah, Erica, and Jane all said at once.

https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/2784047

“I was gonna say normal, but yeah.” She laughed.

There were a few seconds of silence then Y/N suddenly jumped out of her seat. “Is that the Star Wars theme song?!” She exclaimed. She started heading downstairs.

“What a cute little nerd.” Erica said.

“Can we go downstairs to get a snack?” Jane asked Sarah.

“Sure but you have to be in bed by 9:00 remember?” “9:30?” “Fine.”

When Y/N got downstairs she plopped on the couch in between Jack and Benny.

Benny glanced at her and did a double take. “Woah. Erica did a really good job…not that you weren’t pretty before. You’re really pretty, either way. I’m so sorry. I’m totally rambling again.”

“Are you done?” She asked jokingly.

“Yeah…well, actually,” she laughed. “So no then?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go see a movie sometime…with me. I’ll even suffer through the new Dusk if you want.”

“No way are we watching Dusk. Pick me up Friday. We’re watching the new Avengers movie.”

Benny elbowed Ethan. “Dude. Did you hear that?”

“Yes, Benny, congratulations.” Y/N’s phone abruptly began to ring.

“Shoot. I gotta take this.” She got up and walked into the other room.

“Hello?” She asked. “Y/N? Where the hell are you? I told you and Jack to come home and stay home after school. Sam is not your dad. I am. You could’ve at least called and asked.” Dean grumbled.

“And you would’ve told me no and I would’ve been mad and you would’ve been mad and it would just not be fun at all so…”

“Are there boys there?” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Does is matter?”

“Yes. It matters a lot.”

“You don’t know. I could be a lesbian.” She stated.

“Cut the crap, kid. You and Jack need to get your sorry asses home or youre grounded. Both of you.”

Y/N ignored that statement. “Well, I’d love to talk more, but I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Y/N Elaine Winchester I swear to Chuck if you hang up…”

“Calm down. We’ll be home in like twenty minutes. Bye.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

“Jack, we have to go. Dean is flipping out.” She said walking back into the living room.

“Did you just refer to your dad by his first name?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah I did. Because I’m mad. It’s a symbol of defiance…even if he can’t hear it. Anyways, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Y/N, with annoyance, walked into the kitchen and said goodbye to Erica, Sarah, and Jane as well, before leaving with Jack trailing behind her.

Once they got home, they were greeted by all three hunters still sitting at the table researching.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Dean asked in disgust.

“Clothes. Goodnight. Good riddance. Love you partially and all that jazz. I’m going to bed. I have school.” She said running upstairs not letting anyone else get a word in.

The three men sighed. “Were there boys there?” Dean asked Jack seriously as he had Y/N on the phone.

“Yeah. Just two. Y/N has a date Friday.” Jack responded casually.

“She what?!”

“Anyways goodnight. Good riddance. Love you. And all that jazz as Y/N would say. See you tomorrow.” Jack repeated charging up the stairs.

#benny weir #ethan morgan #sarah fox #erica jones #rory keaner #my babysitters a vampire imagine #my babysitters a vampire #benny weir x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural #jack kline #dean winchester #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester #castiel novak #castiel #requested

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wolvesandpetals · 3 years ago

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Loki x Sylvie Playing House Part 3 (Humor, Romance), Rated T. Full on Sylki hijinks, as promised!

Masterlist of my Sylki fanfics here.

---

The first thing she does when Thor leaves is Google herself. Apparently, she was a child actor and made a fortune there, before transitioning into modelling, and later into a successful influencing career.

"That makes perfect sense to me", Loki comments. "If I was not a prince, I would have chosen to be an actor too. Just imagine, legions of fans screaming your name, begging for your attention for just one moment, hanging onto your every word, willing to worship the very ground you walk on. Now, that is the dream." He pauses, cherishing the image in his head. "There's also the money. Looks like you and I will never have to work a day in our lives. We can just live off your money."

[[MORE]]

Sylvie feels the muscles in her laws instinctively tense. This is not her life, or her reality. She can't imagine spending eternity here. She looks at Loki sternly. "We can not. We have to return to the TVA."

"Yes, of course." He agrees immediately. A part of him likes this life. But another part of him knows there is never a gain without a loss. The universe finds a way to make him pay for every bit of happiness he ever gets. Who knows what the price may be if he chooses to stay, with his family, and with Sylvie right here?

Sylvie sets down the laptop on the bedside table, ignoring the danger of Loki's glass being knocked over and drenching it. She cannot let herself be concerned with such simple things. Ignoring them is the surest way to covince herself she hates it here. "I was wondering, if Thor can get into this town, and if he remembers us leaving this town in the past, does it mean we are free to leave?"

Loki studies her features, the resolute glint in her eyes and the defiant stance of her chin. It is clear that she will stop at nothing to get back to the TVA. "We should test it out." He says, trying to sound as calm as possible. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Maybe we can go to Oklahoma? See my supposed parents?" She attempts to play it off like it's nothing, even though she knows exactly what it means- temptation. The urge to see what this life looks like is ever-growing.

"Why can't we go to Asgard and see my parents instead?" He counters immediately.

Sylvie purses her lips, trying not to reveal her emotions. She doesn't remember her Odin or Frigga at all. A part of her longs to meet this version of them, but another part wonders how overwhelming it would feel, watching Loki occupy her place, have her life, her "parents" in this timeline. "Fine. How about we pick a neutral location first?"

"Fine." He replies curtly.

"Fine!" Her irritation escalates. She grabs the laptop again, opening up a tab to a travel website, ready to book a flight.

"LA?" He suggests.

"You just want the paparazzi attention, don't you?" She points out, but doesn't resist. "Alright."

September 1st. The date is set. They will be off to LA within three days, and if whatever being that has placed them here does not want them to leave, they will know by then.

---

"Do you really need all of these sunglasses?" Sylvie asks, after Loki stashes the fifth one in his backpack.

"Of course, I do." He defends. "Style? Remember?"

"Travelling light, remember?" She hits back, taking out two random pairs and throwing them back on her dresser. "Just take what you absolutely need."

"I absolutely need my sunglasses." He says stubbornly.

She can either give in on this trivial matter, or she can dig her heels in and fight it out with him. A stupid pair of sunglasses is not worth the effort. "Fine." And in return, there's something that he has to compromise for her as well. "Only if you help me get my swords past security."

"With pleasure." He says with a grin, and with a wave of his hand, the newly arrived swords from eBay are magically cloaked.

Sylvie looks at her own luggage. She has never really owned anything. She jumped from one apocalypse to another, with only her life, and sometimes food supplies for a few days. It feels surreal to look at the clothes in her wardrobe now. The thought of carrying them with her feels even more foreign.

She looks at the tons of products on her dresser, skin creams, lotions, toners, cleansers and heaven knows what else. All the luxuries she never had.

All the luxuries she does not want.

"I'll just pack a change of clothes." She says finally.

"You don't want anything else?" He asks, surprised.

"These are just things, Loki." She explains. "They can be replaced. I have no attachment to them."

---

She regrets not booking first class. She has been on planes before, using crashing aircrafts as a temporary hideout spot to regroup when the TVA was on her tails. As a stowaway, she never realized just how annoying a plane journey can actually be.

Loki graciously offers her the window seat, noting her unease as soon as they board. She thanks him with a smile, and they nod in mutual understanding.

She stares out of the window, at the town that is supposedly her home, and for the first time ever, she feels a pang of homesickness for a place that is not Asgard. She has been here for just five days now, yet, the thought of sleeping in her own bed is so tempting.

Sylvie notices how she is thinking of the bed as her bed now, but tries not to dwell on it too much.

The plane takes off without incidence, and she dozes off quickly. When she wakes up, she notices a thin comforter wrapped around her shoulders. Turning to her side, she sees Loki sleeping as well, his mouth slightly agape. She snuggles close to him, suddenly needing the comfort of his warmth, and the woman on the aisle seat gives her a dirty look. There's a baby crying somewhere in the back, and what feels like the beginning of a massive headache. But all that fades away when she lays her head on his shoulder.

---

When the flight arrives at LAX, they are both a little scared to leave its comfort. They are about to find out if they are free to travel wherever they want, or whether the action had any consequence. Sylvie is the first to take a step out, and they are both relieved to see nothing happens. The baggage claim goes smoothly, though slowly, and they get a cab quickly. Sylvie hides her grin when she sees Loki put on his sunglasses.

"So we're here." He says, staring at Sylvie, while she stares out of the window.

She only hums in response.

"Is this your honeymoon?" The driver asks.

Loki laughs nervously. "No, no. We've been married for quite a long time. This is just... a vacation."

The driver recommends them a lot of tourist places. Sylvie tunes him out. This is just a test. She has no interest in touring LA. They have their return flight scheduled for the next day.

They check into their hotel room, and she plops down on the bed immediately. "It seems we are free to leave the town. Just not the reality, I suppose." She runs her hands over the silky sheets, amused. "I must say, whoever placed us here has taken every measure to make this prison comfortable."

Loki follows suit and takes a seat beside her. "I suppose that is indeed generous of him. Or her."

Sylvie turns to the side to look at him. "So how do we get out of here then? Got any plan?"

He shrugs. It's not like there's a book called What to do when you find yourself trapped in an alternate universe with your alternate self for Dummies. "Right now, the plan is to get some dinner, then some sleep. Then perhaps in the morning we can see a bit of LA?"

"You want to play tourist?" She asks in a neutral tone.

He replies in kind, testing the waters. "We are here already, and we have the time, so why not?"

"Okay." She replies, a little unsure, but not entirely opposed to the idea. The weariness of the journey starts taking its toll on her. She messages her temples with her fingertips. "Should we order room service?"

Loki contemplates for a moment. On the one hand, she looks really tired, and she could use a good night's sleep. On the other hand, she has been completely on edge and razor focused on the mission since they got in this mess. Well, since they met, actually, and probably for centuries before that. She could also use a bit of fun and relaxation.

With that in mind, he carefully voices his proposal. "I was thinking maybe we can go down to the restaurant and have a proper dinner."

Sylvie looks up, grinning mischievously. She's about to call his bluff. "What, like a date?" His deer-in-the-headlights reaction makes her laugh. "Calm down, I'm just teasing you."

---

It's not a date, but it kind of is. It's a four course meal and a fine bottle of champagne over candlelight, after all.

"Was it like this? Back at Asgard?" Sylvie wonders.

"Mostly. But Asgard was grand, elegant. This is..."

"A cheap replacement." She completes.

Loki smiles. "Precisely."

They talk about their Asgard bedrooms, the similarities and the differences between their safe haven in the palace. An hour passes swiftly.

"The wine is good." Sylvie comments, sipping on her first glass of wine, when the champagne is drained.

"Yes, quite good." Loki agrees, on his first glass as well.

The tiniest buzz starts to take root in him, and his mind wanders into the realm of possibilities, the future he can have, here and now. His eyes focus on the brighest object in front of him- Sylvie.

She feels her cheeks flush under his gaze. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You are just so..." He blinks. What is another word for Asgard's Sun when it disappears into the azure lakes? "Breathtaking"

Her lips curve into a shy smile. This is the beginning of the same foolishness he showed on the train in Lamentis-1 that almost got them killed. But right now, their life isn't in imminent danger. Right now, she is just amused. "Wow, you really can't hold your liquor, can you?"

"Of course I can. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard." He declares proudly.

"Yes, yes, I've heard the speech." She says it with a smile and an eye-roll. "We should get you upstairs."

He objects immediately. "But I'm not done yet."

"Oh, I think you're quite done." She beckons the nearest waiter. "Can we get the bill, please?"

He can still walk surprisingly well, but she holds his hand tightly, just in case he decides to take a detour, and drags him into the elevator.

"Blonde looks good on you." He comments out of the blue. "Maybe I should go blonde too."

She grins. "Like Thor?"

He glares at her. "You're a buzzkill."

---

Sylvie opens the door after fumbling with the keys for a minute. She is starting to feel the effect of the alcohol as well. She takes off her shoes and her earrings, while Loki runs to the loo.

"Why did you book a room for two?" He asks in a serious tone, leaning against the door-frame of the bathroom.

Sylvie freezes, her hand hanging mid-air for five uncomfortable seconds before she awkwardly drops it to her side.

Why did she book a room for two? She could have just rented separate rooms, or at least ones with separate beds. It's not like she and Loki are actually together.

But they have been. At least for the past few days. Why do they need separate rooms here when they share a bed back home?

Home. Sylvie realises with alarm that she's thinking of her prison as her home.

Is this reality starting to mess with her mind now?

"It's okay, I don't want to leave you either." Loki's voice pulls her out of her inner monologue. She turns around quickly in his direction. He's still drunk, and it shows, but he has a look on his face that she has never seen before- a mix of resolution and fondless. His eyes whisper silent vows of loyalty, and something else, something he can't quite express yet. "I will never leave you."

Sylvie smiles, closing the distance between them and standing next to him. Her hand finds his by sheer instinct. "Good to know."

"I mean it, Sylvie." He gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, before he tugs her along with him as he sits down on the bed, unable to stand any longer in his inebriated state. She is grateful to be seated too, and she's unsure whether it is just the alcohol. "I know you hate it here. But I like this." He indicates at her, then at himself, then back at her. "I like falling asleep next to you, and walking into the kitchen first thing every morning to see you cursing at the microwave. I like how you hum in the shower and scream at the TV."

Sylvie listens quietly, her eyes focused on the feeling of his hand in hers. She is trying to memorize this moment, burn the shape of his fingers and the feel of his touch into her brain, so that when it's gone- when he is gone- like everything in her life always is, she will have another good memory to relive again and again.

Loki continues. "I like the way you burn the pasta every time you try to cook."

"I don't burn the whole dish." She retorts playfully. "Just the bottom part."

He shakes his head to show he disagrees. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Her heartbeat quickens. Is he going to confess that he has feelings for her?

Does he have feelings for her?

"Sure." She barely whispers back.

Loki double-checks. "Promise me that you will never tell yourself?"

She laughs softly. "I promise."

Loki tenses, suddenly looking sober. He lets go of her hand, to rest his by his side, his fingers clenched into a fist. Mastering all his courage, he finally speaks. "I don't want to leave. Ever. I like it here."

Sylvie looks away, suddenly needing air. Hearing Loki say that makes her feel irrationally angry. He promised to be on her side every step of the way, but the minute he finds a life he likes, he's ready to throw in the towel.

A part of the anger stems from the fact that she knows, a major reason he wants to stay is her, this life he has with her. Two Lokis on any other timeline will cause Nexus events. But here, they are free to be together. Timelines don't start branching off like a growing vine on timelapse video every time they touch. And he wants that. She knows this because he has all but said it with his words and his actions.

And because she wants it too. Damn it, she wants it so much. She is getting sucked into this reality, indeed.

But she knows she has to finish what she started- she owes it to herself, and to the people out there who need her help, who will be robbed of their lives if she doesn't stop whoever is doing this.

She wants to-

- But she can't.

"Loki, I-" she stops when she turns around to see he has already fallen asleep. Wordlessly, she wraps the comforter over his sleeping form, before crawling under it herself. Turning to her side, facing away from him, she wonders what's next for them.

#loki disney+#loki x sylvie #sylvie x loki #pro sylki #sylki #sylki fanfic #fanfiction

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reneejuliet · 4 years ago

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The bells of change.

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: E (still absolutely nothing)

Word Count: 1,247

Genre: Fluff, Soulmate AU

Author’s Note: Here’s the sequel! Well, I say sequel, but it’s more like an installment. These “pieces” are going to be snippets of a story, as that’s probably all I’ll have time to write out. But I hope you like it! The photo above is edited by me.

You can read the first part here.

Happy Reading!

You were exhausted.

Two weeks ago, your days had been cinematic. Soaring mountains, neon cities, blooming country sides: they’d all provided breathtaking backdrops for a month’s worth of adventures with your best friend. Your passport still sat carelessly on your desk, pages brimming with the timeline of your travels. The trip had been impulsive, and exhilarating.

And expensive.

Despite all your scrimping and saving and the meticulous planning you had put into the excursion, your bank account had still been stretched incredibly thin. After all, you still had bills to keep up with while you were away experiencing life. Not that you regretted the trip – the very opposite, actually. You’d never known such freedom, such peace. And oh, what you wouldn’t give to be back on a distant shore, toes buried in the sand and bathed in moonlight, watching your friend frolic haphazardly through the dark waters.

Instead, you find yourself back in your studio apartment on the far side of town after another long day at work. Only the light above the stove is there to greet you at this late hour, left on by you to prevent any more stubbed toes or banged shins. After all, the only window you have in your “living room” faces a brick wall attached to a ten-story building. You aren’t exactly familiar with natural lighting.

Still, the apartment is home, and has been for some time now. It may not be conveniently located to your work – 45 minute commute by bus, 30 by taxi if you ever had the money to spare for one – but it’s cheap enough that even with your commuting fees, you manage to come out on top each month. And that’s really all you could ask for. Plus, it’s just you living here, and you’ve never been a flashy kind of person. If anything, the plain, boring space suits you rather well.

You had just thrown your coat over the back of your kitchen chair and dropped your bag onto the counter when the familiar chime of your phone sounds from the confines of your pants. Instinctively, you groaned. You knew that sound.

Another work email.

Even though you had clocked out almost 2 hours ago, your phone had not shut up since you had left the building. Your return from your vacation had been timed perfectly with the start of the busy season, and thus had buried you in orders before you’d even had your first cup of coffee. Ever since, you’d been working longer and longer hours to try and stay afloat. This often meant working off the clock and answering emails from the comfort of your own home.

Needless to say, you’d grown conditioned to hate that particular series of bells.

Tonight, however, you choose to ignore the siren call of work in favor of heating up some leftovers you’d been dreaming about all day. It was Friday, after all. Even if you responded to this beck and call, it likely wouldn’t be received until tomorrow, let alone appreciated by your bosses until the coming Monday because they got to leave work behind when they clocked out. So, screw it. You were taking the rest of the night for yourself.

The food in the microwave, your clothes changed out for a comfy set of pjs, and your laptop tucked under your arm, you settled into your favorite spot on the couch. Flipping the screen open, you punched in your log-in information and waited as your most recent activity reloaded before your eyes. Squinting against the brightness, you’re greeted with the familiar sight of your social media. It’s all kept primarily on your laptop in an effort to maintain your phone for work purposes only, so you’re not surprised that you’d forgotten to close out of the accounts.

As the tantalizing aroma of your food begins to seep out from the kitchen, you flick between accounts to catch up on the latest with your family and friends. You were just about to leave a sarcastic comment on one of your friend’s status updates when another chime rings loudly in your quiet apartment. You jump in surprise, carefully cradling your laptop to prevent a journey to the floor. Instinctively, your eyes shoot to your phone with a glare. But it remains on the counter, where you left it, screen dark with its lack of power.

You look instead to the microwave, tongue sticking out of your mouth in anticipation of your food. Only the glowing red numbers tell you there is still a little over a minute left. Your stomach rumbles grumpily.

Something on the screen between your hands catches your eye, and you look down with your brow drawn in confusion. There is nothing on the page you are currently on, but one of the other tabs is blinking in notification. Clicking on it, your Facebook page loads up in a soft blue glow. And there, up near the top of your screen, is a little red circle indicating that you have a new friend request.

You have not met anyone new lately – there hasn’t been any time for that with work. Anyone of interest from your trip that had warranted exchanging information had added you on their preferred social media platform, none of which had been Facebook. You vaguely remembered a friend mentioning her cousin was moving nearby soon and would likely be scouring her own page for people to add from the area, but that was more than a month ago.

Curiosity winning out, you click on the little red bubble. The menu drops down with the account that has submitted the request. There is no profile picture – hello red flag – but there is a message attached to the request. You click on it, and you choke on your own spit.

Hello, Y/N. Bell girl. I hope you made flight.

You almost have no idea what this message means. Your name could have just been gleaned from your profile, and everything else is random enough to be brushed off as spam. You move the mouse to hover over the delete button. But you hesitate.

Because just across from you, on one of the shelves of your bookcase, sits a little ceramic bell whose chime you have not been able to forget since it literally rained down on you. You’d thought they’d all been cleaned up, but one had managed to fall into the hood of your coat and you unwittingly carried it onto your plane with you. It wasn’t until you were an entire ocean away that you discovered the mistake, at which point it was too late to remedy. You’d stewed in guilt for a day or two, even contemplated tossing the thing out so it wouldn’t remind you of the only theft you’d ever committed.

Then you rang it, and those soft doe eyes were called into your memory. How they glistened as he’d stared at you, the way they crinkled when you’d offered him your name. You hadn’t gotten his, but you hadn’t needed it, either. Because you knew those eyes.

Your own snap back to your laptop and zero in on the requester’s profile name. A rather undignified snort leaves you.

John Cook.

Was he serious? Of course not, because there was no way this was even him. It was some sort of coincidence. At worst, a terrible joke. It had to be.

There was absolutely, positively, no way Jeon Jungkook was adding you on Facebook.

Right?

There it is! I know Jungkook isn’t exactly present in this one, but I wanted to show the reader’s POV more this time. Please let me know what you think. And, if you have any suggestions for the next drabble, feel free to share! I’m pretty positive I’m going to continue this as inspiration hits, but I’m always open to suggestions. Especially when work is draining most of my creativity. Thanks for reading! :)

©reneejuliet 2020. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

#btsghostie #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop drabbles #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts drabble #jeon jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook soulmate au #bts soulmate au #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #the bells of change #reneejuliet

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holidaywishes · 4 years ago

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i wanna marry you

part eight: i wanna marry you

Summary: You and Freddie finally decide to get married a year after Vita is born

Warning: a wedding, so lots of fluff. I think that’s it though... I guess a tiny bit of angst because I couldn’t help myself

Author’s Note: So here’s what’s up! Since it had been a full year that I added another chapter to this story before I posted part seven, I’m adding a HUGE time jump so that we’re all in the same timeline -- and so I don’t get confused. I probably won’t have too many more chapters (maybe I’ll go to 13 because it’s 31 backwards? and my lucky number? who knows, I haven’t decided yet,) but I hope you enjoy these next few chapters. I was going to include the wedding in this chapter but I changed my mind but on the plus side, I at least know what the next chapter will be so hopefully the next chapter will be out relatively soon after this one. AND REMEMBER! my asks are always open but I will never promise when I will get to them but I love getting them no matter what! 😘

masterlist

the other masterlist

The world going into quarantine four months after your baby was born felt like both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Freddie would actually get to bond with Vita and a curse because, well, neither of you would be able to get away from each other until it was over. But when Freddie told you that Auston had invited him to spend some of the quarantine with him in Arizona, you were back to feeling overwhelmed

“You’re really just going to leave?” you snarled through the phone

“It won’t be long. We’ll be back together before you know it”

“Freddie, you have a newborn baby here”

“I know”

“And a fiancé”

“I know”

“You’re already on the plane aren’t you?”

“No”

“Why are you being so secretive right now?”

“I’m almost home. Do you wanna just wait to talk?”

“FREDDIE!” you yelled

“Don’t wake Vita!” he yelled back

“I swear to god Freddie...” you started to chastise him just as he walked through the door, ending the call so he could walk toward you, “you’re just here to grab some clothes and take off?”

“It’s just for a little while.. to get away from the city”

“Why do you need to get away from us?!” you whisper yelled, gesturing to where Vita was sleeping

“Come with me...” he stated, “both of you”

“What?”

“Come to Arizona and we can all isolate in the sun”

“Freddie.” you sighed before rubbing your temples, “aside from the fact that our daughter is barely four months old and has seen very little of the sun, Auston is an immature man child who I know for a fact isn’t going to follow any of the guidelines”

“Maybe he will!” Freddie argued

“He won’t!”

“He will if you’re there...”

“That’s a bullshit lie and you know it!”

“(Y/N), baby, elske, do you trust me?” he asked, resting his hands softly on your arms and you cocked your eyebrow in response

“I trust you. Not him. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to get out of the city for three months. Away from your daughter when you could be bonding with her”

“We just need some clarity... and some sun”

“I think you should be here”

“Trust me, okay, quarantine won’t be that long and I’ll be back here before you know it; all up in your space so much you wish I was gone...” He was wrong, obviously, just like you knew he’d be the second he said it. He came back in late June, four months into the quarantine, but he didn’t have much downtime with you and Vita before he went right into training mode for the qualifiers. Your heart sunk when you couldn’t be there to cheer him on or bring your daughter to see her daddy on the ice but honestly, with how the rest of the season turned out, maybe it was better that she couldn’t fully comprehend anything yet. When he finally came back, he looked like he hadn’t slept in days and he crashed into you as though you were a life raft saving him from the treacherous waves of the NHL.

“Hi baby” you whispered as he knelt down in front of you to rest his face in your chest and wrap his arms around your waist

“Hi” he groaned

“Wanna pick-me-up?” you asked, trying to get him to stand up

“Whatcha got for me?” he said, smiling as he looked up at you

“Your daughter would love to see you. She’s gotten so big”

“Is she awake?” he asked, standing up happily with a goofy grin on his face

“I don’t know,” you giggled, “why don’t we check?” He followed you to the living room, quietly, where you both saw Vita playing with coloured blocks and Freddie made his way to her.

“Hello, little one!” he cooed as he sat gently in front of her, making you laugh at the enormous size difference between the two of them.

“Vita’s been falling asleep to your voice notes every night” you told him

“Yeah?” he asked her, handing her a block for her to play with and she looked at him as he spoke to you

“Look,” you said, nodding at her, “she recognizes your voice”

“Do you? Do you recognize my voice baby girl?” he cooed, before leaning in and poking her stomach, earning an adorable giggle from her

“Your head is the size of her entire body...” you laughed

“She’s perfect” he said, continuing to tickle Vita

“We missed you so much” you whispered, finally sitting down next to them before Freddie picked Vita up, bringing the two of them close to you

“I think I missed you more” he replied, kissing your temple and the top of Vita’s head

“Don’t leave again, please, just..” you pleaded, “stay, okay?” He smiled as you leaned into him, watching as your daughter fit perfectly into his arms

“Okay” he replied with a kiss to the crown of your head.

Two months later

“Trade rumours are beginning to swirl around Frederik Andersen of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” the voices on the T.V. blared through the house as Freddie watched from the living room, “The Calgary Flames and Carolina Hurricanes are both looking at the Danish Goaltender.” You turned the corner to find your fiancé in front of the T.V. with his head in his hands

“Freddie,” you whispered while carrying your daughter on your hip, “baby, don’t watch this stuff...”

“I haven’t heard anything from Kyle” he replied and you sat down next to him, bouncing Vita on your knee

“Maybe that means that these rumours are just that. Rumours.”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, “but it all sounds very.. real”

“Okay? So, what if it is?” you said, trying to get him to look at everything differently

“Well then I won’t play for Toronto anymore...” he returned and you shook your head

“And...?”

“And we’ll have wasted our money on this giant house...”

“So...?”

“So, I’ll have to spend my last years in the League in a city that isn’t... doesn’t feel like home”

“Baby,” you whispered, moving closer to him to kiss his cheek, “whatever happens, if you get traded or not, you’ll have us. I will go anywhere with you”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m just worried.”

“Well, why don’t we take our minds off of it? Off the trade rumours. Off the Leafs. Off the NHL in general...”

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, pulling you closer to him to sneak a kiss

“Yeah,” you smiled before pulling away from him and handing over your daughter for him to hold while you made your way back to the kitchen, “but I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Okay.. but you can think about it now” he smiled at you, his footsteps following closely behind you

“I was talking about the wedding,” you admitted, “start sending out invites. Pick out décor and dresses and tuxes, locations...”

“You want me to help you plan the wedding?” he asked and you laughed at his response

“It’s our wedding. Of course, I want you to help. Give me your input, taste test the cakes..”

“You know I’m just gonna go along with whatever you want”

“Oh, I know,” you scoffed, “but that’s what makes it so fun.”

“Alright. If you say so,” he smiled as Vita let out a playful squeal, “let’s start with the date. I have a feeling, everyone’s going to be pretty available this December. And you said you wanted a New Year’s Eve wedding...”

“I did. In a perfect world...”

“Well, here’s your perfect world. New Year’s Eve, 2020.”

“New Year’s Eve, 2020?”

“New year’s Eve, 2020.”

“You sure?”

“Of course”

“Alright. New Year’s Eve, 2020, it is!”

“We’ve got the when, how about the where? Here? Denmark? Vienna? New York?”

“I love New York... I think most people can get there easily. Easier than Denmark or Vienna”

“New York it is. Let’s look online for availability...”

“Can we look at the Kings Theatre?” you asked and he seemed to be shocked at your request

“You’ve already put some thought into it, huh?”

“I love Theatre and could you imagine the opulence of it all? It’s been newly renovated and on New Year’s Eve? Everyone will be willing to go full black-tie!”

“Alright... let’s give it a shot” he smiled, standing up and swaying Vita side to side as he cooed at her and made his way to his laptop, “mommy and daddy are getting married, little Vita.”

“Oh my gosh, how cute will she look as our flower girl?!” you cooed to both of them, rubbing your thumb on the soft skin of your daughter’s hand. Freddie laughed before kissing the top of Vita’s head and turned to you

“I love you so much,” he smiled, “both of you.”

“We love you too, daddy” you giggled

Freddie’s P.O.V.

It didn’t surprise you that (Y/N) had thought of nearly every detail of the wedding, including the location, but hadn’t told you. When the two of you looked up dates at the Kings Theatre in New York, she was convinced there was no way they’d even have an opening or that they’d even let you in with a big group of people because of the pandemic but you decided to call them

“They’re available on New Year’s Eve” you told her and her eyes went wide as she mouthed ‘are you serious?’ and you nodded with a smile, “you want to book it?”

“Capacity?” she whispered, referring to how many people you were allowed to invite, once you got the answers to all your questions, (Y/N) told you to book it and you set off to make everything go as smoothly for her as possible but as soon as you hung up with the Theatre, you noticed her face go pale

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I don’t know if I can get a dress in time...” she said, her eyes keeping straight, almost refusing to look at you

“Of course you can!”

“No, no, no..” she said, walking toward the bedroom, “you don’t understand. Finding the dress is one thing. But then it has to be ordered in my size and any alterations have to be done. We have two months until our wedding. And to send out R.S.V.P’s? Everyone is going to hate us”

“They’ll be fine. It’s not like anything is really happening..”

“How am I supposed to shop for a dress when we’re confined to our home?” she snarled

“Get someone to come here?” you suggested, “make a custom dress?”

“Oh like that’s gonna be any better” she scoffed

“It could be!” you laughed, “think about it. You get someone over here today, they take your measurements and talk with you about how you want the dress to look. Tell them to start on it right away and we send out the invites tomorrow...”

“It’s not that simple, Freddie..”

“Why not?“

“A custom dress with a rush on it is going to cost as much as this house. Probably more..”

“I don’t care,” you smiled, “I want to marry you on New Year’s Eve. I want to give you everything you want. If that means a custom made dress that sets me back 100 grand, then so be it. I love you, elske”

“I’m going to be so stressed”

“I’ll help you”

“Who’s gonna be in our bridal party?”

“Mitch, Stephanie, Zack, Alannah, Morgan, Tessa, Seb, Amalie, Lauren, and.. COGS!”

“Okay.. fine,” she scrunched her eyebrows and shook her head at your quick response, “what about the ring bearer and flower girl? Vita can’t do it, unless someone carries her down the aisle...”

“Valdimar, I’m sure, would make an excellent Flower Girl,” you laughed and she scoffed, rolling her eyes at you, “what about Oma?”

“What about Oma?”

“What if she walked Vita down the aisle, then they could both be our flower girls?”

“And your brother?”

“Ring Bearer”

“You don’t want him in the Bridal party? The grooms party?” she hesitated, going back and forth between the right phrasing, “you don’t want him to be a Groomsman?”

“I think 12 people up there is more than enough don’t you?”

“Yeah..” she bit her lip, “it’s actually a lot...”

“Who do you want to cut?” you smirked

“I don’t want to cut anyone. Who’s your best man?”

“Mitch” you said quickly to both yours and (Y/N)’s surprise

“So, Steph stays.”

“Easy. Who’s your Maid of Honour?”

“It’s gotta be my sister. She’d be pissed if it were anyone else”

“Fair, we’ll pair her with Andrew? So that leaves Zach and Alannah, Seb and Amalie, and Mo and Tessa”

“I love them all”

“But...” You pushed

“I don’t know Tessa that well...”

“Then there you go. Take out Mo and Tessa”

“But I thought you wanted Mo to be up there with you..”

“I do..” you said, “okay how about this. We keep Mo but put him with Alannah and take Tessa and Zach out?”

“Yeah.. okay. Yeah, I guess that works.” After those few decisions were made, everything seemed to fall into place. Invitations were sent out with an urgent R.S.V.P included and, as you expected, friends and family were quick to get back to you.

“New Year’s Eve huh?” Willy said over the phone, “that’s pretty fast. You sure you’re ready?”

“Yes, Willy” you replied, rolling your eyes before hanging up the phone

“Am I your best man?” Auston asked

“Sorry, not this time” you laughed

“Who then? You stayed with me for four months!” he was starting to get angry so you tried to calm him down

“I know. But I already promised Mitch...” you lied, hoping Auston wouldn’t catch it

“Fine. Whatever.” he scoffed and hung up the phone, leading you to smirk to yourself as you prepared yourself for more calls while (Y/N) and her sister went out to look at decor options. Before long, everything was sorted -- (Y/N) and her bridal party had their dresses picked out and sent for alterations, your groomsmen had their tuxes fitted as did you and everyone had sent back their R.S.V.P’s -- and all that was left was to decorate the venue and do a run through of the day.

“This place is amazing” (Y/N) cooed with Vita situated on her hip who was looking around in just as much awe as her mother

“It’s perfect” you replied as you followed your soon-to-be wife through the Theatre

“We’re getting married in two weeks!” she exclaimed, letting her mouth gape to let out a silent scream and you smiled at her before turning to the wedding planner

“We really appreciate you letting us do a run through now. I’m not sure what the typical protocol is, but since everything happened so fast, we had to focus on (Y/N)’s dress and the bridesmaid’s dresses...” you explained

“I absolutely understand. We’ll make any notes today if you’d like to change anything and make sure the changes are made before we leave so we can see if there will be any problems the day of.”

“Awesome” (Y/N) said from where she was standing, a big smile on her face that your daughter seemed to replicate when she looked at (Y/N)

“You have a beautiful family” the planner whispered to you

“Thank you,” you smiled, “I’m very lucky.” As the four of you made your way to your ‘dressing rooms,’ you noticed your fiancée stop a few times and just stare at the space, “babe, elske, what are you doing? We don’t have all day” you laughed

“Can you picture it?” she asked softly

“What?” you said, walking over to her and picking up Vita from (Y/N)’s arms

“The lights. The snow outside. Our guests coming in all in black tie attire. The pictures that we’ll have forever will be so... magical”

“Of course they will,” you smiled, kissing her forehead, “but we have to continue the tour.”

“Can you get a list to our photographer? About what shots we want on the day?” she asked the planner

“Absolutely!” the planner exclaimed, continuing to walk through the Theatre before asking if you wanted to do a run through of the ceremony.

“Sure!” you said and (Y/N) nodded emphatically

“Where should we put baby?” the planner asked

“I can just hold her” you giggled and the planner said that it might be easier if you weren’t, “I don’t mind.” He shrugged and proceeded to go along with the run through and (Y/N) nearly cried every five seconds, it was exactly what you’d imagined.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” she asked as you both stood on stage where you would be saying your vows, “marrying me, I mean. You still have time to back out. We’ve got the kid, if you don’t wanna be a husband, tell me now. Because I only intend to get married once.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I only want to get married once. And I want to marry you.” You smiled at her as she blushed at your words

“I love you” she said before leaning up to press her lips to yours

“I love you, too” you replied when she pulled back from the kiss

“Alright! And there it is! You say your ‘I Do’s,’ you kiss and then you walk off the stage back to the lobby, where you’ll be able to take a few pictures before the guests filter out and you say your thank yous before the reception. There will be a small break for everyone to go back to their hotels to change or whatever they’d like and so we can rearrange the lobby for when they come back for the party.” The planner explained and (Y/N)’s smiled beamed through the Theatre seats as you made your way to the lobby

“Perfect!” You exclaimed

“I’m so excited!” (Y/N) exclaimed in return and tucked herself into your side as a car was waiting for you out front. You waved goodbye to your wedding planner and let out a sigh of relief

“Whew!” you laughed, “you don’t want to back out do you?”

“WHAT?!” she scoffed, playfully hitting your shoulder, “NO. I told you up there, I only want to get married once and I wouldn’t have agreed to your proposal if I couldn’t see growing old with you.”

“I was only kidding,” you teased and she smiled back at you, “we’re going to get married and it’s going to be amazing”

“I will have nothing less.” She laughed before kissing your cheek, cuddling close to you as you rocked Vita on your knee.

#Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen #Freddie Andersen imagine #masterlist #the other masterlist #hockey #tml #i've always wanted a big opulent wedding #on a rooftop in New York City #or in a Grand Hotel #On Christmas or New Year's Eve #because obviously #what's more of a black tie affair than that?

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

So a few things before we get started with this chapter.

You've probably noticed, I made Emma older than she is usually portrayed in fanfics since being chief of surgery requires an extensive medical background, education, training, experience, etc. Basically this is how old she would be ten years later from the OUAT pilot. With that said, I've made the other main and supporting characters older as well. Emma and David are 38-39, and Killian, Elsa, Anna and MM are 32-35. Just wanted to clarify that to avoid confusion, though I do mention some of their ages in the story. I'm doing my best to keep the timeline consistent but if anything doesn't make sense with the timeline, or in general, please don't hesitate to ask me about it either on here or Tumblr.

Secondly, I know some of you, or maybe all of you are hoping Emma will contact the police about Neal, but keep in mind, Emma's a suspect and yes, contacting the police would be in her best interest, but Emma's going to be paranoid about every move she makes because she overanalyzes and thinks everything through. And any move that could potentially bring more attention to herself regarding graham's murder could effect her career she has worked so hard to obtain. So please keep these things in mind before you get too upset with her.

Also, this chapter is in Killian's pov, so we will see the video footage of Emma's interview. To avoid a bunch of repetition this chapter shows different points of the interview so that's why different questions are shown in this one, except for a few that I included in both chapters..

You will find that Killian has to iron out some wrinkles in his relationships with David and Elsa, so this chapter and the next will include some angst, but I think all of you lovelies are going to like what I have planned for chapter 5, so please bear with me until then :)

Okay enough of my rambling and on with the story. Thanks for reading!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2

Chapter 3

“Uncle Killian!”

With a big smile on his face, Killian watches his nephews charging toward him. He sets down his tackle box and fishing pole and wipes the sweat off his brow as he steps off the dock. “Oof,” he feigns a pained noise with a chuckle as Leo tackles him. Killian picks him up, drawing him into an enormous bear hug, noticing his nephew is heavier than the last time Killian picked him up. “You’re growing too fast. Soon you'll be taller than me.”

“Nah-ah,” Leo laughs, shaking his head.

“Uncle Ki-wi!” Liam wobbles toward him and wraps his arms around Killian’s legs.

“Can you tell they missed you?” Mary Margaret asks as she catches up with her children, David hot on her heels, their hair rustled by the wind.

“No, not at all,” Killian chuckles, setting Leo down to pick up Liam. “It’s been too long. Far too long.” The two brothers are four years apart, and though Killian is not related to them by blood, he’s like a brother to David, thus Uncle Killian to David’s sons. “I missed you too,” Killian says, dropping a kiss to the crown of Liam’s head.

The little lad will be three years old soon, but it feels like only yesterday when Killian cradled the newborn in his arms as the parents announced they were naming him after a man who died a hero—David’s best friend and partner, and Killian’s brother.

He sets little Liam on his feet and looks up at David, noting the laptop satchel strapped around his shoulder. He fooled Killian into thinking this was only a social visit by wearing his casual clothes—khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. And Mary Margaret is carrying a tote bag of beach supplies, ready to lounge on the beach.

“Did you catch anything?” David asks.

“Fishing is not about the catch, mate.”

David grins. “I know. It’s an excuse to drink during the day, right?”

Killian scoffs playfully and waves his words. “Like I need an excuse.”

They share a laugh as they draw each other into a hug and pat one another on the back. They’ve been friends long before Killian joined the Storybrooke Police Department. David’s four years older than him and the same age as Liam would've been—thirty-nine—but the three of them were pretty much inseparable. And after Liam passed, Killian and David shared a heartache neither would ever fully recover from. “I’ve missed you, Jones.”

“Missed you too.” After they break the hug, Killian turns to Mary Margaret, smiling warmly at her. “Thanks for bringing the boys.”

“Of course,” she says, throwing her arms around him. She’s six years younger than David and has been married to him for ten years. They met right after she graduated from college and moved to Storybrooke to take a teaching job. She is now the vice principal at Forest Grove Elementary.

“Sorry if I smell like fish and sweat,” Killian apologizes as he wraps his arms around her.

“Oh wow, you do,” she laughs, pinching her nose but doesn’t pull away. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t expect anything less since you live in this fishing town.”

He chuckles. “You know, I could’ve just visited you all in Storybrooke if I had been given more notice. I could’ve saved you a trip.” He didn’t even know they were coming over until last night when David had called him out of the blue.

Mary Margaret waves off his words as they break the hug. “Nonsense. The boys were dying to see their Uncle Killian, and they've been begging us to take them to the beach, so we thought we'd kill two birds with one stone.”

“It’s nice to see all of you again.” He looks at David, narrowing his eyes. “Though I have a feeling this isn't just a pleasure trip for you, is it?”

David gives into a grin and pats Killian on the shoulder. “Is it ever just pleasure with me?”

Killian chuckles and shakes his head. “Never.” Outwardly he’s relaxed and cheerful, but inwardly, he has a bad feeling about whatever David wishes to discuss with him.

“Uncle Killian, will you make sandcastles with us?!” Leo asks as his mother hands him and Liam a big sand bucket packed with sandcastle molds and a shovel.

Killian opens his mouth to answer but David beats him to the punch. “Actually, we have some important things to discuss first. Then Killian can make sandcastles with you.”

The boys groan their disapproval, Leo gets over it quickly and wastes no time racing off toward the shoreline, Liam wobbling after him.

“Not so fast, you two! Sunblock, first, then floaties!” Mary Margaret calls out, following their trail of messy footprints in the sand.

When Leo halts in his tracks and turns around, going to his mother as she spreads out a blanket on the sand and retrieves a bottle of sunblock from her tote, Liam trails behind his brother.

“Anyone want something to drink?” Killian asks them.

“Sure, I’ll take some iced tea,” Mary Margaret replies.

“Do you have Capri Suns?” Leo asks.

“Of course I do. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t stock up on Capri Suns for when my nephews come to visit?”

“Yes!” Leo exclaims, fisting the air.

Mary Margaret pulls off Liam’s shirt and rubs lotion over his back and arms. “Thank you, Killian. And you don’t have to worry about Liam, he has his sippy cup with juice in it.”

“Okay.” Killian turns his head to look at David. “Want a beer?”

“Sure, you got Lone Star?”

Killian’s lips stretch into a wide grin. “Any other beer would be treason.” After he grabs his fishing gear and stores it in the garage, he and David head inside the house.

Killian goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a pitcher of sweet tea, a fruit punch Capri Sun and two bottles of beer, setting them on the island counter. He pops off the caps of the beers before handing a bottle to David. “What important things did you have in mind to discuss?”

David holds up his bag. “Take a wild guess.”

Killian sighs as he pours Mary Margaret a tall glass of tea. “And here I thought you just wanted to catch up on old times.”

“I do, but I also want to discuss a case with you,” David admits softly before taking a swig of his beer.

Killian’s jaw twitches as he glares at his old friend. “Then you’re wasting your time. I came here to Port Lavaca to get away from that stuff.”

“Which is exactly why I brought it to you.” David sets down his beer and places his laptop bag on the counter, unzipping it. “Just give me five minutes, okay?”

“And why should I?”

“Because you’ll want your hands on this case, trust me.” David pulls out his computer and sets it up on the counter.

“How are Elsa and Camila doing?” Killian asks, deliberately changing the subject. He’s not interested in whatever case David is about to present to him, nor is he pretending to be.

“Why don't you ask them yourself?”

“Because you see them and talk to them more often than I do. I didn’t even get invited to Anna’s wedding, which I’m positive the Maid of Honor had something to with.”

David looks up from his open laptop, furrowing his brows. “Doesn't the bride and groom normally choose the people on the guest list? Mary Margaret and I chose our own guests for our wedding.”

“True, but even if Anna and Kristoff wanted to invite me, you don’t think Elsa talked them out of it?”

David shrugs. “Maybe, but if she did, who’s fault is that?”

“David…” Killian mutters with a pained expression, his heart constricting. “You know my relationship with Elsa hasn’t been the best since Liam passed.”

David turns around and plants his hands on his hips, gaping at Killian. “Hasn’t been the best? It’s almost nonexistent.”

“Aye, because of what happened,” Killian states bitterly. “Since then, she’s only ever let me stop by so I can pick up my niece and spend time with her.” He desperately wants to change that though. He wants his sister-in-law back, he wants the friendship they once had, and he wants to spend time with both her and Camila again. He’s tired of missing out on important milestones in Camila's life all because her mother and uncle prefer not to be in the same room together. He’s just been too much of a coward to tell Elsa that. To apologize for letting his temper get the best of him.

“Do you blame her? You let her husband’s killer get away with murder,” David scolds.

Killian slams his beer on the counter, anger surging through him. “I loved him too, okay?! I was only trying to prove—no, you know what?” He raises his open palms in protest. “I’m not doing this with you. Not today, not ever.” He gathers the beverages and storms out, the backdoor squeaking on its corroded hinges as he strides onto the deck and rushes down the steps. He doesn’t need this shite. His nephews are here to visit with him and he’s not about to waste the opportunity.

“Killian, wait!” David calls out from the deck as Killian trudges through the sand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have said that! I know you loved him! We all did!”

Killian turns around, pinning him with a glare as David makes his way down the steps. “He was my brother. I’m the last person in the world who wanted that piece of scum to get away with ending his life.”

“I know.” David sighs as he inches closer. “Which is why I’m here.”

Killian narrows his eyes, his brows knitted in confusion. “I thought you were here to discuss a case?”

A pained expression etches David’s features. “I am. A case involving your brother’s killer.”

Killian’s fists clench around the drinks, his jaw tightening at the thought of another innocent victim falling at the hands of—

No, he can't do this. He’s not going down that path again; it only leads to anger, bitterness and vengeance. He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m done with detective work. I’m not interested.” He walks away again, heading toward Mary Margaret and his nephews.

“What if I said there's a good possibility you could catch him this time? Then would you be interested?”

Killian stops in his tracks, gazing out at the sea as David’s words slice through him. No, he shouldn’t care about catching Liam’s killer anymore. He gave up a long time ago. But somehow he finds himself turning around to face David again, curiosity clawing at his gut. “How?”

A triumphant grin crawls across David’s lips. “I knew that would gain your attention.”

“Just tell me,” Killian demands ardently.

David steps toward him. “I'll tell you when you agree to hear me out.” He holds up the five fingers of his right hand. “Five minutes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Killian mumbles and turns around, walking away. This time, David doesn’t holler after him or follow him.

When Killian brings the drinks to Mary Margaret and Leo, she thanks him and lifts her sunglasses, perching them atop her head and squinting up at Killian. “What were you and David shouting about?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing important.”

Mary Margaret frowns, not believing him. “You should hear him out, Killian. He really misses working with you.”

Killian sighs and sips his beer as he watches Liam filling his bucket with sand and Leo walking along the shore, collecting seashells. “Will I really want my hands on the case?”

A solemn expression creases Mary Margaret’s features. “Would David drive three hours to ask you if he thought otherwise?”

“He would if it meant spending time with an old friend… or at least I would hope,” Killian grumbles.

“Of course he would, but if he didn’t think you’d be interested, he wouldn’t have brought it up.”

Killian takes another swig of his beer, pondering David’s offer.

Mary Margaret puts her tea in the beach cup holder she’d brought with her and gets up to walk toward her sons, giving Leo his drink and sitting across from Liam to help him make a sandcastle.

Killian misses spending time with them, but he doesn’t know if he’s ready to head back to Storybrooke. He’d moved here to this fishing town, Port Lavaca, almost two years ago and bought this cabin on Lighthouse Beach. After Cassidy got away with murdering Liam, Killian blamed himself—everyone blamed him—and he couldn’t stand to be in Storybrooke any longer. He couldn’t live in a town that reminded him of his brother, a town that couldn’t bring his brother’s murderer to justice and pointed their fingers at Killian for the reason Cassidy got away with his crime. David knows he has no interest in going back. Not to Storybrooke, not to the SBPD, and yet he made the trip with his family three hours away from home. Nolan wouldn’t have bothered bringing the case with him if he knew Killian wouldn’t take the bait.

When Killian heads inside and steps through the backdoor, David’s back is leaning against the counter, his arms crossed as he waits for a different answer. Or rather the answer he wants to hear.

Killian knows he’ll regret this, but he can’t deny his curiosity is piqued. The detective in him is itching to know more about the case, or so he tells himself. He assents with an exasperated sigh. “Five minutes. That’s all you get.”

David grins. “That’s all I need.” He brings his laptop to the table, and once Killian takes a seat next to him, David plays a video that’s ready to go on his laptop. “This was recorded yesterday.”

The video feed takes place in the interrogation room. David and Detective Jefferson are sitting at one side of the table and there’s a man in a suit sitting on the other side who David says is an attorney. But what really piques his interest—or rather who—is the blonde woman sitting next to the attorney. She’s beautiful, with long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and striking green eyes. She’s wearing a black blouse under a fire engine red, two-piece suit and red pumps on her feet. Bold color choice. She’s definitely not a woman who lacks confidence.

“Who is she?”

“This is Dr. Emma Swan. She’s a surgeon at Storybrooke General.”

“That name sounds familiar,” Killian comments, more to himself than to David.

“She’s Anna and Elsa’s cousin. But this conversation and what I’m showing you has to stay between us. I’m only here to visit with an old friend, got it? I haven’t even told Mary Margaret that Anna and Elsa’s cousin is involved in the case.”

Killian nods. “I understand, but what’s her crime? Dressing too nicely. Being too pretty?” he quips with a smirk.

David rolls his eyes. “This is serious, Jones.” He reverts his gaze to the computer screen. “Her colleague, Dr. Graham Humbert, was murdered seven days ago in the Storybrooke General parking lot. They were rival surgeons who bickered and teased each other all the time. Both were vying for the Chief of Surgery position he was appointed to just a week before he was murdered.”

“And you think she offed him for his job title?” Killian asks, unable to take his eyes off her. She doesn’t look like your typical suspect by any means. She’s calm and still, her arms and legs crossed casually, her face expressionless. Typically, people who were being questioned for a felony offense trembled, couldn’t sit still and would sweat profusely. But not this woman. He can't detect any sign of fear or worry in her eyes, her posture or her behavior.

“I think there’s more to it than that, but yes, I think she had something to do with his death. The night he was murdered, Dr. Swan was with Graham at the Rabbit Hole. According to other colleagues who were also there celebrating Graham’s promotion, the two surgeons were having an intimate discussion.”

Killian lifts a brow. “You think they were lovers?”

“According to Emma and everyone else, they weren’t. They often squabbled, but it was mostly friendly. They respected each other.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Dr. Swan said he walked her to her car that night, and before she left, she saw him head back inside. According to the bar owner and his employees who were on duty that night, Dr. Humbert left the bar an hour later, around eleven o’clock and went home. His phone records show he received a call at 2:20 in the morning, but it was from a restricted number.”

“And let me guess, the number was untraceable?”

“Yep. But whoever called him knew the safety code.”

“Safety code?”

“Anyone who calls in hospital staff is required to supply the safety code. You know, like when parents give their kids a safety word for emergencies so they don’t get abducted by strangers.”

“So, whoever called Humbert was someone who works at the hospital?”

“Possibly, and either that person had something to do with his murder or it’s a sheer coincidence the phone call preceded his death by only twenty minutes. But no one I spoke with at the hospital knew about the phone call or why he would've been called in. He wasn't on call that night.”

“Was Dr. Humbert married?”

“Nope, never was. A few people I interviewed mentioned he once had a fling with Dr. Regina Mills, head of Cardiology, but it ended four years ago. She’s now happily married.”

“Maybe they still had something together, but kept it secret so her husband didn’t find out? And if so, maybe her husband found out and is the one who murdered him?”

“The husband, Mr. Locksley owns the Rabbit Hole, and he was closing the bar at the time Dr. Humbert was murdered. One of his employees was there to corroborate that.”

“Dr. Mills didn’t take his last name when they got married?”

“No, I asked her about it during the interview, and she said she wanted to keep her maiden name to avoid confusing her regular patients.”

“And where was she that night?”

“She was tending to a patient with cardiac arrest.”

“What was the cause of Dr. Humbert's death?”

David clears his throat and retrieves a folder from his bag, pulls out some photos and spreads them over the table.

Killian swallows the sizable lump in his throat. The photos are of the murder victim with a knife lodged in beneath his left arm.

“Massive hemorrhaging from the stab wound.”

Killian picks up one of the photos, studying it. “And the knife’s untraceable as well?” he asks bitterly, though he doesn’t need to. He already knows the answer.

“Of course. The knife is an average filleting knife that could’ve come from any kitchen. The blade went through clean as a whistle and popped Dr. Humbert's heart like a balloon. And no fingerprints. Whoever did this knew what he was doing. Or she.”

“Like another doctor?”

David shrugs. “Possibly.”

“And you’re certain the cardiologist was with a patient? She would know exactly where to stab a person to make it fatal.”

“I checked the hospital security footage for verification. She went into her patient’s room at the time of the murder. Her alibi checks out.”

“Were there any witnesses?”

“A security guard saw Humbert pull into the parking lot but never saw him go inside. When he left his post to check on Dr. Humbert, he found Graham’s body near his car. The murderer was like a ghost. Never seen, never heard. He left without a fucking trace.”

The hairs on the back of Killian’s neck stand on end. “Cassidy...” He cringes from merely speaking his name.

David nods. “Question is, who hired him?”

“This Dr. Swan… is she married?” Killian doesn’t think Emma had anything to do with the murder, but perhaps a jealous lover who saw her with Graham that night hired Cassidy. He’s drawing straws though.

“No husband or boyfriend to speak of. She lives alone. No kids, not even birth parents. She was shuffled around from one foster home to another until she was adopted at the age of ten—by Anna and Elsa’s aunt. I’m sure you've heard the story?”

“Aye, after their parents died in a car accident, Anna and Elsa went to stay with their Aunt Ingrid and her adopted daughter.” Killian points at the computer screen. “That’s her?”

David nods. “Yep. The aloof cousin.”

“Huh.” Why has he never met this aloof cousin? Of course, if he’d known she was so gorgeous, he’d have made that happen a long time ago, but he'd never seen a picture of her, at least not one of her as an adult. If he had, he would have recognized her on the video. Killian shakes off the thoughts and studies the photos again. “I don’t get how a good-looking, successful doctor like this man stayed single?” Or a beautiful, successful doctor like Emma for that matter.

David shrugs. “He probably was by choice. Maybe he was too focused on his career and thought a romantic relationship would only distract him. Or maybe he was in love with Regina and knew he couldn’t have her, so he didn’t want anyone else.”

“Or maybe he was in love with someone else?” Killian poses. If he were Graham and had a female friend like Emma, he doubts he’d have only platonic feelings for her. “You said he walked Emma to her car that night?”

“That’s right.”

“Was there a kiss goodnight?”

“When I questioned Dr. Swan, she said they hugged, and he kissed her on the cheek. I asked her if that was normal and she said no. It surprised her. But I checked the video footage in front of the bar. Mr. Locksley set up a camera there after someone tried to throw a rock through the door window a couple of years ago.”

“To steal alcohol?”

“Or cash from the till,” David shrugs. “Whatever their reason was, they weren’t successful. Probably got spooked by someone who saw them. Anyway, the hug between the two surgeons lasted too long to be friendly.”

“How long?”

“Ten seconds.”

“How long is a normal hug?”

“A few seconds, maybe more, depending on the relationship of the person you’re hugging. But ten seconds is too long if you’re only friends. Or frenemies in this case. So maybe, Graham had feelings for her but she didn’t return them? Maybe Graham made her feel uncomfortable or said something to her when he hugged her, and that, topped with him getting the promotion she desired was enough to want him dead.”

Killian mulls it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “No, it’s too obvious. She’s smarter than that. She’s a doctor and has way more education than both of us combined. If she really wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have hired someone to murder him a week after his promotion. I don’t think she hired Cassidy.”

David cocks a brow, a sly smirk curving his lips. “So does that mean you’re in?”

“I didn’t say that,” Killian grumbles.

“But it’s been over five minutes. Which means I’ve intrigued you. Otherwise, we’d be outside with my wife and kids right now.”

Bloody hell.

David’s right. Killian is intrigued, and not solely by the case, but by the blonde woman on David’s computer screen. He wants to know more about her; he wants to find out more information. He has a gut feeling about her; he knows she didn’t murder Dr. Humbert. He doesn’t believe the whole rival surgeons scenario is a motive for murder. He and David also bicker and tease each other, but he would never murder David over a job promotion. “Okay, fine. I’m intrigued. But as I said, I don’t think she had anything to do with Dr. Humbert’s murder.”

David makes a noise of hesitance and appears to be unsure about Killian’s assessment. “There’s something else you should know that might change your mind.”

Killian cocks a brow. “What’s that?”

“Did you hear about Cassidy’s most recent trial?”

Killian shakes his head. “I stopped watching the news or following any media regarding that arsehole,” Killian mutters. “Not knowing there’s yet another victim left in his path of destruction is the only way I can sleep at night.”

“He was acquitted from another capital punishment.”

Killian scoffs. “So he got away with another murder? What else is new?”

David sighs and fast-forwards through the video. “Just listen.” He hits play.

“Dr. Swan, did you recently serve on a jury that recently acquitted an accused contract killer, Neal Gold?”

Killian’s eyebrow jumps, and he reclines in his chair, crossing his arms.

“What’s the relevance of the question, Detective?” Mr. Hopper asks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

David raises his hand in defense. “I’ll get to that, I promise.”

“Please do very quickly,” Emma says curtly. “Some of us don’t have time for unnecessary interviews. I have patients waiting for me.”

David sighs. “The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner you can leave.”

She expels a tentative breath. “Yes, I served on the jury that acquitted Mr. Gold.”

“And were you or were you not the forewoman?”

Killian swallows the lump in his throat.

“I was. But you already knew that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.”

“Feisty lass,” Killian remarks with a subtle smirk.

David nods. “That’s for sure. Feisty but polite.”

They revert their attention to the video.

“That’s correct. I’ve already interviewed the other eleven jurors.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe Dr. Humbert’s killer was hired. He wasn’t robbed, and he has no known adversaries… other than you, Dr. Swan.”

Emma narrows her eyes at the insinuation. “Dr. Humbert and I were not adversaries. We were friendly colleagues.”

“Yes, you were a colleague of his who wanted the promotion he got, and recently let a contract killer back on the streets.”

Her eyes widen as she lunges forward in her seat. “I didn’t free him. The judge made the final decision. My job was to determine the facts and reach a verdict based on all the facts and evidence. In that case, the evidence was lacking.”

Her attorney puts out his hand to stop her from continuing to speak any further. “Detective, Mr. Gold’s crime was alleged and has no relevance to this case.”

David pauses the video. “Some of the jurors said Cassidy and the doctor kept making eyes at each other.

Killian quirks a brow. He doesn't doubt any straight, red-blooded male would be attracted to Emma, but he highly doubts a woman of her class, beauty and intelligence would be interested in a scumbag like Cassidy. “Did you question her about it?”

“Yes, she claimed he kept staring at her, but that his attentions were very much unwanted. That’s as far as I got before Mr. Hopper stood and asked if there were any more unnecessary questions I wanted to ask her.”

“So, you think the doctor hired Cassidy to eliminate her competition?”

“The crime scene had his name written all over it.”

“I’m not arguing that. But I don’t think someone like her,” Killian says, pointing at the paused screen, “would get involved with someone like that piece of scum.” The thought makes him utterly sick to his stomach.

“He may be scum, but he’s clever scum. That’s why your brother coined his moniker, remember?”

“Aye.” He remembers very well when Liam began calling him Cassidy.

One time Killian asked his brother why he called him that, and he said Neal’s father, a convicted felon Liam successfully put behind bars, was referred to only as his surname, Gold. To avoid any confusion, he didn’t call Neal by his surname too, nor did he wish to call Neal by his first name—Liam never called perps by their first name—so initially, Neal was the clever killer because he seemed to be an exception to Locard's Exchange Principle, which asserts, “the perpetrator of a crime will bring something to the crime scene and leave with something from it,” and that “both can be used as forensic evidence.” Dr. Edmond Locard was the Sherlock Holmes of France who came up with the basic principle of forensic science, “every contact leaves a trace.”

While Cassidy always leaves a weapon at the scene, he never purchases the weapons, or at least there is never a trace of the purchase. He also never leaves fingerprints. There was only one single time when Cassidy was sloppy and accidentally left something of his behind and that was when he murdered Liam. But he never took anything from his victims.

The name Cassidy was brought up when Elsa became pregnant with Camila and they were deciding on names. Elsa had mentioned Cassidy as a possible name for their daughter, and when Liam looked up the name to see what it meant, he discovered the origins of the name and that it meant clever. So it became Neal’s nickname.

When Liam’s daughter was born, he suggested they call her Camila, which means perfect , and Elsa was immediately on board with it. Killian’s glad Liam and Elsa didn’t end up naming their child Cassidy. How ironic would it have been if Liam gave his daughter the same name he gave the man who eventually killed him?

Liam never mentioned Neal Gold to Elsa, he didn’t like bringing work home with him and he especially didn’t like to cause his wife any distress by talking about a notorious serial killer on the loose. He didn’t want Elsa to worry about her husband, and while she knew the risks that came with Liam’s job as a homicide detective, he made her believe he mostly reviewed old, unsolved cases.

After Liam died, Killian promised Elsa he’d find her husband’s killer. While no one was certain of who murdered Liam because there was no evidence, except for a single thread of fabric left behind at the crime scene, Killian and David knew. But Killian botched any chance they had of convicting Cassidy and failed Elsa and Camila in the process. Not only did he fail, but he’s the reason why Cassidy couldn’t be convicted. He acted on high emotions after Liam’s death. He was so angry and vengeful, he was willing to do whatever it took to put Cassidy behind bars. And that’s exactly why he failed. He didn’t think. He made a split decision, and several people have subsequently paid the price for that decision. Now a highly respected surgeon has been added to that list, along with who knows how many others.

“So, how will you proceed?” Killian asks skittishly, afraid of what David’s answer might be.

“Not me. Us,” David says. “I need your help.”

“Why me? Why not Scarlet or Jefferson?”

“Because I need someone with your instincts, someone good, and you're better than them or anyone else in our department. Besides, no one knows Cassidy like you do.”

Killian shakes his head. “I can’t. Any case involving Cassidy is personal for me. After he killed—” His voice cracks. He can’t even force the rest of the words out. “I can't.”

“Come on, Killian. I’m not asking you to come back permanently; just this one case, that's it,” David pleads. “If you won’t do this for me, do it for your brother.”

Damn it, Nolan. Why did he have to go and use that card?

Killian sighs and stands up, pacing the kitchen. When he reaches David again, he stops and places his hands on his hips. “Let’s say I said yes, what would you want me to do?”

“Search for any clues that will tell us if Emma and Cassidy are in alliance.”

Killian furrows his brows. “Since you need probable cause, I'm guessing you don't have a warrant for Dr. Swan, so how do you suppose I do that?”

David shakes his head. “Ah-ah, I’m not telling you until you say you’re in.”

Killian sighs dramatically as he drags his hand over his face. He has a feeling he’s not going to like whatever plan David has up his sleeve. But he misses working with him again, and he has to admit, he still doesn’t believe Emma had anything to do with her colleague’s murder. So perhaps he can go along with David’s plan to prove that. He looks at David again and with a curt nod, he makes it official. “I’m in.”

To that, David says nothing, just grins complacently.

Killian gulps. What the bloody hell did he just sign up for?

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic recs

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etherealwaifgoddess · 4 years ago

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One In A Million - Chpt.1

Summary: Project Traveler is ready for its first test subject and you volunteer for the position, unwilling to risk any of the other brilliant minds who have been working on the project from the beginning.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! Who’s ready to get this started!? I’ve been sitting on this fic a while now and I finally feel like it’s ready to be out in the world. I’m so excited to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy! XOXO - Ash

Chapter One

“Send me.” you offer, causing the room full of scientists and PhD’s to turn and stare at you. “I mean it.” you continue, “You guys need someone you can trust who knows the science behind this if it goes wrong. The only one who will miss me is my cactus.”

Chelton, the head of SHIELD’s Traveler project, looks at you thoughtfully. You’re young, still working towards your PhD after completing your masters a few years ago. It’s hard for him to believe you have nothing tying you to the world, but thinking back he can’t remember you ever talking about family or friends or anything personal. He assumed you were just taciturn by nature but he realizes now it was more than that. “You realize this is test number one?” he asks you, “We’re pretty sure it’s ready to go but if we’re wrong....”

You waive him off, “I know, I know. Death, dismemberment, permanent brain damage, yada, yada, yada. I’ve watched you guys work on this for two years now, it’s as ready as it’s ever gonna be. And someone needs to be the guinea pig, so it might as well be me. I’m still learning, if you lose me there’s still enough brains to keep things going and try again. If we lose one of you the project could end permanently.” You know it’s calloused but you made up your mind as soon as you had seen them putting the finishing touches on the transporter a week ago.

“Don’t discredit yourself, Y/N.” Chelton admonishes, “You're a valued member of this team. I want you to take the weekend and really think about this. Make preparations if you’re still serious after thinking it over. When you come in on Monday if you’ve changed your mind, no one will think any less of you.”

You give him a soft smile, knowing you need to assuage his concern, “Okay, thanks Chelton. I’ll think about it. Now, who’s ready to get out of here?” You pick up your files, ready to pack up for the day. It’s been a long week and you’re suddenly eager to get home, this will be your last weekend in the twenty-first century for a while.

Your apartment is a small studio over top a corner shop and it’s just big enough that you’re not constantly bumping into your furniture. Definitely an upgrade from the shoe box you lived in at college with two roommates. When you had moved to the city to work on the project recreating Tony Stark’s time machine it felt like a luxury just to have a place of your own. You water the little cactus who sits on the window sill in your living room, and settle in with your laptop to pay a few bills online. If things go as planned and you come back, it will be important to still have a roof over your head.

Your evenings are quiet with none of your friends living in the city. You email a few of them to let them know you’ll be away on a work trip and that you miss them. The picture of your parents sitting on the bookshelf makes your heart ache for a moment. You wonder if they would be proud of you if they were still alive. They’ve been gone for a decade now but it doesn’t do much to dull the pain of their loss.

Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that you haven’t eaten since breakfast. Normally you’d just scrounge up something from your cupboards, whatever you had leftover from earlier in the week. But a sense of fatalism hits and you realize that if you don’t make it back in one piece on Monday it doesn’t really matter if you blow a day’s worth of pay on a five star restaurant or not. And you have been dying to go to Peter Luger Steak House since you moved to Brooklyn. You put on your nicest looking dress, dark blue silk that accents your curves without making you look lumpy, and throw on a little make up for the hell of it. This might be your last weekend alive and you’re going to make the most of it.

xxXxx

Monday comes far too quickly and you’re a little ashamed to admit you’re not feeling your best. You’ve decided it’s easier to accept the idea that you’re not walking away from the test run so that you’re not devastated if and when something goes awry. You spent the entire weekend doing all the things you usually put off for more practical endeavors. The queue on your Hulu and Netflix accounts are clear and you’ve eaten a lifetime of fancy foods. You also learned what good, twenty year old scotch tastes like and it was worth every cent. You probably didn’t need to finish off the whole bottle over the course of three days though.

You drop your bag into your bottom desk drawer and hand Chelton an envelope when he comes over to greet you. “This is everything,” you tell him, “Passwords, account information, a list of people to contact. If things go sideways I know I can trust you to take care of things for me.”

The older man accepts the envelope but pulls you in for a brisk, uncharacteristic hug. “I’m so proud of you.” he says roughly.

“Oh come on, pull it together old man.” you tease, “I’ll be back in all of a minute if we’ve done our jobs right.”

“That’s right, and you’ll have some wild stories for us I’m sure.”

You join the rest of the research group, letting them know test number one for project Traveler is a go. The room erupts into happy chaos, everyone working at their stations getting the machine up and running. You run through the processes, double checking it for full functionality, and for the first time you start to feel genuine excitement that you might actually be about to go back in time.

Harris, one of the other original scientists on the project, gives you a run down for a second time, as if you didn’t assist with creating the protocols yourself. “You will have three jump points back to our time once you get there. One month, six months, one year. If for whatever reason you can’t get back on the first jump you still have two more shots to find your way back to us. You have to set up these three devices in the basement of the Strategic Scientific Reserve headquarters when you arrive to keep the link open for the jump points. You cannot lose this brooch or you’ll have nothing to pull you through. When you get there write down the exact time and date so you can ensure you’re at the jump points in time, it’ll be down to the second so be sure you do that first thing.”

“I know. I’ll be just fine.” you assure him while straightening out the neckline of your smart looking dove grey suit. The team had rustled up a vintage suit for you so that you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb when you got back to 1940. You fasten the antique looking brooch to the breast of it, knowing you’ll need to carry it on you always to ensure you have a way back. The team had decided against wristbands due to how obvious they would be in another time period and had settled on a tie tack or a brooch depending if it were a man or woman going back.

Harris nodded but carried on, “When you get there ask for Agent Wilson right away. Show him this card and he’ll get you access to one of the SSR aliases and bank accounts. You’ll be set up for as long as you need to be there. But remember, if you make any drastic changes to the past you’ll be forming a split in realities and creating a new timeline. We don’t know what kind of effects that could have. You need to stay under the radar and keep your head down.”

“Will do. It’ll be okay. I’ll be back in a minute, maybe six if I’m having a good time. You just worry about where you’re taking us all for dinner to celebrate tonight.”

Harris nods and lets you past him to take your place on the transporter. It’s been five years of tireless work for most of the people in the room trying to recreate and improve upon the machine Tony Stark and Bruce Banner used to send the Avengers back for the infinity stones. You learned so much in the past two years since you joined them. It was the opportunity of a lifetime and you are so grateful to have been given it.

“Okay guys, this is it. Nobody better eat my yogurt in the fridge before I get back.” you say with a wry smile, getting into position in the middle of the machine.

A few of the guys chuckle while they begin flipping switches on the control panel, readying the transporter.

Chelton returns your smile despite deep worry lines creasing at the side of his eyes, “We’ll see you in a minute.” he says and then he presses the final set of command keys.

You don’t close your eyes, not willing to miss a moment if they’re your last. Everyone’s faces are broadcasting varying mixes of fear, excitement, and hope as you look around your team. It starts out slow, a faint tingling of the hairs on your arms. Like you had rubbed a balloon along them and static electricity had built up. The tingling increases until your whole body is thrumming with a buzzing energy and then the world goes white.

#One In A Million #steve rogers #bucky barnes #reader insert #stucky #stucky x reader #steve rogers x bucky barnes x reader #time travel #SHIELD agent reader #1940s setting #stucky fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #fluff and smut and a pinch of angst

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years ago

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only fools rush in / part four: we deserve happiness, too

WHOAH HEY SLOW DOWN! have you read parts one, two, and three yet? no? go do that and then come back. it’s fine. i’ll wait.

okay now for those of you who are all caught up, it’s Sunday, so that means a new chapter!! this chapter is focused on Janus and Logan and (hopefully) it will answer some of your questions about timelines and stuff.

this is my first time writing about a queerplatonic relationship, so if i messed up in any way please let me know (they’re also both aromantic but they are not ace and this is important to note okay cool).

TW: mention of sex (no descriptors though), mention of suicide attempt

read to the end for the title of part five as well as a teaser~

Logan sat at their usual table at the café, his laptop in front of him as he typed quickly. With every opening of the door, the bell above it dinging annoyingly, he glanced up, but found himself disappointed when he didn’t see his partner. He worried that Janus’ oolong tea would grow cold as he took a sip of his own black coffee, and turned his focus to the research paper he was working on. Eventually, he felt Janus’ lips press to his cheek and then his body slid into the booth to the left of him.

“Sorry that I’m late, Lo. Virgil was having a rough night and I needed to make sure he was going to be okay,” he explained, picking up the mug of tea in his hands and taking a sip. Janus made no indication that the tea was too cold or hot, he just smiled before pulling his own laptop out of his bag. “How’s the paper coming?”

“Almost done, just need to edit the footnotes,” Logan responded plainly, taking another sip of his coffee. It was almost to the point where it was too cold to drink, but he needed the caffeine if he wanted to finish his work for the weekend. “Is Virgil going to be okay now?”

“I think so. Roman was arriving to practice for the auditions as I left, though I don’t think he saw me, he seemed pretty focused as he ran up the stairs,” he responded, starting to type on his laptop. “Have you eaten anything, Lo? You can’t just have coffee.”

“I’m not hungry,” the taller man responded, pushing his glasses up further on his nose. Janus frowned, then slid out of their booth and walked over to the main counter. Logan sighed, switching tabs to his research notes. He skimmed for the information he needed and by the time he had inserted a quote into the main paper, Janus had returned with two muffins; one blueberry, one banana nut. Logan wanted to ignore the grumble in his stomach but he knew Janus would bug him until he ate something, so he picked up the blueberry muffin and unwrapped it before taking a bite. “Thanks, Janus.” He continued writing, taking occasional bites of the muffin, and Janus was also working hard, his banana nut muffin consumed rather quickly, the oolong tea drained from the mug. Finally, Logan spoke again. “Did Remus tell you where he was planning on taking Patton today?”

“The botanical gardens and then here for lunch, I think,” Janus responded. He seemed to be in deep thought, his thoughts miles away. “He’s going to tell Patton about his past, I think.”

“He should, before Roman beats him to it,” Logan said, loosening his tie. “He almost did last night when we were helping him pick out his outfit.” He sighed, and felt Janus’ fingers trail on his thigh, and met his eyes.

“They’re all falling in love, aren’t they? How weird is that? Love and romance. Such silly concepts,” Janus mused, a playful smile crossing his face. “But… they all deserve it. Happiness. We found our own kind of happiness, they get to find theirs now.” Logan nodded, stretching his arms a little bit.

“We’re not broken, right?” Logan’s voice was hesitant when he asked the question, and Janus frowned at him, taking his hand.

“Lo, we’ve been over this. Just because love and romance aren’t things we want to or can feel, doesn’t mean we’re broken,” Janus’ words were like a song that Logan needed to play over and over, and he wondered if that feeling would ever disappear. Sometimes when he curled up in Janus’ arms he almost felt whole, like he realized that there wasn’t a black hole where his heart should be. There were days where he shut himself off from the world, hiding in his room that was littered with papers and science equipment, because he wasn’t sure that he could ever deserve the happiness he felt when Janus was next to him. “Lo,” Janus’ voice was calling him back into himself, out of the fog of his mind. “Lo, did you sleep at all last night?”

“Uh… I slept for an hour or two,” he admitted, eyes glancing down. He was ashamed of his own insomnia sometimes, but being a double major was draining. Luckily, Janus always knew how to take care of him, make him realize that there was more to the world than just romantic love.

“How much more schoolwork do you need to get done?” Janus asked rhetorically as he grabbed Logan’s planner, flipping to the page for the day. “Hmmm… not much, plus it’s only Saturday morning. Okay.” He closed the planner and then shut Logan’s laptop and then his own. “Come on, we’re going to your apartment to rest.”

“Jan–”

“Not mine, because Virgil and Roman are practicing and I want to give them space,” he explained, putting his laptop away. “No arguing this time, please. You need to take care of yourself.” Logan knew better than to argue, so he packed up his things and then the two walked to his apartment, fingers interlocked.

“Janus, this really isn’t necessary,” Logan grumbled as his partner removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the plain t-shirt underneath. “I need to get work done.” The shorter man ignored him, going to Logan’s dresser and pulling out some pajama bottoms. He threw them at his glasses-clad partner, raising an eyebrow.

“You need to rest,” was the only thing he said before resting his hands on his hips, glancing around the cluttered bedroom. There were papers littering the carpet, books stacked everywhere despite the open spaces on the bookshelves, and empty coffee mugs all over the desk, and Janus noted some spilled coffee stains on the surface. He was about to shrug out of his coat when two arms wrapped around his waist and Logan’s chin rested on his shoulder.

“You could… help me rest, maybe,” he suggested, voice low. “It helps my mind slow down a little bit.” Janus knew this, and he spun around in Logan’s arms, pressing his hands to his partner’s face. “If you don’t want to–”

“You know I’d do anything to help you, Lolo.”

Afterwards, Janus slipped back into his shirt and a pair of Logan’s pajama bottoms. He got Logan’s help in rubbing lotion over the left side of his body, hoping to quell some of the pain brought on by his eczema. Then he brought over his laptop, putting on one of Logan’s favorite space documentaries, and the two snuggled, Logan dozing sporadically. Janus ran his fingers through the other’s hair, feeling calm and collected, a smile plastered on his face. When he heard Logan’s stomach grumble with hunger, they ordered Chinese takeout and ate it in bed, Janus smirking when a noodle stuck to the other’s chin. They watched a few more documentaries, the sun lowering itself in the sky, and eventually, Logan dozed off.

Janus pressed a swift kiss to Logan’s forehead, the other softly snoring, then got to work tidying up the room. He started by putting the books onto the shelves, but he didn’t follow a certain order, he just wanted to reduce Logan’s risk of falling over the stacks. Afterwards, he organized the scattered papers into different piles and then put them into the file cabinet, labeling them for the class or purpose they held. He wiped off the surfaces in the room with wipes he had stored in Logan’s desk, and then carried all of the mugs in his arms and out to the kitchenette.

When he exited Logan’s room, he saw Roman lounging on the couch, flipping through the script. When the actor noticed him, he raised an eyebrow, but smiled.

“How’s Virgil doing?” Janus asked, setting the mugs on the sink and turning on the hot water. Roman got up from the couch and sat on one of the stools at the counter, watching.

“He…” Roman sighed, resting his hand under his chin. “He’s nervous about it all, of course. He doesn’t want to fall on stage, he doesn’t want to mess up.” His voice was hesitant, and Janus could tell that he was holding something back, but he didn’t want to pry; he focused on washing Logan’s mugs, smiling when he noticed the ones he had gifted him with nerd sayings on them. “Janus… did Virgil really… almost kill himself?”

The mug that Janus was holding slipped out of his hand, clattering into the sink. Thankfully, it stayed intact. He felt his throat constrict, the memories of that day rushing back through his mind, and he gripped the edge of the sink tightly, using one of his shaky hands to turn off the water. “He did,” Janus’ breath was heavy, too, and he couldn’t bear to turn around to look Roman in the eyes. “I… found him. It was… the worst day of my life.”

“How old were you at the time?” Roman’s voice sounded pained as the words left his mouth, and Janus chewed on his lower lip.

“We were 16,” he said, turning around and leaning against the sink, his eyes focused on his feet. “He’s… better now. Therapy and medication and all. But… I almost lost him.”

“He thinks he’s losing you,” Roman’s words came out before he could stop them, and Janus’ eyes snapped up to meet his, a frown on his face.

“What?” It was almost a hiss, Janus was feeling constricted again, and his defenses were rising. Roman held his hands out to try to calm him down.

“He just…” Roman sighed, lowering his hands, “Now that you’re in a partnership with Logan, he… thinks he’s not a priority in your life anymore. I did my best to tell him that couldn’t be true, but… you might need to talk to him.”

Janus ran a hand through his hair, sighing, but he nodded. “Thank you for telling me, Roman. I’ll… talk to him.” Roman nodded, then pursed his lips in thought.

“Our audition is a week from Friday… do you think that maybe… you and the others could sit in the back, where Virgil can’t see, and then be there when we’re done?” Roman’s voice was hesitant. He didn’t know Janus very well and had only spent time with him in small increments; it was Patton and Logan who spent more time with him, and Roman always found the sociology major to be… odd. But he meant a lot to Virgil. “He’s so nervous, I think he could do with some support afterwards.” Janus wondered why Roman was hesitant to be the only one providing the support to Virgil, but maybe it was a sign that Roman knew of his own limits.

“I… yeah, of course, Roman. I’ll make sure that we’re there.”

“Virgil?” Janus opened the door to their apartment later that night. Remus hadn’t returned yet, and Virgil was laying on the couch, holding a pillow close. Janus stepped out of his shoes and set his bag down, walking over. “I think we need to talk.”

“...do we?” Virgil made a move to sit up but Janus shook his head, pulling Virgil’s legs up and onto his lap as he sat down.

“Roman told me that you feel like less of a priority to me,” he said, eyes focusing on the taller man. Virgil’s mouth opened to respond but Janus shook his head.. “Virge, I need you to know that no matter how significant Lo, or anyone else, ever becomes to me, no one will ever be more important to me than you. Okay?” Virgil looked away, frowning, and Janus sighed, rubbing his feet.

“It’s just…” he took a deep breath, twisting his fingers in a manner that seemed very uncomfortable to Janus, but Virgil made no indication that it was. “You’ve got… someone to care for now, someone who cares for you in an equal manner, and… I’m just getting in the way.”

“V, you could never get in the way. Just because I’m with Logan doesn’t change the fact that if you needed me, I would drop everything to be there,” Janus’ voice was calm, and he rubbed Virgil’s feet and legs in a way that he hoped was comforting. “V. Look at me.” Virgil did, because he knew that Janus would keep at it until he did. Janus smiled warmly, his eyes meeting his best friend’s. “Please don’t forget how much I care for you. I know… things have changed, lately. I’m still figuring out the balance with Lo and everything, but… you’ll always be at the top of my priority pyramid.” Virgil smiled, recalling the drawing that Janus had made for him back when he was in the hospital for his attempt.

-flashback, six years ago-

“They don’t care, they never did,” Virgil was sitting up in the hospital bed, finally, bandage-covered arms crossed and a frown on his face. His parents had just left from their obligatory half-hour visit. “I’m not a priority to anyone.” Janus scoffed. He was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, notebook in hand.

“You’re a priority to me, V,” he said, starting to scribble on the notebook. Virgil raised an eyebrow, peeking over to see a pyramid with words on several levels. “Okay, see? Bottom level is basic necessities like a roof and food. Then school and my family. Then me. And look, at the very top of the pyramid, it’s you. The most important thing.”

Virgil brought his hand up to his mouth to stifle the laugh that he felt rising up inside him, and he ignored the bandages on his wrist as he did so. Janus was surprised at the laughter; he hadn’t heard the noise coming from his best friend in weeks. “Jan, the most important and necessary thing goes at the base of the pyramid. Like in Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs?” Janus frowned, glancing down at his pyramid. Virgil reached his hand out, taking the notebook from him. “But… I understand what you’re trying to say. Thank you.”

-end flashback-

“I still have that pyramid drawing you did,” Virgil said. He moved from his laying down position to sit next to Janus, and despite their height difference he leaned his head on the other man’s shoulder. “Maybe… maybe I won’t need to rely on only you, J.”

“What do you mean?” Janus found himself not liking the idea. Of course, ever since Remus had pranced his way into their little group, into their apartment, Janus knew that it could never be the same as it was when they moved in together right out of high school instead of living in the dorms.

“I mean…” Virgil took a deep breath, a small smile taking over his facial features. “Maybe… maybe Roman will… care for me, too.” Janus turned his head a bit to give Virgil a confused look. “I think… Jan, I think he likes me.”

“He’d be a fool not to,” was the only response that Janus could muster up, but he felt strange about the whole thing.

Janus had just finished eating his breakfast when there was a knock at the door. Virgil was still in bed, and Remus had left early to go on a brunch date with Patton. He opened the door, and saw Logan standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Hey, Lo, you okay?” He asked, pulling his partner inside and giving him a swift kiss to the cheek.

“I just… wanted to spend time with you,” Logan explained. Janus smiled, pulling him in for a warming hug. They moved to sit on the couch, Janus curled into Logan’s chest, an oceanography documentary playing in the background. “I was, um, thinking about the day we decided to… get together.”

“Oh?” Janus mused, playing with Logan’s fingers gently. “What about that day?”

“Just… the way you made me feel like I wasn’t broken. Like I deserve happiness.”

-flashback to early in the summer-

“I can’t help but feel… broken,” Logan sighed, laying on the floor of Janus’ room. “I know being aromantic is valid. You’ve helped me realize that, Janus. But… seeing people in romantic relationships are... they always seem so happy, and… will I ever feel happy like that?” Janus sighed from where he was propped up on his bed, pillows surrounding him. He clambered out of bed and then laid on the floor next to Logan, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers.

“You deserve the utmost of happiness. Regardless of what other people think, people like you and me do find happiness in our lives, even if romantic relationships aren’t appealing to us,” he said, voice soft and soothing. A few moments passed before he spoke again, “Logan… do you know what a queerplatonic relationship is?”

“Vaguely.” Logan asked, turning his head to look at the other, who was staring right up at the ceiling. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I… thought maybe you’d…” Janus didn’t finish his sentence, instead closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Logan propped himself on his elbow, laying on his side to look at the other one more closely.

“Janus, are you asking me to be your partner?” Logan asked. They’d grown closer since meeting in class and getting to know each other, and when Janus found out that he also identified as aromantic, they began to spend even more time together.

“I… yeah, I think so,” Janus replied, looking at Logan again. “We’d need to establish boundaries. But… I don’t know, I think… it could work, and maybe we could… make each other happy.”

“What kind of boundaries?” Logan pressed, not yet stating if he wanted to enter the partnership. “Like… sex stuff?”

“I- I mean, only if you want that, we don’t have to do any of that, and if there’s something you want we can try it, and if it makes us uncomfortable we stop, it’s… all subjective to change,” Janus kept tripping over his words. He’d been thinking of asking Logan this for months, and had planned so many things out to say, but Logan never ceased to amaze him with the questions he didn’t anticipate.

“Well…” Logan started, taking a deep breath. “I would like to try… because you deserve to be happy, too, Janus.”

-end flashback-

“Anyways, I have something for you,” Logan reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a rounded ring that looked like a galaxy. “You don’t have to, but, um, it’s kind of like…”

“A promise ring?” Janus took the ring into his own hands gingerly, a smile creeping onto his face. Logan nodded, then buried his face in Janus’ hair, mumbling. The smaller man said nothing but slipped the ring onto his finger.

“You make me feel happiness,” Logan said, face still buried in Janus’ hair. “I thought I couldn’t feel that, that I didn’t deserve it. But you and I deserve it, just as much as anyone else.”

---

teaser for part five: power outages can lead to some very bad things

When Roman got back to the apartment, all of the lights were out. Patton and Logan were nowhere to be seen, so he figured that they were both spending the night at the other apartment. He showered then got into bed, but laid on his back staring up at his ceiling until the sun started to bleed through the break in his curtains. He fucked up.

---

---

taglist (if you want to be tagged when i update please let me know!)

@winterrose42

@are-you-even--real

@shaded14space

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

#amanda's sanders sides college au #amanda writes sanders sides fic #loceit #queerplatonic loceit #ts janus #ts logan #logan sanders #janus sanders #prinxiety #ts roman #ts virgil #roman sanders #virgil sanders #intruality #ts remus #ts patton #patton sanders #remus sanders #sanders sides fanfiction

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pbandcas · 4 years ago

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The Story of Us

In 2020, gifted doctor, Castiel Novak, was transferred from a small town general hospital to the Natal Intensive Care Unit in Lawrence, Kansas. A hospital where babies were being born with... unusual features. A side effect of the ongoing pandemic or from the residual effects of the vaccine from the parents, Castiel isn’t sure. When his own body starts changing he realizes there’s more to what’s going on then what the media is releasing. If only he could focus more with the overwhelming scent of leather and Pine trees clouding his senses.

The Story of Us Prologue

Three years ago, the world started changing. A plague of the body and mind was discovered in China. A disease that started like a flu and morphed into something more. Something that would alter the course of history forever. Covid-19 killed many, over a third of the population wiped from existence.

The Covid-20 mutation born from the initial vaccine neutralized the affects, but caused infertility. Humanity suffered as populations dwindled. Women had trouble getting pregnant, and those that could rarely carried to full-term. Those that did were the result of medical intervention. Those babies born, were different. This is where our story begins; with the man mutated Covid-21.

In a desperate attempt to rebuild, the new virus was given under the guise of a vaccine. It’s effects however were not what anyone expected. The new classifications started to make themselves known; Alpha, Beta, and Omega. The Alpha genes were the first to present. Those who took to it were stronger, faster--

“It’s too flowery.” Castiel jumped slightly at the sudden gruff voice. Eyes wide, he glanced over his shoulder at where Dean was leaning over the back of the couch to look at what he had been writing. The blond had a frown on his face as he skimmed over the previous paragraph. “I know you were trying to veer away from text book and all. But now you’re making it sound like the beginning of some trashy romance novel.”

Looking back at his laptop again Castiel scowled and jabbed at the backspace again. Groaning he dropped his head back and met Dean’s frown with one of his own. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Cas huffed, knowing his scent was giving away his barely covered frustration. His roommate’s frown cracked first as he rolled his eyes.

Swinging over the back of the couch to land on the cushion next to Castiel, the alpha tapped his pointer finger against his nose. “It can’t be that hard. All they want is your personal experience, Cas.” That gained him another groan in response. With a stifled laugh Dean propped his feet up on the coffee table and folded his arms over his chest. “Is this really causing you that much trouble?”

“This is important research material, Dean. It needs to be right.”

Dean rolled his eyes as Cas started typing away again. “It’s a personal account, Cas, it doesn’t need to have all the scientific information. They’re probably only expecting you to give them basic change information. Like how and when your sense of smell changed. How your physicality changed and when you… what’s the word they’re using now?, presented?” He waggled his eyebrows slightly and Cas rolled his eyes with a scoff. His cheeks flushed and the honey tint to his scent grew stronger though, causing Dean to grin wider.

“Dean--”

“Seriously though, just tell it like it happened? They’re just trying to get an accurate timeline of the changes. What we have is something they haven’t seen yet.” Beside him Cas tapped idly at his keyboard, eyes narrowed at the screen in thought. Dean could feel the waves of irritation wafting off of him and continued before the other could speak, “And before you complain about it, they specifically asked for the Omega’s account since your senses are what changed more.”

“You say that as if you’re not able to smell me from literally a mile away.” Castiel deadpanned, raising his gaze to level an unamused stare at Dean. The alpha rolled his eyes and waved a hand back and forth as if to say ‘tomato’ ‘tomahto’. “I’m just saying, I’m not the only player in this. ”

“No, but you’re the one they’re interested in, sweetheart. Anyway enough of my story will be told in tandem with yours.” Dean teased lightly. Pursing his lips he reached over and plucked the laptop out of Castiel’s grasp, an idea forming. “How about this. You talk, I type, and when needed I’ll include my side of the events, ya?” As Cas opened his mouth to protest Dean held up a hand, eyebrows raised over red tinted irises. “None of that.”

Cas glared back at him as he snapped his mouth shut as red faded away to brilliant green again. “I really hate when you do that.” Cas grumbled as he pulled his feet up under himself and settled back into the couch more. Picking up his cup of tea Castiel frowned down into it thoughtfully. Glancing back up at Dean he tipped his head to the side and sighed, “Where do I even begin?”

Dean flashed him a bright grin, “And I hate it when you flash those pretty golds at me, yet you still do. Now. From the beginning? Come on, Cas, it isn’t rocket science.” Cas reached over and flicked his forehead with a scowl. Dean ducked away quickly with a shit eating grin before gesturing to him to get on with it. “And don’t make it trashy.” He teased, nudging at Castiel’s leg with his big toe.

“Dean,” the omega started with a long suffering sigh, “It’s the story of us. It’s going to be trashy.”

_________________

So this is something I’ve been debating actually continuing or not and on a whim decided to do art for it... so uh-- here we go? I probably won’t actually work on this until after the Advent Calendar stuff is done but if I do would anyone be interested in continue reading?

#my writing #destiel #DeanCas #spn #supernatural #ABO Verse #ABO origins #alpha!dean #omega!Castiel #alpha dean winchester #omega castiel #omega verse #true mates #covid 19 mention #But it's necessary #for scientific purposes #fanfiction #my art

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sweetestrequiems · 5 years ago

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I: Meetings and Photos

Word Count: 3,025

A/N: Hello you lovely people of the Queendom on Tumblr. I’m Kit, and... well, you’ve seen me around enough. I wrote Silence is Never Better, The Tower of London, and maybe a few other things you might have seen around. Anyways... Welcome to the first chapter of Out of a Book! I’m very excited to share this with you all. I truly hope with heart and soul that you all enjoy this. If you ever want to leave any feedback, feel free to message me, or contact me at one of these profiles:

Instagram: @/Reinapuff Twitter: @/Reinapuff

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know! I’m always happy to share my work with others!

––––––––––

A rather early Thursday morning in the city of Syracuse, New York. The time’s about 7:15 in the morning.

The sun was over the horizon, but there was little to no noise inside of the apartment. The birds sang their graces and none of this seemed to be the thing to wake up the sleeping woman. In fact, a little snore escaped from her while she slept. Had her roommate not needed to go to work, she would've turned that against the woman in a heartbeat. But of course, this was not out of malice; the two would see the situation being out of fun. Getting up this early in the morning, however, never came easy for the woman that was still in bed. There were two things able to get her to wake up: the sun hitting her eyes, or an alarm of sorts, whether from a phone or a clock.

On this Thursday morning? It was both of those things that would wake her up.

An aggravated Catherine Parr turned to face away from the sunlight, and to reach for her phone. Forcing herself to sit up to turn the alarm off, Parr set the phone down before stretching her arms up and yawning. She noticed the quiet of the apartment about a few minutes from initially waking up. This meant that she was half asleep for a good little bit. “Ah, Lina went to work. Right, I almost forget she’s a teacher sometimes,” she finishes her sentence with a hum. Catalina Aragón, someone she affectionately called Lina, or even just Aragon. She found it fun to have a Spanish roommate, if she was being honest with herself. Made for a more entertaining time some days.

Parr’s never-resting mind began to try to think as to why she had set an alarm so early in the morning. Was it due to the fact she kept waking up too late? Was it a meeting with her publicist? The woman, for the life of her, could not remember. A hand came up to her forehead, rubbing it a few times before pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is bollocks. I can’t remember why I set my alarms so early,” a groan of frustration comes out under her breath. If she hadn’t turned her alarm off so quickly, she might’ve read the reminder that she had put for it. That didn’t matter much. It would come back to smack her in the face later.

Letting her legs swing over the edge of the bed, Parr pushed herself up and on her feet she landed.

––––––––––

7:45 am.

For Catherine to admit she was ready for the day, she needed one thing, and that one thing was in her hands as she walked back to the small table. Sitting down, the ceramic mug came up to her lips. Coffee. That was the one thing she needed. Her shoulders came up for a moment before they eased up, a smile helping her expression soften up from grumpy-seeming to amused. Opening up her laptop, Catherine softly hummed. A buzz makes her gaze shift from the laptop screen to her phone’s screen, seeing the notification on it. Tapping on it, she allows her phone to open up the email.

From: Cleves, Anna To: Parr, Catherine Subject: Planning for next release

Parr,

Writing a short email to remind you about our 8:00 am meeting for the first steps of getting the announcement of your upcoming book release. If you have any ideas post-conference, be sure to write them down and send me an email with them. We can further discuss those at a later date.

Anna Cleves Media Agent/Public Relations

Bringing her free hand up to her mouth, Catherine Parr forced herself to swallow the mouthful of coffee and then hissed under her breath. “That’s today?! It’s 7:55, I have barely any time to get ready!” Gold star for Cathy Parr. Standing up, the author gave a sigh and quickly disappeared off to the space that was her room in the apartment to at least make herself presentable from the torso up. It did not matter that she was wearing black joggers, so long as she looked like she was ready for a business meeting.

Adjusting her curls so they wouldn’t fall over her face, Catherine paced over to the chair, and sat back down. Now that she had her headset on, and got ready in the nick of time, she patiently waited for the call. There it was. Taking a brief moment to look at herself and adjust her blouse, she answers. “Good morning, Anna.”

“Good morning to you too, Cathy. Glad to see you’re awake at an early time. And you got all dressed up, too! You didn’t have to,” a chuckle. Cleves ran a hand through her hair and gave a smile. “So, we’re looking at what kind of a timeline for the release, exactly?” A slight roll of the eyes, and a shake of the head. “Would’ve been nice to know before I spent the last five minutes panicking over being dressed decently. Anyways, to the main topic. My editor is getting ready to give me the list of revisions made to the draft and then I’m going to once again, go in and edit whatever needs to be changed per her advice. We’re... aiming for maybe... three to six months from now.”

A nod from Anna. Catherine could see the woman looking at a second screen and typing something. Probably notes about all of this. This conversation carried on past 8:30, until it was Anna herself who decided to conclude it. “Sounds wonderful. I’ll be in touch, as per usual. But now that this is over, we can talk about something else, if you’d like.” Although they saw each other maybe once or twice a month in person, Anna and Catherine were quite the close friends–– about as close as Catherine and Catalina, since the two have been roommates since their university days. “Look, I woke up this morning thinking I had nothing to do, and I was just going to text Lina for the grocery list but then your email popped up,” a laugh. The German woman simply shook her head.

“So you got dressed up in a panic, Cathy? I’m shocked.” There was another bout of laughter that interrupted them. Parr found herself nodding. “Of course I did. I’m not going to just answer a conference call from you in a crop top and joggers, and with a messy bun.” The thought of Parr actually having a messy bun made Cleves laugh. “You and messy buns? You’ve got to be kidding me. But good job admitting you’re still halfway in your pajamas.”

Now she rolled her eyes. She rolled them so hard, they could've rolled right off her face.

Catherine shook her head, not being able to help the smile. “Hush. As if you weren't in your own. You’re at home, I know you are!” Her hands went to grab the cup of coffee, and she brought it back up to her lips. She was a bit proud of herself for not having touched it the whole time during the meeting, but now she was craving it. So, she began to drink it, allowing Anna to talk. “Where’s Lina? I’m surprised the woman isn’t around there. Wait, no... never mind, don’t answer that. She’s at work, isn’t she?” A nod. “Yeah, she’s a teacher, Anna. She leaves early. Comes back by dinner time normally.”

It was a safe assumption to say the two were having a fairly good time speaking to each other.

––––––––––

11:11 am.

“Perfect. That’s the shot,” a southern English voice rang out in the studio apartment. That was the voice of the beauty that took the world by storm: Anne Boleyn. “Tu as un bon oeil avec une caméra, Maggie! Ça a l'air super, vraiment. Go on and head on home, you’re good to go. Have fun with the pictures,” the ruby-lipped woman gave a kiss on both cheeks to her photographer friend, who packed up soon after and headed on out. Sitting down on the loveseat, Boleyn ended up getting herself to lay down and hold her phone right above her face.

“Lame.” She scrolls past one post.

“Seen it.” Another.

“What’s this?” A new post from her favorite author. She’d never admit it, but deep down inside, she was a huge nerd. Anne skimmed over the post, her thumb double tapping the screen. Parr’s posts were always inspirational quotes, or some snippets from her works. This one was just an appreciation post. A smile began to form, with it eventually becoming a light laugh. “She’s so kind! It’s amazing how someone so famous has a golden heart. And I’m sure she knows she’s got the fame.”

Most of the remainder of the morning for Anne was spent laying down, on Instagram, with no care in the world. Truly, the woman was one of a rather mellow personality. And in her spare time, she loved a good book. Deciding she’d had enough of Instagram for the time being, she closed out of the app and opened up another one. Probably delivery or something, considering it was approaching the afternoon and she felt her stomach rumble just a little. “Good thing I decided to get food. Has it really been almost five hours since I ate?”

An early riser, she was. On most days, Boleyn woke herself up at around three in the morning to go work out from maybe 3:30 to 4:45 in the morning. Sometimes she’d extend that work out to 5:45 in the morning. Then it was off to come back home, shower and get comfortable to be in the kitchen and cooking food for herself by around the 6:45 mark. She was always eating by seven in the morning, if not ten minutes later. But she was feeling particularly lazy today, so she’d take advantage of the day to just lounge around.

Standing up, Anne left her phone face down on the loveseat. She didn’t need it to get comfortable. And to be fair, it took her maybe about ten minutes, because the majority of it was her washing her face and making sure to take good care of that. She did however, come out of her bedroom with her glasses on. Now that she was alone for the day, she could just be Anne. No contacts, no sunglasses. Just plain Anne Boleyn. She was a huge nerd growing up, and she knew this to be quite true. She loved herself, and she truly did love her modeling career, but she found it odd to be both a nerd and a super famous model at the same time.

So, she’d keep her personal life to herself. Just like that.

––––––––––

1:00 pm.

Having finished her lunch around fifteen minutes ago, and having cleaned everything up, Anne found herself at a crossroads during the day. She could take her glasses off, grab a blanket, and take a nice nap. She could go out to the local shops and peruse their inventories. She could get into the kitchen, and do some meal prepping. She had options, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on what she wanted to do. Shrugging it off, the woman reached for the bookshelf. One of Parr’s books was in her hands.

Anne couldn’t quite tell what drew her into Catherine’s writings. Her books were not quite memoirs, but not quite fully opinionated pieces either. However, they did fall into the non-fiction category. Think of it as a discourse, kind of–– but one full of opinion, experience, and even proven fact. She was a strong woman, and had morals. Anne Boleyn was drawn to that from the first day she picked up a book by Catherine Parr. Laying back down on the loveseat, she opened up the book with a smile.

“A well deserved following,” she’d softly mutter. Her smile became less and less of one until her face was deadpan; a sign she was focused on reading. Word by word and page by page. Killer looks in front of the camera and the world, but a calm and soft appearance in private. This was something Anne showed maybe once or twice, since she has occasionally posted on her Instagram stories a picture or a video with her in her glasses.

One page became another as the time passed. Page to page, eventually book to book. Anne was in one of her reading holes, humming to herself to add a little more entertainment to her already uplifted mood. What broke her out of the daze was her phone ringing. A phone call. Pulling the phone out from underneath her, Anne answered after reading the caller ID. Maggie. Probably an update about the pictures or something.

“Anne! Bonne nouvelle, mon ami! I’ll have these edited by tonight or tomorrow at best. You’ll be right back on a runway soon enough with these,” Maggie sounded excited. A smile came across Anne’s lips. “Besides, you now have an updated picture for events instead of having to use the one from three years ago! Isn’t that great?” Sitting up, Boleyn set the book down and nodded to herself. “Oui. Merci à vous, comme d'habitude, Maggie. You work miracles,” she chuckles. “We’ll talk later. I might just take a nap or binge some Netflix.”

The conversation carried on for maybe five more minutes before Maggie hung up. Quite literally Anne’s best friend from childhood. Put the two together nowadays, and if Maggie had her camera or Anne’s phone in her hand, it was a photoshoot wherever they went. Safe to say that Maggie was responsible for the solid 90% of Anne’s feed that wasn’t selfies and food posts. Count your blessings, they always say. And despite the overwhelming following, Boleyn truly was grateful for what she had. Every single bit of fame that came her way? She was thankful she managed to get that far.

––––––––––

6:30 pm.

“Cathy? Estoy aquí y traje comida!”

Catalina had shut the door to the apartment as she finished that statement. Catherine peeked from behind the wall, before stepping out into view and smiling. “How was work, Lina?” Setting the food down on the table, one could see Catalina’s eyes roll to the back of her head for a moment. Looks like she had a troublesome day, considering she wasn't too cheery coming in the door. “Don’t get me started on it, Cathy. They were so unruly today for no reason. Part of me wonders if it’s the fact that they’re teenagers or not, but... it was unreal. The few that sit by my desk in the back of the classroom? They kept their cool, and I was glad about that.”

Catalina and Catherine both opened up their respective take out containers.

“Pero, gran y poderoso Señor... it was a nightmare today.”

A snicker came from Parr. “That’s why I don’t teach English. Could you imagine it? I’d be being told I’m spelling stuff like colour and favourite, or honour wrong! I’m English, we spell it differently than the Americans!” That snicker became a laugh. Catalina couldn’t help but laugh herself. “But truly, I’m so sorry you had to deal with a rowdy bunch today. Maybe they will be more mellow tomorrow. One day is just one day, and you have had one bad day... what... once every few months normally?”

“Yeah, it does happen every few months. So, I guess I won’t worry too much.” Catalina just shrugged it off, stuffing a spoonful of rice into her mouth.

––––––––––

A bite of chicken found itself on Anne’s fork. She was staring at her food, debating whether she should, or should not, post the dinner she so graciously decided to make. One could see the questioning glimmer in her eyes. The voice across the room made her attention snap from the plate to the source of the voice. “Je sais que c'est joli, mais allez, Anne. You haven’t touched your own food!” A bit of a laugh from Maggie. “I know, I know. Look, I just... wonder sometimes, if there’s anything else I can add to it. I always do that after I finish something.”

“I can tell. Just like when we were kids. You ALWAYS wanted to experiment more with your food. It’s almost like you live to be chaos.”

“Well, I mean... have you seen how I look? I’m chaos disguised as a babe. I like to think I’m pretty fit, after all,” there was the laugh from Boleyn. Shrugging it off, she just started to eat. Maggie was the one to continue the conversation. “Speaking of things you like, Anne... has that favorite author of yours posted anything? You always had a bit of a love for books. I saw that appreciation post earlier, and thought that was sweet. Even with the fame she has to her name, she remains humble. D’you know what, Anne? It reminds me of you a little.”

“How so?”

“Because you are the exact same way! Even with this huge following, you... you take the time to reach out and say thank you! You’re quite humble, despite what your looks say about you. I guess that whole don’t judge a book by its cover thing is real. Also, how do you just know how to make chicken taste good? This is amazing! I’m surprised you didn't go to culinary school,” Maggie practically shoved her food into her mouth, knowing that it would make Anne Boleyn laugh.

––––––––––

At the end of the night, both women could be found doing the exact same thing before they made themselves fall asleep:

Scrolling through their social media pages. One admiring the other’s confidence, and one admiring the other’s intelligence. A fair trade off to it all.

And despite the surprisingly good chaos from earlier on in the day, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Parr both could agree on one thing:

That there would be one day that their paths cross.

#Out of a Book #Catherine Parr #Anne Boleyn #six the musical #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #Parrlyn #six ff #six fanfiction

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norabrice1701 · 4 years ago

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An Offer Received - Part V

A Jaguar Villain Tom Hiddleston Character (Thomas Conrad) fanfic

Pairing: Thomas Conrad x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which Mr. Conrad makes his move and you have a front row seat.

Rating: Controlling behavior, f-bombs, Conrad being Conrad

Previously: Part IV - 5 Minutes

GIF credit to the original poster via the Tumblr search! (just, you know, replace the t-shirt with a bespoke suit)

Part V - 5 Days

You hadn’t slept well in days now.

Your wrists had ached long after he released the knots of his tie, the discomfort a constant reminder of that afternoon and everything it represented. If your night in his bed had felt like surrender, that afternoon felt like the ultimate submission. He seemed unbearably pleased with himself when you both dropped to his desktop, exhausted, sticky, and heaving for breath.

But the fallout from that encounter had been equally as disturbing.

Even through the humiliation of answering his questions and the mind-numbing pulse of pleasure, you didn’t forget that he had sacrificed a meeting to be with you, offering you your first glimpse at a timeline.

“Believe me, this time next week - it won’t matter.”

Of course, you could figure out the implications. It wouldn’t matter because the world as everyone knew it would...would just...cease to exist? Change? Upend? You didn’t have an accurate word for what he would do.

But that wasn’t the worst part - the worst part was waiting. And continuing to wait. And now…? Now, two weeks had passed since he uttered that statement. Had something happened? Did you miss his great revolution? Had someone betrayed him? You didn’t understand, and you didn’t dare ask.

And, to make things worse - five days had also passed since Sebastian Barnes disappeared.

Honest-to-God disappeared. No one had heard from him. His flat was pristine, undisturbed. His car parked in its assigned spot. The office security cameras recorded him leaving and his car pulling away, but after that…well. It was anyone’s guess and the police had no leads. Simmons had been doing a decent job serving as interim Head of IT, but he couldn’t wait for his boss to return.

You didn’t dare ask Conrad about him, either. But of course, you suspected him. Between binding your wrists and his innovative use of cufflinks, he made clear his displeasure over Barnes’ treatment of you. Sure, Conrad was hellbent on world domination, but was he really the type of man to make men disappear? To murder?

A chill ran down your spine as you glanced to Conrad’s closed double doors. It made sense that he’d have to get his hands dirty to achieve world domination. But did Sebastian Barnes really pose that much of a threat?

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to push your sleep-deprived thoughts aside and glancing at the clock. 6:46 am. Plenty of time to run through your inbox before starting on the day’s to-do’s. And you needed to be on your game today – you were attending a production strategy meeting in three hours. Sure, it was Barton’s department now, but you still watched it like a hawk, taking extra pride in its continual success.

You recognized the hissing hinge of Conrad’s doors, the click of the handle closing. It was second nature to glance up, offering a polite smile as you waited for his instruction or request.

Even now, it still amazed you how he looked flawless every day without end. Today’s suit was a sleek charcoal that reflected an almost dark navy under the office lighting. A pocket square matched the crisp, pristine white of his shirt. He approached your desk, smoothing the front of his jacket and fastening the front button. His gaze met yours, sharp and bright. “Time to go, darling.”

Time to go? Wasn’t the work day just starting? You shook your head, smile faltering. “I don’t understand, sir. Your first meeting isn’t until 9 am.”

“Time to leave this world behind.” The corner of his mouth curved. “Time to build anew.”

The words stunned you. This was actually it? Today was the day? Your heart leapt and your stomach lurched as you struggled to form a thought. “Today?”

“Right now, in fact. No time to waste.”

You glanced to your desk, numb. Did you grab your laptop or coffee? Perhaps purse and phone? What would be left to come back to after…well, after. You didn’t even have a clue where you were going.

“You needn’t worry about any of your things. You won’t need them.”

The surety of his voice unnerved you. And, yet, moved you to action. You pushed up from your seat, grabbing your coffee tumbler. You couldn’t handle this without more caffeine. He started in a brisk clip for the door, reaching to hold it open for you. You passed through without acknowledging the gesture, feeling his hand quickly fall to the small of your back, steering you through the maze of office corridors.

Eventually, you reached the south end of the main building and he pushed the button for the service elevator. You knew better than to ask, despite the rising tide of anxious nerves that threatened to reject your last drink of coffee. Instead, you took a deep breath and another sip as he led you into the elevator confines.

He extracted a slim key from his pocket, inserting into a keyhole as he pressed the ‘LD’ button three times. A rather puzzling gesture. The loading dock was the lowest level for the service elevator, and only the employee elevators went the next two levels down to the parking garage.

His soft chuckle startled you as the key disappeared back into his suit. “You needn’t look so worried. Or, perhaps, it’s confusion? Either way, you’ll have your answers soon enough.”

You wanted to smart off. To tell him just how unhelpful that was. But you just swallowed another mouthful of coffee instead and told him what he surely wanted to hear. “Yes, sir.”

The elevator doors slid open to reveal…to reveal -

You nearly tripped over your feet, bowled over at the sight before you. The elevator had opened onto a platform overlooking a covered dock on the water of the city harbor that berthed a sharp, sleek submarine. A small group of people moved about, bustling ropes, hefting boxes, calling out actions. The forward most hatch on the bow was open and a box emblazoned with ‘Dole Bananas’ rested beside it, the yellow fruit bright in the glow of high-pressure sodium lights.

This had to be it. The Operation ‘Blue Sea’ submarine prototype. Sure, Conrad had continued to funnel funds into the project account, but it had never occurred to you that he was actually pursuing the submarine - outfitting it to be his…well, his hideout, his floating command center, his place to stage global change.

Conrad’s amused chuckle sounded low in your ear. “Close your mouth, my dear.” His hand fell again to the small of your back, a guiding gesture. “Can’t have you catching flies before we cast off.”

Your feet moved of their own accord down the metal stairs as he followed swiftly on your heels. “You can’t be serious…that – that is your plan? Surely, we’ll never make it out of the harbor.” You scrambled to recall what you knew of submarine films. “There have to be submarine nets...radar, sonar….”

“And I’m insulted you haven’t given my development team enough credit.” His voice carried just above the din of preparations. “Operation ‘Blue Sea’ was conceived with the sole purpose of developing a stealth, reconnaissance submarine befitting the modern technological age. And we’ve had four years to perfect it ever since the government decided it wasn’t a practical investment.”

You stared at the gleaming black hull, at the sail that rose to an intimidating height. Claustrophobia had never afflicted you before, but you’d never been on a submarine. Your head went light at the prospect of being confined in that tube beneath the crushing ocean depths.

He stopped short, turning towards you with a questioning gaze. “Your watch, please.”

Suddenly the weight of your LOKI smartwatch felt like lead as you held it up yet drew it protectively towards your chest. “What for?”

His nimble fingers reached for your wrist, efficiently undoing the clasp and pulling your watch free. It dropped to the metal with a clink before he brought the heel of a pristine oxford down on the watch face.

You jolted as it cracked under the blow, and again as he brought his heel down a second time. The screen winked to black and he stooped to retrieve it.

“No unauthorized GPS devices.” He tossed the damaged watch casually into the dark water of the submarine bay.

You sighed, overwhelmed at the situation. Lamely, you waved your metal, insulated coffee tumbler. “What about this? Maybe there’s a hidden GPS tracking device in here...”

He arched a brow, impossible to tell whether in displeasure or disbelief. Maybe both. “You’re welcome to keep it if you can climb ladders with only one hand.”

Your gaze stole up to the sail and the access ladder, watching a sailor scale up to the top. You knew what waited on the other side. Another ladder...one that led nowhere but inside.

Coffee wasn’t strong enough right now. You really needed tequila or bourbon.

Raising the tumbler to your lips, you downed the rest of the dark, bitter liquid. You chucked the empty tumbler aside, hearing the metal exterior connect with the metal decking. You licked the last drop from your lips. “Well, you said no time to waste.”

His eyes wrinkled with tells of amusement as the corners of his mouth pulled to a faint smirk. The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he lifted a hand gallantly towards the gangway. “Ladies first.”

You tried not to focus on the murky water as you stepped onto the serrated metal, gripping the handrails as you felt the gangway roll with the bobbing submarine. Conrad followed right behind you, raising one hand in a signaled gesture to the dock workers.

No turning back now.

The kitten heel of your pumps plinked off the hull as you navigated the unsteady surface to the sail ladder. With one hand in front of the other, you started to climb. Thank god you wore slacks today. A hand extended at the top of the ladder, and you accepted the sailor’s steadying grip as you stepped off. The gentle swaying motion of the submarine was far more pronounced at this height, and you hoped seasickness wouldn’t set in.

“After you, miss.” The sailor motioned down at the open hatch, an almost inviting glow emanating from it, offsetting the hull’s dark exterior.

Your gaze caught Conrad’s as you stepped onto the ladder. He looked so impossibly pleased that you wanted to punch him. Maybe you could try later.

Taking one step at a time, you descended into the calm buzzing activity below. You weren’t entirely sure what you expected of the interior - all you had to go on were Hollywood movies. But the control room was whitewashed clean, lined with some of the expected pipes and valving, but banks of sleek consoles and display screens dominated the space. A small uniformed crew hunched over stations, giving status reports to a central man who stood, coordinating the controlled chaos. No one paid you any mind as you stepped off the ladder, moving to one side.

You studied the openings in the bulkheads that extended both fore and aft, but you had no clue what lay in front or behind. Would you even have free reign of the submarine? Would you be treated as a guest? A prisoner?

Conrad stepped onto the landing beside you, and the groaning squeak of metal sounded above you. With a gasp, you looked up just in time to see the last vestiges of exterior light swallowed up by the black hatch, the watertight lock mechanism sealing into place.

“Lion and Fox secure.” The man - supposedly the captain - standing front and center called into his radio. “Prepare to set sail.”

Conrad stepped up to the man, conversing in low tones that you couldn’t quite make out. As best you could tell, the man took his orders from Conrad, of course.

“Very good, captain,” Conrad said louder, stepping back, “take us down and blackout mode, if you please.”

The captain opened a shipwide channel, sounding the order for dive preparations. The blaring of a klaxon horn made you jump as you stiffened, squeezing your eyes shut. You really didn’t want to know the minute the ship slipped beneath the waves - the thought of nothing but these walls between you and endless water….

“Darling, breathe,” Conrad’s gentle, soothing voice sounded in your ear, “in and out, slowly. Just breathe. You’re going to be alright.”

“Am I?” Your words rushed out. “We’re in a fucking prototype submarine. How do you know it’ll even work! How...how can we already be diving...we haven’t even left the dock - are you sure it’s deep enough-”

“Shh, now,” his arm wrapped around your waist, both in comfort and warning, “it won’t do for you to make a scene.” He tugged you along at his side, turning to the captain. “You know your course.”

You let yourself be pulled along through the forward bulkhead, leaving the steady buzz of the control room behind. A narrow corridor along the curved hull snaked along a collection of rooms that stretched to the hull’s other side. He opened the first door, guiding you in.

The room that greeted you looked so unassumingly ordinary. Half office, half living room - crisp furnishings, clean walls, and pleasant decor. If it weren’t for the couple of camouflaged pipes and the rushing sound of ballast tanks emptying - you could almost, almost believe that you were back in your office.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” Conrad started softly, “but do not publicly cast doubt on my plans again. This prototype, as you called it, has made over thirty dives. I’ve personally overseen the testing of every system on board, and accompanied her through trials in open water. We’ve already proved all of the city’s best anti-submarine defenses inept.” He pulled you tighter against him, his scent wrapping around you. “I have not come so far, so close, to leave anything to chance at this late hour.”

You looked up at him, still reminding yourself to breathe. “How long?”

“How long...will we be at sea, or can we stay at sea?”

You didn’t like the implication of the last option, but you had to know. “Both.”

“We will be at sea for five days, but we are well provisioned to stay at sea for three months, if needs must.”

“Three months?” How was that even possible? How could you go for three months without touching solid land? Without escaping him, without….without….

Soft lips pressed to your forehead. “There, there…just keep breathing.”

“What…what am I supposed to do? I-I’ll surely go crazy just sitting around here….”

He pulled back with a quizzical look. “Then, why would I continue to pay you?” He motioned towards the desk, and you registered the presence of a laptop. “You’ll find a remote connection to your office laptop. LOKI’s resources are at your disposal just as they ever were.”

You struggled to understand. Did he really just expect you to keep working...like it was any other day? “I don’t get it,” you looked back to him, “won’t LOKI have to take a hit or go down or something…in order for you to rise up?”

His brow furrowed. “Well, that would certainly be a waste. Especially considering that LOKI will need a new CEO in short order. My attention can only be divided so many ways.”

You froze on his words, stunned at the implications. Were you presumptuous enough to actually ask…?

He could probably see the question swirling in your eyes. Especially if the grin that teased his lips was any indication. “A new CEO who understands all the company’s workings and has set upon building a strategy of success that should only continue to flourish.”

“You can’t…fuck, you can’t be serious.”

He winked and turned around just as quick. You almost had to second-guess yourself – he had fucking winked.

His voice carried over his shoulder as he reached for the door handle. “Best of luck with today’s production strategy meeting.”

Silence descended and you wanted to scream.

What the fuck?

Up Next: Part VI - 5 Empires

#tom hiddleston #villain #the art of villainy #hiddlesedit #good to be bad #world domination #loki #fanfic #an offer received #wannabe writer #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #not rpf

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

Note

can you give us...Ryan's Attempt At Poem? :')

CW: Strong language, siblings being shit to each other just ‘cause. Crude references to consensual spice.

TIMELINE: Danny is 21 and a junior in college, Ryan is 19 and a freshman. Takes place one year and three months prior to abduction, about one year before Danny meets Nate for the first time.

“Dan, get in here and help me out!”

Danny groans, rolling his eyes. “Sorry, guys,” He says into the mic on the little headset he’s wearing. “Little brother needs me.”

“Man, fuck your little brother.” That’s Cam, who isn’t exactly Danny’s friend, but he plays all the same video games and Danny likes teaming up with him. Cam always racks up just an insane kill count.

Danny has a painful crush on him, like being a high schooler all over again. It doesn’t help that he’s Danny’s lab partner in his chemistry course, so they sit in incredibly painful proximity to one another twice a week for an hour.

“Careful, Cameron, if you say fuck you too loudly around Ryan Michaelson, he absolutely will,” Perry says, laughter along his voice. “Then you’d learn about a whole new world, buddy.”

“Hey, if Ryan Michaelson asked me to, I probably would want to discover a whole new world,” Cam replies, apparently unbothered. “I mean. Look, there’s pretty, and then there’s Ryan fucking Michaelson.”

“Ugh, gross, you guys. He’s my brother.”

“Yeah, but, like… you’d understand, right?”

Danny sighs dramatically, making it loud enough to carry through the mike. His heart races, just a little, as he says, “But what if I wanted to show you whole new world, Cam?”

There’s a silence, and then everyone starts laughing, and Danny is elated that nobody took him seriously, but also disappointed that Cameron didn’t take him seriously.

Stop getting crushes on straight guys, Danny, you know it’s not going to work.

He’d sort of thought being gay as hell would mean he only wanted to actually be with actual gay guys, but… it doesn’t always happen that way. Whatever. Cam wouldn’t have noticed him even if he was gay, anyway - he was in a frat or some shit and Danny figured he probably wears way too much eyeliner for the frat guys to put up with.

But he looks really fucking good in eyeliner.

“Danny!” Ryan calls again, louder this time. “You and I both know you’re not playing right now, you’re just, like, talking shit with those guys - come help!”

“Okay, I mean it, I’m gone for now. I’ll tell him you all sent your fucking love and kisses and whatnot,” Danny says, brightly.

“Definitely tell him we sent our kisses,” Perry says. “Jesus fuck, Ryan Michaelson is hot.”

“Perry-”

“Yeah, yeah, later, Dan. We’ll tell you how hot your brother is when you get back.”

“… well now I’m not coming back.”

“No! We need you! You’re the second-best shot on the team! Only Cam does a better job than you.”

“Wow, what a compliment,” Danny says dryly. “I think I might melt into the fucking floor.”

“Little Danny-puddle,” Cam says, slightly soft, and Danny’s throat nearly closes up. Then he just logs out before he say something embarrassing, tossing his mic onto the coffee table and standing up, stretching his limbs. Ryan’s in the guest room this weekend - Danny had gotten a two-bedroom apartment specifically so Ryan could stay over whenever.

Mom and Dad fucking hated when Ryan stayed here, and that was half the reason to invite him.

“All right, dumbass, what do you need?” Danny says as he sticks his head through the door to Ryan’s room. He’s on his stomach on the bed, squinting at his laptop, head titled.

“I need help. I want to write Remy a poem for Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, my God. I am way too gay to help you write a poem for a girl, Ryan. Especially for fucking Remy fucking Alleman, the bitch.”

“Man, fuck you. Remy’s fucking gorgeous and sarcastic and French and like the smartest person I know.”

“What about me?”

“Danny, you are neither French nor particularly smart, but I’ll give you sarcastic.”

“I’m at least gorgeous, though, right?”

“Nah, man, you’re ugly as shit. All those freckles?” Ryan pokes Danny in the cheek, just over his cheekbone, and laughs when Danny shoves him so hard he rolled off the bed and hit with a thump. “Ow! Fine, I take it back! You’re… acceptably attractive under certain circumstances!”

“Thank you. That’s all I ask you to say.” Danny flutters his eyelashes, then holds out his hand to help Ryan back up onto the bed. “So why do you want my help, for real?”

“Well… Gay guys are good at romantic shit, right?”

Danny blinks at him. “Have you met me?”

“… fair point. You’re a dumbass on a good day. Well… you’re all I got, so come over here and look at it, tell me what you think. I want to, like, handwrite it on this really pretty paper I got, and then I’m gonna roll it up like it’s a scroll and tie it to a rose she’s gonna find in that tree we used to climb when we started dating. Does that sound romantic?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a fucking Hallmark card. Let me see.”

Danny flops down to look at the words sitting in the open Word document on the screen.

“My gaming friends think you’re super hot, you know,” He says, sidelong. “Perry and Jay and Cam and shit.”

Ryan shrugs. “Everyone thinks I’m hot. Comes with being so fucking hot all the time.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you, too,” Ryan says primly. “And don’t you forget it.”

“How could I forget anything about you, you never leave me the fuck alone. Okay, so your poem.” Danny looks at the computer screen, gnawing on his lower lip, thinking. “Oh, man. This is… terrible.”

“Is it really?” Ryan scoots closer. “Like, too terrible to show her?”

“No you should definitely show her, she is going to fall on her ass laughing, and I want to be there to see it.” Danny’s mouth moves as he rereads it - he’s never been the best reader, although he does well enough reading for school. “Yeah, no, this sucks absolute donkey ass.”

“Shit.” Ryan deflates, a little, and Danny looks at him sidelong. “I just wanted to do something romantic.”

“Ryan, this is romantic. It’s just also terrible. It can be both things.”

“Yeah, but she’s French. They, like, get poetry and shit.”

“She’s French-Canadian, for starters, and don’t ever call her French to her face or she’ll kick you in it. Just give her your terrible poem and the rose and stuff. It’s romantic as hell, Ryan. She’ll laugh but she’ll keep the poem for-fucking-ever, I guarantee it.”

“You think?”

“I know, Ryan. Okay, I’ll help you maybe move some stuff around. I don’t know shit about poetry, but I mean… I can try. We’ll work on it together, get it the best it’s gonna be from the Michaelson boys.”

“So… still terrible.”

“Yeah, but what are you gonna do? If she cared about poetry, she’d date a fucking English major, right?”

“Right. But… but.” Ryan hesitates, just the barest hint of real vulnerability on his face. “She’ll still like it, even if it sucks, right?”

“She likes you even though you suck,” Danny pointed out helpfully.

“Hey now, of the two of us in the room who suck-”

“Shut up, asshole. Let’s get this done so I can get back to gaming, we’re doing really well in the rankings. Cam is talking about doing a couple semi-pro bits, like, signing up for meets where there’s money on the line.”

“Well if Cameron says to do it, of course you have to, God forbid you remember Cameron doesn’t even know you exist. Oooh, let’s write a poem for Cam for Valentine’s. ‘My hair is red, my eyes are blue, when I’m sucking dick, I think about you-’“

“Ryan, shut the fuck up! I do not think about Cam every time!”

Ryan brightens. “So… how often would you say you do? Ballpark estimate.”

Danny groans. “I’m going to punch you in the face. In the face, Ryan.”

“Mmmn, I’d look super hot with a black eye and we both know it. Anyway, help me with the poem first, I need to, like, learn some kind of penmanship or whatever so this doesn’t look like shit.”

“… yeah, okay.”

The two brothers settled in next to each other to consider the next line.

#microfiction #drabbles #original fiction #brothers #sibling bonding #which mostly means insulting each other #daniel michaelson is a tall smol bean #ryan michaelson is a good brother #anon asks about danny #Daniel Michaelson's story #just for fun #true fluff #fluff #humorous fiction

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percywinchester27 · 4 years ago

Text

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-8)

Word count: 4.8K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: fluff, feels, cute stuff ;)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: Aha! Here it is! The part a lot of you have been waiting for ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23 I love you, Athina <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

“Someone had an interesting night,” Meg commented salaciously as you entered the apartment, eyeing the grey coat you were clutching tightly against your body.

Why she was up at two-thirty in the morning was a question you had stopped asking. It was how things were. She camped out in the living room most nights.

It had been a long night consisting of overthinking and multiple efforts to not break-down in the middle of a library. Now, your head was hurting from it.

“That looks expensive,” she whistled, eager for your reply.

She did not get one.

Tonight, you did not have the strength to explain anything.

“Meg,” you said heavily. “Is it okay if I sleep on the couch, tonight? I- I don’t think I can fall asleep by myself.”

“Sure.” She got up to make space for you, dragging her books with her on the carpet.

You removed your shoes and fell onto the sofa, rolling on one side and hugging your knees.

The coat had mostly stopped smelling like him, except for those faint traces and you clung to those forcefully.

Meg had a habit of reading out loud when she was memorising text. You had once challenged her to read without moving her lips and she had failed miserably at it. Kevin still made it a point to bring it up every now and then to tease.

Her lulling voice, soft in the background was very comforting to you as you closed your eyes. Tomorrow would bring more questions than answers, you knew that. For now, you didn’t want to think about any of it.

********************************

27th August 2008

There was a certain trepidation as you stood on the porch of his house, hand raised towards the bell. What were you even doing? So Sam and you had been out for a couple more dates, that didn’t obligate him to spend every other day with you. So what if Ellen wasn’t home and Jo had a date. You could be by yourself for one evening, right? Restlessness shouldn’t be a motivator to land you in front of Sam’s house at seven in the evening.

No, it was extremely impolite to barge into someone’s house without calling first. You fisted your raised, about to put it down, when the door opened. Dean Winchester stood on the other side, in his classic leather jacket, hands closed around the keys of his beloved car.

“Y/N!” He looked surprised at your unexpected appearance. Not that you blamed him.

You waved awkwardly. “I made muffins- remember, I promised I’d get you some on the day of the picnic?- and some apple pie. I was feeling keyed up and I thought I’d pay Sam a visit. I’m so sorry for showing up without notice, I know it’s not- “

“Y/N,” Dean cut you off. “Why’re you saying sorry? C’mon in!” He stepped aside to let you in, then grinned at you. “You had me at pie.”

The hallway was comfortably lit and paneled in dark wood, without any of those nonsense peony wallpapers that were a fad.”

“Aren’t you coming in as well?”

Dean shook his head. “I got a date with your cousin.”

Right. How stupid of you. You knew Jo was going out for a date… obviously it wouldn’t be by herself.

“Sam’s in the living room, straight and left,” he said. “He can have all the muffins, but don’t let him touch that pie.” He winked at you before leaving.

You stared at the closed door, then at the basket in your hand. How had you managed to get yourself alone with Sam Winchester? There was still time for you to turn around and make a run for it, but the butterflies in your stomach kept pulling you towards the living room.

Sam was sitting cross legged on the sofa, bare feet, in a grey t-shirt and old jeans. Books were splayed around him, a laptop balanced on his right knee, eyes intently focused on the screen. From where you stood, you could only see his side profile and boy did he look handsome. The opportunity was too good to let go. You walked around quietly, placing the basket lightly on the floor and softly treaded to the back of the sofa. Slowly, you placed your hand on his eyes from behind. Sam jumped, the laptop almost crashing to the floor. His hand shot out reflexively to catch it, the other coming to rest over yours.

“I’d recognise your hand anywhere,” he said.

“Dang it!”

He took hold of your wrist and pulled you around to the front, then tugged so you fell into his lap, the laptop lightly toppling on the sofa next to him.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He whispered, one hand going around your waist, the other weaving into your cascading hair. You caught hold of his shoulders and dipped down to press your lips against his. The kiss was hot, passionate, as well as tender. Wherever his skin touched yours, the nerves were set on fire. Soon, you were gasping for breath.

“The pleasure-” you breathed out, breaking the kiss, “- is all mine.”

Sam pecked the side of your face again, lips wet still.

“I was literally just thinking about you,” he said, eyes staring at you in wonderment. “What’re you? A mind reader or something?”

You slid down slightly, so you were more comfortably seated in his lap. “Not a mind reader. I just missed you. I think I interrupted something important.”

He glanced at the ignored laptop. “Nevermind that. I was at wits end anyway.”

Normally, you would have jumped out of his lap. It felt so intimate to be sitting like this. However, Sam was snuggled so close to you, and so obviously unwilling to let go of you, that you didn’t make a move.

“What’re you up to?” You looked up at him.

“Remember when I told you I had to fly to New York, a few weeks back?”

“Yeah.”

“It was for an interview at this bigshot firm.”

You sat up. “Really? That’s great! How did it go?”

He frowned. “It went well enough. I heard from them yesterday. They are interested in hiring me as a junior associate.”

“But?” You could sense it was coming from the way his forehead furrowed.

“But, I don’t understand why they would wait for me to clear the bar and then join them. It’ll be a couple of months at least. It would have been easier to just reject me. I went for the interview because a senior from college set it up for me. I didn’t expect anything to come out of it.”

It was hard to believe that after everything he had achieved in life, he still had such self doubts. You attempting to tell him how exceptional he was would seem patronising, so you didn’t.

“Tell me something.” You snuggled closer and Sam automatically adjusted himself so accommodate you comfortably. “Do you want to work at this place?”

He looked at you and hesitated just for a second. In that moment you saw through him. It wasn’t the bar that was worrying him. He didn’t think that he couldn’t clear it. It wasn’t self doubt that was holding him back. It was reluctance.

“It would be a good thing for my career.”

You decided not to push him on it.

“Then that’s that.” Reluctantly, you got up from his lap and straightened the laptop. “I have something for you.”

Sam perked right up.

You pulled out the muffins from the basket and handed him one, eagerly waiting for his response.

Sam moaned after the first bite. “These are delicious!”

Your gran was amazing at this, and you had taken up baking in your spare time now. It relaxed you to be around that aroma.

“Where’s the kitchen? I can put this in and leave, so you can continue with studying.”

Sam looked horrified. “No, no, don’t leave. Please!”

His eyes were wide, eyebrows just a little scrunched and lips almost moulded in a pout. The expression held some surprising power. It could crumble hearts.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you… are you giving me puppy dog eyes?”

“Is it working?” He countered, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Like a frigging charm. You didn’t tell him that.

“Fine. I’ll stay, but you still gotta study, okay?”

Sam batted his eyelashes and you burst out laughing. “Now you’re just overdoing it. I’m just gonna put these in!”

You wandered in the direction which he had pointed towards, wondering about how somehow that tall and built like a runway model could pull such an innocent expression. You put the pie in the fridge and the muffins in a box over the oven. The kitchen like the rest of the house was cozy and comfortable.

On your way out you paid more attention to the rest of the room. At the far end there was a grand piano and behind it, a bookshelf in the same wood that panelled the hallway. You gravitated towards it. The piano looked polished, the keys slightly yellowed as if it was well played. The bookshelf was full of a crazy collection of books, from Kurt Vonnegut to Plato. Running your fingers over the spines, they stopped over a title. You pulled the book out.

“Sam?” You asked hopefully, returning to the sofa. “Can I borrow this book, please? My copy is still at Gran’s place and it’s my favourite. I swear I’ll treat it well.”

He flicked your wrist over to see which book it was, then shook his head indulgently. “Should have figured. Of course you can borrow it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, flicking through the pages of the copy of To kill a mockingbird. “I was thirteen, I think, the first time I read it. Fell in love with Atticus.”

“I don’t think there’s a better fictional lawyer,” Sam mused. “It’s hard to live up to him.”

“Mhmm.”

Sam suddenly got up. “Where are my manners? Can I get you something? Coffee?”

You took hold of his hand and dragged him down again. “I’m having trouble sleeping lately. Caffeine won’t help.”

His brow furrowed, however, he didn’t press you for a reason.

“How about I read to you from the NY Civil Code. That is interesting enough to put you to sleep for at least a week straight.”

You laughed. “It does look plenty interesting. You mind if I take a look at your notes?”

Sam spread his arms. “Knock yourself out.”

It was like being a child in a candy store, as you flipped through his books and notes. The text was complicated and the legal language seemed bafflingly difficult. There were bundles of notes in Sam’s thin, pointy handwriting. They looked very systematic even though you didn’t understand much.

“It’s the basics of types of legal actions,” Sam supplied. “Difference between a plaint, suit, petition and a litigation.”

“What is it? What’s the difference?”

Sam eyed you with some amusement. “You really want to know?”

“Mhmm.” This was something you had always wanted to talk about, but never had anyone to talk to. Of course you wanted to know more.

Sam flipped the pages of his book, till he found the one he was looking for.

“Alright,” he said, eyes bright with interest. “The easiest and most basic of all is a litigation. It simply means the process of taking any legal action. So, everything else, your suits, petitions, plaints and complaints, invariably everything falls under a broadly classified litigation. Now, a petition is a litigation filed to seek remedy in respect of any infringement of a constitutional right of the individual. The one who files it is the petitioner and the one it is filed against is the respondent. You with me so far?”

You nodded quickly.

Sam smiled. “Next one- and this is the one that’s going to make me money- is a suit or a lawsuit. The affected person files a suit in order to seek justice in respect of any civil right or claim they are entitled to. Here, the person who files the suit is referred to as the plaintiff and the persons against whom it has been filed is the defendant or the defendants, depending on the number of parties,” he cleared with a tilt of his neck.

Sam went on to tell you about the general magnitude of impact that both of them had once filed.

“So, a petition can be filed only against a government body, right? Because… only they can harm your constitutional right, cause they’re the ones who execute it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’re kinda right. Petitions; specifically writ petitions are filed against public bodies, yeah. And suits against private parties. You’re really quick, aren’t you? I’m impressed.”

You bit your lip. “It’s not like that, you’re just a really good teacher.”

“Am I now?”

The way he said it and the way he was looking at you, reminded you once more that you were alone in the house with him.

“You should consider teaching,” you said, wiggling your hands in your lap. “You’d make an awesome professor.” God help the poor students who would have to concentrate on his words while looking at him. You surely would never be able to manage that.

Looking up, you saw that Sam blushing furiously.

He was so bad at taking compliments! It made you fall deeper in love with him.

You jerked back at that thought. Love? Did you love Sam Winchester?

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, There’s also Public Interest Litigations…”

The words were lost on you now, as you reeled in the realisation. Was this how it felt to be in love? To have those butterflies constantly assault your stomach, to have your breath taken away from you each time he so much as even looked at you? As intense as it all felt, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Not at all.

“... so no one really cares about them in the Supreme Court.”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“You’re sleepy, aren’t you?” Sam asked dubiously. “I did bore you with all the legal talk.”

“No… no,” you denied, but at the same time you yawned.

Sam laughed. “That’s alright. You can just lie down here and rest.”

You tried to protest but Sam cut you off. “When Dean comes back, I can drive you home.”

You were sleepy, sure. but it wasn’t because the subject was boring. It was because of how relaxed you felt around him.

Finally, you gave in, leaning into the sofa. Sam adjusted himself so that your head rested in his lap.

“Earlier when you asked about NY, I wasn’t being completely honest with you,” Sam said after a while. “I’m not sure about this job, Y/N. I thought it was what I wanted, but that was before.”

“What do you mean?”

His hand came to rest on your head, his fingers absently carding through your hair.

“I thought a good job would make me happy. Coming back to Lawrence… It was like a wake-up call. It made me realise that the job would mean moving away from Dean for good. I mean with the way things are going with Jo, I’ll have to get my own place sooner or later anyway.”

You giggled. They did seem nauseatingly in love. It was all very cute.

“... then there’s you.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose what we have. I know you’ll be moving to a University soon, but you’ll return to Lawrence for your vacations, to your family, and I don’t want to lose out on that.”

You caught hold of his hand that was in your hair and brought it to your lips, kissing his palm. You noted with shyness that goosebumps erupted on his skin on the back of his hand..

“Sam, do you think I’ll want to visit Jo and aunt El, and not want to see you? I’ve been so winded all day today- because I hadn’t seen you for two days- that I had to barge into your house. We can make this work. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It sure is a novel feeling. I’ve never had the reason to trust anyone because I wasn’t afraid to lose them. I feel like I’ve opened myself up to you in pieces and now I can’t put them all back.”

Strange. He was rendering words to the exact emotion of your heart.

“It’s settled then. You prepare for the bar and who knows I just might land a college on the east coast. Maybe we’ll be closer than we think.”

He sighed wistfully. “Maybe.”

You let go of his hand. After lingering for a few seconds over your lips, then your cheek, his fingers went back to your hair.

It was a lovely feeling, the scrapping of his knuckles against the base of your hair.

“Read to me?”

“Civil procedure?” He chuckled.

“Sure,” you smiled snuggling against his side. When he started reading, it wasn’t the civil code.

“Chapter one,” Sam read. “When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury....”

You smiled to yourself, listening to your favourite book being read out loud. Sam’s voice was deep, husky, and you closed your eyes, taking in the words till they lost their meaning, and only his voice remained, soft and comforting.

“Who plays the piano?” You remembered asking sleepily.

“I do,” he replied, after a pause, then went back to reading.

You were long removed from consciousness and the voices must have been part of your dream, or just part of your imagination.

“At least carry her upstairs,” Dean was saying.

“No, she might wake up,” Sam said. “I’ll just get my pillow and sleep on the floor here. Will you let Jo know that she’ll be staying over?”

“Sure.”

It could have been seconds later or maybe hours; you felt a soft pressure against your temple, and a whispered prayer. “I love you.”

********************************

Your alarm woke you up at seven am sharp. Meg was nowhere to be seen in the living room and the door to her room was closed. However, a soft blanket- one that you didn’t recognise- was pulled over your body. You were touched by the gesture.

It might have been a dreamless sleep, but having spent the night on the sofa had sure taken a toll on your back, the stiff clothes leaving imprints on your body. You looked down at the coat you were still wearing. What were you going to do with it?

You were definitely more level headed now about what had happened last night; were able to look at it more objectively without your emotions wrecking you apart. This had to have happened just when you had somewhat accepted the fact that Sam didn’t care for you. It hurt; it hurt each time he averted his gaze from you, but you had learned to live with it, live around it.

Now you didn’t know how to live with even an ounce of affection he showed you. How pathetic was that? You had gone back and forth with yourself last night over whether you were mistaken about whose coat it could be. Each time you found yourself arriving at the same conclusion. It was definitely Sam. The color, the scent, it was all him.

The next question that arose was what to do with the coat. You couldn’t keep it after making sure that you had almost nothing left from that life. Hell, you’d never be able to concentrate on anything except the coat if it stayed with you. You couldn’t throw it away. Even the thought caused you pain. That left you with only one option- returning it to Sam, which was a whole new matter… and raised so many mind boggling questions of its own.

How were you going to return it? How were you going to bring yourself up to look him in the eye and talk to him after everything that had happened? And even if you managed to do all those things, what if he outright refused to acknowledge that the coat was his? You didn’t think you could live through that. To guess his harshness was one thing, but to be proven of it by facing him was another.

He had steadfastly refused to look at you all this while, and so far it had worked out for you. What if he looked at you with such hatred that it erased every memory of his loving eyes. Could you live through that?

You put your head in your hands, feeling a hollow in your stomach. One thing was clear to you, the coat had to go, and it had to go today.

It was with a subdued but determined face that you took a seat in Sam’s lecture. As was the norm, he ignored you completely. When the lecture ended you hurriedly got up, clutching your satchel to your chest. It was bulging full.

“Y/N,” Madison called. “The next lecture is cancelled, where are you going?”

“I… er… I had some work,” you said. It was good enough for Madison, but not so much for the girls behind her, particularly Rebecca.

“You’re coming for the party, right?” Rebecca asked, too sweetly. “You know, Maddy’s birthday party.”

Shit. It had completely slipped your mind that the party was this weekend. You had promised Madison you’d go. The idea didn’t appeal to you one bit, though. You’d rather just hang out with the apartment gang, especially since you weren’t working this weekend.

“Of course she’s coming,” Madison said confidently. “Aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Yeah.” No way you could get out of it without hurting Madison. She had been nothing but kind to you. You had to pay it back somehow.

Madison gave you a charming smile. “We’ll have so much fun.”

You doubted that to the highest degree, but now was not the time to dwell over that. You waved and left the room quickly, before anyone could ask you where you were headed.

With a trepidation that made you feel like you were existing outside your body, you walked towards where you knew Sam’s office was. You could feel your every heartbeat individually as if it was being hammered onto your ribcage. Something was painfully lodged in your throat. It hurt to swallow. At every step you wanted to turn around and run away. Too soon you were in front of his glazed glass door. In silver etched letters, it read:

Prof. Samuel Winchester, J.D.

You knocked on the glass panel. Three quick raps. The ball of nervousness in your stomach made you want to throw up, but you held still.

“Come in,” came his voice from inside.

With shaking fingers, you pushed the door and stepped inside. The door closed behind you. Sam was writing something, a hand held up apologetically, asking for a moment. With a flourish, he finished the sentence and looked up with expectant eyes. It lasted for a split second before they widened in shock. The exact expression from your first day at Stanford, the same one that had haunted you ever since. Pure shock.

What would you even call him? Professor Winchester? Sam? You weren’t sure if you still had that right on him.

He stood up, the chair scraping across the linoleum behind him. The sounds echoed even in the small room. The distance of a few feet felt like miles to conquer.

Mutely you pulled out the coat from your bag. It was unwashed and wrinkled. You walked up to his desk and offered it to him, eyes trained on the table.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

For a horrified moment you thought he wouldn’t take it, but then he reached for it, gripping the fabric tightly and you let go, still looking down.

You wanted to say something, anything because this silence, his silence was agonising. No words came to you, though. There was too much to be said, and no sentence seemed enough.

His desk was organised; books neatly stacked on one side, papers arranged along a single edge. Two frames stood on his desk with their backs to you, and you wondered if someone you recognised was in one of those frames, if they were the same ones that he used to keep on his bedside. A smiling picture of him and Dean. The pang returned at the thought of Dean, and everything that you had left behind.

Slowly, you turned your back to the desk and the man standing behind it, certain that he wanted nothing to do with you. The coat had been a lapse of judgement, a moment of pity for someone he used to know, but didn’t care for anymore. He was just a very kind person. That was all it had been. All your upheaval since, had been for nothing.

You grabbed the handle and twisted it.

“Y/N.”

You would have cried. You would have let go of that handle, slid to the ground and broken down in that moment.

For years you had beaten yourself down to accept that this would never happen. You would never hear Sam speak your name ever again. Now, it was happening. What was more? there was no anger in his voice, no hint of disgust.

You dropped your hand and turned, his voice, your name still reverberating in your ears.

Sam looked as taken aback by his words as you. As if they had left his lips without his conscious consent. His eyes were clear, brow slightly furrowed. There was no harshness in his expression and none of that sharpness or hate.

He bowed his head a bit, like he was acknowledging some kind of defeat. Then, he spoke, voice as comforting as the warmth of your favourite rug on a stormy evening. “How are you?”

Like I haven’t truly breathed before this moment. Like the last six years without you, were a special torture created just for me. Like the very sight of you is a miracle and you saying my name a talisman against every misery I’ve ever lived. Like I haven’t been okay up until this very moment.

All the words that couldn’t be said.

You merely shrugged, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from showing.

Sam dipped his chin and gave you a look that seemed to stare right into your soul, the side of his lips curving into a sad smile.

Impossible.

“H-how are you?” You whispered through a thick throat.

He shrugged, too, the smile still in place. It broke your heart to see a look of such profound sadness on his face.

You took a subconscious step ahead, wanting to run to him and throw your arms around him. What’s the worst that could happen? He would push you back? It still wouldn’t hurt as much as not being able to feel him right now.

You took a deep breath, almost taking a step-

The door to the office opened and you jumped, almost crashing into the stand.

Professor Mills looked at you in surprise, then at Sam.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were busy,” she said.

Sam shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts; still said dazedly, “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I was just leaving,” you mumbled, catching your breath.

She looked at you curiously. “You’re from the first year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the one who wrote the paper on semantics in legal writing. Y/L/N, was it?”

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“She’s the one we were talking about, remember?” She asked Sam. “The one whose style reminded me of you.”

Sam nodded curtly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“That was a good paper,” she said. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you, professor,” you replied. “I’ll get going then.”

You gave Sam a nod, “Professor.” And hurried out of the room as fast as you could. The hot air outside cleared your head and you stumbled into one of cement seating in the spill out space outside the offices. Had you really been about to throw yourself at Sam?

Most of you wanted to pass out from the intensity of that interaction, but a small part of you wondered if it really would have been that awful if you had actually followed your insane instinct and done it anyway. You sat there till your breathing returned to normal and you could feel your legs again.

You took the first steps towards home.

Y/N.

How are you?

He had called out to you and looked at you with the absolute certainty that only came from knowing the depth of someone’s soul. He didn’t hate you. As you walked, you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of your shoulders. You could pick your feet up and they wouldn’t touch the ground again. It felt like being set free.

*******************************

A/N 2: So at least the ‘not talking’ and ignoring is out of the way ;) Once you start, it is difficult to stop talking, I suppose. Especially when there are clearly still feelings involved ;)

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